ggjunkie

[ggjunkie]

Ngl I enjoy writing Adam one shots. As someone who is majoring in Musical Theatre… I’m considering writing a one shot involving that.

#hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel adam #adam x reader #x reader

[ggjunkie]

Chained

A look on different anecdotes involving your developing relationship with Adam.

(College AU)

Everyone on campus knew Adam, and everyone knew about his necklace. It was a constant presence around his neck, an accessory as essential to him as the air he breathed. Legends whispered that he once ended a relationship because his girlfriend dared suggest he remove it. Some said it was a matter of principle for him, a line he wouldn't let anyone cross.

Personally, you believed he broke up with her because of the fact that he caught her cheating on him with some blond twink… but to each their own. Gossip was a staple of campus life, and stories had a way of morphing over time.

The necklace itself was a curious thing. One of his guitar picks, golden and shimmering like a tiny beacon of light. The chain, sleek and black, provided a stark contrast against the metallic glow. You, being Adam's science lab partner, had spent enough time around him to notice its significance. Yet, despite your proximity, you couldn't understand why it held such importance for him. But then again, you weren't exactly eager to strike up a conversation with him to find out.

Adam was, for lack of a better word, a dick. He had a way of rubbing people the wrong way, and you had little interest in getting on his bad side. But despite his less-than-endearing personality traits, you prided yourself on being a decent person. So, when you noticed his necklace lying abandoned on his desk with Adam nowhere to be seen, a sense of obligation stirred within you.

As you carefully lift the necklace, the broken chain confirms your suspicions. Adam's infamous temper must have flared, leading to an outburst that resulted in the necklace being flung aside in frustration. It's a familiar scenario, one that you've witnessed in passing before.

Yet, despite your less-than-favorable opinion of Adam, or at least the opinion you try to convince yourself of, the image of his meltdown tugs at your heartstrings. Beneath his prickly exterior lies a person with vulnerabilities and struggles, just like anyone else. And in this moment, imagining him upset over this piece of jewelry stirs a surprising wave of empathy within you. Your thumb glides over the smooth surface of the guitar pick, the golden hue catching the light in a mesmerizing display.

But now comes the dilemma: do you intervene, stepping beyond the boundaries of your relationship with Adam, or do you respect his privacy and simply return the necklace back to the desk without delving deeper into the situation like a normal person would?

—

You winded up going through with it.

And what is “it”, you may ask?

Well, repairing Adam’s necklace, of course. It might not have been the most conventional move, but you've never been one to follow the crowd. Some might call it foolish, but you prefer to think of it as being true to yourself, even if that means taking idiotic risks.

Sure, you and Adam have your differences. Okay, maybe more than just differences. You practically exist on opposite ends of the spectrum. He likes to piss you off by making crude comments catered towards your body, and you like to piss him off by threatening to spill chemicals down his shitty band t-shirts. Your dynamic is more like oil and water than anything resembling friendship.

But beneath the surface, there's a tension—a spark of something that neither of you quite understands. Maybe it's the adrenaline of sparring with someone who matches your wit, or maybe it's something deeper, something you're not quite ready to acknowledge.

And maybe, just maybe, you've entertained the thought that fixing his necklace could be your way of extending an olive branch. A peace offering in the form of a repaired chain, a silent plea for a truce between two sworn enemies. Or maybe, if you dare to entertain the idea, it could be your ticket to something more—a chance to explore the uncharted territory of a potential romance.

Of course, you're not naive. You're well aware that your fantasies might be nothing more than wishful thinking. Adam might not even appreciate the gesture, let alone reciprocate your feelings. But hey, a little delusion never hurt anyone, right? And who knows, maybe—just maybe—there's a glimmer of hope buried beneath all the snark and sarcasm.

Relief washed over you when your crafty friend finally returned with the fixed necklace. It had taken a few days, but their skillful hands had worked wonders, restoring Adam's prized possession to its former glory.

As your friend handed over the repaired necklace, you couldn't help but feel a pang of gratitude mixed with embarrassment. Their knowing look spoke volumes, and you quickly averted your eyes, feeling your cheeks flush with heat. It was as if they could see right through you, understanding the significance of this seemingly simple gesture.

"Thanks," you muttered, trying to keep your voice steady despite the rush of emotions. "I owe you one. Seriously."

Your friend just smiled, a knowing glint in their eyes, before waving off your gratitude. "No need to thank me. Just make sure you-know-who appreciates the effort, okay?"

You nodded, swallowing hard as you pocketed the repaired necklace. With a silent promise to repay your friend's kindness, you made your way out of their workshop, the repaired necklace burning a hole in your pocket. Now all that was left was to track down Adam and deliver it to him, a task that suddenly felt much more daunting than you had anticipated. But you were determined to see it through, come hell or high water. After all, you had come this far. There was no turning back now.

As you approached the Music Hall, you couldn't shake off the sense of anticipation that tingles through your veins. Each step brought you closer to Adam, to the moment when you would finally hand over his repaired necklace and, perhaps, put an end to the tension that had simmered between you for far too long.

The familiar sight of the Music Hall greeted you as you pushed open the door, the air thick with the scent of wood polish and old instruments. You nodded in greeting to a passing friend, their smile barely registering as you focused on the task at hand.

With determined steps, you made your way down the narrow hallway towards the practice rooms, your ears straining for any sign of Adam's presence. But to your surprise, the practice rooms appeared deserted, the usually bustling space eerily quiet.

Frowning in confusion, you peered into each room as you passed, your heart sinking with each empty space you encountered. Where could Adam be? Had you missed him somehow, or had he found some secluded spot to escape the chaos of campus life?

Just as you were about to give up hope, a faint sound caught your attention—a soft melody drifting from one of the rooms at the end of the hallway. With renewed determination, you quickened your pace, following the sound until you reached the door of the practice room.

Peeking in, you were greeted by the sight of Adam, alone in the dimly lit space, his guitar cradled in his arms as he strummed gently. The absence of an amp gave his music an intimate quality, as if you were witnessing a private moment meant for his ears alone.

For a moment, you hesitated, struck by the vulnerability in Adam's posture, the way his eyes were closed in concentration and his lips moved silently with the lyrics. It was a rare glimpse into a side of him you had never seen before, a reminder that beneath the tough exterior lay a regular person.

Adam's eyes snapped open at the sound of your knock, the irritation evident in his furrowed brow. With a few muttered curses, he carefully leaned his guitar against the wall before wrenching the door open.

The moment the door swung open, you were met with a wave of his frustration, the tension in the air almost palpable. His scowl deepened as he glared at you, clearly not in the mood for any interruptions.

“No I’m not doing that stupid fucking evaluation. Mrs. Farring can suck it if she thinks I will. Fuck off—“

“That’s not why I’m here.” Your hands raised in a placating manner, a silent plea for him to lower his guard.Your voice was steady despite the rising tension. Adam's temper was like a simmering pot threatening to boil over, and you desperately hoped to prevent it from spilling into a full-blown confrontation.

At your words, he doesn’t seem to calm down though. “Then again, fuck off. Get the fuck out. Adios, sayonara, goodbye. Now leave!”

“Adam, chill out—“

“Chill out??” Adam bristled at your words. “I’m gonna bite off your fucking nipple if you think I’m gonna just roll over for you, you fucking bitch. I am not some kind of fucking dog or pug or fucking whatever else.”

Despite Adam's continued hostility, you refused to let his insults affect you. With a roll of your eyes, you brushed off his aggression, determined to stay focused on the task at hand.

You reached into your pocket and retrieved the repaired necklace, holding it out to him with a flourished gesture. His eyebrow raised in skepticism, but he extended his hand nonetheless, allowing you to drop the jewelry into his waiting palm.

The necklace landed with a soft clatter, the sound echoing in the tense silence that hung between you. Adam hesitated for a moment, his gaze flickering between you and the necklace in his hand. It was clear that he was surprised by your gesture, his guard momentarily lowered by the unexpected act of kindness.

“What the fuck is this?”

You blinked at Adam's sudden change in demeanor, his aggression giving way to bewilderment. His reaction caught you off guard, and you couldn't help but furrow your brows in response.

"Wait, what do you mean?" you asked, your confusion evident in your voice. You really hope you didn’t fuck upl. "Isn't this your necklace?"

Adam's lip curled in a snarl as he scrutinized the jewelry in his hand, his intense gaze never leaving the gleaming surface of the necklace. "No, no it is," he admitted, his tone begrudgingly acknowledging the truth. "It's just... not broken."

“Yeah, there’s a thing called ‘fixing it’”

He stares at you, his expression suddenly unreadable. This was unusual, as Adam was an open book. That, and he had two default emotions: angry, and horny. There’s this weird vulnerability in his eyes and it’s freaking you out.

“You fixed my necklace.” It’s not a question, but you nod anyway. “Why?”

“It was broken.”

His expression flattens out, and that familiar temper starts making itself known. “Yeah no fucking shit, dipshit. Why did you fix it.”

“Because…” you rack your brain for an answer, but come up empty handed. “I don’t know. I just know it meant a lot to you.”

“So you paid to get it repaired?”

“My friend did it actually, free of charge. I didn’t trust anyone else to touch it.”

You shifted on your feet, the sensation of nervousness coursing through your veins like a jolt of electricity. There was something in the air, something intangible yet undeniable, and you couldn't shake the feeling that you were standing on the edge of a precipice, teetering on the brink of something unknown.

As Adam's gaze remained fixed on the necklace in his hand, his thumb tracing over the golden guitar pick with a touch of reverence, you couldn't help but feel a pang of jealousy. The image of his fingers caressing the smooth surface of the pendant sent a shiver down your spine, igniting a desire that you quickly pushed away.

You berated yourself for the dirty thought, for the forbidden longing that stirred within you.

“Can you…” he continued looking at his necklace. “Can you help me put it on?”

Your eyebrows raise in surprise, but you refuse to let the opportunity pass. “Of course.”

With a hesitance you haven’t seen from him, he hands the necklace to you and turns around. Without a word, you took the necklace from his outstretched hand, the metal cool against your skin as you held it delicately in your palm. With a gentle touch, you reached up and brushed the short ends of hair out of the way, your fingers lingering against his skin for a moment longer than necessary. The sensation of your touch sent a shiver down his spine, a reaction that mirrored the fluttering in your own chest.

Ah. So he feels this…thing… in the air, too.

As you placed the necklace around Adam's neck and clasped it together, a sense of relief washed over you. The tension that had lingered between you seemed to dissipate with the final click of the clasp, replaced by a fleeting moment of connection that left you both feeling strangely vulnerable.

But as grateful as you were that the necklace didn't somehow break on you, creating an awkward situation, you knew that it was time to create some distance again. With a reluctant heart, you took a few steps back, putting space between you and Adam once more.

He waits a second before turning back around, his hands coming up to fiddle with the necklace. It looks like he’s about to say something, but you beat him to the punch. “I think I should get going.”

He thins his mouth into a line before nodding. “Yeah. Yeah of course. I should… probably get back to my guitar.”

“Yeah. I’ll see you later.”

“Yep. See you.”

“Okay. Bye.”

“Goodbye.”

With a final glance back into the practice room, you watched as Adam remained fixated on his necklace, his expression a mixture of contemplation and fascination. Despite his earlier insistence on getting back to his instrument, he seemed unable to tear his gaze away from the gleaming pendant hanging around his neck.

A small smile tugged at the corners of your lips as you observed him from afar, a strange sense of fondness settling over you.

What a weirdo.

—

As Adam slid into the seat next to you in science class, you couldn't help but notice the absence of his usual crude remarks or inappropriate comments. Instead, he greeted you with a simple head nod before turning his attention to Mrs. Farring, the science professor.

It was a stark departure from his usual behavior, and you couldn't shake the feeling that something was different about him today. His focused demeanor, rare for someone who typically paid little attention to the lecture, raised a red flag in your mind.

Despite the nagging curiosity gnawing at you, you decided to follow Adam's lead and redirect your attention to Mrs. Farring, determined not to look a gift horse in the mouth. It was a small victory, perhaps, but a significant one nonetheless, and you were grateful for the respite from his usual antics.

The sight of Adam's subtle glances in your direction during class had left you feeling uneasy, a knot of worry forming in the pit of your stomach. You couldn't shake the feeling that maybe you had overstepped your boundaries by fixing his necklace, fearing that he might see your actions as intrusive or unwelcome.

Lost in your own thoughts, you were jolted back to reality when a torn piece of paper suddenly slid your way. Startled, you looked down at the note, your heart racing as you unfolded it to reveal a single word written in Adam's handwriting:

"Thanks."

With a smile tugging at the corners of your lips, you glanced up at Adam, who was pointedly avoiding your gaze, his attention focused elsewhere in the classroom. Despite his attempts to appear indifferent, you couldn't help but feel a sense of warmth at the sight, knowing that your gesture had not gone unnoticed.

