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musical-shit-show · 28 days

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little taste of heaven

Pairing: Adam (Hazbin Hotel) x Sinner!Reader

Inspiration: Prompts #53 (“why don’t you make me?”) from Prompt List #1 and #78 (“oh, i’m gonna fucking ruin you.”) from Prompt List #2 with added inspiration taken from a request from the lovely @odins-nsfw

Warnings: cursing, Adam is an asshole (what else is new), tiny bit of angst if you squint, general kinda rough smut (18+, MINORS DNI!!!), oral sex (female receiving), face sitting, digital manipulation, unprotected sex, Adam and reader are definitely toxic, enemies that are also lovers :)

Word Count: 2,149

Author’s Note: This took me a little longer to write but I’m very happy with how it turned out! Definitely getting more comfortable with writing smut, and writing for Adam is still proving to be very fun. Thanks to everyone who has interacted with my other Adam one shots (which you can read here and here); it seriously means so much to see the positive feedback. I still have one more request in my inbox, but I will definitely be writing for more Hazbin characters as the year goes on (especially since we don’t know when the show is coming back). But if you’d like to submit an ask, check out my About Me page, Prompt Lists, and other works in my Masterlist! Thanks and happy reading, depraved sinners!

“Hey, toots, settle a bet for us, would ya?” you heard Angel Dust call to you from across the hotel lobby. Ever since Charlie Morningstar successfully staved off an attack from Heaven’s army, you decided to join her crusade towards redeeming the seemingly irredeemable.

You were first assigned as a quasi-concierge, since you had spent most of your time in Hell bouncing from one side of the Pride Ring to the other. You hopped up from your desk and met Angel, who was slumped across the bar; Husk was silently cleaning a glass, a small smirk on his feline face.

“What’s up, guys?” you breathed, counting the seconds until your shift ended. You were grateful for the free accommodations that the hotel provided, but you didn’t expect the afterlife would involve diving into the wonderful world of customer service.

The porn star shifted his gaze to Husk, and you could tell they were both up to something. “Are ya fuckin’ the angel or what?” the bartender asked, his voice gruff. Angel almost spit out the swig of malt liquor he had just taken.

You feigned confusion, turning to the spider-like demon. “Angel Dust, I think I would know if I were fucking the biggest porn star—”

“Actor.”

“—Actor,” you corrected yourself, “on this side of Hell. You should know he’s not my type, Husk, honest.”

Angel Dusk tsked. “You know that’s not who we’re talking about, babycakes,” he said, his voice lowering, “We’re talking about the angel. Or, I guess the fallen angel.”

Oh, shit.

You shifted uncomfortably on the barstool, swirling the whiskey glass Husk had placed in front of you. “No clue what you mean by that.”

“Bullshit,” Husk said testily.

“See, I told you she’d lie,” Angel drawled, smiling smugly, “You can read it on her pretty little face.” You could feel the heat creeping up your neck.

Yes, you had been fucking Adam. And yes, you had been keeping it from the rest of the hotel residents. Even after showing up—in a new demonic form, no less—to be redeemed, you knew no one, not even Charlie, trusted him fully after the last botched exorcism and direct attack on the hotel itself.

But he was drawn to you almost immediately, singling you out as someone to pursue and torment. And stupidly, you found yourself attracted to him, despite your better judgement.

“Who told you,” you deadpanned.

Angel Dust’s gaze flickered from you to Husk and back again. He sure knew how to be a fucking tease.

“Your stupid boyfriend,” Husk confirmed, not wanting to torture you any longer.

“Ya shoulda seen him bragging about it last night,” Angel added, no doubt living for the drama this would cause, “He’s got some loose lips once the booze starts flowin’. Real keeper if ya ask me.”

Stomach in knots, you attempted to put up a brave face, even with their taunting. “He’s not my boyfriend,” you said definitively, now feeling anger welling up inside you.

This was all Adam’s fault. He couldn’t keep his fucking mouth shut and now you were the one dealing with the humiliating fallout. “Fine, fuck buddy, whatever,” Angel corrected, watching as you stood up from the barstool in a huff, “Doesn’t sound like it’ll last very much longer, given the look on your face.”

You rolled your eyes, completely over this conversation. “Would you excuse me?” you asked rhetorically, your voice dripping with poison. Even Angel looked perturbed for a moment.

Husk glanced over to his companion as you hopped off the barstool, practically seething, “Yeah, ‘course toots,” Angel called after you, still clearly tickled by this development. He loved this kind of soap opera drama bullshit.

You were still able to hear Husk say “Oh she’s gonna fuckin’ murder him,” as you climbed the steps and stomped to Adam’s room.

Pounding on the door, anger and embarrassment grew like a vicious virus inside you. When no one answered, you pressed your ear against the door and was met with the irritating sound of a whiny electric guitar.

“Perfect,” you muttered to yourself as you grabbed the ring of keys Charlie had given you when you were on shift. Even though you had technically clocked out, you weren’t above bending the rules to give Adam a piece of your mind.

You threw open the door, letting the thud as it hit the wall startle the fallen angel strumming his guitar lazily. “Jesus fu—” he started to say as he shifted on his bed, but then his eyes softened at the sight of you, “Oh, hey babe—”

“Don’t you ‘hey babe’ me, you fucking prick,” you spat, fire practically spewing from your mouth, “You’ve been telling people about us?!”

A tense pause.

“Maybe.”

Another pause.

“No?”

You could feel your eye beginning to twitch.

“Ugh, fine. Yes. But what’s the big deal?” Adam asked incredulously, finally putting his guitar down.

You paused for a moment, your anger simmering. The big deal was that you were embarrassed. That the thought of you and Adam going public made you look like a desperate sinner latching onto the only other wayward soul that would look your way.

And hell, you actually liked sneaking around, until he ruined it with his big, dumb mouth of his.

And maybe, just maybe, you were afraid that once the novelty wore off and everyone knew about you two, Adam would leave you behind and move onto the next shiny new toy to waltz into the hotel.

“Cat got your tongue, dollface?” he prodded, wanting to get a rise out of you. It was one of his new favorite pastimes.

You pinched the bridge of your nose, your anxiety being replaced by annoyance. “Jesus fucking Christ do you ever shut up?” The former angel smirked, his eyes flitting up and down your form.

“First off, don’t take the Lord’s name in vain,” he said as you rolled your eyes, “It’s fucking rude.”

You wanted to punch him.

“Second, why don’t you make me?”

That was the last straw.

You lunged at him, practically pouncing on top of him to kiss him hungrily. Adam knew exactly how to push your buttons, and pathetic as it was, you actually fell for it every time.

You were straddling him, and felt him wince as you bit his lip in the heat of the angry makeout. Adam knew you were pissed, and the more you fought for dominance, the harder he felt himself get.

After all, pleasure always tasted sweeter with a little pain. And you tasted fucking delicious.

Adam groaned as you pulled away from him, your face still radiating with heat and anger. You weren’t letting him off that easily, and he knew it.

“Lie down,” you muttered, your eyes scanning his smug expression. “Now.” Wordlessly, Adam complied, lying on his back as you removed your pants and underwear swiftly.

Adam raised his head slightly just in time to watch you remove your shirt and throw it across the room in a huff. He waited patiently for you to do his own disrobing on his behalf; the lazy bastard loved when you rode him.

But he didn’t feel the desperate grasp of your hands around his cock.

No, instead, you climbed up his chest, until you were eye to eye, his gold pupils dilated. “I’m going to have to take drastic measures to shut you up, aren’t I?”

Adam felt his pulse quicken. “What’d you have in mind?”

A sinful smile spread across your face. “Something I know you hate,” you teased, cupping his face gently, doing your best to seduce him into submission, “And something I happen to know your bestie Luci is very talented at.”

Adam gripped your arm, pulling your hand away from his face. You became frightened for a second, before he started peppering the inside of your wrist with small love bites.

The games you played toed a dangerous line between love and hate, and luckily Adam had been fucking you long enough to understand the moves you were making.

“I’m not eating you out,” he said, his expression darkening, “And don’t try to bait me with that little pretty boy. It won’t work.”

You felt your pulse quicken; clearly you had struck a nerve. You just had to push him a little further to get your way.

“Is that why Lilith really left?” you said, rolling your hips against his, feeling how hard he was underneath you, “Because you couldn’t…satisfy her the way that Lucifer could?”

You knew this would send him over the edge. And the moment you looked into his burning gold eyes, you knew you had won.

A small victory, but a victory nonetheless.

“Oh, I’m gonna fucking ruin you,” he growled, tugging at the hair at the nape of your neck. You smirked as he finally complied and laid on his back. Adam would rather give up control than have his skills in the bedroom be compared to the King of Hell.

You knew he was insecure, and if he was going to be a dick about it, the least you could do was take advantage.

Before he could change his mind, you placed each thigh on either side of his head, kneeling until your aching core met the lower half of his face. After a few seconds of resistance, you felt his lips part and flinched as his tongue slid into you.

“I can’t believe this was—ah—” you bucked your hips as he found his way to your clit, “This was the only way to get you to shut the fuck up.” You felt a hum of disapproval as his slender hands found his way to your ass.

You smiled to yourself as you felt the annoyed hum that radiated from your stubborn lover’s mouth. Finding your pace, you felt the tension in your abdomen rising as Adam continued to eat you out.

For not loving the act, you had to admit he was good at it. Feeling his tongue swirl inside you sent a shiver down you spine, and you felt a yelp leave your lips as he slapped your ass as you continued to buck on top of him.

In retaliation, he tried teasing you with small sucks and flicks, but you didn’t care; the fact that he was focusing on your gratification for a change was rewarding enough.

