#the song is 'wake up' by eden | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

ghost-proofbaby · 4 months ago

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SO SCARLET (IT WAS MAROON)

CHAPTER TEN: RIGHT WHERE YOU LEFT ME

DID YOU EVER HEAR ABOUT THE GIRL WHO GOT FROZEN? TIME WENT ON FOR EVERYBODY ELSE - SHE WON'T KNOW IT.

☆ pairings: rockstar!eddie munson x fem!reader

☆ warnings: no use of y/n, strong language, angst, minors dni

☆ WC: 5.9K+

☆ A/N: lyrics used towards end of the chapter belong to the following sleep token songs (in order of appearance) - chokehold, ascensionism, and take me back to eden. 10/10 recommends listening to them <3

thank you to my love @hellfire--cult for the divider!

masterlist

When you wake up, you’re shocked to find cold sheets beside you.

Your hand stretches out on instinct, joints cracking as you barely slip into consciousness, and it’s the one thing capable of jolting you awake. These aren’t your sheets (they’re too nice to be your sheets), this isn’t your bed (there’s a cologne across the fabric that no longer stains your own mattress), and the bed is cold. Not even whispering of the warmth of who should be in bed with you, no trace of him having been tangled up with you the entire night to be found.

Eddie had been here. You know he had been here. Last night couldn’t have possibly been a dream, or a hallucination, or some cruel twisting of reality done by your brain out of the terrible yearning that is bubbling back up to the surface of your chest.

He had been here. And now, he’s gone.

It reminds you too much of those mornings you’d awake while he was on tour. The mornings you’d roll over in a shared bed, only to find the other owner was still a country away. Mornings where you took your coffee cold and alone, and took your updates from some online source posting blurry photographs of the man you were waiting up on rather than from his own two lips.

Bile almost rises in your throat until you properly sit up, and you properly remember.

Eddie. Kisses. His guitar. His song. Whispered falsetto of taking aim, painful words about the way love is a weapon.

You weren’t stupid. You weren’t dense. And Eddie Munson was a rockstar, not an actor.

The room is still dreary, faintly lit with the wisps of daylight peering through the curtains over the window. You can’t tell if it’s stormy out, or it’s early out, but neither really matters. Neither really explains why you’ve woken up in a bed alone, after a night of playing pretend.

Eddie’s lips, trailing down your skin. Eddie’s hands, bruising your hips and holding you to him in all the ways you begged him to. Eddie’s legs, entangling with yours beneath sheets he used to not be able to afford and blankets that kept the rest of the world as far away from the two of you as possible through the night.

You swear, for just a moment, your back is still warm with the imprint of his chest curling against you.

With every movement you make, you wait for Eddie to magically appear out of thin air. To jump up in front of you, to smile at you with that toothy grin and greet you with some ridiculous good morning. You keep waiting as you kick off the covers, and as your feet meet his cold floors, and as you make your way to the unfamiliar bathroom attached to the bedroom.

Waiting, waiting, waiting.

You sort of fucking hate waiting. Especially when it came to Eddie.

There’s no sign of him in the apartment. It becomes clear once you’ve brushed your teeth, almost hesitating to use the toothbrush available until you realize how ridiculous that would be. He had his tongue down your throat last night, amongst other places – he could bare for you to borrow his toothbrush just this once. You make your way out of the room, down the hallway, to the kitchen.

Nothing. No Eddie. No breakfast. No reminders to call Matt and no ambulances on speed dial.

You feel like a fool.

“Talk about karma, hm?” you mumble to yourself as you lean against his kitchen island, staring at the fridge, weighing your choices.

You could stay, make yourself breakfast, enjoy the luxuries at your disposal.

Or you could leave. You could get out now while he’s not here to stop you, erase the night from your skin and memory. There’s still time to pretend that none of it ever happened. There’s still time to scrub the stain he’s once again left across not just your skin, not just your mind, but your entire existence. A newly reopened wound, and you still had time to make amends and stitch it right back up. No blood stains necessary this time around. And things were always easier the second time around, right?

Wrong.

Something keeps you rooted in spot. Maybe it’s the nostalgia, wrapping its way up around your bones. Maybe it's the wishful thinking, the smallest of hopes that Eddie will eventually burst through the front door and wash away the doubts.

Or maybe it’s the post-it note that you’d initially missed, barely clinging to the surface of the fridge as it leaves behind a sticky residue.

Went to the studio, I’m in trouble with Matt :( Help yourself to anything in the apartment. If you leave, just make sure to lock up behind you. I’ll text once I’m done.

It’s written in messy penmanship, the font of someone in a rush. The phrase ‘if you leave’ is only slightly neater, as if written slowly and given more thought than anything else said.

As if Eddie might have hesitated, for just a moment, at the thought of you leaving once more.

You’re probably imagining things. You’re probably making up that difference in your mind, projecting onto what you want him to feel so desperately. It shouldn’t make a difference in if you stay or if you go. It shouldn’t.

And yet, it does.

The hours pass by slowly. Morning bleeds into the afternoon as you keep yourself entertained and take Eddie’s encouragement in full stride; you make yourself a decent enough breakfast from what food he does have in the fridge, and you almost make a note of scolding him for having little to nothing in there. But then you remember that it isn’t your place anymore, and your toast is nearly burning, and so the mental note of any slaps on the wrist is pushed away. You wander about the living room, taking in what photos he does have displayed. There’s not much – a few awards, some nice recounts of the band’s successes, but nothing that is Eddie. No photos of Hawkins. No photos of friends. No photos of Wayne. You hadn’t realized just how empty, how vacant, the place had felt until you properly inspected it all.

There’s only one trace left behind of Eddie. The man you once knew and loved, not Eddie the Rockstar. Eddie, the caring best friend. Eddie, the doting boyfriend. Eddie, the one you’d once spent all your days weaving a future with, threads intertwined and dreams perfectly aligned.

A single photograph of just him and Gareth. Or at least, what’s been framed to appear to be of just him and Gareth.

Eddie, front and center. Gareth to his left. At a quick glance, it seems like one more homage to the band, maybe even to his friends.

It’s more than that, though.

Your hands can’t work fast enough as they grab the frame, not even thinking clearly about how Eddie might feel if you rip the back off the nice piece of memoriam. Your heart is racing out your chest, breaths starting to come out in harsher and harsher puffs as you struggle to flip the clips and remove the backing cardboard.

You find exactly what you knew you’d find. Exactly what you’d dreaded you’d find.

Yourself, staring back at you.

Creased over so purposefully, the section of the photo containing you has been prestigiously folded to appear as though you’d never existed. You, with a fool’s grin and eyes squinted out of appearance. You, hand on Eddie’s shoulder as you’d lifted yourself up dramatically on your tippy toes, body full of pride beyond the point of containment.

A version of you that you can remember crystal clearly.

“Wait, wait!” you had squealed, the stick of beer on concrete floors meeting the rubber sole of your shoes audible as you’d ran across the bar, “Don’t you dare take that photo without me, assholes!”

You’d nearly slipped in a puddle of only God-knows-what as you’d made it to where the boys were gathering, but Eddie’s hands had already been there to catch you before you’d met an untimely demise.

“Woah, woah, woah,” his face twitched with concern, but his smile wasn’t fading, “Trying to kill yourself there, Sugar?”

“No, I’m trying to get into the photo with my favorite people,” you’d corrected, looking around Eddie to shoot a smile Gareth’s way, “Gotta make sure they don’t forget me in the history books in ten years, when they put you guys’ into the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame.”