Determined to ease any lingering tension between you, you reached for your own pen and quickly scribbled a response on the torn piece of paper before sliding it back across the table to Adam.

"What kind of lab partner would I be if I didn't help?"

He quickly writes back.

“A normal one. But I’m glad you’re not.”

The unexpected response from Adam caught you off guard, and a warmth spread through your chest at his words, even if they were somewhat cryptic. His acknowledgment, though brief, felt like a small victory.

Before you could formulate a response, Adam swiftly took the paper, crumpled it, and tossed it into his bag with a nonchalant gesture.

—

"So, what's the deal with the necklace?"

Adam glares at you, his eyes narrowing with a mix of irritation and something else you can't quite place. For a moment, you think he might actually respond, but instead, he diverts his attention back to the paper packet in front of him. He brushes off your question with a dismissive wave of his hand, the same hand that now holds a pencil, poised above the page.

The room is silent except for the faint scratch of pencil on paper as Adam writes down an answer. You watch him closely, noticing the slight furrow in his brow, the way his jaw clenches in concentration. He pauses, eyes scanning what he's written, then sighs and erases it. The tapping of the pencil against the desk becomes a rhythmic punctuation to his thoughts.

You inch closer to Adam, closing the gap between your desks with a mischievous glint in your eye. With calculated precision, you deliver a well-aimed elbow jab to his ribs, a playful gesture that's become something of a tradition between the two of you.

"Ow!" Adam hisses through clenched teeth, his hand instinctively moving to the spot where you struck him. He shoots you a reproachful glare, but there's a flicker of amusement in his eyes despite the pain. "Bro. For once, I’m actually trying to do the work. Be grateful, you dickhole.”

You elbow him again.

“What?” Adam hisses through clenched teeth, shooting you a warning glance to keep your antics in check. The library is hushed around you, filled with the soft rustle of pages turning and the occasional whisper of students studying in pairs. You can tell he's trying to maintain a semblance of composure, not wanting to draw the attention of the librarian who patrols the aisles like a hawk.

You were honestly surprised when Adam had suggested meeting at the library. It wasn't his usual haunt for studying, and his sudden change in venue piqued your curiosity. But what surprised you even more was his demeanor lately. He seemed... different.

Adam had been nicer, more accommodating, and surprisingly patient, especially when it came to working together on the science project. He'd even offered to help you with some of the more challenging aspects, something you never would've expected from him before.

It wasn't just his actions that had changed; his words had softened too. He was being friendlier, more open in his conversations, and there was a noticeable lack of his usual snark and sarcasm. It was as if a switch had been flipped, transforming him from the brash, abrasive guy you'd come to expect into someone... well, someone you could actually tolerate spending time wit

“Answer my question.” you whisper back, raising your arm in threat to elbow him once more. His eye twitches, yet he makes no move to brush you off. Instead, he deeply sighs.

“It was a gift from my dad. Happy?” He mutters, rounding his attention back to the paper packet.

“Aw, that’s cute.”

He writes something down, applying more pressure than necessary. “Shut the fuck up.”

you notice a subtle twitch in Adam's lip, almost a smile yet not quite, a tiny crack in his carefully composed facade. It's a small victory, but it fills you with a sense of satisfaction to know that you've managed to elicit a reaction from him. Grinning mischievously, you lean in closer, your fingers gently curling around the piece of jewelry that hangs from his neck. “Is this your dad’s pick?”

He takes a moment to reply. That makes you tilt your head to see his face– and woah. You’re a whole lot closer than you realized. For a second, you’re breathing in the same air. Adam's eyes dip down for a moment, his gaze lingering on your lips before darting back up to meet your gaze. It's a subtle movement, almost imperceptible, but it sends a shiver down your spine nonetheless.

Adam nervously clears his throat, a faint blush coloring his cheeks as he also realizes your proximity. You take the hint and slowly retract your hand, letting it fall back to your side as you give him some space.

"Uh, yeah," he begins, his voice barely above a whisper, "He actually introduced me to guitar." His admission catches you off guard, and you can't help but feel a pang of sympathy for him. There's a vulnerability in his voice that you've rarely heard before, a rawness that tugs at your heartstrings.

As he continues, his words come out in a rush, as if he's been holding them back for far too long. "He knew he was getting sick. And this was the last gift before he passed."

The small bit of guilt settles in your chest, weighing heavy with the realization that your earlier teasing might have crossed a line. "I'm sorry," you murmur softly, the words tinged with sincerity as you meet Adam's gaze.

"Why?" He tilts his head, genuinely bewildered by your apology. "You helped me fix it," he adds, his tone laced with a hint of gratitude. For a moment, you see a flicker of something in his eyes—perhaps surprise, or maybe even warmth. He starts to reach for your hands before seeming to think better of it, opting instead to cough into his fist, a subtle yet telling gesture of restraint.

Adam's voice is soft, almost hesitant, as if the words he's about to speak are unfamiliar territory for him. "I know I don’t say it much– or at all, really. But uh." He pauses, his gaze fixed on some point in the distance, avoiding direct eye contact. "Thank you. For uh, bringing my dad back to me."

His vulnerability catches you off guard, and for a moment, you're rendered speechless. It's a rare glimpse into the deeper layers of Adam's character, a side he rarely reveals to others. Despite the gruff exterior he often presents to the world, here he is, opening up in a way that feels almost fragile.

Without a word, you reach out and place your hand on top of his, offering a silent reassurance.

–

As you made your way through the chaotic college party, dodging drunken revelers and avoiding the various unsavory activities unfolding around you, you couldn't help but feel a growing sense of discomfort. College parties had never been your scene, and tonight was proving to be no exception.

After witnessing one too many couples engaging in …public displays of affection… on the poor owner's couch, you decided that you'd had enough. Chugging down the rest of your water, you made a beeline for the stairs, desperate for some peace and quiet away from the chaos below.

Your search for solace led you to try several doors along the upstairs hallway, hoping to find an unoccupied room where you could take a much-needed break. It took three tries before you finally stumbled upon the master bedroom, and as you hesitantly cracked the door open, you were surprised to find only one person inside.

Adam.

He had brought his guitar with him— which of course he had. At the sound of the door opening, he swung his head up and furrowed his brows.

“Get the fuck out.”

Ignoring his command, you pushed the door open further, revealing yourself to him. His furrowed brows relaxed slightly as he strained his neck to look past you, checking to see if anyone else was behind you. When he realized you were alone, a visible tension seemed to melt away from his shoulders.

“Sup, bitch. Trynna get some?”

As Adam reverted to his crude demeanor, you couldn't help but feel a pang of disappointment. His sudden shift in behavior left you feeling taken aback, wondering why he had returned to his usual abrasive attitude after showing a glimpse of something different.

However, upon closer inspection, you noticed the insincerity in his smile, the falseness that lurked behind his facade of bravado. It was clear that his crude remarks were merely a defense mechanism, a way to mask his vulnerability and keep others at arm's length.

Deciding to trust your instincts, you chose to ignore Adam's crude remarks and instead focus on the bigger picture.

“What’re you playing?”

“What?” He asks, genuinely confused.

You gesture to his guitar. “What’re you playing?”

“Oh. Uh. Not really anything. Got any requests?”

You pretend to think. “Hot cross buns?”

He levels his expression, unimpressed. “Seriously?”

“No, I’m just fucking with you.” You smile. Somehow, that gets him to smile back. “You know ‘Mean To You’?”

He scrunches his nose, which is honestly a cute look. Mentally, you take a picture and save it for later to swoon over. “By that Brightman bitch?” He asks.

As Adam adjusted his finger placement on the frets and began to strum the song on his guitar, you found yourself instinctively humming along to the familiar melody as it flowed from the strings. You couldn't help but feel a twinge of embarrassment as Adam abruptly stopped playing, his gaze fixed on you with an intensity that made you squirm slightly under his scrutiny. Had you been off-pitch? Were you intruding on his moment of solitude with your humming?

“What?” you asked, your voice tinged with a hint of uncertainty.

Adam hesitated for a moment, one hand instinctively moving to fiddle with his necklace as he averted his eyes, pretending to busy himself with tuning his guitar. "You can sing along, you know," he said finally, his tone softer than before. "Hearing words makes it easier to keep my place."

As Adam restarted the song and you joined in, your cheeks flushed with a mixture of embarrassment and surprise. You hadn't expected him to actually want to hear you sing, especially given his usual sensitivity when it came to music. But despite your initial reservations, you couldn't deny the thrill of the moment as your voice mingled with his guitar in a harmonious duet.

Your voice may have been a bit breathy and unsupported, lacking the polish of a trained singer, but Adam didn't seem to mind. In fact, as you sang, he closed his eyes and seemed to lose himself in the music, his fingers deftly moving across the frets of his guitar with practiced ease.

If you looked closely, you could see the hint of a smile tugging at the corners of his lips.

As the final chord of the song reverberated through the room, Adam slowly opened his eyes and turned to look at you, his gaze locking with yours in a moment of shared understanding. And then, to your surprise, he smiled—a genuine, heartfelt smile that seemed to light up his face and soften the hard edges of his demeanor.

Caught off guard by the unexpected warmth in his expression, you couldn't help but return the smile, feeling a rush of butterflies fluttering in your stomach at the sight of the softness in his eyes.

As Adam's eyes flickered down to your mouth, a sudden heat ignited between you, his gaze turning intense and smoldering. You felt a shiver run down your spine as his eyelids drooped slightly, his desire unmistakable in the way he looked at you.

When his gaze returned to meet yours, you found yourself unable to tear your eyes away from him, the intensity of the moment leaving you breathless and wanting more. And then, in a rush of heat and anticipation, you felt yourselves leaning in towards each other, drawn together by an irresistible magnetic force.

The first touch of his lips against yours sent a jolt of electricity coursing through your veins, a surge of desire that threatened to consume you both. And as your lips moved together in a heated embrace, you couldn't help but lose yourself in the intoxicating sensation of his mouth against yours.

Adam was a damn good kisser, his lips moving with a practiced ease that left you gasping for air. It lasted only a few seconds before he pulled back, his teeth grazing your bottom lip before his tongue slipped into your mouth, igniting a firestorm of passion between you.

As your hands slid up Adam's biceps, tracing the contours of his strong muscles, you couldn't help but admire the power and strength that lay beneath his rough exterior. And when you felt him flex in response to your touch, a small laugh escaped your lips, the sound muffled by the heat of the kiss.

But any amusement you felt was quickly replaced by a surge of desire as Adam playfully sucked on your tongue, sending a shiver of pleasure coursing through you. His lips were hot against yours, his tongue teasing and tantalizing in a way that left you breathless and wanting more.

Your hands continued their exploration, moving up his arms and over his shoulders, applying gentle pressure before wrapping around his neck. One hand toyed with the short ends of his hair, eliciting a low groan from him as he pressed you back into the mattress with a hungry urgency.

As Adam peeled himself off of you, his arms still supporting his weight as he hovered over you, you couldn't help but notice the way his necklace caught the light, shimmering and reflecting the soft glow of the bedroom.

Wrapping your hand around his necklace, you gently tugged on it, using the delicate chain to pull him back down towards you.

–

One second, you were immersed in the quiet ambiance of the library, the scent of old books and faint whispers surrounding you as you poured over your final exam notes. The next, darkness enveloped your vision, a warm, steady pressure pressing against your eyes. Instinctively, your hand shot up to remove whatever it was that had obscured your sight, only to encounter something oddly clammy.

"Guess who?"

“Adam,” you frown, bringing your hands to cup over his own. “You know it’s cringe when you do that.”

You feel, rather than hear, him snicker in delight at your disgusted reaction. Ever since that memorable night at the college party, the two of you had found yourselves in an unexpectedly steady rhythm. Adam, it turned out, was a surprisingly good boyfriend—caring, attentive, and, well, a little bit of a shit. But you wouldn’t have him any other way.

“Can you stop blinding me so I can get back to work?” you ask, a twinge of annoyance at his interruption.

“Yeah, just one second. Keep your eyes closed.”

You do as he asks, keeping your eyes obediently closed, though curiosity gnaws at you. The shuffling of fabric and the soft clinking of metal fill the air, accompanied by the faint scent of his cologne. You resist the urge to peek, letting the anticipation build as seconds tick by.

Finally, his hands retreat, and you feel a slight shift in the air as something is placed before you. The anticipation is palpable, like the charged atmosphere before a thunderstorm. Your heart pounds with excitement and a hint of nervousness, wondering what Adam could possibly be up to.

“Okay, baby,” he sounds nervous. “You can open them.”