After a few minutes, though, the fallen angel had had enough of your domineering; if he was going to finish you off, he was going to do it his way.

Coming up for air, he placated you by circling one of his fingers around your clit. “Alright baby, you got what you wanted,” he breathed, “Now it’s my turn.”

In one fell swoop, he flipped you over onto your back, and disrobed in the blink of an eye. ‘Showoff,’ you thought to yourself, annoyed by the lack of his mouth on your pussy.

Before you could protest, two of his long fingers found his way inside you, pumping and curling to hit your sweet spot.

“After this, I’m gonna fuck you into oblivion,” Adam muttered, his tempo growing more erratic, “You’re lucky I’m even bothering to get you off after your little outburst, but you can consider it a favor this time.”

You tried to focus more on satisfying sensation you were feeling than his bitching. “It’s the least you could do after that bullshit you pulled with Husk and Angel,” you said, feeling a bead of sweat roll down your back as you tightened around him, “They’ll fucking crucify me.”

“Oh, don’t be so dramatic, baby,” he cooed, resting his thumb on your bud as he continued to pump his fingers into you, “Now be a good girl and cum for me.”

It only took a few more moments of stimulation for you to humiliatingly come undone around him, knowing he’d make you pay for it later.

Getting off always seemed to come with a price when it came to fucking Adam; at the very least you were able to shut him up for a few glorious minutes.

You contemplated if the grilling from the other guests and constant bickering was worth it, but you didn’t have much time to change your mind. Adam pulled you off your back and onto your stomach, and you winced as he slammed his cock into you, your ass on full display as he took you from behind.

You gripped the sheets, the friction of him inside you equal parts painful and gratifying. ‘Another question for another day,’ you thought, burying your face into the mattress as he fucked you at an agonizingly delicious pace.

Right now, you had a pissy angel to placate and a couple of sinners to swear to secrecy.

Royally fucked didn’t even begin to describe the mess you had gotten yourself into.

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thanks for reading! please like/comment/reblog if you enjoyed and want to read more! :)

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nunalastor · 3 months

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Thoughts on Alastor’s affiliations/associations with social class? Particularly domestic work? (And I guess by extension customer service) But more importantly the “old fashioned” (air quotes because sadly it’s not extinct) upstairs-downstairs separation/segregation of working class and employer class? Just things I noticed:

- niffty is very domestic-housewife, and is stationed by alastor as a cleaner,

- husk (despite being an ex overlord) is stationed as a bartender and concierge,

- Rosie, despite being an overlord, positions herself as providing a service- customer service in the emporium, and Dolly Levi-esque services like matchmaking, advice (personal, financial etc), and general Arranger Of Things, a networker.

- alastor doesn’t give any grief to Angel about his profession, possibly because he sees him as also working to provide a service

- I think he even treats the egg bois with more respect when he’s working with them than he does sir pentious

- Vox essentially provides the public a disservice with all his ads etc greatly outweighing his news broadcast service, (which is less news, more diss tracks) so there’s obviously loss of respect for him

- in contrast to Alastor’s radio station, which he might view more as a public service provided to all regardless of whether they have money to spend. People often listen to radio while working, it lessens the tediousness. And provides music, which would otherwise be financially inaccessible- eg live orchestra, live performances, or buying records and a record player. Radio provides those for free! (Providing you have access to a radio, but most working class do, whether it’s their own or their workplace’s)

- mimzy is implied as working class, and says that alastor spent time at what is also implied to be a working-class establishment, and “drinking like a sailor” is definitely not “polite society” behaviour, which suggests the establishment commonly saw that type of behaviour from its patrons. Mimzy also makes a point of chastising alastor for not informing her that they were in “mixed company”, to which he looks irritated. Probably because she’s outed him as lower class, in front of Lucifer and Charlie, which leads onto

- Lucifer is The Big Boss, the boss of the bosses. Alastor’s reactions to Lucifer pigeonholing him as working class; busboy, waiter, etc. He was pretty rankled! Instead reasserting himself as the hotelier- the manager/owner, and not beholden to anyone. Which leads into

- his notable upset at husks reminder that he is in fact very beholden to someone

- my hc is that Alastor’s mother worked as a domestic servant for upper class, so he was exposed to both classes and could “pass” as a higher class than his mom. Perhaps having access to different establishments to procure or purchase music and broadcast equipment, or access to potential victims targets. On radio he’d be perceived by voice only, so perfecting a transatlantic accent would obscure his societal class also, see “this face was made for radio”

- saying that his face was made for radio suggests to me that there was some secrecy? anonymity? to his radio station in life. (I don’t know if there’s any supplemental word-of-god about his radio career, I’m new 😅) If he was also privy to local gossip and issues from mixed classes, then I could see this being a possible appeal for listeners to tune in.

- do you think there are influences from “The Help” in his backstory?

i honestly don't have anything to add and don't know enough on the subject to really delve into it but this is all SO FUCKING GOOD!! these observations anon 🤌🤌🤌

#hazbin hotel #alastor #radioapple #appleradio #radio apple #apple radio #nunalastor asks #meta

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minteagalaxea · 1 year

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the high table | s.v.t

choi seungcheol: s.coups

known for overturning in a single night the entirety of the japanese yakuza for his ward to seize control of the yakuza, s.coups is ruthless and protective of those that under his care, garnering him a thirteen million dollar bounty on his head from those that oppose his charge’s control.

yoon jeonghan

as the manager of the incheon branch of the continental hotel, joenghan serves as the information broker for all of south korea, and potentially beyond (though he keeps his knowledge to himself). despite his penchant for verbal and psychological warfare, he’s also capable of shooting.

hong joshua

hong joshua helps keep the incheon continental working smoothly, operating as the intermediary between his criminal clientele and the many ammenities rendered by the various members in the establishment. he is known for his sweet demeanor, but behind that hides a deadly nature when in danger.

wen junhui: jun

as the heir to the wen crime family, wen junhui is set to take over his family empire with the various bodies he has killed. capitalizing on the rule by fear, he is determined to stretch his dominion beyond just guangzhou, but towards all of china.

kwon soonyoung: hoshi

as a former associate of many various crime families and institutions, kwon soonyoung is currently on the run from those many institutions after killing an esteemed member in the prestigious continental hotel in incheon. with a twenty-two million dollar bounty, his whereabouts are frequently tracked by money-hungry assassins.

jeon wonwoo

known among the criminal underworld to be a free agent, jeon wonwoo is an assassin of absolute precision and brutality in his part of the world. also known to have retired from the world, his sudden return to the underground makes his bounty enticing to many who want to immortalize themselves.

lee jihoon: woozi

the newest proprietor and manager of the osaka continental, woozi’s reputation for taking in strays into his wing makes osaka the premier safe haven for those that wish for refuge from whatever is hunting them. his benevolence, however, does not exempt him from sharp words and knives, indicating his former time as a serviceman.

lee seokmin: dokyeom

hiding from emissaries of the russian mob because of his brother’s actions, dokyeom currently works as a ballistic armor specialist and tailor for the osaka continental’s guests. his work, while relatively anonymous, is worn among the many locals in the criminal underworld of japan.

kim mingyu

particular about his “dinner reservations”, mingyu works hard to make sure that the bodies are disposed of in every capacity. his services are so impeccable that he is highly sought out through osaka to help handle the aftermath, though he does take some of the valuables for himself.

xu minahgo: the8

initially a member of the wen family, the8 now works as the sommelier for the osaka continental, not just serving wine, but also firearms for all occasions. taken in as a stray after killing a prominent member of the wen crime syndicate, his location is unknown to the family.

boo seungkwan

initially beginning a clinic to help those that could not receive medical assistance, seungkwan’s increasingly underworld clientele enticed him to seek employment at the incheon continental hotel, where he shows his years of medical experience.

choi hansol: vernon

another stray now within the osaka continental hotel, vernon’s knowledge of blueprints—and where to get them—allows operatives to have their most powerful weapon on hand. a former member of the ruska roma, his bounty is due to an incident that required him to use his ticket, losing his place there.

lee chan: dino

the newest member of the osaka continental, dino is learning the ropes of being a concierge, a shift from his upbringing of violence and brutality. however, he is of utmost loyalty to the hotel, being unafraid to exert violence in the face of danger of not just the establishment, but to the workers inside.

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lena-in-a-red-dress · 1 year

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Across the Universe (A Slavers Moon Supercorp ficlet)

A little while ago I posted a ficlet/idea about Lena being abducted by Roulette and nearly sold on Slavers Moon before Kara comes and saves her. But what if Kara arrived too late to save Lena and Izzy? Please, enjoy the exploration.

---

When Kara finds her people on Argo, her delight is tempered by loss and grief. All of her emotions have been, ever since... ever since Lena.

When she found her friend missing, the last thing she expected was for Roulette to be behind the abduction, let alone that the snake had ferried Lena off earth with a number of other human abductees. Kara chased them to Slavers Moon, but arrived too late-- they were gone. Sold and ferried off the moon to Rao knows where.

Kara returned a number of times in an attempt to learn where they might have been taken, but had been stonewalled and rebuffed at every turn. The Supergirl name carried no weight there, even after she made it clear she had no intention of freeing other potential slaves-- a decision that pained her but made regardless. She would do anything to find her friend and bring her home.

But on Argo, Kara finds her way into the upper echelons of clientele. Armed with the traditional robes and cloak of Kryptonian style, and bearing the seal of the House of El, she visited the Daxamite stateship as an ambassador. Returning Queen Rhea's son to her had granted her a favor, which Kara immediately traded for an invitation to Slavers Moon next upcoming auction-- one reserved for the galactic elite.