Gareth snorted immediately, shaking his head, his own head of curls bouncing with the movement, “Right. I’ll believe it when I see it.”

Eddie’s hands left your waist, leaving you to bounce on the balls of your feet as you looked back to Jeff still poised with a camera. “Don’t be such a pessimist, Gar.”

“Don’t call me Gar.”

“Oh, I’m sorry. Should I use the full nickname? Would you prefer Gare-Bea-”

“Okay,” Eddie cut you off with impeccable timing, putting his hands out between the two of you, “Can we not kill each other after we’ve just played our biggest show yet?”

Biggest show yet, indeed. Everyone had come out to show love to the boys you’d been rooting on from the hot floors of garages for several months at that point. More than just a few drunks being forced to listen to the live band playing at their favorite joint, and more than just a few friends who’d spared their evening to show support.

Everyone was there. The bar had even made an exception for a few of the boys in Eddie’s Hellfire club, and that alone had already gone to Dustin Henderson and Mike Wheeler’s heads.

“She’s right!” Dustin added without any prompting, standing to the side and looking just as giddy as you did, “You guys are gonna be goddamn rockstars!”

“Language, Henderson!” Steve Harrington scolded, scowling at the younger boy, “Jesus, we let you guys come to a bar one time to support Eddie, and you immediately start acting up-”

“Can we please just take the photo?” Jeff waved the camera as he looked between you, Eddie, and Gareth, “Please?”

Surprisingly, every single person listened.

Gareth resumed his cool-guy position, clearly trying to not show just how excited he was. Arms crossed as he didn’t move any closer to be more fully in the photo, offering the limited effort of leaning in.

You knew he was just playing it cool. You’d seen the smile light up his face, even behind the drumset, the moment the boys had seen how large of a crowd they’d garnered.

Dustin jumping up and down beside you, waving his hand, trying to just get a glimpse of his blurry palm in the shot.

No one could even be mad at him, the air was too thick with excitement. He was only exerting it the way all of you craved to do so badly, guided by his youth and genuine love for his friends – his mentors.

And then there was you and Eddie. Eddie wasn’t hiding his joy at all, those dimples you so adored in full throttle as he looked at the camera with starry eyes. All that hard work, all those late nights, finally beginning to come to fruition. He didn’t have to say it – you knew. You knew he was beginning to see the shape of a rockstar forming that you’d always been able to view. Seeing himself in the spotlight that you’d always shone on him, blind faith and all.

He was proud, and you were prouder.

On your tippy toes, hand curling around Eddie’s shoulder like an anchor as your chin tilted up and your teeth flashed to the camera. You probably looked ridiculous – you felt ridiculous. But there was no time for some elegant pose or faux cool act like Gareth or Jeff. You were bleeding out all your pride and all your happiness, and it was all for the warm body beneath your palm. The boy you’d be holding dearly when it was all said and done at the end of the night, letting him collapse into your solace as he giggled and muttered his disbelief at how well the night went once you were both safely back in his bed.

“Say cheese!”

Jeff was all but ignored, only Gareth loudly proclaiming the word through gritted teeth.

You squeezed Eddie’s shoulder a bit tighter, and he smiled a bit wider as you whispered, “I’m so proud of you, Rockstar.”

You didn’t realize you were crying until the first tear drops onto the photo, narrowly missing your overly exuberant face and landing instead on the back of the part of the photo unseen from this point of view.

The part that was on display. The part that Eddie would let the world see.

The tears can’t become more; you can’t let them. You weren’t going to break down in sobs in the middle of Eddie’s apartment. Not after the night before, not after what felt like the precipice of progress. Not after the beginning of what felt like a peace offering.

Closure. You were both so close to closure, and yet had never felt further.

Instead of putting back the backing of the frame like you should, you pull out the entire photograph, slowly unsticking it from the glass so you can unfold it to witness the entire picture. You thought it might feel wrong to see this version of you standing beside that version of Eddie, but it doesn’t. If anything, it makes the burn of nostalgia worse.

The night before, Eddie had asked you a question.

“Do you know how many times I played this moment back over in my head?”

And you didn’t know. You never found out, never bothered to ask him for the answer. But you couldn’t but wonder if he knew how many times you’d played moments like the one in this photograph back, over and over in your mind, until it drove you to madness. Just how many late nights in that lonesome apartment, haunted by the memories, it had finally taken before you’d had no choice but to move. How many breakdowns had been spurred on in public when you’d heard his song playing in a gas station, or you’d seen a magazine that he’d occupied the smallest corner of the cover of.

How many times, during those moments, you’d thought back to nights like the one in this picture, and wished you could go back.

Even now, even with progress on the horizon, you want to go back. Everything in you screams for this time rather than the present. You want small crowds in the Hideout and an overly hyper Dustin Henderson to annoy you all. You want Eddie kissing you in the bar’s bathrooms, everything reeking of stale beer, and you want the only interruption to be the others banging on the door to let you know it was time to go, not Eddie’s cell phone ringing with a call from his agent.

You want, and you want, and you want.

For an innocence neither of you can return to. For a life both of you left behind in ashes. For a love that had seemed so infinite, not as though it might be a momentary time bomb waiting to blow.

You want to take past you by the shoulders, and shake her so hard that there’s a chance she’ll listen to you when you demand she just enjoy it.

Enjoy all the late nights spent in diner booths with all the boys, none of them witness to the pathway of a heart that Eddie’s thumb is drawing on top of your hand. Enjoy all the grand firsts, and enjoy how everything feels like the ends and beginnings of your world when you’re that young. Enjoy Eddie while you can, even when he annoys you, even when he finds a way to get perfectly on your very last nerve. Enjoy it.

Because one day, it would all be gone, and you’d be crying over a photograph in the apartment of the man you once thought you were going to marry.

Now is the time to stop. Now is the time to put the photo back, gather your things, then leave. Put away the shovel and walk away from the grave of the past.

You can’t do it.

It turns into some wild scavenger hunt, lacking in guidelines and etiquette as you search through the rest of the apartment. Not truly snooping, but certainly scouring every corner for any other possible remnants of you. Small markings, brutal stains. Proof you weren’t the only one left maimed at the end of the day. Proof you weren’t the only one stained.

Nothing else is found, because nothing else in the apartment is seemingly as personal as that one photograph.

You’d noticed the apartment was barren, but hadn’t taken the time to see just how far the emptiness went. His living room, his kitchen, his bedroom – not a single sign of the Eddie you once knew. Only the new Eddie. The Eddie with awards, with a reputation, with adoring fans.

The Eddie that you couldn’t tell if you really cared for all that much.

The first sign of life only creeps into your vision when you crack back open that door to his makeshift studio. Guitars he once only spoke of owning, a keyboard that tells you he’d finally taught himself how to play piano rather than only speaking about it as a one-day, notebooks and loose-leaf pages scattered across the coffee table that’s situated in front of the comfortable couch.

It reminds you of the coffee table back in the Munson trailer. Of his desk, back in Hawkins.

There’s no sporadic Hellfire campaigns across the pages, though. No small doodles in the corners of the crumbled pages.

Your curiosity gets the better of you as you take the same seat you’d occupied the night before (or technically, the earlier morning). No guitar fills your lap – only the weight of the first notebook you could get your hands on. He’d told you to help yourself to anything in the apartment, and he’d never said that the studio was explicitly off-limits.

There’s rings of coffee stains across the front of the notebook, half the pages visibly used from the side while the rest stay pristine and uniform. Before you can overthink it, you’re flipping the cover of the spiral notebook open, holding your breath as you read across the first line of penned words that you find.