Slowly, you crack open your eyes, expecting to see some prank or jest. But what you find leaves you speechless. There, nestled atop your meticulously arranged notes, lies a necklace, its golden chain catching the soft glow of the library lights. It matches Adam's. The guitar pick is the same shade as Adam's eyes, and for a moment, you're struck by the thoughtfulness of the gesture.

“You like it, baby?”

You look at him, feeling happy-tears prick the corner of your eyes. “I adore it.”

#hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel adam #adam x reader #x reader

[ggjunkie]

I got writer’s block on my Heavenly Hazards series, so I’m writing a college one-shot 😁😁

#hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel adam #adam x reader #x reader

[ggjunkie]

Yeah I’m goth. Why would I not make Adam goth-ish.

#hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel adam #art #digital art #fanart #my art #hazbin hotel art #illustration #artists on tumblr

[ggjunkie]

I wish I knew how to shade

#hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel adam #art #digital art #fanart #my art

[ggjunkie]

Heavenly Hazards

Chapter 14

Right alongside the newest abundance of flowers, you notice a black card, standing out starkly against the soft pink cards attached to the flowers. Curious, you pick it up and inspect it more closely. It’s an invitation to another one of Adam’s band rehearsals. The sight of it makes your heart clench.

Conflicting emotions swirl in your mind. The idea of being around Adam right now sounds like an awful way to get over him. Just thinking about seeing him again, watching him perform with that effortless charm, makes your chest tighten. Yet, at the same time, a small part of you is flattered that he thought to invite you. It’s a gesture that shows he cares, or at least wants you around.

But then again, you remind yourself, he’s a dickhead. He’s infuriating, confusing, and infuriatingly confusing. He sends mixed signals, makes grand gestures without considering your feelings, and his presence in your life is a whirlwind of emotional chaos.

Still, he wants you there.

You fight it out in your head, the internal debate growing more intense with each passing moment. The logical part of you insists that staying away from Adam is the best way to move on and protect your heart. But the emotional side, the side that remembers his smile, his unexpected kindness, and the way he makes you feel alive, argues just as passionately.

Finally, you let out a long sigh, accepting your weakness for Adam. You know that resisting him is easier said than done. The truth is, despite all the frustration and confusion, a part of you craves his presence. You can't deny the pull he has over you.

“Okay,” you say aloud, as if affirming your decision to the empty room. “I’ll go.”

–

You arrive at the rehearsal venue, the familiar buzz of anticipation and anxiety coursing through you. The black card invitation clutched in your hand, you make your way to the doors of the rehearsal room. Just as you’re about to enter, your scroll buzzes with a new message.

Pulling it out, you see it’s from Adam:

ADAM

Sorry, ended up getting called for a meeting haha my b. Don’t go hang out with the band boys without me. You’re all mine. I’ll visit you when I’m done.

You stare at the message, feeling a mix of disappointment and irritation. Totally in character for Adam—he invites you and then bails, expecting you to just sit and wait for him. The casual possessiveness in his words, “You’re all mine,” sends a shiver down your spine. You’re not sure if it’s the thrill of being wanted or the frustration of being treated like a pawn in his game.

You end up hanging with his boys.

Marsh, the bassist from last time, welcomes you in with a broad smile. "Hey, glad you could make it!" he says, ushering you into the rehearsal space. Even though Adam, as the lead guitarist and vocalist, is out tonight, Marsh reassures you they can still work as a rhythm section.

You’re introduced to Tommy, the drummer, first. He seems meek and quiet, his oversized sweater almost completely drowning him. The sleeves hang past his hands, and the fabric bunches around his small frame, making him look even more shy and reserved. He gives you a timid smile and a small wave. You politely wave back.

Next, you meet Casey, the pianist. He’s loud, proud, and more than a bit blunt.

"You the chick Adam’s banging? Or, sorry. ‘Making love’. You don’t have to correct me, too." He says it with a genuine, albeit awkward, apology that leaves you unsure of how to respond.

“If you’re looking for your boytoy, he won’t be here today. Sorry,” Marsh says with a shrug, breaking the silence.

“Actually,” you begin, scratching your cheek nervously, “I was hoping I could stay. Maybe watch y’all play…”

Marsh raises an eyebrow in surprise. “You… want to watch us?” he asks, genuine confusion evident in his voice. You can tell he’s used to Adam always being the center of attention.

You hesitate for a moment, unsure of how they’ll react to your request. Finally, you nod slowly, afraid to say the wrong thing. “Yeah, if that’s okay with you all.”

To your relief, Marsh grins and claps you on the back. “Of course it’s okay! We’d love to have you stick around. Especially since you’re our number one fan!”

“Well, Adam’s number one fan,” Casey chimes in with a smile.

You pause for a moment, considering your words. “No, no,” you say, shaking your head. “Y’all were right. I’m the band’s fan, not Adam’s. In fact, I’m kinda glad he’s not here.”

“Are we about to hear your gross gossip? What are you, a 13-year-old girl?” Casey, the pianist, says with a teasing grin before clicking off his keyboard. “Spill everything.”

You blanch at his words, feeling your face erupt into flames. “Oh, no no no no! I’m okay! Really!” you stammer, waving your hands frantically in front of you.

Tommy, the drummer, gently places his drumsticks down, and you hear the faint click as Marsh’s bass amp turns off. They all lean in, their expressions a mix of curiosity and amusement, waiting for you to speak.

Caught off guard by their sudden interest, you hesitate for a moment before letting out a nervous laugh. “It’s really not that interesting,” you say, trying to downplay the situation. But seeing their expectant faces, you realize they’re not going to let you off the hook that easily.

“Seriously, there’s nothing to talk about!” you protest, feeling increasingly flustered by their relentless silent pressure.

“Then why are you glad he’s not here?” Casey persists, his tone more curious than accusatory.

“Did you get into a fight?” Tommy asks.

“Did y’all break up?” Marsh adds, his brow furrowed in confusion.

“No! There’s no fight, and no break up! You can’t break up what isn’t there!” you exclaim, frustration bubbling up inside you.

The band exchanges hesitant glances, a collective realization dawning on them. It’s as if they’ve stumbled upon a delicate truth that none of them were prepared for.

“…y’all aren’t dating?” Casey ventures cautiously, breaking the uneasy silence that hangs in the air.

You feel a knot form in your stomach as you meet their questioning gazes. “You say you aren’t dating?” Marsh echoes.

It hurts to say, the ache in your chest mirroring the longing in your heart. Deep down, you want it so badly that it feels like a physical pain, but you know you have to stay strong.

Tommy's quiet voice breaks the silence, his words heavy with concern and empathy. “Do you want to?”

Your lips press into a thin line, the weight of his question hanging in the air like a heavy cloud. It's a question that digs deep into the core of your being, stirring up a whirlwind of emotions that you're not quite ready to confront.

“I don’t want to talk about this anymore,” you respond, your voice barely above a whisper. The words feel like a shield, a barrier between you and the raw vulnerability of your feelings.

“But Adam says—“ Casey begins, only to be interrupted by Marsh. “They don’t want to talk about it anymore,” Marsh interjects, shooting Casey a pointed look. He then turns to you, a thoughtful expression on his face. “Ever thought about playing with the band?”

You pause, caught off guard by the unexpected change in topic. “Oh. I don’t know how to play. Sorry,” you reply sheepishly, feeling a pang of embarrassment at your lack of musical ability.

“Nah, you’re good!” Marsh reassures you with a grin. “Ever thought about learning?”

You consider his question for a moment, the idea of learning to play an instrument with the band both daunting and intriguing. “I don’t know which one to play,” you admit, feeling uncertain about where to start.

“Well, if our boys want to work on Variation 7, then I can take you to learn how to play bass! I bet Adam would be pleasantly surprised,” Marsh suggests with a knowing grin, his eyes sparkling like the cat who caught the canary.

Your cheeks flush with embarrassment at how easily you were swayed by the idea. Maybe Adam would be impressed by your newfound musical skills and want something more...

But then you shake your head, chiding yourself for really sounding like a 13-year-old girl.

You nod, trying to convince yourself that learning an instrument is indeed an important skill, despite the sneaky thought in the back of your mind about using it to seduce someone into dating you. But, you reason, there are other benefits too—like improving hand coordination and fostering creativity. Yeah, that sounds legitimate.

“I mean, it wouldn’t hurt to learn, right?” you say with a hesitant smile, trying to sound more confident than you feel.

Marsh grins and gives you an encouraging slap on the back. “There we go! Let me pack up my setup, and then we can go take one of the other rooms.”

Marsh packs up his equipment, carrying his bass and amp as you both make your way to a different practice room. He guides you to a chair and carefully slides the bass's strap onto your shoulder. You adjust it, trying to mimic the way you've seen Marsh handle the instrument.

He nods appreciatively at your care and plugs the bass into the amp. As the sound crackles to life, you tentatively pluck one of the strings, producing a loud note that makes you cringe. Marsh quickly adjusts the volume, slightly cranking it down.

"Sorry about that," he says with a reassuring smile. "Just getting the levels right. Okay, let's try that again."

Feeling a bit more confident, you pluck the string once more, this time producing a clearer and more controlled note. Marsh nods in approval, encouraging you to continue. You strum a few of the other strings before he decides it’s all set up correctly.

“Alright!” he begins, his enthusiasm contagious despite the initial noise. “Let me show you the basics. The bass can be broken up into three different parts: the body, the neck, and the headstock. Or, as Adam calls it: the ass, the tits, and the clit. I... don’t know if he knows where that is,” he adds with a chuckle.

You can't help but laugh

—

Time passes, and with Marsh's patient guidance, you manage to learn a simple baseline. As you play the last few notes, Marsh's face lights up with pride, and he theatrically wipes a fake tear from his eye.

"I'm so proud!" he exclaims, beaming at you with genuine delight.

You can't help but roll your eyes at his theatrics, but a small smile tugs at the corners of your lips. In response to his teasing, you flick his head playfully. Marsh is such a little shit. Him and Aeson would get along like a house on fire.

As you and Marsh make your way back to the room, a familiar sound catches your attention—a boisterous laugh that can belong to only one set of golden wings.

Your heart skips a beat at the realization, and you exchange a glance with Marsh, both of you freezing in your tracks. It dawns on you both simultaneously: Adam is in the room.

You’re confused as to why Marsh would hesitate to go in. Then, you remember the text Adam had sent earlier– ridden with jealousy, ordering you not to hang out with his friends.

For someone who has no claim on you, Adam's behavior is incredibly possessive, and it fills you with a mix of indignation and self-righteousness. Who is he to dictate who you can and cannot spend time with? You refuse to be controlled by his expectations or his attempts to assert dominance over you.

With a surge of determination, you straighten your posture and square your shoulders. You won't let Adam's presence derail your plans or dictate your actions. You're going to move on from him, dammit, and no amount of possessiveness or jealousy on his part will change that.

As you nudge Marsh out of the way and swing the door open, his bass still hanging off you, Adam's eyes immediately lock onto you. His whole face lights up with a radiant smile, the sight of you filling him with unmistakable joy.

But then his gaze drops, and his expression changes in an instant as he sees you wearing Marsh's instrument. His face falls into something unreadable, a mixture of confusion and surprise flickering across his features.

Then, like a storm brewing on the horizon, something more familiar emerges—an undercurrent of anger simmering just beneath the surface. You can feel the tension in the air as Adam's emotions begin to boil over, his jaw clenching and his fists tightening at his sides.

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing,” Adam seethes as he storms towards you and Marsh.

“Adam,” Marsh begins, his voice calm but tinged with apprehension. “I was just teaching them how to play.”

“Oh, that’s it, huh?” Adam's voice drips with venom as he closes the distance between himself and Marsh, his anger palpable. “You better back the fuck off.”

“Adam—“ you start to interject, but Adam's attention snaps to you, his gaze piercing and intense. You fall silent, the weight of his anger settling heavily in the air.

For a moment, his anger softens around the edges at the sight of you, but it continues to burn beneath the surface.

“Give me a second, beautiful,” Adam says, his tone slightly gentler before he turns back to Marsh. “I’m dealing with some band stuff.”

“Adam,” you try again, “He didn’t do anything,” you insist, desperation creeping into your voice as you plead with Adam to see reason.

“Oh, but I bet he wanted to,” Adam retorts, his words laced with bitterness and suspicion.

“All we did was play the bass,” you protest, hoping to diffuse the situation before it escalates further.

“So?” Adam snaps back, his frustration mounting. “I played you my guitar. And look where that led us! Spoiler! It led to you in my bed… uh couch. But metaphorically or whatever the fuck—“

“Adam,” you say, your voice trembling with emotion. “I was learning to impress you!”