Upon arrival, Kara finds it easy to grow detached from the events happening around her. She's grown detached from most things in the years since Lena's disappearance. She sips on Aldebaaran rum and surveys the people around her, commiting names and faces to memory.

She recognizes many species, knows their home planets from her time on on Krypton. Though they had been an isolated people, they had gathered much information on their neighbors and former allies.

When the auction starts, Kara bids often enough to avoid suspicion but low enough that she's swiftly outbid. Her stomach and jaw clench when a series of humans are issued onto the stage. She's so angry that she almost misses the discovery that each one is purchased by a single patron.

Kara moves swiftly. It's easy to charm the Nelkloran -- they seem to have a fascination with humanoids, and the El crest makes them eager to share their planet with her. Eager enough to shuttle her to Nelklor right then and there.

Finding a secluded corner, Kara contacts the Waverider, who had lent their aid as the only long range space craft Earth had at its disposal. There Alex receives her message, and vows to follow and stand by until further instruction.

Nelklor is beautiful. Lush and green with vibrant flora, even in the heart of the captial city they land in. Kara endures a tour of the landmarks deemed most important by her host, and plays the perfect guest for three days, eating and lounging with beautiful humanoids serving to her every need. None of them are Lena.

On the evening of the third day, Kara pointedly yawns. Suddenly anxious that their guest may be bored, her Nelkloran host begs to know what would interest her most.

"Beauty," she says. "And pleasures of a more.... sensual nature."

Her host understands her completely. They gladly escort her to a place that translates directly to a 'pleasure house'. There she demands to be left alone.

"I do not enjoy an audience."

She's graciously recieved in the front room, ushered into a plush waiting room where she's offered food and drink and and a catalogue of services. After a few minutes to peruse, an employee approaches her.

"Welcome to our facility," the humanoid concierge begins, a broad smile-- a little too broad to be genuine-- on their face. "Is there anything that piques your interest?"

"So many to choose from," Kara muses. "It would suit me better to choose once I know who I'll share my experience with."

The concierge nods. "Of course. Does my lady have a preference? Please be as specific as you like-- we host a wide variety of interests."

Kara pretends to consider. "Female, I think. Human, with fair skin, and dark hair-- the darker the better."

Their eyes brighten with a nod. "Yes, of course. We have several with such specifications." They tap a small tablet in their hand, and nods when they find what they're looking for. "And one is currently available. Is my lady ready to proceed?"

Kara nods. "I prefer not to be kept waiting."

Being led through the corridors, Kara makes note of windows and doors. The facility is expansive, with many of the rooms they pass fully occupied, judging from the sounds from within-- not all of them pleasurable.

When they come to a stop outside a room, the concierge taps again on their tablet, and the small blue light next to the door turns red.

"You may take as much time as you please. If you desire refreshment during your stay, please don't hesitate to inform us-- there is a console inside the room to request anything you may require."

Kara nods. "Thank you."

Her stomach twists with a mix of dread and anticipation. When the concierge takes their leave, Kara pauses a moment to take a deep breath-- then pushes into the room.

The door closes behind her, leaving Kara alone with a slim woman wearing a sheer robe that hid little. The woman's back is to her, as she casually clips jewels to her ears.

"If you know what you'd like, please make your payment."

Kara's heart lurches. The low, smooth voice instantly finds its home in Kara's senses, filling her relief and bringing tears to her eyes.

"Lena," she croaks.

Lena spins, eyes wide with shock. It's not until her gaze settles on the el mayarah on her chest that recognition seems to hit.

"Supergirl."

The word sounds like the wind has been punched from her lungs, shrouded in disbelief. Kara struggles to speak, but can't find the words around the lump in her throat, even as Lena slowly closes the distance between them, curling her fingers into the cloak wrapped around Kara's shoulders.

With another exhale, Lena's eyes squeeze shut, her chin dipping in relief. Kara reflexively tips her own chin, letting her forehead rest against Lena's.

"You found me," Lena whispers.

"I never stopped looking."

Lena's fingers tighten, then relax to smooth across the fabric of Kara's robes, caressing her shoulders until her hands come to rest on Kara's arms. Her head pulls back, and their eyes meet again, the connection unspeakably deep.

"Please," Lena asks. "Take me home."

Kara nods, reaching up to grasp Lena's hands. She feels a spark when their fingers brush, a sensation that spreads into a warmth that fills every inch of her.

"Let's go."

There's a surprising lack of guards in the corridor, but Kara still moves as quickly as she can, pulling Lena along with her. Only a few steps down the hall, however, Lena pulls back.

"Wait, wait, wait!" she issues breathlessly. She scurries back the way they came, barefeet scuffing lightly against the floor. She makes a beeline for a room a few doors down from her own, and frantically turns the knob, only to find it lock.

"Supergirl--"

Kara's already moving. Though Nelklor has a yellow sun, its strength is less than Earth's, leaving her without many of her powers. But she has enough strength to shoulder her way through the door to find another woman inside, this time in bed with a client.

Both woman and client yelp in surprise, recoiling to cover themselves. Lena rushes in past Kara, pulling the woman from the bed.

"Izzy, let's go!"

Izzy doesn't need to be told twice. She springs from the bed and throws on a sheer robe of her own, a light purple to Lena's deep blue. Kara waves both women through the door and ushers them towards a door she'd identified as a likely exit. Sure enough, it opens to the outdoors. All three surge through, freedom itching at their fingertips-- only for it all to come crashing down.

Lena and Izzy both drop their knees with a scream of pain, covering their ears with both hands. Their cries muffle to keening moan as they curl in on themselves to escape an unescapable agony.

"Lena!" Kara drops to her knees in front of her, gripping her by the wrists and tilting her head up. With a gasp, she sees Lena's eyes glazed and unfocused, completely unseeing. "Lena, what's wrong, tell me--"

Lena releases one ear with a cry, blindly feeling her way until she finds Izzy's arm. She pushes the woman towards Kara.

"Supergirl," Lena moans, gasping. "Go."

The message is clear-- take Izzy and flee.

Lena must have forgotten what it means to be Supergirl.

Reaching into her belt, Kara pulls out a device designed for this very instance. "Shut your eyes."

She needn't have worried-- both Lena's and Izzy's eyes are screwed shut in pain. With a click of a button, Kara detonates the device and tosses it into the air. A burst of high intensity yellow sunlight envelops them, filling Kara with more than just her strength.

"Hold on," she urges, collecting a woman in each arm. She launches into the air just as the facility door clangs open, and guards finally spill out after their escaping slaves. Kara quickly zooms out of reach, lifting higher and higher until Alex hails her on the earpiece.

"Waverider is inbound. Cargo bay door will be open and waiting."

True to her sister's word, Kara lands inside the Waveriders cargo bay. Within moments, they are zooming out of the planet's atmosphere and into the dark of outer space.

Kara shouts for her sister, quickly moving to set Lena and Izzy on their feet, where they soon once again collapse to their knees in pain.

Sara Lance doesn't wait for Alex. "Get them to the medbay, now."

Kara obeys, depositing Izzy on one bed and Lena on the other. Sara is close on her heels, snapping orders to Gideon.

"Put them under," she instructs, and within moments Lena and Izzy go still, their whimpers quieting as Gideon administers a sedative.

Alex enters a few moments later. "What happened?"

"Initial examination complete," Gideon announces. "They both have devices planted in their ear canals, which are currently emitting a high frequency signal."

Alex sighs, running a hand through her cropped hair. "Damn it. Probably a deterrent."

"Gideon, can you remove the devices?" Sara asks.

There's a beat as the computer thinks. "Yes," she determines a moment later. "Though the procedure will be painful, and may result in partial or total hearing loss."

Alex and Sara looks to Kara, allowing her to make the call.

Kara's decision is easy to make. "Do it," she tells Gideon. To Sara and Alex, she softens her voice. "Whatever will ease their pain."

"Very well," Gideon responds. "It will take some time to prepare--"

"Gideon--" Kara interrupts, suddenly hesitant. "Could you please run another scan? I have reason to believe their vision may be affected as well."

"Certainly. I will notify you as soon as the tests and procedures are complete."

Alex nods, reaching for Kara's hand. "Come on, I have a change of clothes for you--"

Kara pulls her hand away. "I don't need a change of clothes," she clips. Her gaze is glued to Lena, and she has no intention of leaving. "I'm staying."

"Kara--"

"I'm staying," she repeats, this time with the authority of an El.

Alex withdraws a step, shock and hurt flashing across her features. She takes her hand back, and nods. "Okay."

Sara takes Alex by the shoulders, nudging her towards the medbay door. "Come on. Let's leave Gideon to it."

Finally alone, Kara settles onto a stool next to Lena. She situates herself between the two beds, but it's Lena's hand she reaches for, Lena's hair she smoothes out of her friend's face.

There she stays, a silent sentinel.

—

The frequency emitter isn't the only deterrent they find.

A small chip in each of the women's frontal cortex renders them blind, a measure designed to incapacitate them in the event of an attempted escape. This time, they can't remove the devices, nor do they find a way to deactivate them. Their loss of vision is total and permanent.

The one small consolation is that Izzy escapes the removal of the frequency with no complications, her hearing preserved. When Lena is tested, however, they learn that the removal has resulted in unilateral partial hearing loss in her right ear.

“Is there nothing you can do?” Izzy asks, clinging to Lena’s hand. Izzy hasn’t left Lena’s side since waking, desperate for comfort in her newly darkened world.

Alex shakes her head. “I’m sorry,” she offers. “It’s possible it may come back over time, but Gideon says it’s… not likely.”

Lena covers Izzy’s hand with her own. “It’s okay.”

“Lena–!”

“It could be worse,” Lena states bluntly. Izzy falls quiet, her features falling.