When we were made, it was no accident.

Lyrics. They’re clearly lyrics. You keep reading, out of order as your eager eyes drink it all in.

I’d turn my walls to gold to bring you home again.

You turn the page. You refuse to linger. You refuse to over analyze.

MAKE IT REAL. ‘Cause anything’s better than the way I feel right now.

The first three words are angry, aggressive, large. Screaming off of the page. And the remaining ones are small, almost cursive as they flow together like a whisper. Like the writer couldn’t handle telling the world something so vulnerable, so loudly as he had his demand.

Below, a phrase takes up an unexpected amount of space, circled around several times, a few stray question marks penned around the edges.

Diamonds in the trees, pentagrams in the night sky.

You recall all of Eddie’s doubt when you’d interrupted him writing a song last night. The muttering to himself, questioning what the words might even mean. It seems that was not an occurrence saved solely for you – it seems, when he’s been left to his own devices, the process always remains.

You turn the page again.

This time, you’re met with the largest conglomerates of lyrics yet. Spreading across the available lines preset for him, but also spiraling about the page. Written in the margins, forced to fill the gaps between the lines. There’s a sinking feeling in your gut before you even read the lyrics, based on the title alone – Take Me Back to Eden.

I dream in phosphoresces, bleed through spaces. See you drifting past the fog.

You’re holding your breath again.

I’m a winged insect, you’re a funeral pyre.

Your eyes wander further down the page.

I need you to see me for what I have become.

The word become is angrily underlined, over and over, until the pen had torn through the page in the slightest.

Something rises up within you, and in a panic, you jump to the bottom of the page.

I guess it goes to show, does it not? That we’ve no idea what we’ve got until we lose it.

The first fatal blow – you can practically hear Eddie’s voice singing the line to you.

And no amount of love will keep it around, if we don’t choose it.

Another blow. Flashes of simpler times. Times when Eddie was yours, when the world didn’t lay claim to him the same way your own shaking palms would.

No amount of self-sought fury will bring back the glory of innocence.

It doesn’t matter how small he’s written it. No matter how tiny and insignificant he attempted to make the line, it cuts deeper than any knives that have ever passed through your flesh before. Deeper than the knife of losing him, so terribly slow. Deeper than the knife of hearing Corroded Coffin in public for the first time, playing out of someone’s car on the street as they listened to the Alternative Rock station. Deeper than the knife of burying his mother’s ring at the back of your closet, no longer yours to wear but somehow still yours to keep. Deeper than the knife of seeing him sitting there, in your office, completely unaware for the first time in two years.

You slam the notebook shut before you can end up bleeding all over the pages, tears gathering once more and wounds all ripped back open mercilessly.

The glory of innocence.

All the reels of memories that had hit you as you’d held the photo in the living room come barreling back, striking you down, hitting you exactly where it hurts.

Because he had felt it too. He had experienced it too.

The nostalgia, the want for the past, the need to go back in time when things were simple – innocent. When the stakes were low and love was more than just a ghost wandering through your graveyard in passing.

Self-sought fury.

All the headlines, all the self-destruction. Every news article that had chipped away at the great Rockstar’s reputation. It hadn’t been the Eddie you’d known, just as you’d immediately thought; it was a new version of him, a new shell of him, seeking out damage wherever his furious hands could grasp it.

But you’d never self-imploded. You’d never gotten your fury out, never got to kiss strangers in bars or destroy hotel rooms to move past all that you had lost. You’d been sitting in silence, a brewing pique that you’d let fester for far too long. All the hurt, all the fury, all the heartbreak.

You didn’t have songs to write about all that. You didn’t have notebooks filled to the brim with those emotions.

All you had was a shovel, and a deep hole inside yourself that you never thought you’d excavate again. Deep, russet brown eyes that had once lit the pavement for your future, now patronizing your past from the grave.

A grave you hadn’t been digging alone, apparently. Worlds apart, and you two still had been seemingly in sync with the murder of who Eddie Munson once was.

But the grave is excavated now, and you don’t think too much as you all but sprint out of the room, a clear destination in mind, that damn notebook in hand.

—

Google is your greatest friend, your greatest tool, in the end.

You don’t have the right connections at first. No numbers saved in your phone that you could call for the information, no emails beyond Matt to reach out to. And if there’s anything you’ve learned in working in a business where emails were the sole form of communication, it’s that no one would reply to you as quickly as Eddie had been.

You didn’t have time. So you decided you’d already crossed a line, and you’d scoured the address of the recording studio that Corroded Coffin uses.

You’d almost lost hope until you’d seen a paparazzi photo of him leaving said studio. Most news outlets had clearly been paid to keep hush about the location, but some were still the scum of the Earth, and some had left behind evidence. It took more effort on your part than expected, and more scrolling through fan forums than you were proud of, but you’d found it.

You’d found the address where you would find Eddie Munson.

Hell hath no self-sought fury like a muse scorned, you suppose.

That’s what had hurt the most. In hindsight, you’d always known he’d write about you one day. He was an artist, and he had always pulled inspiration from his real life experiences. You’d just always been under the assumption that when the day came, the words on the page may be a happier tune. Something softer, something less hurtful.

He wasn’t even insulting you, but it certainly felt like he was mocking you.

You’re blinded by pain as you storm through the front door of the surprisingly small studio, finally feeling the need to lash out after two long years. Two long years of silent misery, silent suffering. You’re no longer the same person who had taken the cowardly way out. There is no instinctive running away from this, no gathering up your existence and disappearing from his life.

This time, you want to fight. You want to scream at him all that you had felt as well. You wanted him to know the damage done, whether it was the right response or not.

It probably wasn’t. And there was probably something to be said about the fact that this time, you were willing to fight with him over it.

“Good afternoon, ma’am,” a young receptionist greets you from the front desk, “Do you have an appointment?”

“Nope.”

She doesn’t deserve your venom, but she’s getting it straight out of your clipped tone regardless. You’re not here to play niceties with her – you’re here to see Eddie.

She’s clearly taken back from your straight-forward answer, “Oh, I see. Unfortunately, the studio is currently occupied, but we can-”

“I know the studio’s occupied,” you reply blandly, eyes looking for the elevator, “I’m here to see the bastard currently occupying it.”

“I- excuse me?”

You spot the elevator, feet working faster than your mouth as you start to walk over to it, “I said, I’m here to see Eddie Munson. I know he’s in the studio currently, I know him-”

“I can’t let you do that.”

“You’re not really in the business of letting me do anything-”

“Ma’am.”

You hadn’t noticed the security guard until his hand comes down on your shoulder. The receptionist girl is wide-eyed, looking nervous enough that if you weren’t in the middle of your own spiral, you might feel bad.

“Let go of me,” you shakily demand, standing still under his hold, “I just need to speak with Ed-”

“No one goes in there without permission from the band or their management,” the man gruffly replies. He may have a good foot on you in height, and the stretch of his muscles beneath the plain black t-shirt might be impressive, but you’re almost convinced by the adrenaline racing through your veins that you could take him. One swift kick of the legs, and you could get to the elevator – you could get to Eddie.

Fight with Eddie. Call Eddie out for all the pain he’d let fester within you for far too long. Probably not even realizing you were calling yourself out in the same breath.

“Then fucking call them,” you snap, reaching up to swat away his hand, “Call them, and tell them my name-”

“We’ve been given strict instructions to not interrupt them-”

“I could give two shits if we’re interrupting!” you finally yell, fulling tearing yourself away from the strange man’s grasp, “Fucking call Eddie, and tell him-”

It’s the sudden call of your name that breaks the tense moment entirely. Not Eddie’s voice, not even Matt’s voice, but a different voice from your past that has hardly changed.