Adam's reaction is immediate and intense as he straightens his back, from where he was growling fiercely into Marsh's face. Marsh visibly sighs with relief, the tension in his shoulders easing slightly. Adam blinks, looking utterly bewildered for a moment, before shaking his head and turning to you.

“You wanted to impress me?” he asks, his voice softening with a mixture of surprise and disbelief.

You shyly nod your head, feeling a flush of embarrassment creeping into your cheeks. The admission hangs between you, vulnerable and exposed, as you wait for Adam's response, unsure of what to expect next.

Adam's expression softens, his anger momentarily forgotten as he takes in your confession. For a moment, there's a flicker of something in his eyes—vulnerability, perhaps, or maybe even a hint of warmth.

A soft smirk plays on Adam's lips as he addresses you in a low, teasing tone. “Baby,” he coos, his voice dripping with seduction. “Why didn’t you just say so… Come show daddy what you’ve learned.”

Embarrassed by his suggestive words, you glance around the room, hoping to avoid any further attention. To your relief, it seems that Adam's bandmates are preoccupied with their own conversation, whispering harshly at Marsh. However, as soon as they catch sight of you watching them, they fall silent, their gazes turning towards you.

Feeling the weight of their scrutiny, you shift uncomfortably, acutely aware of the tension in the air.

Adam, seemingly oblivious to the tension in the room, gently ushers you forward with a hand at the small of your back. You comply, feeling his touch send a shiver down your spine, and allow him to guide you towards a chair.

As you settle into the chair, you watch as Marsh approaches with his amp, the tension from earlier dissipating as he takes the chord from you and plugs it in. You offer him a grateful nod of thanks before turning your attention to your hands, focusing intently on the bass in your lap.

With focused determination, you begin to pluck out the simple bass line that Marsh taught you earlier, repeating it a few times until you inevitably stumble over the notes. Despite the mistake, you can't help but feel a surge of pride in yourself for how far you've come.

Glancing up, you catch Adam's gaze fixed on you, his expression a mix of admiration and hunger. There's a predatory gleam in his eyes that sends a shiver of anticipation down your spine, igniting a familiar heat deep within you.

You can definitely tell from the way Adam is looking at you that he's impressed, and the thought fills you with a sense of satisfaction. Despite the lingering tension between you, there's a palpable connection in the air, drawing you closer together with each passing moment.

With a sense of determination, you gently hand Marsh his bass back and rise to your feet, feeling a slight lightheadedness wash over you from Adam's intense gaze. Despite the dizzying effect he has on you, you remind yourself firmly that you're going to move on. You will!

"I'm gonna head out. Thanks for teaching me bass! I had fun with you guys," you say, forcing a smile despite the tumult of emotions swirling inside you.

As you make your way towards the door, you repeat the mantra to yourself like a silent prayer: You're going to get over him. You're going to get over him. You're going to get over him...

Just as you reach the threshold, you feel Adam's gaze burning into you, and you can't help but glance back. He motions towards his scroll and mouths "call me" with a mischievous grin.

Despite your best efforts to resist, a small smile tugs at the corners of your lips as you shake your head in exasperation. Goddamn it.

#hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel adam #adam x reader #x reader

[ggjunkie]

#hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel adam #art #my art #fanart #hazbin hotel art #digital art

[ggjunkie]

Heavenly Hazards

Chapter 13

ADAM

Hey

You stared at the screen, the light casting a harsh glow across your face in the otherwise pitch-black room. The sudden appearance of his message sent a ripple of emotions through you, each one more unsettling than the last. With a deep breath, you rolled onto your back, raising your phone-scroll right above your face, the words blurring slightly as your eyes adjusted.

The silence of the room seemed to amplify the sound of your heartbeat, each thud echoing in your ears as you read and reread the simple, nondescript message. You readjusted the pillow beneath you, but no matter how much you shifted, you couldn't shake the growing discomfort that gnawed at your insides.

Why now? you wondered, your mind racing with questions and scenarios, each one more confounding than the last. What did he want? What was he trying to say with such a cryptic, casual greeting after everything? The ambiguity of his message felt like a puzzle piece that didn’t quite fit, leaving you grasping for clarity in a sea of confusion.

You stared at his text, fingers hovering above the keyboard, torn between the urge to respond and the desire to protect yourself from the pain.

You hesitate as you consider texting back. It's late, and the cover of darkness often brings a strange sense of courage, a willingness to say things you might shy away from in the harsh light of day.

Gathering your resolve, you begin to type, your thumb hovering over the screen’s keyboard. But before you can press a single key, your grip slips, and the scroll smacks directly onto your face.

“Fuck!” The pain radiates from your nose, a sharp throbbing that makes your eyes water. You feel a warm, wet sensation trickling down, and in disbelief, you throw the scroll onto the pillow, tilt your head back slightly, and use your hand to wipe at your nose. Bringing your hand into the dim light of your scroll’s screen, you see the unmistakable sheen of golden liquid.

Blood.

You jolt upright in bed, flinging the scroll to the carpeted floor. Confusion and fear churn in your stomach, making it drop with the weight of uncertainty. You had always believed that angels couldn't get hurt. But if you could bleed, did that mean you could die too? The questions race through your mind, each one more terrifying than the last. Do you need to be more careful now? Should you avoid flying if it could potentially kill you? What happens if you double-die?

Your breath comes in shallow gasps as you try to process this new reality. The certainty you once had about your existence feels shattered, replaced by a growing sense of vulnerability.

What does this mean for your future? Can you continue living as you have, or do you need to change everything to ensure your survival? The thought of losing the freedom of flight, the very essence of your angelic being, is almost too much to bear.

In the midst of your spiraling thoughts, the image of golden feathers flashes before your mind’s eye, a reminder. Before you can think better of it, you grab your scroll from the floor, your fingers moving with a mix of urgency and determination.

YOU

Can angels double-die

ADAM

no wtf

You breathe a sigh of relief, the tension in your shoulders easing slightly. Adam's blunt response, though a bit jarring, brings an unexpected comfort. At least you don't have to worry about the terrifying prospect of a second death.

ADAM

What happened?

YOU

I got a nosebleed and freaked out

That’s it

ADAM

You got a nosebleed?

YOU

Yeah

ADAM

Omw

Before you can react, the familiar flare of one of Adam’s portals sparks at the edge of your bed, lighting up your room with its ethereal glow. You instinctively shield your eyes from the sudden brightness, and when you lower your hand, Adam is already stepping through, closing the portal behind him with a wave of his hand.

“Goddamn, it’s dark in here,” Adam mutters, snapping his fingers to manifest a small, safe flame. It floats beside him, casting a warm, steady light that chases away the shadows.

“Shouldn’t you not use His name in vain…?” you reply, pulling your blankets up to your chin to hide your embarrassing pajama set. Adam’s eyes follow the movement, and a smug smirk plays on his lips, clearly misinterpreting your actions. He probably assumed you’re wearing nothing right now.

“Why’re you hiding yourself from me, baby?” Adam’s voice is low and teasing, his hands resting on the edge of the bed as if he’s threatening to crawl over and rip the blanket from you. “There isn’t anything I haven’t already seen.”

His smooth talk wasn’t going to get him out of trouble. You have no idea why he felt he could just invite himself over. It was late into the night, and he didn’t even ask! You open your mouth to dig into him, but before you can get a word out, you feel more golden liquid drip from your nose.

“Agh, fuck!” you exclaim, quickly bringing your hand up to catch the blood.

In an instant, Adam is by your side with a tissue he must have manifested. Gently, he tips your head forward and places the tissue under your nose. “Hold this here,” he instructs.

You do as he says, and he pinches the bridge of your nose. You jolt slightly, half expecting him to be cruelly teasing you or trying to inflict some uncomfortable pain. Sensing your confusion and tension, he speaks up quickly.

“I’m trying to get it to stop,” he explains softly, his voice devoid of its usual teasing tone.

“Do you get nosebleeds often?” You ask.

He averts his eyes. “Something like that.”

An awkward silence follows, the weight of the situation hanging in the air. His discomfort obvious, and perhaps trying to distract you from the pain, Adam shifts the conversation. “Have you been enjoying my gifts?”

You glance at him, raising an eyebrow. “Your gifts?”

He nods, a small smile playing on his lips. “The flowers. The chocolates. Have you liked them?”

“Oh. Yeah,” you reply dumbly, not wanting to whine about how often and how much he gives. Adam seems unsatisfied with your response, but he doesn’t say anything more about it. Instead, he gently lifts the tissue away from your nose to check.

“It might’ve come to a stop,” he observes, relief evident in his voice. “C’mon, let’s go get you cleaned up.”

You let go of the blanket, revealing your pajamas. Adam’s expression shifts from disappointment to fondness as he notices the heart pattern. He smiles softly, a hint of warmth in his eyes, before quickly ruffling your hair and hiding his expression.

Confused by his reaction, you pause as he stands up and moves towards the flame he had manifested, extinguishing it with a wave of his hand. With practiced ease, he moves to open your door, as if trying to distract himself from the moment.

As you pull back your hair, you catch a glimpse of his face, but he’s already turned away, his features hidden from view. You’re left wondering about the sudden change in atmosphere, but you follow his lead and get up from the bed.

You huff, still upset at Adam's unwanted appearance, but you lead him out of the room nonetheless. As you pass by the kitchen, he spots the corner filled with plants and bouquets. His eyes light up, and he beams, slightly shaking you by the shoulder.

“I knew you liked them!!” he exclaims.

“Well, I wasn’t going to let them die, now was I?” you retorted, your tone sharper than intended. You're starting to get sick of Adam's presence here. You're trying to get over him, and him being sweet and taking care of you isn't helping. He's seriously acting like a boyfriend, and the thought both pleases and upsets you. It's something you know you can't have, and the reminder only sours your mood further.

“I can clean up myself,” you assert, pulling your arm away from him. Adam's smile fades, replaced by a look of concern.

“What’s wrong?” he asks, his tone gentle but puzzled.

You mumble under your breath, not wanting to engage in conversation with him at the moment.

“What?” Adam presses, leaning in closer to hear your response. “What’s got your panties in a twist? Is it that time of the month? I don’t understand.”

“I think it’s time for you to go.” you say firmly, feeling the need for space and solitude to process your emotions. “I can handle it from here.”

Adam's expression softens, realizing he may have overstepped. “Okay.” he replies.

You take a deep breath, trying to ease the tension between you; You feel bad for getting upset. “Thank you for helping,” you add, your tone softening as you acknowledge his efforts.

Adam nods, a small smile playing on his lips. “Of course. I’m at your beck and call. Especially since… you know.” He gestures between the both of you.

You actually don’t know. But right now, you actually don’t care. Whatever will get him out of your house sooner. “Yep. Absolutely.” you reply, trying to keep your tone light and dismissive.

At your confirmation, Adam’s face lights up as if he just won the lottery. His eyes sparkle with an almost childlike glee, and his grin stretches from ear to ear. You've never seen him happier. To be honest, you're afraid of what you've just confirmed. His reaction is so intense, it makes you uneasy, as if you've just agreed to something monumental without realizing it.

You can't take it back, however, as Adam is already opening and stepping through a shimmering portal. Before disappearing, he leans in and smacks his mask against your forehead in a gesture meant to mimic a kiss. The cool, hard surface briefly presses against your skin, and then he’s gone, the portal snapping shut behind him.

You're left standing in the sudden silence, your forehead tingling from the strange 'kiss.' You touch the spot absently, still feeling the cool imprint of his mask. The room feels emptier now, the lingering energy of the portal dissipating.

#hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel adam #adam x reader #x reader

[ggjunkie]

Heavenly Hazards

Chapter 12

It takes two days before the first flowers arrive. You had just come home from an especially grueling day at work, your shoulders heavy with exhaustion. Earlier, a customer had been particularly difficult—his fury ignited over a simple mix-up with his drink order. Despite your sincere apologies, repeated tenfold, he remained silent, his glare a burning reminder of his displeasure. Though he hadn't said anything cruel, his wordless reproach was the harshest encounter you'd experienced on the job thus far, and the memory lingered, casting a shadow over your mood.

As you trudged up the steps to your apartment, the weight of the day seemed to pull you down with each step. The familiar creak of the stairwell and the muted buzz of the hallway lights felt strangely oppressive tonight. Your mind replayed the incident on a loop, every detail magnified by fatigue and frustration.

As you neared your apartment, you leaned forward, hoping your halo would unlock the door a bit faster. Just then, a blur of purple, yellow, and blue caught your eye. Intrigued, you moved closer, and the vibrant colors resolved into a bouquet of flowers, each one distinct and beautiful. There was a small card nestled among them, listing their names: cornflower, honeysuckle, and mallow flower. The effort to identify them felt unnecessary, and with a quick flick of your wrist, you tossed the card aside, focusing instead on the flowers themselves. Bending down, you gently picked up the bouquet, feeling the soft petals against your fingers. The unexpected gift brought a much-needed moment of brightness to your evening.