For several long moments, none of them say anything. Izzy is the first to break the silence.

“Supergirl?”

Kara straightens. “I’m here.”

“You said… you said my mom reached out to you?”

It takes a moment of nodding before Kara remembers that Izzy can’t see it. “Yes,” she says quickly.

“How– how long have we been gone? Is she okay?”

Kara sees Lena’s eyes track towards her in interest– coming close but not quite focusing on her. Kara takes a breath.

“She misses you,” she starts. “But she never gave up hope of finding you. It’s been… it’s been a long two years.”

Izzy’s eyes fill with tears. Her hand tightens on Lena’s, who gives it a reassuring rub. “It’s okay,” Lena murmurs. “We’ll be home soon.”

Kara nods, grateful for the silver lining. “That’s right. We’re almost at the Sol system. About 76 hours from Earth. We’ll make sure your mother is waiting when we land.”

As Kara watches, Lena’s features darken. Her jaw tightens, but she says nothing. Sensing the shift in Lena’s mood, Kara shoots a glance at Alex, who understands in an instant. “Hey Izzy, how about we take you to the galley so you can get some food?”

“But Lena–”

“It’s fine, Izz. I’ll join you in a moment. I have some things I’d like to discuss with Supergirl.”

Reluctantly, Izzy releases her grip on Lena, and carefully slips off the medbay bed. Accepting Alex’s offered arm, she allows herself to be led from the room, her footsteps faltering only slightly as she goes.

Kara turns back to Lena as the door hisses shut behind them. “It’s just us,” she says, coming a few steps closer so that Lena wouldn’t have to strain to hear. “What’s wrong?”

“Besides the obvious, you mean?” Lena scoffs. The joke carries a dark edge, one that dulls slightly when Lena’s shoulders slump slightly. “Sorry. You didn’t deserve that.”

“It’s okay,” Kara promises. “You’ve been through a lot–”

“My mother,” Lena cuts in, clearly interested in neither platitudes nor presumptions that anyone but Izzy has any idea what the past two years have been like. “I’m assuming she knows I was abducted?”

“Yes.” Kara’s tone is enough for Lena to quirk one eyebrow, prompting Kara to continue. “When she learned what happened, Lillian escaped from prison. Ever since she learned you were taken off world, she’s made it her life’s mission to further her crusade against aliens. Myself and the DEO have managed to thwart the worst of it, but…”

Kara trails off, but Lena has never been one to shy away from harsh truths. “But what?”

“She’s managed to abduct and shuttle several ships of aliens offworld. We’re not exactly sure where to– I don’t even know if she bothered to program a destination.”

Lena releases a shaking breath. “How many?”

“Almost 3,500 so far, and they haven’t stopped. Cadmus doesn’t discriminate either. Anyone who registered under the Alien Amnesty Act is at risk, including children.”

“Jesus,” Lena breathes. She pauses a moment before continuing. “What can I do?”

Hope flares in Kara’s chest. Not only would Lena’s help prove invaluable, but it seems the last two years haven’t managed to break her spirit. “You can rest and recuperate–”

“Don’t patronize me, Supergirl,” Lena snaps, irritation flashing across her features. “It’s been two years. My company has either collapsed or is doing fine without me. I have no friends, and my only family still at large is ruining countless lives. I’m not going to just sit on my hands and wallow in self-pity.”

It seems little about Lena Luthor has changed, then. She’s still the same headstrong, self-possessed woman Kara met in that L-Corp executive suite two years ago– the same woman Kara so quickly grew attached to. The same woman she’s longed to find ever since she learned of her abduction.

“You’re wrong,” Kara informs her. “You do have friends.”

“Izzy doesn’t count–”

“Kara Danvers has missed you every single day since you went missing.”

Lena freezes. “Kara?” She swallows thickly. “She– she missed me?”

Lena’s voice is so small, so doubtful that Kara makes her decision right then and there.

“Yes,” she says. “I did.”

It takes a moment for the words to land, and another still for them to click together. Lena’s eyes widen then, her mouth gaping slightly before her jaw works minutely as she struggles to regain her voice.

“Oh.”

Kara crosses to stand in front of Lena, making sure to keep her steps loud enough to Lena to hear her approach. She takes Lena’s hand and places it against the El Mayarah, over her heart.

“There’s not a day that went by that I didn’t think of you. And– and I’m sorry I wasn’t there to save you.”

“Kara…” Lena curls her hand, clasping Kara’s fingertips. She blinks, and tears spill down her cheeks. “Thank you.”

“You are my friend, Lena.” Kara knows in that moment that she would have crossed a thousand galaxies to bring her home. “No matter what happens next… I promise you won’t do it alone.”

The next thing Kara knows, Lena’s arms have slipped around her middle, squeezing tight. Lena buries her face against Kara’s chest, the position made awkward by the fact Lena is still sitting on the bed, but Kara doesn’t care. She returns the hug as fiercely as she dares.

“We’re going home.”

#supercorp #across the universe #slavers moon alt au #an au of an au #love that for me #author chooses not to use archive warnings #technically a reveal fic #surprise surprise #but its just a little facet #dont worry no angst there

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prodeskk · 3 months

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twentydaysofdrabbles · 10 months

Text

The Concierge’s Warning (Part Five)

“You made it.”

“Mister Sans.” The industrial laundry machines whir and churn in the background, nearly drowning out your voice and Sans’. You think that the lounge would have been a better place to meet up, but perhaps this is what he is used to. “How may I help you?”

The skeleton pushes off from where he was leaning up against the wall behind a machine, swaggering up to you. “Heard there’s a...uh...additional services that I can access...” He seems to leer at you as he comes closer, his broad shadow casting over you.

You only look at him evenly, hands falling from where they are folded over your belly to hang by your side loosely. “I’m afraid you will have to be more specific, Mister Sans.” You’re not sure if you should be glad that he is asking you and not someone else. “The Continental offers many services to all our guests.”

Something sparkles in Sans’ eyes. “All your guests, huh?” he drawls, his hands now slipping into his pockets and away from his holstered gun under his shoulder. “Something tells me some guests get more...exclusive services. So...how do I get on that special list?”

From habit alone, your expression only ever shifts into one of mild interest. “Special list?” Hmm, perhaps your intelligence was flawed?

Sans rolls his eyes and groans, spinning around to pace away from you and back again. “Don’t play dumb with me,” he sighs, shaking his head. “Thought we knew each other better than that!” Ivory phalanges rub together in a universal symbol of money. “Some fellas and gals pay with gold coins. Bet those came from a pretty High place. And me and my family? We want a seat at the Table.”

There it is.

“You don’t know what you’re asking for,” you say lowly, relaxing from your stiff and proper posture. The scars on your hands ache. “Walk away, Mister Sans, before you are entangled further.”

Malleable facial bones contort into a sneer, his eye lights contracting to mere pinpricks. “Don’t. Assume. I don’t know what I’m asking for.” His left eye glows a deep red, deeper than before, and the air thickens.

Ah, now this, you are more familiar with. Straightening from your relaxed posture, you let your fists curl naturally, fingertips touching a hidden mechanism in your glove. “No business may be conducted on Continental grounds, Mister Sans. As you already know.” You wave with your free hand towards his eye. “That includes the use of any offensive magics.”

Sans hesitates then, the glow from his eye fading. “Heh, wouldn’t have killed you,” he stuffs his hands back into his pockets from where they had raised up. “So...back to your warning.” Because it is a warning.

Shaking your head, you exhale lowly through your nose. “The High Table is...” How to begin explaining the sheer foolishness of wanting to join the High Table. To serve under the Table. “If you simply wish to become a member of the Continental, that is something that I can arrange. If you wish to control the city, you and your family are more than capable of doing so. However, to join the High Table...”

Stars, why are you finding it so hard to say it aloud.

Sans makes the gesture for you to go on.

The scars on your hands ache again as you relax your curled fingers. “Once you sit at the Table, or serve under It, you will never leave. You will never be free. Not in life, not in death.” A flicker of pain crosses your stony expression and you let your apprehension, your concern, bleed into your eyes. “You must be very careful, Mister Sans. In knowing whether this is what you and your family want.”

The skeleton monster leans against a rumbling machine, crossing his ankles, and watches you carefully. “We know what we’re getting into, sweetheart. It was the name of the game down in the Underground, y’know. Ain’t nothing’s changed.”

“It’s a bigger world out here, Mister Sans. A pond for the sea.” Slowly, very slowly, you remove your gloves. One by one. Folding them. Tucking them into your pocket. Baring the thick, broad scars on the back and front of your palms. Where a sword had taken your livelihood. “There is the Continental. And there is the High Table. To break the rules of the Continental is to invite exile and death. To breach the rules and traditions of the High Table is to invite suffering...upon you and all you know.”

The widening of Sans’ eye lights indicate that he has seen it. Recognised it. And now...he looks at you with more wariness in his gaze than he ever has before. “So I see.”

Gently, you fold your hands into its customary position in front of your belly and look Sans in the eye. “I cannot dissuade you or your family from your chosen path,” you say quietly, your thumb brushing over the raised flesh of one scar. “All I ask, is that you and yours go into this with open eyes. After all, one should not be more ambitious than they are worth.”

Silence reigns for the brief amount of time it takes for you to don your gloves to hide your scars once more. For you to close back up, sewing the vulnerable gaps in your metaphorical armour, to drain the emotion from your eyes.

And in that time all Sans does is look at you, chew on your words. For all that the man likes to portray himself as a secondary goon to his brother, flirtatious and reckless, he is far more than just that. You know he will take your warning into consideration, for all the good that it does.

“Now, Mister Sans...” you start, folding one hand over your belly and gesturing with the other to the elevator. “Would you like me to schedule you a meeting with the Manager?”

