Our Redemption Arc (Hazbin Hotel Adam x Reader)

It's.. illogical

You ended up getting found and ordered to sleep on the couch. He doesn't trust you to not go through his stuff again, which, in all fairness, you probably would have, so said sleeping the couch is the least amount of punishment you deserve. You didn't argue for a change, and just took it on the chin. However, your amicability has ran out since then. You've done everything from making breakfast, to cleaning the whole apartment, to grabbing a guitar off the wall and attempting to play it, all in order to pass the time.

It's strange. He's usually up at the crack of dawn, but now it's well past noon. So, you walk to his door and unceremoniously pound your fists against it like whatever you're knocking for is life or death. When there's no answer, you repeat the motions as well as yell his name. Doing all this noisy nonsense makes it impossible to hear the portal sounds behind you or the laugher that follows.

"Miss me much?" He shouts in a faux-affectionate tone of voice.

You scream, because he came outta nowhere and from the opposite direction you anticipated, and whip around to face him.

"Mhm, yep, good to see you too, sugarplum." He smirks, not at all fazed by your fright.

You frown irritatedly, your heart still trying to batter down your ribcage, and raise your voice at him.

"Where the hell've you been?!"

"Secret." He winks coyly, then glances over at the shiny, orange object on the couch. "Hey!"

He rushes over and scoops the instrument into his arms as if it were sentient and hurt. You roll your eyes, but, if you're being truly honest, his apparent motherly care for this thing is funny at best and cute as hell at worst.

"It's fine!" You call out, leisurely following him into the room.

"It's not fine! How many times have I gotta tell ya not to touch my stuff?!"

"I didn't break it or anything. Chill out."

"Urgh-" He groans and snarls at you temperamentally, delicately hanging the guitar back up and onto its stand.

"Soo!" You step closer to him, your hands tied politely behind your back and your expression changing into something more fun-loving. "You gotta secret, huh? Gonna tell me what it is?"

"No."

"Please?"

"No."

"Pretty please?"

"Still no."

"Pretty please with a cherry on top?"

"No."

You grumble and abruptly kick his ankle.

"You're not helping yourself." He notes, not even glancing down at where you kicked him.

"Tell me!" You whine and pull at his arm like you're begging to be taken to the park after school.

"Nope! You ruined it by manhandlin' my guitar."

"Is that a euphemism?" You snigger and wiggle your eyebrows.

"Now I'm definitely not tellin'." He doesn't laugh.

"Oh, c'mon, Addy! It was a joke! Just tell me?"

When he shakes his head at you for the twelfth time, you resort to some dirty tricks to get your way. You try not to abuse the small amount of assured power you hold, since the effect will wear off and seem disingenuous if done too often, but your curiosity is killing you right now. You close the distance, hug your arms around his neck loosely and cuddle into him.