The flowers smelled strangely delightful, their fragrance a strong blend of sweet and fresh– something you chalked up to the unique wonders of being in heaven. With your hands full, you nudged the door open with your hip and stepped inside. The familiar comfort of your apartment wrapped around you as you carefully carried the bouquet to the kitchen, their vibrant colors and lovely scent already starting to lift the weight of the day from your shoulders.

Three hours later, the next bouquet arrives. This time, the delicate blooms of ambrosia flowers greet you at the door. You notice a small card tucked among the petals, and on it, a crude doodled penis was partially erased and squiggled over. For a moment, you stare at the card, puzzled by the familiar but hidden markings.

Then it clicks.

Adam is sending you bouquets.

Hope lights up in your chest, flushing your cheeks and widening your smile, but the warmth quickly flickers out, replaced by a sickly realization. He’s probably just trying to get into your pants again. Embarrassment and a wave of self-disgust wash over you, and you almost throw the flowers into the bin.

You pause, fingers tightening around the stems. The flowers don’t deserve to die just because the man who sent them isn’t the best. With a sigh, you place the ambrosia flowers in a vase next to the first bouquet.

You found yourself caught in a whirlwind of conflicting emotions, torn between the allure of Adam's attention and the knowledge that it will just lead to more hurt in the end. Part of you relished the thought of spending another night with him, the familiarity of his touch and the temporary solace it provided tempting you once again. Yet, beneath that surface desire lay a deeper longing for something more meaningful, a connection that transcended mere physical attraction.

You couldn't shake the feeling that Adam wasn't seeking the same kind of relationship you yearned for. His intentions, though masked by the guise of affection, seemed rooted in something more fleeting. The thought left a bitter taste in your mouth, a reminder of the inevitable disappointment that would follow if you allowed yourself to fall into his arms once more.

With a heavy heart and a sigh of resignation, you entertained the idea of letting go. Perhaps it was time to release yourself from the tangled web of desire and expectation that entwined you with Adam. Though the idea of moving on felt daunting, you knew deep down that it was the right choice for your well-being, even if it meant confronting the hurt.

As you carefully arranged the ambrosia flowers next to the mixed bouquet, ensuring they both had access to enough sunlight, you turned your attention to the kitchen, intending to fetch some water for your newfound floral companions. However, before you could take more than a few steps, a sudden crash outside your door shattered the silent peace of your apartment.

Your heart skipped a beat at the unexpected noise, and you froze in place, listening intently as the sounds of fumbling and a few choice curses reached your ears. Then, just as swiftly as it had begun, the commotion faded into the distance, replaced only by the faint flapping of wings growing ever more distant.

Baffled and curious, you approached your door cautiously, hesitating for a moment before finally mustering the courage to open it. Peering down at the threshold, you were met with an unexpected sight: a third bouquet, seemingly left behind in the aftermath of whatever chaos had just transpired outside your door.

What the fuck.

–

The days stretched on, each one punctuated by the arrival of yet another bouquet, each bearing its own message on a carefully crafted card. At first, the gestures had stirred a glimmer of hope within you, a tantalizing possibility that perhaps Adam's intentions were genuine, that maybe he felt the same pull of attraction and affection that you did. But with each new delivery, that hope began to wane, replaced instead by a growing sense of frustration.

It felt as though Adam was toying with your emotions, dangling your feelings in front of you like a tantalizing prize, only to snatch them away at the last moment. The cycle of anticipation and disappointment became a relentless rollercoaster, leaving you weary and wary of each new bouquet that arrived at your doorstep.

The flowers, once symbols of beauty and affection, now felt like thorns, pricking at the tender edges of your heart with each passing day. It became all too easy to imagine Adam's intentions as nothing more than a cruel game, a means to keep you dangling on the line while he danced just out of reach.

However, today unfolded with an unusual silence, the absence of any new bouquets hanging heavy in the air. It felt off-putting, as if the calm before a storm, a foreboding sense that something significant was looming on the horizon. Yet, you refused to waste precious time dwelling on uncertainties when there were more pressing matters at hand.

Turning your attention to the corner of your apartment, you surveyed the lush oasis that had taken root in your living space. Adam's recent gifts, now arriving with their roots intact and nestled in charmingly patterned pots, had transformed the once-empty corner into a thriving garden. The air was thick with the earthy scent of soil and the sweet fragrance of blossoms, a testament to the care and attention you had devoted to their well-being.

As you stood there, mid-pour, tending to the white carnations with gentle care, the sound of a polite knock echoed through your apartment. You paused, the cup of water suspended in mid-air, a frown creasing your lips as you turned your head towards the front door. Annoyance bubbled up within you at the interruption, already anticipating another delivery of flowers from the somewhat-predictable Adam.

With a resigned sigh, you set the cup of water down and made your way to the door, your steps heavy with irritation. Swinging it open, you half-expected to find the probably-hired delivery person already vanished, leaving behind yet another bouquet to add to your growing collection. But to your surprise, what greeted you was not a colorful arrangement of flowers, but a simple box of chocolates.

You laugh, sick of this song and dance.

#hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel adam #adam x reader #x reader

[ggjunkie]

I’m not much of an artist, but here!!

#hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel adam #artists on tumblr #artwork #traditional art #art #my art

[ggjunkie]

Heavenly Hazards

Chapter 11

As you slowly stir awake, you find yourself in Adam’s dressing room, nestled comfortably on his large couch. Your hair sticks to your mouth from the drool, so you sputter and quickly spit it out. Next to you, Adam snores loudly and obnoxiously. It’s a funny reminder that even the most formidable “First Man” isn’t immune to the quirks of human nature. The usual furrow of his mask’s brow now gone, replaced by the peace of sleep. He looks vulnerable.

You eye your clothes pooled around the bottom of his couch, intermingled with Adam’s own robes. His mask, however, still remains firmly in place, concealing his face even in sleep.

You flush, remembering holding on to his horns as he pounded into you.

Another loud snore interrupts your thoughts, jolting you back to the present moment. You try to turn and look at Adam, but find yourself trapped by both his arm and wing thrown protectively over you, anchoring you in place. Resigned to your fate, you settle back into the cozy embrace, his wing serving as a makeshift blanket that envelops you in warmth.

You must have drifted off again, because the next thing you know, Adam is rolling away from you, breaking the spooning position. His wing remains draped over you, providing a comforting sense of closeness even as he moves. Blinking blearily, you glance over at the room's clock and hold back a spit-take with your drool.

Aeson and you had planned out a brunch, and you were already on track to being late. With determination, you attempt to delicately remove Adam's wing from around you, but it stubbornly clings to your form. Frustrated, you give it a firm shove, causing you to roll off the couch and land unceremoniously on the floor with a thud.

Sitting there, slightly dazed from the unexpected tumble, you wait for Adam to wake up and undoubtedly make a big deal about you disturbing his slumber. However, all you hear in response is the continuation of his loud snoring, oblivious to the situation at hand.

Relieved to have escaped Adam's embrace without waking him, you begin gathering your scattered clothes and hastily tossing them back on. It's a bit unpleasant having to re-wear the same dirty clothes, but you don't really have any other options at the moment. Before you head out, you catch sight of yourself in the dressing room’s mirror and take a moment to assess the damage. You tug your robe’s collar up, hiding the already-healing hickies and possessive bite marks.

Feeling a pang of sentimentality, you notice a dry erase marker nearby and decide to leave a small mark of your presence behind. With a gentle touch, you draw a small heart on the dressing room mirror. As you admire your handiwork, a somber smile crosses your lips, accompanied by a tinge of uncertainty. You can't help but wonder if this might be the last time you see Adam after today. Which you are very much, absolutely, totally fine with. It was just a fling. Your own fault for wanting more.

The (admittedly late) realization makes you cringe. Feeling suddenly embarrassed by your gesture, you quickly move to erase the heart you drew on the mirror. Just as you're about to wipe it away, another choked snore from Adam startles you, causing you to fumble in a panic. Without another thought, you hastily dart out of the door, leaving the heart behind as you rush out of the dressing room in a frenzy.

–

With your map in hand, your senses are alive with the sights and sounds of the city. The vibrant golds and whites of storefronts and the murmur of songs surround you, creating a lively backdrop to your frantic journey.

You glance at the time on your scroll, noting that you're still running a few minutes behind schedule. With a quickened pace, you pick up your stride, determined to make up for lost time. If it weren’t for your sore wings (you can guess why), you’d probably be attempting to fly now. You round the corner onto the street where the restaurant is located, spotting the familiar sign ahead, its letters gleaming in the sunlight.

Suddenly, the energy in the air shifts, and you feel– more than hear– a melody play in the air. It sends a warm wave through your body, like a comforting hug.

Across the street, an angel begins to sing, their voice pure and resonant, weaving effortlessly into the fabric of the music. Soon, others join in, their voices blending together in perfect harmony. As captivating as it is, it’s not too surprising. Being in heaven was sort of like witnessing a flash mob 24/7.

Despite your attempts to appear nonchalant, you can't help but gaze in wonder at the singers, their voices lifting and soaring with a grace and elegance that seems almost rehearsed. It's as if they were born to sing, their voices ringing out with a clarity and purity that touches something deep within your soul.

One of the angels spot you gawking, using her wings to soar her way towards you. Caught off guard by the sudden attention, you find yourself being pulled into the dance by the angel. Her gaze feels like a spotlight shining directly on you as she guides you with graceful movements. Despite your initial hesitation, you try to go with the flow, stumbling over your own feet in an attempt to keep up.

"I don't know what I'm doing!" you exclaim, feeling a bit flustered by the unexpected turn of events.

"Just relax!" the angel reassures you with a warm smile. "It'll come to you. Trust me!"

You take a breath and try to relax, all too aware of Aeson waiting for you in that restaurant. Well, at least you think he is, until you spot him singing his own solo in the song. Caught up in the contagious energy of the moment, you throw all caution to the wind and join Aeson in his solo, belting out the lyrics with gusto.

Feeling slightly disoriented but exhilarated by the unexpected burst of energy, you find yourself triple time-stepping, your feet moving in sync with the lively rhythm of the music. Despite not knowing how to tap dance, you let your body surrender to the infectious beat, allowing yourself to be swept up in the moment without overthinking it. The joy of the music and the shared experience with Aeson and the other angels fills you with a sense of euphoria, and for a brief moment, you forget all about your worries and obligations.

Until you catch a familiar halo and pair of wings.

As you bring your impromptu dance to a halt and meet Lute's gaze, you can sense a shift in her demeanor. Her glare pierces through you, sending a shiver down your spine. Before you can react, she disappears, leaving you with a lingering feeling of unease.

“Hey! Never thought you’d be the type to join in with the singing and dancing!” Aeson greets, slapping a hard hand onto your shoulder and leading you into the restaurant.

“Yeah,” you reply noncommittally, still looking at the spot Lute was standing. You thought you were through with Adam, but maybe not quite yet. “Me too.”

#adam x reader #hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel adam #x reader

[ggjunkie]

Heavenly Hazards

Chapter 10

It had been two weeks since that night in your house, and you hadn’t heard a peep from Adam since. At first, you tried to brush off the hurt, convincing yourself that his silence was just a temporary blip in your connection. Despite your efforts to try and carry on with your daily routine, the ache of longing only seemed to grow stronger with each passing day.

"Distance makes the heart grow fonder," they say, and you found that to be true in your own experience. What started as mere attraction had blossomed into something deeper and more meaningful, something that felt less artificial and more genuine with each passing moment.

You weren't in love, not by any means, but you couldn't deny the growing affection and attachment you felt towards Adam. And deny, you tried. But his absence was like wet socks, every step a reminder. You’re fairly certain Adam would laugh at that comparison. Maybe not the one where he throws his head back and cackles, but definitely the laugh where he would– and damn. There you go again.

As just shown, you found yourself missing him in unexpected moments, finding jokes or funny anecdotes and instinctively reaching for your phone to share them with Adam, only to remember with a pang of sadness. You couldn’t help but wonder how he was doing, what he was up to, and whether he ever thought of you in return.

At times, the ache of what you could only compare to “homesickness” felt overwhelming, threatening to consume you entirely. You were convinced Aeson had snuck you a smoothie, as your stomach felt sick to the core. You wanted to keel over and accept your fate.

As you navigated through the days without Adam, you found solace in the routine of your daily life. Aeson, after finally deciding to try your workplace’s coffee, made the split decision to apply for the shop. You can’t ever seem to get rid of him…

Just kidding. Aeson had been a total sweetheart these past weeks, being forced to listen to you complain about Adam and how much you hate him. Though, Aeson was sure you just missed him. You did.