Red eye lights trail up and down your impeccably dressed figure. Then up to your eyes, your dead, dead eyes. With a twist of his sharp teeth, he purrs, “Yeah, and tell her...I don’t intend to come alone.”

You blink slowly. “Of course.”

#undertale fics #mafiafell sans #sans x reader #slow burn #mafiafell sans x reader #drabble #ficlet

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angelofrainfrogs · 5 months

Text

Going Back: Ch. 1

~Coauthored by @zeitghest~

Fandom(s): Five Nights At Freddy’s: Security Breach

Description: Things are looking up for Gregory. After putting the soul of a formerly-immortal killer to rest, he and his new family can finally begin their lives anew. Sure, Gregory might have been cursed with mysterious Remnant in exchange for being involved in this mess—not to mention his caretakers consist of sentient robots and ghosts… But there’s no doubt that the bond they share is unbreakable. They love him, and he in turn.

All in all, life is finally starting to go right for once.

…Unfortunately, true peace is a hard-won battle. There are other things to contend with besides William’s decrepit soul, and Gregory will learn that his role in the lives of the Aftons and Emilys is far greater than anyone could’ve imagined.

Rating: T

Read on Ao3

Hello and welcome! :) This is Part 2 of The Wires that Bind Us Series; although you don’t have to read the first part to enjoy this fic, it’s highly recommended to help contextualize the plot of this story and others moving forward. Here’s a quick summary of prior events:

While hiding out in the Pizzaplex, Gregory is discovered by Glamrock Freddy and an old animatronic known as The Puppet. Turns out the robots aren’t all they seem—possessed by children of Fazbear Entertainment’s original founders, Gregory winds up involved in a quest with Charlie Emily and Michael Afton to take down the digitized but still murderous soul of William. Along with some help from other spirits that linger in the burned-up diner down below, they managed to extract William from the Glamrock Bonnie suit he was using as a new body and trap him in a video game, which they subsequently destroyed.

The journey wasn’t easy, though. Along the way Gregory was injected with Remnant, the full ramifications of which are still unknown. What he is sure of however is that through the trauma he’s gained a new family that cares for him better than anyone—including a dad in the form of Glamrock Freddy. You see, human souls are a powerful thing; when bonded to an animatronic they can leave a lasting impression. Thanks to Henry Emily’s fantastic engineering, Charlie, Michael, and Freddy were able to possess lifelike androids to start their lives over anew.

Where we left off in Part 1, the quartet had just left the Pizzaplex to head for a nearby hotel and get some rest after their adventure.

***

It's going back, back, back, back They've been through this before It's going back, back, back, back The final page of the lore The sound of cheer The need for fear The souls of the kids are free Rewind the tears

~Going Back by Kyle Allen Music~

It was a fairly large hotel. It made Charlie wonder how many people visited this town nowadays, what with the Mecca of Fazbear Entertainment standing tall and proud as its most notable landmark. Last she checked, this town had a population of a little over 10,000. Not a whole lot, but not a small number by any means. Sammy's draw of tourists had done wonders for the family businesses.

“We should order room service as soon as we check in. Gregory's going to need to build his strength back with something that isn't a pizza-flavored slushee,” Charlie pointed out, waiting before crossing the street. While she was sure Freddy knew not to linger in the road, Charlie grasped onto his free hand regardless to make sure he and Gregory were still trailing along.

The parking lot looked pretty full, and they approached with only Michael's shopping bag of clothes as their luggage. At the front desk, popping gum in his mouth sat a concierge manager typing things into the computer, digits nimbly pounding away at the keys.

“Be with you in a moment!” the overworked college student called, finishing his email. Getting up from the desk and walking towards the quartet, he put on his best customer service smile. “What can I do for you folks?”

Despite him never having interacted with another human outside the comparatively small bubble of the Pizzaplex, Freddy took it upon himself to respond. Beaming down at the young boy, he announced: “Hello! My family and I require a room to stay in—preferably one with 'room service,' as we are quite hungry.”

Michael bit back a groan. God, he could see it now—he thought catching Charlie up to speed with things would take a while, but it seemed like Freddy was going be the biggest problem. Quickly stepping in, Mike moved in front of the redhead to catch the concierge's attention.

“Sorry, ignore my—uncle. He’s... not from around here,” Michael said, reaching into his pocket to retrieve Sam’s wallet. Offering the boy an apologetic smile, he clarified: “We need a room for four people, at least 5 nights with the possibility of an extended stay. It doesn't have to the biggest; we don't mind sharing beds. Just preferably no smaller than queen-sized—two kings would be great, if you have it.”

“Do you guys have ping-pong or air hockey here?” Charlie asked, officially overloading the poor kid with too many questions.

His eyes flicked between the three of them, blinking. “Uh... Y-Yes! Yep, there's actually one available family vacation suite! That's a bathroom, two king beds with a kitchen and full amenities, too.”

The concierge leaned over and grabbed a pamphlet, handing it over to Charlie who presented it to the rest of the group.

“With room service, plus full spa, gym, and arcade access, that's about $250 a night,” he added, doing his best to answer all of their questions.

Charlie tried to hide her shock at how expensive things were. Sammy did say they could use his credit card on anything after all... And the room looked nice. Gregory deserved a good spot to be in and relax.

“We'll take it,” Michael said quickly, not in the mood to haggle. He was just happy they'd found something so spacious—he thought with all the cars in the parking lot, they'd have to settle for a simple room with just two beds, and a bathroom, maybe a couch if they were lucky. Though Sammy would probably appreciate a cheaper price, Mike knew he'd understand them wanting to indulge after so long being cooped up and handed over the credit card. “You can put the tab on here.”

Freddy, who'd only been exposed to the exorbitantly hyped-up prices in the Pizzaplex, had no frame of reference for what was considered expensive. He appreciated Michael taking charge, hanging back next to Charlie's side as Mike and the concierge moved to the front desk to get all their information and secure the room.

“Need anyone to take your luggage, Mr...?” the young man began to ask. Taking the credit card from the brunette, he couldn’t help but notice the distinctive name emblazoned on the metal rectangle.

Samuel Emily.

Anyone who lived in that area of Hurricane knew the Emilys. The boy then felt sort of stupid for not recognizing Mr. Emily's family—even if he couldn't quite recall ever seeing this group before.

“Nope! We don't have much,” Charlie responded, reassuring him with a grin. With that succinct answer, after charging the card the manager would put their names in as Emily for the time being.

“Uh—okay then, you’re all set! Here are your room keys, guys, and your recreational passes,” he explained, pointing to the number on the keycard. “Room service will call after 20 minutes; give you some time to get settled. Have a nice day, and enjoy your stay!”

“You have a wonderful day as well!” Freddy called over his shoulder as Michael firmly took his free hand and urged him towards the elevators.

Mike couldn't help but roll his eyes, a smile lifting his mouth at Freddy's endearing friendliness. At least that hadn't changed.

Before long they'd ridden the elevator up to the 7th floor and found themselves in front of room 717. The door opened with nothing more than a delicate press of the keycard against its sensor lock, and Michael led the way into the suite.

“Oh, hell yeah!” he exclaimed, staring around the room in wonder. True to the concierge's word, there was a little kitchen and sitting area at the end of the short entrance hallway they stood in.

Michael wasted no time kicking his shoes off, dropping the bag of clothes, and walking into the space, taking note of the two doors coming off of the sitting area that led to the bedroom and bathroom. The bathroom itself was shaped like an L and also had two doors so it could be accessed from either the bedroom or the main area, per whatever suited the guests' fancy. Michael spun in a slow circle, his arms spread out wide. “I can definitely get used to this place.”

Charlie had noticed on their way through the halls that things looked notably different from the last hotel she remembered staying in nearly fifty years ago. The style of interior design had changed from those homey patterns to something more minimalistic over the decades. Gone were the days of strange patterns and bright colored dishes, replaced by a more neutral palate. If asked, Charlie would argue and say that it seemed a lot more boring to look at.

But how could she really complain when their room had a flat television?

She was awestruck, and looked around Michael and Freddy at their temporary living space. It wasn't long before she found the bedroom and flung herself onto the nearest mattress. She sunk in almost immediately and stretched her arms out to the ceiling.

“It's like laying on a pile of angel hugs...,” Charlie groaned, feeling the stress she didn't know was in her back melt away the longer she reposed on the top of her bed's comforter. “Come on, Freddy! Put Gregory to bed and take a load off!”

While Michael went to explore the kitchenette and bathroom, Freddy followed after Charlie. At first Gregory didn't want to move, frowning as his father's warmth was suddenly taken away when Freddy detached the limp grip around his neck... Although this stopped as soon as Gregory felt the plush mattress underneath him. If they'd thought he was in deep sleep before, it was nothing compared to what the exhausted kid was about to experience as he instantly passed out again.

Freddy had set Gregory on the second bed, so in order not to disturb him he went over to where Charlie lay. He made sure to take his shoes off as he'd seen Michael do at the door, choosing not to comment on the fact that Charlie hadn't done so herself. She was clearly overwhelmed, and Freddy had to admit he was a bit stunned himself—not at the technology or the way anything looked, but simply for the fact that it was such a foreign environment to anything he was used to.

No longer would he have to enter “sleep mode” in a charging pod. Severely underestimating the cushiness of the comforter underneath him, Freddy promptly fell back onto the mattress with a surprised gasp, landing with his head on the pillow right next to Charlie's.

“Oh... this is very comfortable!” he commented with a laugh, turning his face towards her as he rested his hands on his stomach.

Charlie opened an eye, glancing over to Freddy as his weight shifted where she laid on the bed and rolled into her friend slightly. There, she would proceed to ask Freddy a question. “Have you ever actually slept before?”