Standing before you is Gareth Emerson, almost looking entertained at the current exchange happening.

“She’s with us, man,” he chokes out, clearly holding back laughter as he locks eyes with you, “I can take her back up.”

“Are you sure?” the security guard presses, looking at you with narrowed eyes, “If this is some insane groupie, Matt will kill me if-”

“I’m not a fucking groupie!”

You have no reason to be so angry, so defensive. But you’re already a wounded animal, and you’re primed to bite at the slightest inconvenience.

The wounds of the past are gushing, and being reduced to nothing more than an insane groupie is salt in the blood. Callous, burning, hurtful.

You’re not just a groupie.

“She’s not a groupie,” Gareth echoes after you, and his words are far more effective. The guard takes a step back, and Gareth finally lets out a snort that he tries to cover with a cough, “C’mon, Hellfire. Let’s take you upstairs before you burn this whole place to the ground.”

You swallow down any shock at the old nickname, and you rush to join Gareth’s side, being sure to knock an elbow into his side on your way past him.

“No one even calls me that anymore,” you mutter, still half-angry, guns still ready to begin blazing in Eddie’s direction once he’s in your sight.

“Maybe that’s because you haven’t been around the only people that did call you that,” he points out, tone entirely unaffected by your elbow.

“You guys didn’t trademark Hellfire.”

“No, but we sure as Hell made a name for it back in Hawkins.”

You two stop in front of the elevator, and neither of you make a move to press the call button. You’re all deep breaths, trying to settle yourself as Gareth continues to stare at you.

“You haven’t changed one bit, you know.”

His words have you looking up sharply, brows crinkling as you let them sink in, “Excuse me?”

“I thought you might have changed,” he says, face softening, “You know, the years and city changed you or something. But you’re still… still that same girl we knew. All fiery, always ready for a fight.”

His last sentence is laced with a bit of sarcasm, some light-hearted joking you hadn’t realized you missed until you’re face to face with it.

You swallow hard, and you know your own face melts to match his, “That… I… I have changed. That guard was just being a dick.”

“He was doing his job.”

“Yeah, well,” you sigh, feeling the wisps of fury slip out of your grasps. You almost feel like a toddler, prepared to stomp your foot just to emphasize a losing argument. “He should do his job worse.”

“And you say you’ve changed,” Gareth teases, bumping his shoulder to yours, “Bullshit, Hellfire. You just let the suits at your job get to you. Maybe you should stick around this time, remember who you were.”

The words shouldn’t make your chest tighten, but they do.

Who you were.

Leaving behind Eddie meant more than just leaving behind a failed relationship. It meant leaving everyone. And that included Gareth. That included the version of you that you’ve missed so terribly today that you’ve gone grave-digging, pulling back all emotions to the service. It’s not just anger, it’s not just nostalgia. It’s something deeper and something you can’t erase. A stain on the deepest parts of you that you can’t rid yourself of, even if you’d wanted to.

Neither of you have pressed the elevator button yet.

It’s impulsive, but there’s a decision to be made that you won’t overthink. You’re brimming with impulsivity anyways, “Give me your phone number.”

“What?”

“Give me your number,” you repeat yourself, already digging out your cell phone as you balance Eddie’s notebook in your other hand, “And I’ll stick around this time.”

You don’t necessarily mean it in the same way he implies, but you mean it in the way that counts.

You hand your phone over to his waiting palm, and for a moment, it feels like a weight has lifted.

Even if it all burns down with Eddie. Even if you find the closure you’ve been so desperately seeking out with him, it doesn’t mean you have to leave the others behind. People like Gareth, like Grant, like Jeff – there’s still room for them, somewhere in your new life. You had grown up together practically, at least during the years that had counted, and there was no need to erase them from your history.

You could find a way. You had to find a way.

Compartmentalize, rationalize. Justifications and explanations were plentiful. You would find a way to meet the you that once existed and the you that was left behind in the rubble, somehow, someway.

When Gareth hands you back the phone, there’s a smile twitching in the corners of his mouth, “We should meet up for dinner sometime. I know the rest of the guys, Jeff and Grant, they miss you. And we know this killer pizza place.”

You don’t fight your returning smile, “Yeah. We should. I think I’d really like that.”

“Right,” he claps, looking around to clearly see if the guard and receptionist are still watching. They’re momentarily distracted, it seems, by some sort of delivery driver, “Well, I’ll leave you to it. Our studio’s on the third floor.”

“Wait,” his finger has already jabbed at the call button, the sounds of an elevator creaking on its quick descent to you sounding from behind the metal doors, “Aren’t you coming back up with me?”

“Oh, God, no,” Gareth’s nose scrunches, and his overgrown hair bounces as he shakes his head, “I think I’ve had just about enough of Eddie for the day. The rest of the guys left about an hour ago, anyways, and I’m guessing you two might want some privacy?” You nod at his questioning tone, “Perfect. Then, in that case – third floor, like I said.”

“Thank you, Gareth,” you blurt out, fighting down all the nostalgia. Part of you is aching – part of you just wants to see the other boys again, no longer needing the fight with Eddie, “I- I missed you guys too, for what it’s worth.”

“We know,” he jokes back, although there’s something in the way he says it that makes you think that maybe they didn’t know that. He finally glances at the notebook in your hands that you’d nearly forgotten about, lively eyes turned simply sad. “Just go and give him Hell, yeah? You’re not the only one who's lost themselves.”

There’s no chance to ask what Gareth might mean as a ding sounds and the doors slide open. The boy that you have genuinely and sincerely missed nods his head, signaling for you to get in, and you do just that. Mentally preparing yourself with one last gulp of air, one last look at Gareth, before you ready your boxing gloves once more.

You’re not the only one who's lost themselves.

The doors slide shut, and you punch the button for the third floor.

eddie's taglist:@capricornrisingsstuff @thisisktrying @mediocredreams @vol2eddie @corrcdedcoffin

@ches-86 @alovesongtheywrote @its-not-rain @feralchaospixie @cheesypuffkins87

@thebook-hobbit @babez-a-licious @eddies-acousticguitar @aysheashea@kellsck

@cosmorant @billyhvrgrove-main @micheledawn1975 @eddiesxangel @siriuslysmoking

@witchwolflea @tlclick73 @magicalchocolatecheesecake @mizzfizz @nanaminswhore

@mikiepeach @ali-r3n @hawkebuckley @alwaysbeenfamous @darkyuffie-blog

@vintagehellfire @lilmisssiren @elvendria @loveryanax @stylexrepp

@princessstolas @fangirling-4-ever @eddiesguitarskills @babez-a-licious @josephquinnsfreckles

@writinginthetwilight @trixyvixx @kittydeadbones @munson-addict @bluejeangenies

@cryingglightningg @joannamuns9n @missmarch-99 @rhirojo @findmeincorneliastreet

#ghost's stories #maroon #eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson angst #eddie munson fanfic #stranger things #side note: i fucking love gareth #im so excited to write the next chapter AAAAH #if i could i'd go back and make past ghost make all reader chapters taylor songs and all EDDIE CHAPTERS SLEEP TOKEN SONGS #that would have really hurt my feelings mainly to see the comparison #s.t. and t.s. always #we got all the t's and s's in these parts

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deadghosy · 9 months ago

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“WHO ARE YOU?”