You had also started to form a bond with your manager, despite the fact that you couldn't quite recall her name. Nevertheless, her warm demeanor and supportive presence had made your workplace something to look forward to.

At work, however, you’re back to seeing the familiar, fleeting flash of golden feathers just out of reach. This time, you decide to consciously ignore them. If Adam wanted to reach out to you, you reasoned, he would have to take the initiative and communicate directly. You were no longer willing to dwell on the uncertainty of his absence or wait around for him to make a move.

You didn’t have to wait long, it seems.

As you noticed the golden spark of a portal on Friday, your heart skipped a beat with anticipation. When a single ticket flew through, accompanied by a letter, your curiosity piqued. With stumbling hands, you reached out to retrieve the ticket and unfolded the letter with eager anticipation.

The words on the page were penned in his somewhat-charming chicken scratch, and as you read, your heart raced with a mixture of emotions—excitement, apprehension, and perhaps a hint of nerves.

“Sorry. I’ve been real busy lately. Promise i didn’t mean to ignore you, baby. I got you tickets to my concert tomorrow. VIP. Come backstage after. Please.

-The Original Dick

P.S. Here’s a drawing of us having awesome sex”

Welp. That stickman drawing was unnecessary, but it was as meaningful as Adam could ever get. You pocket the letter and stare at the VIP ticket; Looks like you need to pick out a new outfit for tomorrow.

–

The familiarity of the songs washed over you. Despite the disappointment of the repetitive setlist, you found entertainment in the fact that you had grown familiarized with Adam's music, knowing most of the words by heart.

However, one second, his band mates were on stage, and the next, they were gone. With the stage suddenly cleared, leaving only Adam illuminated by a single beam of light, a hush fell over the audience. A sense of anticipation hanging in the air, Adam took center stage, his electric guitar switching out for a tamer acoustic guitar.

Something new?

With practiced ease, he adjusted the guitar strap, the soft click of the buckle echoing through the venue. The transition from the electric to the acoustic guitar signaled a shift in the atmosphere, a departure from the high-energy performance that had preceded it.

“So, I’ve been told my concert is boring.” Adam's voice cut through the silence, his tone tinged with a hint of playful self-deprecation.

As the audience tentatively laughed together, unsure of how to respond to Adam's unexpected behavior, a ripple of uncertainty spread through the crowd. It was a rare sight indeed to see Adam ignore the positive laughter instead of preening underneath the attention, his usual egoistic demeanor replaced by an uncharacteristic indifference.

In that moment, you couldn't help but wonder what had prompted this sudden change in Adam's behavior. Is he being held at gun-point?

“I’ve written a new song, which is something I haven’t done in awhile”

You’d love to know exactly how long– weeks, months, years?

“So to my biggest fan, this is for you”

Before you can wonder about the identity of his “biggest fan”, the gentle strumming of the acoustic guitar filled the air, its mellower tones weaving a delicate melody that enveloped the audience in its embrace. Gone were the raucous riffs and thundering drums, replaced instead by the subtle nuances of acoustic music.

You were honestly expecting something crude, or something hardcore, maybe something you could even bang your head to…

A love song was none of those.

As Adam's voice filled the room with its vulnerable, breathy tones, a sense of intimacy descended upon the audience. His closed eyes and introspective demeanor lent an air of authenticity to his performance, drawing listeners into the surprising depths of his emotions.

Amidst the haunting melody, you tore your gaze away from Adam and glanced around the room. What you saw took your breath away. The audience, captivated by Adam's raw vulnerability, had transformed the venue into a sea of glowing lights.

Scrolls, flashlights, and small flames danced in the darkness, swaying to the rhythm of the music like fireflies in the night. You laughed, beaming ear to ear with giddiness- the audience’s energy was contagious. You let out a holler dedicated to Adam.

As your supportive cheer pierced through the air, his eyes flew open, locking onto yours with an intensity that sent a shiver down your spine. In that moment, you felt a charged connection between the two of you, as if your encouragement had breathed new life into his performance.

With a smile that mirrored your own, Adam's tense posture seemed to relax, his confidence visibly bolstered by your support. As he continued to sing, his voice grew stronger and more assured, each note infused with a newfound sense of purpose and determination.

It was as if he was singing directly to you, seeking validation and affirmation in your smile and applause. But of course, that’s stupid. He’s probably just relieved someone likes his new song. His new love song that is definitely not about anyone.

And as the song reached its too-soon conclusion, the gentle sway of the lights seemed to echo the collective heartbeat of the audience. In that brief, fleeting moment, you were reminded of the profound impact that music can have on the human spirit, bringing people together in a shared experience of joy, sorrow, and everything in between. It was wild to think Adam, your Adam, did that.

–

As you make your way backstage, you flash the security guard a glimpse of your VIP ticket, which grants you access without hesitation. Stepping into the backstage area, you're greeted by the sight of Adam's bandmates lounging around, snacking on burgers.

They chat and laugh amongst themselves, their easygoing banter serving as a stark contrast to the electric energy of the stage. As you approach, they nod in acknowledgment, their mouths still full of food as they offer you a friendly wave.

Feeling an arm sneak around your waist, you're momentarily caught off guard until you find yourself face to face with a bread bun. You strain your neck backward as your gaze travels upward until you meet Adam's eyes, and you're greeted by a soft twinkle and a tender smile. In that moment, he looks remarkably sweet and innocent, a stark contrast to his usual devious, smug attitude.

“Hey, I saved you a burger”

You smile at Adam, a playful glint in your eyes, before moving your head back down towards the burger he's holding out to you. With a grin, you take a gigantic bite, savoring the taste of the juicy patty and savory toppings.

"Thanks," you say, your voice slightly muffled by the mouthful of food. As you chew, you can feel Adam's gaze lingering on you, his eyes tracing the movement of your throat as you swallow. Despite the casual exchange, there's an undeniable undercurrent of tension between the two of you, a palpable energy that crackles in the air like electricity. Suddenly, you feel as tightly wrung as a bowstring.

Today is the day.

You step out of his hold and face him. "Hey Adam…"

He swallows his food, his expression curious as he regards you. "Yes, my sweet thing?"

"Is there a couch around here?"

Confused, he brings his burger away from his face, his brow furrowing in puzzlement. "Huh."

You glance back at Adam's bandmates, who seem preoccupied with their own conversations and snacks, paying no attention to your exchange with Adam. Their chatter offers you a moment of privacy. “You know… a couch. Somewhere one could lay down? Or preferably, two.”

“Oh. OH” his look turns ravenous. “I see what you’re getting at. Follow me.”

#adam x reader #hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel adam #x reader

[ggjunkie]

Heavenly Hazards

Chapter 9

Just as you're about to leave Adam's band rehearsal, you gather your belongings, ready to bid farewell to the group. Adam catches your eye, a hint of hesitation evident in his expression as if he's wrestling with something unsaid. You pause, waiting. Just as your patience wears thin and you’re about to leave–

"I can fly you home!" he blurts out.

"Oh, I'm still learning to fly far distances," you reply, offering a small smile to ease any tension. It sort of sucks always having to be aware of any possible tantrum.

Adam's baffled expression is evident, but he doesn't press the issue further. Instead, he quickly recovers and offers an alternative.

"Okay, I can walk you home," he suggests, his tone insistent.

The disbelieving laugh from one of Adam's bandmates draws your attention, followed by the sound of a smack and then silence. You watch as Adam shoots his bandmate a death glare, his expression hard and unreadable as they pile out of the room. You, however, keep your eyes locked on Adam. What was his motive?

"You... want to walk me home?" you ask, the words coming out as a mixture of surprise and skepticism.

Adam's response is simple yet earnest. "It's what a gentleman would do."

“Since when do you care about being a gentleman?”

“Since you… fuck!” He lamely finishes, embarassment evident as he stuffs his hands into his robe’s pockets. “Whatever, bitch. Go walk home alone or whatever, see if I care. SPOILER! I don’t.”

Oh, right.

A memory surfaces– the deal you made. Two concert tickets for the price of sleeping together. He’s probably just trying to get you in bed tonight. Reflecting on it now, you cringe, realizing how much you don’t mind. That doesn’t mean you don’t still try to convince yourself otherwise, though.

…

You can’t help but give in.

“Actually, it’d be nice to have some company.”

He visually relaxes, satisfied, as his smug smile returns. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

Adam swiftly packs up his belongings, his movements efficient as he locks the building behind him. He swung his guitar case to rest over his shoulder and, when he noticed you ogling him, threw you a teasing wink. You refrain from mentioning how he could very easily portal you home with the snap of his fingers.

As you both walk, you observe his hand– the one closest to you– and how it Won’t. Stay. Still.

It reaches slightly in your direction before flexing, tucking itself into his pocket, tugging at his collar, flicking at his halo, and then going back to his side, thus restarting the cycle again and again. During this, you hear him frantically cussing under his breath, combining words to create new curses, which is honestly impressive. However, you can't help the tinge of worry at his behavior.

As you reach your apartment, the familiar tell-tale sound of your door unlocking fills the air, signaling your arrival. You turn your back to see Adam standing awkwardly at the steps of your porch, apparently content on watching you walk inside. Maybe he’s waiting on you to make the next move?

Finally, you break the thick silence. “Wanna come in?”

He perks up at that. “Fuck yeah i do. Anything involving ‘coming in’ and you, I’m all for.”

As you lead Adam into your apartment and close the door behind you, you watch as he takes in his surroundings with a keen eye. Despite the simplicity of your setup, with just the basic furnishings and necessities, he seems to linger over every detail, as if savoring the experience.

You wait, allowing him to take in the sparse decorations and modest furnishings. It occurs to you that it's probably been a while since he's been in a place like yours – a simple, unassuming apartment that lacks the lavish extravagance he's likely accustomed to.

“Are you thirsty?” you ask once his eyes focus back onto you.

“Always around you.” He pauses, before adding, “Do you have any coffee?”

“At this hour? It’s pretty late.”

“What the fuck, you bitch. You offered and I replied. What would you have preferred… ah yes, one cup of jizz please?”

His joke was weak– at least weaker than usual, missing his usual spark and pizazz. However, you laugh anyway, enjoying the moment. He preens at this, his chest puffing out like a proud peacock. This seems to snap him back into his usual ego, as he immediately sits on your kitchen stool and swings his legs up to rest on the counter.

“So,” he says, clicking his tongue. You bend down to plug in the coffee machine, his eyes unabashedly following the curve of your ass. “How’re you liking heaven?”

He sounds uninterested, but you can’t help but feel it’s an act. Still, it’s shocking he actually asked you a question– about yourself, no less! You’re quick to recover, standing up to put in one of the coffee pods.

“Well, it’s heaven. So… pretty great”

“Ain’t that the truth. You rockin’ a job yet? Need help finding some work? A pretty thing like you would be great at my office, wearing a short little skirt, maybe a sexy looking suit…”

“No thanks. I refuse to be pushing papers for you.” His eyebrows shoot up in surprise, mouth opening to say something in response, but he’s cut off by the sound of the coffee machine whirring to life. “Besides, I’m already a barista. It's nothing too fancy, but it pays the bills. What do you do, other than your band gigs?”

“A barista?” Adam narrowly avoids your question. You decide not to focus on it. “I expect my coffee to be nothing short of fan-fucking-tastic, sugartits. Or should I say… coffee-tits?”

You cringe. “No.”

“Coffee-ass. Coffee-nips. Coffee-slut.”

“These are all awful. Stop.” you say. You feel a laugh bubble up to the surface. This whole conversation is ridiculous, it makes you feel light and airy, like a dream. Each giggle makes his proud smirk grow wider and wider. You’re interrupted again by the whine of the coffee machine, dripping liquid into the pot below.

“Do you want sugar or cream or anything?” You open up the cabinet and start digging through.

“I can make you cream.”

“...I'm gonna take that as a no…”

—

An hour has passed, and the coffee pot had long since been emptied. Your stomach begins to ache from laughing so hard and so frequently, and you can't help but wonder if you'll wake up with a six-pack from all the laughter. Adam, as it turns out, can be hilarious when he's not being crude or brash. His wit and humor catch you off guard, leaving you doubled over with laughter more times than you can count.

Despite any initial reservations or uncertainties, you find yourself enjoying his company more than you expected.

As the night wears on and the hour grows late, you notice Adam stealing glances at the clock with increasing frequency. If looks could kill, then that clock would've been six feet in the ground by now. Despite his attempts to hide it, it's clear that he's aware of the time and that he's been contemplating if he should head out.

You, however, can take a hint. With a knowing smile, you gesture towards the clock, acknowledging the late hour.

"Time to go, huh?" you remark, your tone lighthearted yet firm.