Surely, sleep mode was similar, Charlie thought. But could Freddy dream? That was the important question.

Gregory certainly dreamt. Looking over at the tiny kid curled in the middle of the mattress would tell you that instantly. He twitched every now and then, having an active dream—maybe one where he was running...

“It's really easy. You just close your eyes and stop thinking of anything,” Charlie guided. Though she always slept better with music, Charlie wouldn't be needing it tonight. The excitement and terror of one action-packed weekend was enough for Charlie's mind to cringe at the thought of staying awake any longer. While Charlie was a side sleeper, choosing to roll and face Freddy as she shut her eyes, Gregory was in a tightly wound ball, laying on his right side and holding himself as he dreamed.

“I have never truly slept as you have,” Freddy replied, then listened to Charlie's instructions. He soon shut his eyes as well, staring at nothing but blackness.

And then he waited.

And waited.

He tried to think of nothing, but in doing so he was thinking about not thinking, which put Freddy in a catch-22. Still keeping his eyes closed, his brow furrowed slightly as he asked: “How do you... think of nothing?”

“You just don't,” Michael piped up unhelpfully, appearing in the doorway. Their one bag of clothes was slung over his shoulder again as he leaned casually against the frame, observing his family either passed out or on the verge of doing so. He too needed a rest, but first he really wanted to take a nice, hot shower and wash off all the gunk and grime from the past few days.

“Here, I found the room service menu on the coffee table,” he said, throwing the laminated booklet towards the bed where it landed next to Charlie's back. “I'm going to take a shower—you guys can handle it if they call, right?”

It was a simple task, answering the phone and giving them an order Gregory might like to eat, but Freddy and Charlie's unfamiliarity with everything made Michael a bit nervous—especially since the only one besides him who could help looked like she’d already drifted off.

To Mike’s surprise, Charlie opened her eyes to look at him standing across the room. With a grin, she reclined her arms behind her head. With the sheer technological advances of these androids’ existence, she was sure her father designed them to be waterproof. Even so, she was glad Michael seemed more than ready to test it out first.

“Sure,” Charlie replied with a shrug. “Don't worry so much; we'll be fine. We'll order Gregory something simple and a few other things for the room. By the way, if you happen to figure out if these android bodies need to use the bathroom, could you give me a heads-up?”

Charlie was half-joking. She hadn't exactly had the urge to go, but she couldn't help thinking about all that food she ate. It must go somewhere, right? Or maybe it just gets burned to make fuel inside her?

Charlie felt like the only thing these robotic forms were missing was an instruction manual...

“Will do,” Michael replied with a roll of his eyes. He fished around in the bag for a new set of dark wash jeans and tank top, this one black with a simple neon logo for The Fazbear Band emblazoned on the front. New outfit obtained, Mike dropped the bag on the floor and headed to the bathroom.

Like Charlie, he had a suspicion that their bodies were converting things they ate into fuel. How, he had no idea—that was another question for Henry the next time they met up.

After locking the bathroom doors, Michael was quick to throw off his dirty clothes, cringing at the messy pile on the floor they made. The group would definitely need to do a shop outside the Pizzaplex to invest in other items besides shirts and pants…

Michael wanted to take the hottest shower he could physically stand, letting the burning water eat away at his years of tightly-wound anxiety. However, he also didn’t want to damage any internal systems in this robotic body, so he opted for a temperature best described as “pleasantly warm.” As he scrubbed the dried blood out of his hair, he could feel his stress going down the drain right along with the crimson water.

While Michael commandeered the bathroom, Freddy and Charlie perused the room service menu.

“What do you think Gregory will like?” Freddy asked, curious of her opinion. “I would prefer it to be somewhat healthy, if possible…”

“Healthy... Hm...” Charlie looked over the kids menu. It was recommended for children 12 and under, so that seemed appropriate for him. It couldn't hurt to get Gregory more than one thing, considering how fast that kid ate. She wondered if a growth spurt was right around the corner. “Okay, hear me out. We get him this peanut butter and jelly smoothie, plus the broccoli mac and cheese. And a pulled pork sandwich?”

Charlie was initially going to get him the chicken nuggets, but she was afraid it wouldn't be enough to hold him over until dinner. She figured it was also about time to get him back on a healthy eating schedule. Just then the phone rang, prompting Charlie to jump up and answer it before the incessant noise woke up Gregory.

“Think about something you want to eat, okay, Freddy?” she said, answering the phone in a sing-song tone before reciting their order so far. She was glad to see Gregory was still asleep, out like a light and dead to the world in the middle of his bed.

“Me?” Freddy blinked down at the menu. Right; in this body he should be able to consume food as well. He roamed over all the options, not afraid to admit with a small laugh: “It is a bit overwhelming, if I am honest!”

Still, Charlie was expecting an answer. Freddy would like to just try a bit of Gregory’s food—and he was sure the boy wouldn’t mind sharing with him—but he knew Gregory needed all of it to make up for the nutrition deficit he’d been suffering for far too long. He really was a tiny kid for 12 years old…

“I suppose I will try a cheeseburger?” Freddy said it as more of a question. Burgers were quite popular at the Pizzaplex and Freddy had always wondered what the fuss was about.

Charlie nodded, holding her hand over the receiver as she listened to Freddy's request. “One cheeseburger with all the fixin’s, please—uh, medium rare!”

She figured that was a safe bet. That’d been her dad’s usual order if she remembered correctly, so perhaps Freddy would like it, too.

“Could I also get a 24 piece basket of the hot wings, bone-in?” Charlie curled the phone cord around her fingers, walking back towards the living space as to not disturb Gregory. She thought for a moment of ordering champagne, then decided against it. It would be nice to celebrate, but knowing Gregory, he'd try to get into the bottle and drink some for himself. “20 minutes? Solid, thank you... Yep, you have a good day, too.”

Oh man, she was adjusting to talking to people again. After hanging up the receiver, Charlie quickly jumped back onto her side of the bed before reaching over and hugging Freddy.

“Dude—you're gonna love burgers,” she assured him, almost excited to watch Freddy take a bite from his first meal.

“I am eager to try one!” Freddy replied with a grin, maneuvering his arm from underneath Charlie to wrap it around her back. He held her loosely as she hugged onto his torso, thinking back on how far they’d come from their initial, confused meeting in the ball pit.

Despite the strange circumstances, even back then they’d gotten along perfectly, becoming fast friends in a matter of hours. Perhaps, subconsciously, they knew they were destined to stick together for a long time.

About five minutes after Charlie ended the phone call, Mike emerged from the bathroom. He looked fresh and clean, hair a wet, slightly wavy mess as he’d decided to give it a brief towel dry and let the air do the rest. He was quick to jump on the bed next to Charlie, smushing her into a sandwich between himself and Freddy.

“So, what are we talking about?” he asked cheerfully, completely inserting himself into whatever bonding time the others were having.

Freddy could only chuckle at this, understanding Michael’s want to be close to them even if he had an interesting way of showing it. After all he’d been through, it was refreshing—and relieving—for Freddy to see the man's true personality peek through without constant anxiety pushing it down.

“Oh, you know,” Charlie began, playfully nudging her old friend as he scooted in closer. “Just talking about how much you smell. Yikes, dude; you sure you actually stood under the water in there?”

She shot a grimace at Freddy, which lasted around half a second before Charlie burst into twinkling laughter. Ignoring Michael’s offended scoff, she told him: “I ordered both of us hot wings, by the way; hope you don't mind.”

It was a strange dynamic they all shared. From Charlie's almost reserved demeanor when they first met to her now openly involving Freddy when she clowned on her friend, the three of them had certainly come far. The days of hiding in backrooms and away from the light were over.

“Oh my god… hot wings?!” Michael draped himself over her shoulders with a dramatic gasp. “Charlie Emily, you know me so well.”

“I take it you are a fan of that dish?” Freddy laughed, watching as Charlie tried in vain to push away Michael’s dead weight as he practically rag-dolled on her, grinning all the while.

“That and a good old-fashioned burger; those were some of my favorites,” Michael replied, and Freddy’s eyes widened in pleasant surprise.

“Well, what a coincidence! Charlie ordered me a burger as well—you are more than welcome to have a bite.”

“I’m taking you up on that for sure.” Mike gave Freddy a rather lackluster thumbs, attention now focused on bothering Charlie. He had a lot of years to make up for, after all.

Charlie effectively had her arms pinned as Michael rolled over her, essentially using her as a pillow. He totally ignored her as she attempted to wiggle from beneath him while he had his conversation with Freddy, but without the use of her arms there was no throwing him off easily.

“Are you comfy yet?” she asked sarcastically. Squished lightly between her two friends, she managed to screw one arm out from under Mike and poke his ribs with a bony finger.

Gregory was beginning to stir at the sound of fun. It was the oddest thing, he felt as though he'd gotten a full night’s sleep—though he was sure it still couldn’t be that late in the day. He almost felt jealous as he watched his family interact without him, but there wasn’t anything to stay mad at. Gregory would get up slowly, hoping to get a drop on them and ambush his family where they all hung out casually on the bed.

“I was, until my pillow stabbed me in the ribs…,” Michael grumbled, finally rolling off Charlie to lay on his back. He scrunched one leg up, hooking the other over his knee as he locked his hands behind his head. He could definitely still use a legit rest, but the shower seemed to give him a small burst of energy—enough to have trouble sitting still for a little while longer, at least.

Michael may not have noticed Gregory sneaking towards them, but Freddy had a second sense when it came to his son. As Charlie and Mike playfully bickered, Freddy’s ears perked up at the muted padding of little shoes against carpet. For a moment he ignored this, acting like he was completely unaware of Gregory’s approach as he laughed softly along with the others. However, just as Gregory reached Freddy’s bedside in preparation to strike the redhead acted fast.