ADAM X ANGEL! READER

🦆Sorry if it’s long lol, I got inspired by the song to make this ✨

A echoing lullaby goes around the garden of Eden. Waking up a male human who was taking a rather long nap as his eyes open.

Adam, the first man was sitting under a tree sighing as his memory of his first wife leaving him strikes him. He never thought he would be left like that as he oddly felt sad but also felt nothing as he didn’t know how to control his emotions. But then the echoing lullaby broke him out of his train of thought.

He shook his head, thinking it was just nothing. But the echoing of the melody got louder, and louder, and loud in his head to the point it was like a siren calling out for him to follow the voice. He looks up to see a beam of light strike down. Everything rumbles, making the first man fall to his stomach at the powerful shake.

Adam coughed, sitting up as he dusted himself off and stood up fully. He walked through the garden, following the enchanting melody. He closes his eyes, feeling as if the melody swirled around him. Making him him feel like dream as he flutters his eyes.

“What…is that…?” Adam asked himself as he blinked amazed at what is happening. He couldn’t believe it as he is thinking it’s a blessing from god himself.

He finally reached the section of the garden as the beam of light vanishes in a blink before it started to act weird.

The light flickers from behind the tree branches covering the view of what could be behind the cause of this blinding light and melody voice calling out for him. He lets out a breath and lifts up the branch.

He sees a glowing figure, the figure glowed so bright like the stars as the figure’s face was covered by the light that arises from its own body. He had to blink a couple of times to get use to its light.

“Who are you?” He says in a low tone to not scare whatever it is. The figure was in a sitting position, having their knees close to their chest as four pair of wings spout out of their back. Even head wings as a blinding light covers their face, making them faceless at some point. They turned to the man as they stood up, the light getting brighter as a sun in the sky. They seemed to be naked as their breasts/pecs were most noticeable in features from the light that Adam couldn’t bear much long to stare.

“Do not be afraid..”

The voice whispers, but the whisper sounded loud as Adam suddenly passes out by a bright light. He wakes up to see everything practically normal as he touches his eyes to see if anything went on with him. But there was nothing, it was like the figure wasn’t even real to say. It kinda scared Adam before the lull sky rolls in his head calming down any thoughts in the first man’s head as he heard bushes rustling to see a lady. Who he must assumed was his new wife, Eve.

Years pass as that same melody echos in his head every time he thinks about you. Usually when Adam feels pissy, that melody calms him down out of nowhere. When he feels happy, it hums in his head. When he feels sad..which is never really an issue to be sad in heaven, he would hear it softly.

It’s gotten to the point he talked to sera about it, but she didn’t really know either. That made Adam get angered as the lullaby lulls in his head making him calm down. Sera sees Adam relaxed oddly after showing his anger towards her. He found it odd at how he could calm down that instantly. That’s when sera finally realizes what’s going on.

“$!@$&/&” Sera tries to say but she grabs her throat. It was like a barrier got caught in her throat, preventing her from saying the truth.

Adam raised a brow at her, “what? You got imaginary dick in your mouth or somethin'?” He asked as sera has a panicked look trying to explain. But only nothing came out.

“Listen, if you wanna fuck with me. Then fine. Bye bitch.” He said flipping her off as sera just screams in silence gaining weird looks. Adam walks through the streets of heaven pissed off. He knew he wasn’t going crazy as he literally heard it from afar and not in his head most definitely. Lute came by him, “Sir! Sera wanted me to make sure you are alright.” Adam rolled his eyes at the angel solider beside him. “Well, tell her I don’t need to be checked on. I’m the first man for Christ sake! I can handle whatever the fuck is going on with me.” He says before flying off from Lute. She scrunched her face a bit before sighing. She also flies away.

It’s now night time as Adam sighs sitting in his bed. He couldn’t get the soft lullaby out of his head…it sucked for him as he gripped his fist, feeling the sharp nails in grave into his own palms. He lets out a shaky breath as he swore he felt eyes on his back. He turned around to find nothing there. So why did he feel paranoid? He didn’t know why but it sucked mad ass as this is heaven for crying out loud. Why should he even be paranoid. He scoffed at his own thoughts and laid down. Not knowing someone was coming to visit him.

A light shines from his ceiling making Adam squint his closed eyes at the brightness. He slowly opens his eyes to see four pair of wings sprout out gracefully as a hum enters the room. It was like a huge hug around Adam’s bedroom as the figure has their hands in a praying gesture “Do not fear.” The figure says as they slowly flew to Adam who is laying down with a “wtf” face as the light blinds his eyes. Adam sits up seeing the light had dimmed a bit as he stares into the “face” of the person he so longed to see after years. His eyes widen to grab your cheek. He felt that is was real as an echoing hum enters his tears that he heard for so long. He couldn’t believe that it was you as you slowly brought up a hand to touch the side of his face. Adam softly leaned it in, making him feel as if this was back when he first met you. Even if you practically ran away from him, it felt nostalgic to have you by him.

“Hello Adam…” you said with a loud whisper. The whisper sounded soft but harsh as Adam looks at you confused. “Who are you?..” he asked like the first time he did. You seemingly smile behind your “light” mask as you tell him your name. “ I am no one….but you can name me…” Adam scoffs but then starts to think of a name that would fit you. As he stares at you, he notices this time you aren’t naked like how he first met you. You were in a full pure white gown. “How about Y/N? How does that sound?” He asked with a smirk, proud of the name he gave you. You hummed softly with a nod liking the name he gave you.

The whole night you two talked like old friends who had plans to go out. It was exhausting for Adam as he just wanted it sleep, but he felt awake listening to you as you talked in a soft tone that could easily put him to sleep. It was like he could talk to you for hours. Yes he made some harsh remarks and comments like he usually does. But he listened and respected when you talked. It was like you had a leash on him to control on how he acts at least. Suddenly a bell rang from your watch as you stood from his bed. It was time for you to go.

“Goodbye Adam…” Y/N says as their wings sprout, making a circle above their head. Adam’s eyes widen going to grab them to make them stay. But he failed as Y/N made a praying hand gesture, their light getting brighter.

A glowing light blinded Adam as he covers his eyes. As he stopped rubbing his eyes, he looked around his room to not find the glowing figure anymore as he scoffed. But the sight of your appearance made him softly smile. He could still hear the echoing lullaby in his head as he lays down in his bed.

With one mutter of a word, he whispers the name of the figure he made for, “Y/N.”

#SoundCloud #angel!reader #angelic #angelcore #rammstein #hazbin hotel adam #adam x reader #hazbin hotel adam x reader #hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin hotel x angel! reader #hazbin hotel heaven #hazbin hotel angels #Adam x angel! reader #the first man

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matan4il · 8 months ago

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Ahead of Eurovision 2024

I was listening to Eden Golan's song, Hurricane.

youtube

At first, it didn't seem to me like it stands out. I'm one of the people who prefers my Eurovision song less on the power ballad side of things, so this being in that genre...

But then I found myself haunted by the lyrics. By specific lines. Singing them to myself quietly, over and over again. I had to listen to the song again.

And it got to me, it really did, I haven't stopped listening to or singing it since, so I guess I needed to share a bit.

There's more than one hint that this is a song about mourning and survival. Lines like, "someone stole the moon tonight, took my light" can be interpreted in more than one way. But they become less ambiguous when combined with ones like, "holding on in this mysterious ride," when the mysterious ride we're all on is life itself. It makes it clearer that this isn't just a break up song. Then it becomes even more explicit with, "we shall pass, but love will never die."

The imagery in the videoclip is also telling, that ending when Eden is looking up, much like many do when talking to or thinking about a loved one that we have lost.