Adam's response is immediate, almost whining. "Whaaaaaaat? Pshh no. I can stay," he protests, though his words sound more like he's trying to convince himself rather than you.

You smile, delighted to know he doesn’t want your time together to come to an end. But Adam is an important figure with… probably an important job. And as much as you’d enjoy to bed him right about now, you’d probably end up falling asleep. You don’t want to kick him out, but duty calls.

“It’s been fun.”

“No,” he scolds. “Don’t say that. I’m still here.”

“It’s late.”

“That’s what the coffee’s for!”

You're taken aback by his unexpected admission. “You wanted coffee… to stay up longer with me?”

He rubs his clawed hand against his neck in a sheepish manner. “Well, when you put it that way, you make it sound lame, you bitch.”

A fond laugh escapes you, and it seems to make him smile too. “You should go.”

“Eh, that bitch Sera can wait. Haha… please don’t tell her I said that.”

Despite not knowing a single angel named Sera, you nod your head in agreement and gesture towards the front door. “Want me to walk you out?”

“Nah, I got this.” With a snap of his fingers, a portal opens before him, its swirling vortex of light casting a faint glow in the dimly lit room. You can't see much on the other side, but if you squint, you swear you can make out the outline of a bed.

“Night, babes.” Adam says with a wink, his usual cocky grin replaced by a softer, more genuine smile. You watch as he steps through the portal, disappearing from view with a flicker of golden light. As the portal closes behind him, leaving nothing but empty space in its wake.

“Night, Adam”

#adam x reader #hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel adam #x reader

[ggjunkie]

Heavenly Hazards

Chapter 8

As you pull up to the address Adam sent, you're greeted by the same polished elegance that defines the rest of Heaven. Stepping inside, the interior is a symphony of white and silver, every surface gleaming with a sparkly sheen. Despite only using one rehearsal room, Adam booked the whole building. You weren’t sure if he always did it, or if it’s only a today-thing to impress you…

You navigate the halls until eventually, you come upon the door to the booked room, and you knock lightly, expecting Adam to answer. To your surprise, the door swings open to reveal a man who looks taken aback by your presence.

“Oh, I’m so sorry, we’ve actually booked this room–”

Before he can finish, Adam breezes in with his characteristic charm, bumping the man aside with a playful hip-check.

"Hey babes!" Adam's voice rings out, filled with warmth and affection as he holds the door open for you. His touch is electric as he places his hand on the small of your back, guiding you into the room with a sense of gentleness that surprises you. “Back off, Marsh. I invited them. No need to be a dickhole.”

As Adam asserts his dominance in his usual flamboyant manner, you can't help but notice the reactions of his bandmates. Their raised eyebrows and knowing glances suggest something you don’t know. Marsh, who you now see holding a bass, offers a placating gesture as if to diffuse any potential tension.

“Sorry man,” Marsh starts, “you’ve just never invited anyone to our band practice. You've always said it was a closed rehearsal. Unless… is this a new backup singer or something?”

“Depends. Do they wanna be?” As Adam poses his question– joking or not– you feel his band’s eyes all on you. Clearly, they weren’t used to witnessing Adam’s flirting. Or something. That’s the only possible solution you have. Though, there’s something on the tip of your tongue, and you’re unsure what.

However, at the thought of singing in front of all of heaven, you blanche, already embarrassed at the mere suggestion of it.. “Yeah no thanks.”

Adam shrugs. “Sucks to suck.”

As the silence stretches on, the band continuing setting up, you can feel the awkwardness settling in, making your palms clammy with nerves. With no direction from Adam, you find yourself fidgeting nervously, unsure of what to do next.

"Sooooo, where do I sit?" you finally ask, the words tumbling out in a rush as you try to break the tension that hangs in the air. Despite your best efforts to appear nonchalant, you can't shake the feeling of discomfort that gnaws at the edges of your consciousness.

Adam obnoxiously drags a chair to position it right in front of him, mere feet away, you can't help but roll your eyes at his audacity. It's a move that reeks of ego, and you find yourself resisting the urge to sigh in exasperation.

Unimpressed by his antics, you take matters into your own hands and drag the chair back to a more reasonable distance. Adam's smug expression quickly gives way to a pout, and despite your irritation, you can't help but maybe, sort of, kinda find his reaction endearing.

Curse you, Aeson, for putting ideas into your head!

With a soft huff, you settle into your seat, your gaze lingering on Adam's masked face with a mixture of frustration and curiosity. If only he’d take it off…

“Alright fellas, we have an audience member we have to impress.” Adam declares. You hide a giggle and he looks downright pleased at the attention. However, as Adam's bandmates share a knowing look among themselves, you catch the subtle exchange and can't help but wonder what they're thinking. It’s frustrating, like witnessing a confusing inside joke. “Let’s make this one count!”

As the band begins their performance, you can't help but feel a sense of déjà vu settling over the room. The music flows with familiar precision, each note echoing the previous rendition with uncanny accuracy. It's as if time has looped back on itself, playing the exact same performance as the other two concerts.

Your confusion mounts with each passing moment, and it's clear that Adam senses your bewilderment. With a glance in your direction, he calls the song to a sudden stop, bringing the performance to an abrupt halt.

“What’s wrong? You look like you have a dick in your ass, and not in a good way. Like it’s un-lubed. No prep. No–”

“Alright yes, I understand what you're saying. I’m just… your concerts are always the same. It gets kind of… repetitive?”

The gasps from Adam's bandmates draw your attention, and you turn to see their stunned expressions mirrored on their faces. Their collective gaze then shifts to Adam, expecting the fiery anger or frustration that might typically accompany such a comment. However, what they find instead is unexpected—a vulnerable hurt etched across Adam's features.

The sight takes you aback, as well as his bandmates. The vulnerability in Adam's expression is a stark departure from his usual bravado, and it leaves you feeling a pang of sympathy for him. You’re unsure of how to respond to his uncharacteristic display of emotion.

“You don’t like it anymore?” Adam asks, almost challenging you.

"No, no, no, not that!" you interject quickly, your voice tinged with urgency as you try to clarify. It feels like you're walking on eggshells.

"It's just—" you begin, searching for the right words to convey your thoughts without further escalating the situation.

"Just what?" Adam's tone is sharp, his frustration evident as he demands an explanation. The hurt in his expression is now mingled with anger, and you can feel the weight of his expectations bearing down on you.

"Boring? A snoozefest?" he continues, his words laced with bitterness. "Ever heard the term 'don't fix what ain't broken'?"

The accusation stings, and you find yourself struggling to respond.

It feels like you're tiptoeing around a frightened animal, trying to approach with caution to avoid causing further harm. You can't help but wish for Aeson's calming presence, knowing that he would have a much better grasp on navigating this delicate situation.

"It's not that, Adam," you repeat, your voice soft and gentle as you try to convey your feelings without causing further distress. "It's just... so unlike you."

Adam's genuine confusion catches you off guard, his earlier anger dissipating as he struggles to comprehend your explanation.

"So you don't like it... because it's not like me?" Adam repeats, his voice tinged with uncertainty as he tries to make sense of your words.

You hesitate, grappling with the nuances of his question. His wording feels a bit off, but you can sense the sincerity behind it. After a moment of contemplation, you nod slowly, acknowledging the truth in his statement.

Adam's reaction leaves you feeling uncertain, unsure of what exactly has passed through his mind. His expression morphs into one of contemplation, as if he's grappling with a newfound understanding. “Oh.”

You can't help but notice the lines on his mask, wondering briefly if they're supposed to represent blush marks or if they're simply scratches that you're only just now noticing. The thought distracts you momentarily, but Adam's next words pull you back to the present.

"Well then, I gotta fix that, don't I?" Adam's voice is lighter now, raised by a newfound sense of… happiness? There's definitely a spark in his eyes that wasn't there before.

Adam's bandmates nod along, their actions reflecting a sense of familiarity with agreeing to whatever Adam wants. He rounds his attention to the mic-stand, avoiding eye contact with you. He’s probably just embarrassed from his earlier outburst.

“In the meantime, we’ll continue our private concert the same. Next time you see me perform, baby, you’ll love it. Capiche?”

You nod.

"That's what I like to hear, bitch! Alright, places!" Adam declares, his voice filled with enthusiasm as he rallies his bandmates to continue the performance. It’s still the exact same, so you take the time to ogle Adam.

#adam x reader #hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel adam #x reader

[ggjunkie]

when i'm in a "i love the color blue" competition and my opponent is ben schwartz

[ggjunkie]

Heavenly Hazards

Chapter 7

"Yep," you sigh, recounting the evening's events to Aeson as he rummages through your fridge with the ease of someone who's made himself at home. If it were anyone else, it’d make your eye twitch. "And now I have his number."

Aeson nods absentmindedly, his attention divided between the contents of your fridge and the task of heating up the stove for a late-night pasta craving. With a practiced hand, he pulls out various ingredients, expertly juggling them as he sets to work on his impromptu culinary creation. Meanwhile, you had been tasked with telling him about your dinner with Adam.

As the scent of cooking pasta fills the air, you can't help but feel a sense of comfort settle over you, the familiar rhythms of friendship soothing the lingering uncertainties of last night. With Aeson by your side and a hot meal on the way, you can't help but feel at ease.

Aeson shoots you a knowing grin as he stirs the simmering pasta sauce on the stove. “So when are you gonna admit it?”

“...Admit what?”

“Adam’s trynna get into your pants, and you’re leaving them unzipped– if ya know what i mean.”

Your nose wrinkles in disgust. “Ugh. you’re starting to sound just like him.”

“I don’t hear any denial!”

"Adam's a prick," you declare, your tone tinged with irritation as you run a hand through your hair. "He's horny, selfish, doesn't understand boundaries, is however-many-years-old yet is in a band— he's absolutely pathetic. Why would I want that?"

Aeson's knowing look cuts through the tension like a knife, his words hitting uncomfortably close to home. "Sounds less like you're telling me, and more like you're trying to convince yourself," he observes, his tone gentle but pointed.

Caught off guard, you hesitate for a moment, feeling the weight of his words settling heavily on your shoulders. Finally, with a resigned sigh, you admit under your breath, "Okay, maybe I have fun with him, even if he's annoying. But that doesn't mean I should do anything."

The admission hangs in the air between you and Aeson, a stark acknowledgment of the complicated feelings swirling within you. There’s some sort of undeniable chemistry, and it’s sort of horrifying.

As you watch Aeson pour the pasta into the boiling water, the rhythmic clatter of the pot against the stove serves as a soothing backdrop to your thoughts.

"Then yeah," Aeson continues, his tone tinged with a hint of inevitability. "Just get it over with and sleep with him once. We all know it's gonna happen."

You very deliberately ignore that last part. “Isn’t that a sin? Sex before marriage? Because we’re definitely not getting married.”

“If The Original Man is trynna get you in the sheets, then I doubt it. He’s like, weirdly supposed to be our role model. And if he messed up, he’d be cast away. Probably.”

“Yeah, I guess you’re right.” you reply.

Aeson's interruption breaks the momentary silence, his voice filled with anticipation. "So what's the plan?" he asks eagerly, his eyes alight with curiosity.

"Well, I'm seeing his show next Saturday..." you begin, only to be cut off by Aeson's enthusiastic interjection.

"ASK HIM IF I CAN COME!" he exclaims.

"Okay, okay, I'll ask," you concede with a laugh, making a mental note to broach the subject with Adam as soon as possible. "In the meantime, watch the pot. It's boiling over."

He scrambles to tend to the pot before disaster strikes. "Oh shi—"

While Aeson busies himself with the pot, you take the opportunity to pull out your scroll-phone and navigate to your messages. Adam still hasn't responded to your last text, but you brush aside any lingering disappointment, focusing instead on the task at hand.

YOU

Hey

ADAM

Booty-call midday?

I'm into it

Hey

YOU

No that's not what I'm doing

ADAM

Prude

YOU

Can my friend come to the concert

ADAM

Threesome?

YOU

No.

ADAM

Are they gonna cock block us?

You hesitate before responding, a sense of resignation settling over you as you anticipate Adam's mini-tantrum. He really was a man-child

YOU

Probably

ADAM

Then fuck no.

YOU

Cmon, just let him join

ADAM

Him?

Is this who I think it is

Did u know I was the first dick

Which means his dick came from my dick

He’ll never be as good as me

YOU

If you do this, then the next time we hang out

I’ll sleep with you

Promise

ADAM

Bet

I'll send two tickets

You roll your eyes at Adam's texts, but deep down, you're not as annoyed as you pretend to be. There's a part of you that finds his dramatics oddly endearing, even if they can be exasperating at times.

Aeson catches onto your reaction immediately, his eyes sparkling with amusement as he teases, "Oohhh, you like him."