Whipping around, Freddy was quick to snatch him under the arms and hoist him into his lap, hugging him close. “Hello, superstar! I am glad you could join us! How are you feeling?”

Gregory squawked as he was lifted, unable to mask the smile on his lips. Other than his pale eyes, there didn’t appear to be anything different about him—no major change in health from before the nap. Thank goodness.

“Better! I feel great, actually,” he laughed out, content despite his plan not exactly working. He leaned in, hugging Freddy around the chest as he took in his surroundings. “This hotel room’s pretty sweet!”

When he’d left that horrendous foster home a while ago, Gregory knew one of the things he’d miss most was sleeping in a real bed. Though he’d had some respite in Freddy’s room this past weekend, the itchy carpets of the Pizzaplex and hard flooring could only be comfortable for all of three minutes.

“I got you a big lunch to get your strength back, kiddo,” Charlie said, turned on her side again now that Michael quit using her like a backrest.

“We are staying in a family vacation suite,” Freddy added, gesturing towards the doorway leading to the main area. “As well as these extremely comfortable beds, we have our own kitchen and sitting area, and full spa, gym, and arcade access.”

He was quoting the concierge now, understanding the concept of an arcade perfectly but curious as to what the gym and spa entailed. He could make educated guesses of course, which weren’t too far off—he knew gyms were meant for humans to work out in and spas were meant to relax.

“Arcade?!” Gregory asked, surprised to know there was something he’d enjoy at this hotel. Well—besides from the free meals and beds.

“After you eat,” Charlie reminded him gently. Someone had to disappoint him a little, and she knew Freddy didn't enjoy telling his son no. Though as his big sister, Charlie could burst his bubble all she liked to a certain degree.

“We’re going to max out your poor brother’s credit card at the end of this, Charlie,” Michael mused, turning on his side to face the others and resting his head on his palm. He grinned up at Gregory, happy to see that he did in fact look chipper than earlier. “But yeah, we’ve got a bunch of food on the way—apparently your dad’s going to try a burger.”

Gregory's eyes widened at that, and he eagerly patted Freddy’s shoulders. “Oh man—you're gonna love it!”

All this talk of food made Gregory's stomach growl loudly. The lack of a proper diet was beginning to take its toll. If only he still had that blue ice cream cake, he thought. He could fill up on that right away.

As if on cue, there was a hard knock at the door as an unseen staff member called out: “Room service!”

“I’ve got it,” Michael assured, launching himself off the bed and heading for the front door. Opening it revealed a huge tray piled high with food, which he immediately brought inside with a careful balancing act. Charlie really had gone all out with Gregory’s lunch…

The others made their way over as Michael set the food on the kitchen counter. When Gregory tried to peer up and see their spread, Mike told him: “Looks like you’ve got a sandwich, some Mac and cheese, and… a smoothie?” Eyebrows furrowed curiously, he picked up the drink and read the label on the side. “PB&J flavored… huh. Mind if I take a sip? Thanks.”

Without waiting for an answer Mike took a loud slurp of the drink, his face shifting through an array of emotions as he processed the weirdness of it.

“Michael…,” Freddy chided gently, though he couldn’t fault him for being intrigued. Admittedly, now that he could eat Freddy wanted to try everything on the counter too.

Gregory laughed at his reaction. The smoothie was a mix of grapes, strawberry yogurt, and peanut butter. It tasted too sweet to be good for you. Yet it must have some nutritional value if it had fruit, right?

“Oh man, is it like the pizza slushee?” Gregory leaned over, snatching his smoothie out of his big brother's grasp. Immediately, Gregory went through similar stages of grief to Michael after taking a sip. It had an odd texture with the various seeds—he was almost positive this yogurt was just mixed with strawberry preserves to make it even sweeter. After processing what’d just assaulted his taste buds, he held the smoothie up to Freddy.

“Try this—” Gregory suggested without giving his verbal opinion. He didn't want to influence his dad’s decision to drink the odd smoothie more than his face already had.

Freddy took the smoothie, visually analyzing it before hesitantly putting the straw to his lips. He took the smallest of sips, more so trying to get used to the sensation of drinking before he could focus on the flavor itself. He swirled the smoothie in his mouth, giving the flavors and textures a moment to process before swallowing it down. The corners of his lips quirked up and down of their own accord, his expressive face unable to settle on how he felt. Meeting Gregory’s inquisitive gaze, all he could say was: “It is… odd.”

Meanwhile, Charlie popped open the large container of hot wings, its spicy aroma wafting over the table. Luckily they’d been given an array of dipping sauces along with a few vegetables. Charlie figured she’d end up sharing those veggies with Gregory, as her and Michael were likely just going to pig out on the platter of chicken wings. “I could cry, these look so good...”

Michael joined Charlie at the table, enticed by the mouthwatering scent of chicken. They each picked up a wing, clinking them together as if they were glasses before taking a bite.

“Oh my fu—reaking god…,” Michael groaned, curbing his swear at the last second when Freddy’s eyes snapped to him. It seemed like the former bear’s patience for cursing was at its end, now that he had time to worry about that sort of thing. Mike immediately scarfed down the rest of the chicken wing and deposited the bone on the empty side of the container. “I missed food so much…”

“Right?!” Charlie said, discarding a wayward bone. This hotel’s kitchen didn’t mess around with the wings. Satisfied for the moment, Charlie wiped her fingers off—now more attentive towards getting Gregory his sandwich and side dish. After she set Gregory’s plate at the table, Charlie retrieved and set Freddy’s burger down as well.

“I can’t believe I was fine with not eating for like forty years—never doing that again, that’s for sure,” Charlie scoffed, going in for a second spicy morsel.

Gregory wasted no time. Like a feral beast, he dug into his bowl of gooey homemade macaroni and cheese. The dish had been baked over with spiced bread crumbs, its broccoli snapping with roasted flavor as he munched on his pasta. It felt good to eat a dish with some vegetables in it. While Gregory's deathly pallor hadn't changed from the meal, he seemed more lively and aware with each bite.

Satisfied that Gregory was enjoying his food, Freddy picked up his burger. Again, he conducted a visual examination before digging in, taking note of “all the fixin’s” that Charlie ordered. Then he took a tentative bite, placing the rest of the burger back in its container while he chewed experimentally. His bright eyes widened as the satisfyingly greasy flavor washed over his tongue, and instead of giving a verbal opinion he simply picked the food right back up and took another bite.

“Good news: Freddy likes burgers, everyone!” Michael announced, though his words were muffled as he spoke through a mouthful of chicken wings.

Freddy nodded in agreement, swallowing down another few bites before offering Mike a bite. “I am sorry… Did you want some, Michael?”

“No—you’re good, big guy!” Mike laughed, shaking his head and grabbing another wing. “Enjoy your first official meal!”

Charlie snorted, covering her mouth as she dug out a napkin from their meals and tossed it Michael's way. The sauce on his face was making her mouth burn just by looking at it. If she remembered correctly, Michael had been far better with spices than her. She was always dipping her wings into the blue cheese sauce provided and powered through despite the pain it took to clean the spicy meat from the bones.

“Yeah! It's your first time eating, so take a wing—” Charlie offered, pushing hers and Michael's platters towards Freddy a little.

While Gregory wanted to part with some food to share with Freddy, he found himself on autopilot when eating. He wasn't paying attention at all, and had quickly finished off his pasta before starting on the pulled pork sandwich Charlie so graciously chose for him. It felt nice to eat real food.

When he heard his name being called, he finally looked up. The corners of his mouth were stuck with cheese and barbecue sauce as he listened.

“Gregory—is your food really good, little man?” Charlie asked, subtly pointing out how he hadn't spoken since they began their meal.

“Mhm—” was all Gregory could answer. Both cheeks were full and he foresaw himself spitting anywhere should he actually try to talk.

Freddy quickly realized that he wasn’t a fan of messy food. The burger was bad enough, falling apart towards the end and dripping a trail of grease down his hand that he quickly stopped before it reached his sweater. Learning quickly, he pushed his sleeves up before attempting to eat a wing, although the texture of the sauce coating his fingers made him grimace slightly. It reminded Freddy of children slapping their sticky hands onto every part of his suit they could reach, covering him with unknown substances and prompting a thorough wash at the end of each day. Still, he managed a surprisingly demure bite of the chicken wing that left little residue on his mouth and had to consent it was also delicious.

Having wiped off his own face, Michael grabbed a handful of clean napkins and threw them to Gregory. Honestly, now that he’d been fed the kid probably needed a shower more than anything—it would certainly make him feel even better to put a clean outfit on over a body not already caked in grime

Gregory read Michael's mind. He was a little surprised no one had commented on the sheer unhygienic state he was in. All of his bandages, once fun and brightly saturated colors, were coated in a generous layer of filth. He was sure were he to peel back the protective plastic, the healing skin beneath would be clean and lily white.

There would be a paradox with cleaning himself off. People would see how pale he'd become, and may worry and nag his dad about the matter if they were super nosy... Then again, people were going to complain if he smelled bad, too.

With his sandwich finished, Gregory pushed his emptied containers away, asking Freddy: “Can I be excused? I need to shower or I'll catch the plague or something...”

“Of course,” Freddy replied with a nod, already starting to gather the empty containers together.

“The bag of new clothes is in the bedroom,” Michael reminded as Gregory rushed off.

After Michael and Charlie scarfed down the rest of their wings, they helped Freddy collect the trash. Upon Freddy’s confused question of where to put things, Mike laughed and informed him that they could just return the tray to the hallway and staff would pick it up. It was interesting to figure out the little things Freddy didn’t know—Michael had to remind himself that what was common knowledge to him wasn’t necessarily as obvious to the former animatronic.