But the line that gets to me the most, the first one that took over my brain? "I'm still broken from this hurricane."

We all get what this song is about, in the wake of what happened here in October 2023, and since. And I am broken. So many Jews and Israelis are. As one survivor said (his words have haunted me first, then I heard them echoed in this song): "We are broken, but strong." That's exactly what the song is about, deeply feeling the pain and the tragedy, the loss, this impossible to accept grief, and still trying to find a way to live with it, to survive not just the horrors of a massacre, but the trauma that follows it as well.

The other line that affects me the most is directly related to this, "baby, promise me you'll hold me again." Because I have spent the last 5 months watching the news, seeing the funerals, and hearing people breaking down, as they say a variation of this to their loved ones, who are gone. Asking for a promise that can't be made, or fulfilled, and knowing that it can't, even as the request is being uttered. I hear their voices breaking around their words, whenever I listen to or sing this line.

The videoclip is also infused with imagery that's related to the massacre of over 360 people at the Nova music festival (and the kidnapping of 40 more from that scene), which is in a way very apt for music lovers. The images show dancers in what looks a lot like a nature party, just like Nova, and since the massacre happened when the music festival was meant to reach its peak, a long night of music and dancing climaxing around sunrise, that's exactly what we see, a move from the "moon light" throughout most of the videoclip, to the "sunrise" at the end.

But in the case of this "sunrise," Eden can smile, she can find comfort, she can sing a few words in Hebrew that reflect hope, about that little light that's left even when the moon's been stolen.

She's bringing the song to a beautiful, emotional closure.

Obviously, it can't be ignored that this is a re-write. The original song (which was called October Rain) was disqualified as "political."

You can read the original lyrics here. They're almost identical. I heard an interview with the song writers, who said they weren't even told what got their song disqualified, so they had to guess what the Eurovision Broadcasting Union had in mind, when they called an expression of our pain, and our strength at the face of that, "political."

I admit, I find it very hard to accept this disqualification. It's not like there isn't precendent for countries at the Eurovision expressing pain (including the kind originating from political circumstances) through their songs.

If you take the wildly popular Ukraine 2007 entry, the singer was quite obviously singing "Russia goodbye," with allusions to Russian interference in Ukrainian elections while wearing outfits reminiscent of Soviet uniforms. And that wasn't called political, because "Russia goodbye" was changed into gibberish that still sounds like it (and in recent performances, it was blatantly sang like that).

If you take the much talked about Croatia 2023 entry, it was about the Russian invasion of Ukraine in 2022, and also criticized Belarus' tyrant kissing Russia's tyrant's ass, by referencing the tractor that Lukashenko bought for Putin, while the band members played with military weapons and uniforms on stage. And that wasn't disqualified for being political.

If you take the Ukraine 2016 entry, that was explicitly singing about their pain over what the Russians did to the Tatar population in Crimea in 1944, with clear allusions to what Russians did when they invaded Ukraine's Crimean peninsula in 2014. And that wasn't called "political" either.

Even this year, we have the entry from The Netherlands being political, with both the lyrics and videoclip referencing the borderless Europe (which IS a political issue, as Brexit, if nothing else, had made clear). I've seen people pointing out online that the song isn't political, because the whole borderless Europe thing is a metaphor for the singer's grief for his father/parents. I have no problem with that reading, but let's acknowledge that there could have been many metaphors for that, and he chose a political one.

So why is Jewish pain treated differently? Why is our pain labeled "political," when the metaphors for it in the songs aren't that, there are no specific political mentions of people or organizations in the song (unlike the Georgia 2009 entry, which slipped Putin's name into the song's title) in either version, when there are no political statements being made in the song, there's just expressing our pain, and trying to find a way to cope with it?

This WAS the biggest massacre of Jews since the Holocaust, and expecting Jews not to write about it, not to sing about it, not to try to process it through art... Our pain is not political. It's human. When Ukraine won in 2022 with a song that wasn't originally political, but became one, as it was adopted by Ukrainians suffering from a war that they did not choose, but had to fight, singing it wherever they were displaced (I remember the winners, Kalush Orchestra, coming to Israel to sing it for and with Ukrainian refugees who found shelter here), I thought it was quite obvious, even for people who don't like politics at Eurovision, why the song won, and why everyone overlooked the fact that it was only partly based on its qualities as a Eurovision song. I don't expect Israel to win, I very much expect that, even as Israelis embrace this song about our pain during a war, that we didn't choose, but have to fight, and while hundreds of thousands of us are still displaced, we will get a lot of hatred, instead of understanding and sympathy. But I still have to speak up. I still have to point out that treating Israeli or Jewish pain differently is wrong.

(as a footnote, I wanna get ahead of the usual, "Why is Israel allowed to participate in Eurovision to begin with? It's not in Europe!" comments, while I haven't come across the same ritual for certain other Eurovision participants, like North African Morocco, just-as-Asian-as-Israel Lebanon, transcontinental {despite some of these countries only being considered European culturally, while geographically speaking, they're fully Asian} Georgia, Russia, Cyprus, Turkey, Azerbaijan and Armenia, and the one that's a continent all on its own, Australia. They all have the right to participate, because they all belong to the European Broadcasting Union. Just like Israel)

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akaakeis · 1 month ago

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this is how it went.

part 2 of us without me.

cw/notes: angst,, falling out of love,, shoyo falls in love with another person while ygs are together (sorry),, named after (but not entirely based off) the beabadoobee song! || wc: 1k

your alarm clock blared, waking you up in... arguably, the worst possible way. it was a saturday, and you had the early shift at work. you begrudgingly got up, shoving your comforter aside. you pause in front of your mirror, taking in how disheveled you looked; your eyes were puffy and a tinge pink, and your hair was messed up. the events of last night all rushed back to your head as you looked at yourself.

last night...

honestly, it was a blur for you. you had gotten home around midnight from your flight, and you bawled your eyes out after you crashed into your bed. looking back on the months leading up to the break up... was it even clear that shoyo loved you?

he was distant, pulling himself away from physical affections and sweet words. after a while, all of the love filled words that you had for him died on your lips, never meeting his ears. shoyo probably wouldn't have any response to them anyway, so why would you say them?

"what are you looking at?" you'd asked him one day, peering over at his phone. you see an instagram profile- someone going by the name eden. there's a little brazilian flag in her bio, and she's your age. you don't tell him you were able to see that, though.

he looks up at you, a faint smile on his face from whatever he was looking at on his phone. he subtly pulls his phone away, replying, "nothing, just an instagram story."

how vague.

the same day, as you walk by him, you notice shoyo dming back and forth with eden. you'd guessed that he had just made a friend.

that night, at dinner, it was awfully quiet. shoyo ended up breaking the silence though, rather excited at that.

"hey, i met this girl on instagram. she lives in brazil! isn't that cool?"

so you saw the right thing.

"hmm? brazil? that's cool," you reply. "are you gonna be friends with her or something?"

he nods. "yeah, you know how there's a chance of me moving there for volleyball and all that, right? she's gonna teach me portuguese, and she'll show me around if i end up moving there."

your stomach churns at the reminder of that prospect. brazil is so far away from here.

then, another memory passes through your mind; it occurred shortly after that last memory.

"hello? oh, hey! it's so nice to finally talk to you!" you hear shoyo say excitedly. the lilt of his voice makes you turn to look at him and raise an eyebrow.

"who're you talking to?" you ask.

he doesn't answer you at first, listening to her voice on the other end of the line. then, he turns his head and mouthes to you 'eden.'

you have a visceral reaction, furrowing your eyebrows. it's weird that he's calling her. probably doesn't mean anything though.