You let out a scoff, trying to play it cool despite the flush of embarrassment creeping into your cheeks. "Please, don't even start with that," you protest, but there's a hint of sheepishness in your tone that betrays your true feelings.

Aeson only grins wider, clearly enjoying the opportunity to tease you. "Come on, admit it," he persists, nudging you playfully. "There's definitely something there."

You roll your eyes again, but this time, there's a small smile playing at the corners of your lips. Maybe Aeson is onto something after all.

A bit later, as you and Aeson are eating his pasta dish, a sudden flash of golden light catches your attention. Before you can even react, a mini golden portal materializes in the middle of the room, shimmering with sparkling energy.

You and Aeson exchange wide-eyed glances as two tickets pop through the portal, landing gently on the floor before you. The portal closes just as quickly as it appeared, leaving you both staring in astonishment at the tickets now resting at your feet.

A wide grin spreads across Aeson's face, his excitement palpable as he bends down to pick up one of the tickets. You do the same, noting the surprisingly well-drawn penis with a heart for a tip. Glancing over, you see Aeson’s ticket has a middle finger. Seems about right…

–

As you and Aeson make your way to your seats near the stage, the anticipation builds with each step. The venue is alive as ever, angels from all over coming to watch Adam perform.

Settling into your seats, the venue goes dark. Adam strikes a chord and a beam of light lands on the stage. You’re not sure what you’re expecting, but… the exact same performance wasn’t it. All of the songs and stagings are the same, yet the crowd is eating it up. You agree it’s still fun, but it’s just so… not Adam– following the same song and dance, literally.

Midway through one of his particularly intense guitar riffs, Adam's gaze lands on you and Aeson, arms slung casually around each other. In that split second of distraction, his fingers falter on the strings, a discordant note ringing out through the air.

There's a brief moment of silence as Adam regains his composure, the energy of the performance momentarily disrupted. When he starts playing again, the music lacks the same fervor and intensity as before, a subtle shift in the atmosphere that's impossible to ignore. At least for you. Everyone around you continues their whooping and hollering.

You exchange a glance with Aeson, both of you realizing that Adam's attention seems to be divided between the two of you. As you watch him perform, you can't shake the feeling that he keeps stealing glances in your direction, his focus wavering as he struggles to maintain the same level of energy and enthusiasm as before.

Despite the slight hiccup in the performance, you and Aeson continue to cheer Adam on, caught up in the magic of the moment. The concert is definitely much more enjoyable with a plus-one.

After the final chords of the gig fade into the air, the crowd begins to disperse, but you and Aeson linger near the stage, exchanging thoughts on the performance. Mid-sentence, however, Adam appears, cutting Aeson off with an abruptness that catches both of you off guard.

Adam's presence is commanding as he positions himself between you and Aeson, his golden wings seemingly moving of their own accord to usher you closer to him. The unexpected gesture leaves you momentarily speechless, a rush of conflicting emotions swirling within you.

Adam's sudden shift in focus catches you off guard, his full attention now directed squarely at you, effectively excluding Aeson from the conversation. “How’d we do? Was I the best or what?”

Bashful from Aeson standing only a few feet away, you’re quiet in your response. “You were.”

Adam's unexpected silence hangs in the air, a moment of uncertainty settling between you as you wait for his response. His expression behind the mask remains unreadable, but there's a subtle shift in his demeanor that suggests he wasn't expecting you to agree.

However, as you catch a glimpse of the smile playing at the corners of his mask, you realize that perhaps your response wasn't as unwelcome as you feared.

As Adam goes silent, Aeson seizes the opportunity to interject, his voice breaking the silence with a playful tone.

He ducks under Adam’s gigantic wings, and ruffles your hair. “Our good ol’ friend here seemed to really enjoy the show. Couldn’t take their eyes off of a certain someone”

“Oh really?” Despite his annoyance at Aeson joining the two of you, he now seemed absolutely delighted. “If you’re that much of a fan, sweet-tits, how about you come and watch our band practice?”

“For real?”

Adam shrugs. “Why not?” His voice is a controlled casual, but the glitch of his mask gives him away. “I’ll text you the deets?”

You smile. “I’d love that.”

“Sick. Cool. Awesome.” Adam sticks up a lame pair of finger-guns, before one of his bandmates call his name. “Welp, nice seeing you.” He goes to leave before throwing over his shoulder, “Oh. And that better not be your boytoy. I see the two of you too close, and I’m sending that snake down to hell.”

#adam x reader #hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel adam #x reader

[ggjunkie]

Heavenly Hazards

Chapter 6

“You gonna eat that?”

With a mouthful of unchewed food, Adam gestures toward your plate, his eyes fixed expectantly on your meal. The burger you ordered, despite its undoubtedly delicious flavor, lies largely untouched as you've found yourself lacking the appetite to indulge fully. Instead, you spend the time absentmindedly rearranging the fries on your plate, the clinking of your fork against your plate filling the brief silence between bites.

You hesitate, a fleeting expression of annoyance crossing your features. With a half-hearted glare, you shake your head in response before pushing the plate toward him. Already having devoured his own meal and now contentedly nibbling on the complimentary bread, Adam wastes no time in inhaling your meal. While you understand his large appetite, specifically after an energy-draining performance like the one he just delivered, you can help but feel unimpressed with his date-night manners. Or whatever you can call this.

"So," Adam begins, his words punctuated by a loud smack as he takes another bite. "Did you enjoy the concert?"

His question is predictable, dripping with a self-serving undertone that does little to disguise his own ego's thirst for validation. It still stings that this is the first question he asks and it's about him.

"It was... certainly loud," you reply nonchalantly, refusing to grant him the satisfaction of your praise.

Adam chuckles, clearly amused by your attempt at evading his question. "Oh, don't be coy, bitch" he retorts. "I saw you headbanging along. Surprised I didn't hear the rattle of your tiny ass brain."

You suppress a sigh, thinning your lips in annoyance as he cackles at his own joke.

"Seriously though, did you like it?" he presses, his tone shifting to a more earnest curiosity.

"Yeah, you did good, I guess," you concede, not wanting to feed his ego any further.

At your admission, Adam's demeanor undergoes a sudden transformation, his excitement bubbling to the surface like a switch being flipped. "Yeah? You had fun? You better have, since I gave you a free ticket and all. Don't expect that to happen again, slut. Unless you rock my world tonight. In which case, feel free to take a VIP pass"

Ignoring his rambling, you redirect the conversation to a topic that's been nagging at the back of your mind. "Yeah, which reminds me. Why did you give me a ticket in the first place?"

"Saw you talking to Saint Peter. You're real pretty," Adam confesses, a hint of sincerity softening his typically brash demeanor. Despite your frustration, a blush creeps across your cheeks at the unexpected compliment.

"And you’ve got a nice rack” There it is… “So I slipped you a ticket. Don't think I forgot you skipped out on the first one, though. I'm still mad about that. I had to track you down to give you a second. Good thing I peeped through your file. You can totally make it up to me tonight though," he adds, his tone playful yet tinged with a hint of expectation.

"Okay, stop. You're being gross," you retort, attempting to brush off his suggestive remarks.

"No need to be a virgin-slut. Some bitches would kill to be watching me eat," Adam remarks casually, oblivious to your discomfort. "Which, by the way, why aren’t you eating? Trying to waste my money, you bitch?"

"No, I'm sorry, I just..." you start, searching for a plausible excuse. "I just didn't like the food."

"Why didn't you say so? I can buy you whatever. Pasta? Lobster?" Adam offers.

"Lobster?" you cringe, taken aback by the extravagance. "Isn't that too expensive?"

"I can buy whatever. I could buy this whole restaurant and force them to make you your favorite food," he boasts, taking a large bite of your burger before continuing, "Do you want that?"

"No, I'm just not hungry," you reply, growing increasingly exasperated with the conversation.

"Ah, now I'm starting to get it. Someone's nervous," Adam teases, a smirk playing at the corners of his lips.

At this point, irritation prickles beneath your skin, fueled by Adam's relentless ability to push your buttons. "Okay, and so what if I am?" you retort sharply, your frustration evident in your tone. "You're apparently some big hotshot who's trying to get into my pants."

For a rare moment, Adam falls uncharacteristically silent.. Then, bouncing back, he responds, "...is it working?"

Your groan echoes loudly in the space, a mixture of exasperation and disbelief. Fortunately, the perfectly-timed arrival of the waiter to refill your drinks provides a welcomed distraction. Adam, ever the not-so-subtle opportunist, coughs loudly and gestures toward the waiter, silently urging you to consider ordering something else.

But you're not about to let Adam have the upper hand in this game.

"Excuse me," you announce firmly, flashing a wide grin as you catch Adam's waiting stare, "I think we're ready for our check." The waiter nods briskly and hurries off, leaving the two of you alone once more. As you steal a glance at Adam, his expression mirrors that of a triumphant cat who's just snagged a canary.

"Didn't know you were that ready for dessert," he quips, a smug smirk playing at his lips.

“Oh shut up!”

“Well, only if you—" Adam begins, but his sentence is abruptly interrupted by a wide yawn, his mouth full of food on display. "Man, I think eating so much has gotten me tired. We might have to postpone, babe. Maybe that'll even get you going—having to work for it," he chuckles, his tone teasing but sincere. He yawns again, eyes watering at the sensation. "Seriously though, we gotta call a rain check. I have a fat nap waiting for me."

Before you can respond, he continues, "But before you go, I figured we’d need to keep in touch."

With a flourish of his hand, Adam's fingers dance through the air with a grace that seems almost impossible for him. In a moment of astonishment, you watch as his movements conjure forth what appears to be a scroll, materializing out of thin air before your very eyes. The parchment unfurls in an elegant display, revealing intricate markings that shimmer with an ethereal glow.

But as your gaze lingers on the scroll, a strange realization dawns upon you—it's not a relic from ancient times, but rather… a phone?

Your jaw nearly hits the floor in shock as Adam casually enters his contact information. He hands it over, making sure his hand purposefully grazes over yours. You find yourself utterly flabbergasted by the realization that he has just gifted you a free phone.

“What the fu–”

"Welp!" Adam exclaims. With another dramatic flourish of his hand, a portal bursts open before you, crackling with wild golden sparks that dance in the air. "See ya!" he calls out cheerfully, giving you a playful shove toward the swirling vortex.

Before you can even protest or fully comprehend what's happening, you're hurtling through the portal, the world around you blurring into a kaleidoscope of colors and sensations. The rush of wind whips past you, and for a heart-stopping moment, you feel weightless, untethered to reality. It’s the same sort of adrenaline you get when you spread your wings and soar, except this makes you feel like you’re going to hurl.

And then, just as suddenly as it began, the chaos subsides, and you find yourself standing on your front porch, the familiar sights and sounds of home greeting you like an old friend. The portal vanishes behind you, leaving nothing but an upset stomach in its wake.

You take a moment to catch your breath, your heart still pounding from the unexpected journey. Glancing back at the spot where the portal once stood, you can't help but shake your head in amazement.

Thoughtlessly and still reeling from the whirlwind encounter with Adam, you go through the motions of heading inside and preparing for bed. Each step feels almost robotic, your mind still processing the surreal events of the evening as if in a haze.

Finally settled beneath the covers, you find yourself lying in bed, staring up at the dark expanse of the ceiling above. The events of the night replay in your mind like a vivid dream, a realization barrelling to the front of your mind with startling clarity.

You had fun.

Without conscious thought, your hand drifts to the bedside table, fingers curling around the sleek device Adam had gifted you. With a hesitant breath, you pull out the phone, its screen illuminating the dimly lit room with a soft glow.

For a moment, you hesitate, uncertainty gnawing at the edges of your resolve. But then, with a resigned sigh, you unlock the device and begin to scroll through your contacts, your mind buzzing with questions and possibilities.

YOU:

I’m free next weekend

ADAM:

Fuck yeah, bitch

Cum to my concert Saturday and I’ll get u another ticket

We can go out afterwards

Ur treat lol

Jk still mine u broke bitch

YOU:

It's a date

As you wait in silence, your heart flutters with anticipation, your eyes fixed on the screen as you watch the three familiar dots appear and disappear, teasing you with the promise of a response. But as moments stretch into minutes, you begin to feel a sinking sensation in the pit of your stomach.

The dots vanish completely, leaving the screen blank and devoid of any reply. A heavy silence lowers upon the room, punctuated only by the soft hum of the phone in your hand.

You wait a little longer, hoping against hope for some sign of life from the other end. But as the minutes tick by, it becomes painfully clear that no response is coming.

With a sigh of disappointment, you set the phone aside, resigning yourself to the quiet solitude of the night. As you drift off to sleep, your mind still filled with unanswered questions, you can't help but wonder what tomorrow will bring—and whether Adam will be a part of it.

#adam x reader #hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel adam #x reader