When Freddy bent to place the tray on the hallway floor, he felt Sammy’s business card crinkle in his pocket. Locking the door and returning to the living room area, he told the others: “We should call Sammy and let him know we successfully acquired a room.”

“Do you want to do the honors, Charlie?” Michael asked, watching Freddy pull the little card out of his pocket.

Charlie leaned back, the sensation of being full unusual and new all over again. While eating had given her a sort of tired demeanor, she could always talk to her brother. “Sure! Sam's probably already worried we haven't called already.”

Charlie didn't want to tell the others, but Sam had begged Charlie to stay. While she wanted to catch up with her twin, it was very clear that he wouldn't get anything done with her around to distract him. She'd return tomorrow, and the three friends could catch up—maybe reintroduce Sammy with Liz and Evan, if he was up for it.

And Sam still had to meet with his dad…

After taking the card from Freddy, Charlie wandered into the living area and dialed up his number. He voice grew dimmer as she walked, with Sammy picking up immediately.

“Hey! It's Charlie—” she started, unaware that he knew the hotel was calling him from the caller ID. Their conversation consisted of what room they were staying in, and how nice it was to be out and about again after so long.

Inside the bathroom, after Gregory dressed himself he took a good look in the mirror. Wiping away the fog from the reflective glass, he sighed deeply.

He was happy to be out of the Pizzaplex—even happier to be alive and with people who cared about him. Still, this ghastly appearance he had now just made him feel strange. It’s like he was looking at another person's face in every reflection he saw of himself. The shower didn't help with that; it couldn't wash away the effects of the Remnant on his body.

Feeling his mind grow foggy, Gregory decided to lean against the sink and stare dejectedly until his face looked normal again.

Of course, it didn’t take Freddy long to sense something amiss. After the water had been cut off for some time and the boy still hadn’t emerged from the bathroom, Freddy glanced towards the closed door with a pinched expression.

“Hey, we’re supposed to be relaxing, remember?” Michael commented, placing a hand on Freddy’s back. Despite his playful words, Mike also felt a nagging tug in the back of his mind as he remembered the last time he’d left Gregory alone in a bathroom… although he was quick to remind himself that William and his tricks were gone. Plus, Michael was in there last and hadn’t seen anything that might inject an unsuspecting child with immortality juice.

“…I should check on him,” Freddy murmured, and Mike knew not to fight him on the matter. He gave Freddy’s back a pat, then went to lounge on the couch and check out the TV, curious to see what sort of trashy shows were on nowadays. Knocking on the bathroom door, Freddy called out softly: “Gregory? It is Freddy; are you alright?”

Gregory was stirred from this odd depersonalizing episode. Blinking out of it and looking to the door, he called beyond the sturdy wooden barrier between them.

“Combing my hair!” he lied, quickly brushing his fingers through his bangs. Gregory held it out before dropping the still wet locks of hair, in desperate need of a cut soon. “Be out in a second!”

The last thing he wanted was to worry Freddy of all people. After making himself a little more presentable, halfway tucking his tank top and not caring if it was uneven, Gregory strode from the bathroom. Charlie had since taken her call out on the balcony, the cord to the hotel phone pinched between sliding glass doors. Between Michael's flicking through endless channels, you could hear the light chime of her laughter.

Gregory smiled up at Freddy. “What's up?”

There wasn't anything wrong. He was fine.

…Well. Fine enough.

Surely the strange apprehension he felt when entering bathrooms now would go away eventually. One day he'd forget the whole fiasco with that plushie even happened, Gregory told himself.

“I was just checking in on you,” Freddy said, returning the smile. Clearly the boy had been stressing about something—Freddy could see it in his pale face and shining silver eyes. “Follow me a moment, would you?”

He led Gregory into the bedroom and closed the door, just in case he didn’t want his siblings to overhear their conversation. Freddy hoped he'd open up and tell him what was bothering him, but if not he at least wanted to assure Gregory he was always there if he wanted to talk. The poor boy had been through so many traumatic events over the past weekend, it was honestly a wonder he could still be in such high spirits. Freddy half-expected some residual shock to hit at any moment—possibly even for Michael and Charlie, too, though they had years to deal with the situation compared to Gregory’s three days.

“Sit next to me,” Freddy instructed gently as he perched on one of the beds, patting the empty spot at his side. When Gregory clambered up and got settled, Freddy ran a hand through his wet hair, pushing it out of his face. “I just wanted to let you know that you can always talk to me about anything. You have been through a lot this weekend—more so than anyone should ever have to, let alone someone so young. If there is ever something bothering you, I will listen and do my best to help in whatever way I can.”

Freddy’s words and kind expression were backed with nothing but the utmost sincerity. Of course he could talk to Freddy about anything; Gregory knew this.

But what good was talking about how he felt going to do?

Maybe this mindset—this way of approaching things—wasn't good. But Gregory felt as though it was merely his self-esteem being affected. Or... perhaps it was a side effect of the Remnant.

There was a while where Gregory thought on this. That is until he realized his father was looking at him with increasing worry. He had to say something—whether it was a cover up or the truth it didn’t matter.

“It's my face... I just don't look like me anymore. I'm still getting used to it,” Gregory admitted, unsure how important it was that his mind left his body while staring at his own reflection. He would omit this little detail for now.

“Ah.” Freddy’s expression shifted to one of understanding. “Well, I can certainly empathize to a degree—it seems like it may take us both a while to get used to our appearances.”

At this point, Freddy still hadn’t gotten a chance to really look at this new android form of him—not while he inhabited it, that is. So distracted with the rest of the world, he’d been content to catch the occasional faint glimpse of himself in a passing glass window. However, he knew Gregory’s concern came from an entirely different and darker place.

“If it is any consolation,” Freddy continued with that eye-crinkling smile of his, gently cupping one of Gregory’s cheeks in his hand. “I still think you look just like my superstar, regardless of what you might see in the mirror.”

At least they weren't going through this alone. Gregory never thought he'd ever get to feel the familial closeness and pride of being loved unconditionally. But Freddy remained his papa bear; now he just happened to look less ursine than ever.

“That helps...” Gregory replied, leaning into his touch. “I'll get over it eventually. Like you said... I just have to get used to it.” He sighed in a resigned fashion.

And hey—maybe it would help him hide better from... them.

“It's probably for the best I don't look like myself, anyway.” Gregory reached up and grasped Freddy's hand where it rested on his face, glancing away momentarily. “Then my foster parents can't find me...”

Almost imperceptibly, Freddy’s fingertips tightened against Gregory’s cheek. This was a topic he hadn’t wanted to think of just yet, but knew this was a real threat on the horizon. For all intents and purposes, Freddy had kidnapped a child. Despite the well-meaning behind his actions, he knew there was a whole slew of issues regarding that he hadn’t the first idea how to go about dealing with.

“No matter what happens, I am staying with you,” Freddy reassured, wholly confident of at least that fact. He finally moved his hand, only to pull Gregory into a tight hug. “Now, how about we get the others and check out that arcade? I am curious to see how it compares to the Pizzaplex!”

Gregory had never seen such a collection of attractions than those at the Pizzaplex. He doubted the little hotel arcade could hold a candle to the might of the gaming library Freddy’s had. Still, it was totally worth it to go and see the looks on Michael’s face when Gregory beat him at fighting games again. It was a fun distraction.

And that’s what he really needed right now. Anything to get his mind off the silver eyes in his head, and those terrifying faces of people who only loved him for the paycheck he brought with him.

***

There were a few reruns of popular shows playing on some TV channels. The 90’s hit The Immortal and the Restless was having an anniversary marathon—all twelve seasons aired two times and followed by the dramatic movie conclusion. When Charlie was done with her phone call, she couldn’t help but notice the familiar theme song playing on the high definition television.

“Oh no, what season is this?” she asked, hurrying to hang up the phone so she could scamper back towards the couch. She didn’t want to miss anymore of the show than she already had.

“Season five,” Michael replied, shifting to make room. His eyes never left the TV, even as he felt Charlie sink in next to him. “You’ve missed so much… meanwhile I’ve seen this entire show way too many times.”

Mike couldn’t even begin to count the amount of hours he’d laid motionless in front of the TV, watching crappy soap operas with reckless abandon. It’d become somewhat of a guilty pleasure over the years, especially as time went on and it became more difficult for him to actually leave his apartment. What better way to get away from the troubles of his own life than to become invested in those of fictional characters?

As Charlie settled next to Michael, Freddy and Gregory emerged from the bedroom. Noticing the pair on the couch, Freddy walked over to their side and announced: “Gregory and I are going to visit the arcade and would love for you to join us!”

“Huh?” Mike was fully invested in the vampire drama, and it took a monumental effort—and well-timed commercial break—to tear his gaze away and look up at Freddy. Once he processed what the man said though, he was quick to brighten up with an eager nod. “Oh, sure! We can definitely explore the hotel a bit.”

Good thing they were playing the marathon twice, Charlie thought, grinning as she lifted herself energetically from the couch. That way they could start at the beginning tomorrow.

“I almost forgot about the arcade!” Charlie was going to enjoy being able to play a video game without the oppressive atmosphere of the Pizzaplex ruining all their fun. Remembering the bag stashed away inside her jacket pocket, she mused: “I wonder if this prize counter will accept three rolls of game tickets from Freddy's…”

“Great question,” Gregory said, already trying to get out of the door. He reached for the knob and opened up the hallway and holding it. “We'll find out when we get there!”

***

PREVIOUS INSTALLMENT: Spend the Night ~~ Next Chapter

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