...and here you are now. how stupid. how could you possibly think that it meant nothing? all the texting back and forth, midday calls, everything. what on earth were you thinking?

you blow air into your cheeks, zoned out as you stare at the mirror. it's been 10 minutes since you started recalling memories from last night and months before. damn mind. your eyes were watery with regret. with bubbling frustration, you harshly wipe the tears away from your face and grab your phone.

something must have possessed you that morning, because you immediately removed eden and shoyo's contacts from your phone, along with your socials. then, you called your boss. the line rings for 5 seconds, stalling. for a moment, you hope they won't answer and hear your wobbly, hoarse voice.

a click is heard, and it's followed with a short sigh. "hi, do you need something?"

you run and hand through your hair and shake your head absentmindedly, forgetting that they can't see you. you clear your throat, trying to sound as okay as possible. "no, i just wanted to call and let you know i won't be able to do the morning shift. i'm not feeling well. could i switch with someone and do the afternoon?"

there's a brief pause as your boss contemplates this. "...yeah, sure. feel better soon."

"great, thanks." click.

after the phone call ended, you slumped back onto your bed, tossing your phone to the foot of it. you felt awful. everything ached. the television, which you forgot to turn off last night, continued to drone on in the background. last night, you remembered it being the first season of fruits basket; god knows what episode. now, it was on season 2 episode 8.

irritably, you grab the remote and turn off the tv, tossing the controller to the foot of your bed as well. with a final sigh, you lay back in bed, burying yourself in your blankets.

you ended up laying in bed until about 30 minutes until your shift. you threw yourself into the shower, despite how unprepared you felt. it's not like you could bail on work.

the shift felt awfully long, too. customers were irritating, coworkers were rude, and everything seemed much too loud and bright. your bets were on shoyo and eden being home together and cooking dinner. they just wouldn't leave your mind, no matter how hard you tried.

about two hours into the shift, you get a message from the area code 11. that's são paulo. probably shoyo or eden. without looking over the message, you block the phone number. the frustration just kept bubbling up.

how could you be so stupid? naïve enough to believe that shoyo was really just becoming friends with eden?

in your mind, it was your fault you ended up getting hurt so bad. you were more upset with yourself, and you didn't really get why.

you just wanted to go to sleep. for a long, long time. until it stopped hurting. until you were no longer mad, whether at yourself or them.

not that you would be able to, anyway. this was progress right? it would take you a while to feel fully okay. but that's okay, too; you know that you'll be okay soon.

⌗ LOLL hi guys i hope you're all doing ok

⌗ it's been like two weeks since i've posted any writing i'm so sorry holy shit

⌗ i had to write a speech and a magazine article and a narrative so i fear i was still writing... just not fun things...

⌗ am i beating ai allegations rn or is my wording too fancy... (ifykyk)

⌗ idk if i did the angst justice but i tried!!

⌗ i skipped drivers ed today to write this cause i told iya i would write it (+ post but i need a proofreader SO THIS IS PROBABLY COMING OUT THE DAY AFTER IM WRITING IT) before i went to sleep tonight

⌗ booo hinata 👎👎

⌗ dw guys i'll post fluff next time I PROMISEEE

⌗ if you enjoyed this (for some reason...) please consider liking, rb-ing, following, and/or checking out my masterlist!!

🏷️ :: @laughingfcx + @chososcamgirl <3

#omori's sketchbook.#haikyuu #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu angst #hq angst #hinata shoyo #haikyuu hinata #hinata shoyo x reader #hq x reader #hq imagines #queued !!

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cry4mina · 8 months ago

Text

Take Me Back to Eden - Choke Hold - (Part 1)

(Nayeon x fem!reader)

Take Me Back to Eden - Granite - Part 2

Word Count: 4.3k

Fluff/angst/Suggestive moments

Summary: You and Nayeon wake up on a cool fall morning and go about your day until...

Tw: mentions of food, cursing, breasts, vomiting, cheating (?), suggestive, mentions of sex, references to past sexual encounters, birds mentioned literally the first word (I'm not fond birds, ok?), Dahmo are present, Jihyo is here for a minute, scratch marks, bruising, kissing. If I missed anything pls let me know!

A/N: I’ve never posted any of my works before but @saiiidahyunee peer-pressured me (lovingly told me to). Inspired by a few of the fic writers on this site. Feedback always appreciated<3

—

Birds are chirping outside as the sun rises behind the clouds that litter the sky. The air is crispy, the leaves are fading into hues of orange and brown as winter approaches.

The small studio that you called home was always warm and inviting. Though it was a studio, it was quite spacious. Space for an entire living room set and a king sized bed, separated by black folding screens.

Laid in bed, gently waking up to the cool early morning air you felt an arm wrap around your chest lazily with a small sigh following. Your lips curl softly as you realize that your girlfriend, Nayeon, is still sound asleep next to you.

Her warm breath bouncing off your shoulder blades as she dreams. Your heart fills with warmth as the feeling of safety creeps into your chest. Even if you get to sleep in the same bed almost every night, your schedules are very different so moments like these make your heart sing.

You softly flip over to face her, being gentle as you move. You wanted to admire her features as you did most mornings. Light brown hair that’s tousled over the pillow and her face. Her sharp jawline, the shape of her lips and how soft they are, her cute little nose. You admire everything about this woman laying next to you.

Your chest filled with butterflies, reminiscing on all the time you had spent together. Vacations to the states, lazy days at home, cooking dinner together, staying up all night watching scary movies and eating snacks. She was who you wanted to spend all your time with. She was who you were always so ecstatic to wake up next to.

Nayeon’s arm shifted, pulling you closer so she could bury her head in your chest. It was colder than anticipated this morning so the matching pajamas you both were wearing wasn’t enough to keep the bite of fall out.

You complied quickly, scooting closer and allowing her to steal some of the warmth she was responsible for. Her nose was unexpectedly cold against your skin causing you to jump a little. Luckily, she was a semi-heavy sleeper but you were still cautious about waking her.

She was used to most of the creaks and groans around the apartment and any sound that you made but knowing how hard she works, you always wanted to make sure that she slept as peacefully as possible.

You wrapped your arms around her in an attempt to make sure she was comfortable and allowed her to nuzzle further against your chest, in hopes of giving her the same safety she gave you.

She sighed again, sensing your presence. Her body further relaxed into yours, you felt her muscles unclench and her brows unfurrow as you drifted back to sleep in each other's arms.

A few hours later, you awaken to a soft sound in the kitchen. Light humming of a familiar song, along with the brewing of a coffee pot. You take a deep breath and stretch your entire body, groaning at the stiffness.

Nayeon stops humming to see if she heard you wake up, sneaking through the kitchen back to the bedroom so she could peek through the makeshift doorway to see if you had risen from the calm sleep you were in.

Looking over and making eye contact, you can see the smile in her eyes. She runs over revealing the emotion on her face as she launches herself into the bed and onto you. “Good Morning, baby” she cooed as she placed kiss after kiss on your face. You giggled as you teasingly pushed her away, only causing more love to ooze out of her.

She leaned in once more, to attach your lips together for the first time that morning. Her arms wrapping around you like they did in her sleep, you find comfort in knowing that her love for you exists in her subconscious too. Reflecting on how she's always reaching for you and you always wake up with her wrapped around you, no matter how you fell asleep.

“Good Morning, my love’’ you replied in your sleepy voice. She laid her lips on yours one last time before she crawled off the bed again.

You pouted as she left; reaching your hands out as a sign for her to come back to you.

“I promise I’ll be back in 3 minutes with your coffee made perfectly.” Swooning at the idea of such a beautiful girl bringing you “perfectly” made coffee, you smile widely

“3 minutes, huh? I’m going to time you. You’ve got 2 minutes and 25 seconds left!” You hear her belly laugh as she walked out of the room.

Nayeon goes back to humming, but is soon singing to herself in the kitchen. You hear the clinking of mugs and the fridge opening.

The singing stops for a second, only to hear Nayeon whisper “Shit”.

You smile and chuckle from the other room. “Too much creamer again?”

“NO. I just…okay maybe there's too much creamer but i’m going to fix it. Don’t you worry. This will be the best cup of coffee you’ve ever had.”

More clinking follows and suddenly she appears with 2 cups of coffee in your favorite mugs.

“Yay!” as you reach for your black mug with the lovers tarot card on it.

“Ah ah! You’re drinking out of the white one today.” Nayeon’s usual mug. It matches your’s with the colors reversed.

Nayeon places her black mug on the small nightstand on her side of the bed and slowly hands you your white mug. You quickly take a sip and sigh, satisfied with the taste. Nayeon is staring at you with wide eyes, waiting for you to comment on how great the coffee is.

Knowing that that’s exactly what she wants, you shake your head and say “mmm…wow babe this is soooooooo sweet. i think there’s too much creamer” letting out a giggle as she smacks your shoulder, joining you in laughter.

“It’s perfect, baby. I can taste the love.” Her face lights up with that beautiful smile, cheeks flushing bright pink as she sipped her own coffee.

She smacked her lips and winced. Curiously tilting your head and smiling at her “everything okay?”

She licked her lips and nodded her head aggressively. “Yes, my love. Just…really good! I’m going to get a shower going for us. We’ve got a lot to do today.”

She leans in to lay a sweet kiss on your face as you lay back to soak in a few more minutes of the quiet morning. Nayeon leaves her coffee on the nightstand and goes into the bathroom and flicks the light on, not bothering to close the door.

Your eyes feel heavy as you lay on your back, watching the birds in the tree outside your window. The rush of water hitting the bottom of the shower startles you as you sit up again.

Another sip of the coffee polishes it off. Whipping the comforter off of you, you swing your legs over the left side of the bed, sliding your feet into your slippers. You stretch one last time before standing up.

A soft whine can be heard from the bathroom, “Hurry, it’s cold in here without you!” Nayeon shouted playfully as she slipped her pajamas off.

Quickly turning around to head towards the bathroom, you spot her coffee on the nightstand.

“I’m going to bring the mugs into the kitchen and then I’ll be there.” Reaching out to grab the lukewarm mug, you see that there’s coffee still inside. It’s lighter than she likes it. You down it quickly so it doesn’t go to waste.

Your nose scrunches when your tongue catches up to the flavor of the coffee in your girlfriend’s mug. You smile softly when you realize that her coffee is too sweet.

Coming back from the kitchen quickly, you see Nayeon about to step into the shower. You’ve seen her naked many times, it was always an experience.

Your heart would race, your eyes anxiously shifting like you weren’t supposed to stare at the art in front of you. Michelangelo himself wouldn’t be able to capture the ethereal essence that was Im Nayeon.

You allow yourself to shift your eyes over her, slowly. The curve of her thighs meeting the edges of her hips, smoothly toned stomach ascending into beautiful breasts that had some bruising from a few days ago, smoothing out again to her chest and collarbones.

You hear your heart in your ears and your adrenaline spikes. You feel your body getting warmer as you start stripping your pajamas off. You feel the slick between your thighs as you remember what transpired when those dark marks first showed up.

Your breathing gets shallower as you try to remind yourself that you’ve got a full day ahead of you. You lick your lips as she turns and steps into the shower. She smirks when she sees your eyes following her.

“Admiring your art?” She gives you the same curious tilt you gave her about the coffee, but with an entirely new meaning. You glare at her as you remove the rest of your pajamas and start to step into the shower shaking the thoughts from a moment ago.

As she stands under the shower head, she’s glancing over your body. You’re too preoccupied with fighting the shampoo bottle to even realize she’s admiring her own artwork.

Long dark scratches descending your toned shoulders onto your lower back. As you are trying to shake the last bit of shampoo out of the bottle, you feel her long finger tracing the scratch marks.

“Who’s admiring their art now?” teasingly spills out of your mouth as you get the last glob of shampoo out of the bottle. You victoriously turn to her, split the shampoo in your hand in half, and start to lather her hair.

“We can add shampoo to the list because this is the last of it.” She looks up at you with the softest eyes, swooning at you as you start lathering your own hair.

Nayeon loved the way you took care of her. From how you showered together, to how you would never let her carry anything when you went shopping together. She cherished the intimate moments.

As she finishes rinsing her hair out, she circles around you to scooch you into the droplets, allowing you to rinse the soap from your roots.

Your eyes are closed as you wash your scalp when you feel her arms slowly claim your waist. Her face presses into your neck lightly.

“Nayeonnie” you whine as she starts lightly biting where your neck meets your jaw.

“Don’t we have a lot to do today?” you teasingly point out as she groans, letting up a bit, placing her head on your shoulder as she looks up at you.

“This is so much better though. Maybe we can put it off until tomorrow?” She proposes as she traces your collar bones with her middle and ring finger.

You shutter as she trails those fingers up your neck to twirl your hair. You are weakening at the thought of what you know her long fingers are capable of.

“What if we get it done quickly? We can speed run through our day and get home early. We can even order dinner and watch a movie, if you want.”

She perks up at the thought of laying on the couch, wrapped up in each other, and watching a horrible movie with you. “Watching” a movie, was never actually watching a movie but you always went in with the intention of it. She always had other ideas.

“Fine, I suppose we can do that” She rolls her eyes with a smile as you start washing her back.

Even the boring responsibilities were fun with Nayeon. Grocery shopping, getting an oil change, or doing laundry. None of it was lackluster. In fact, you don’t think you viewed anything as a chore anymore.

Today was no different. You walk down the aisles, she’s throwing every snack you can think of into your cart. You just admire the excitement she has about everything.

Dreamly gazing at her as she throws the newest chip flavor into the pile. “Momo told me these were her new favorites so we have to try them! Oh! Speaking of Momoring, Dahyun and her want to have dinner next week, does that sound good to you?”

You snap out of the dream-like state to agree, it’s been a while since you went on a double date and it would be nice to see them again. Plus, Momo is an amazing cook and having dinner meant she was going to go all out. She does this every month or so.

Nayeon sees the members all the time but you don’t see them as often. You were closest with Momo, hanging out frequently, but had a friendship with all the members. Sometimes Nayeon would sneak you into JYP to watch their dance practice or to watch them shoot a music video. Everyone was always happy to see you.

There’s a mutual love and respect among you and Nayeon’s members. They know how much you adore her and respect that you show up for her in every way she needs, even when she doesn’t know she needs it.

They were apprehensive at first, but when Nayeon walked into the studio the morning after your first date absolutely gushing about how amazing it was, they figured you’d be around for a while. They were protective of their own, and you could understand why. Some people have bad intentions, but you weren’t one of them. You always respected what the members said and were always polite and kind towards them.

They really started to welcome you in after Nayeon got a little too drunk at the end of the tour party they threw. She couldn’t stop talking about you and started crying because she missed you. “I just can't wait to see y/n! I miss her so much. I need to -hiccup- facetime her. Or maybe I'll just call her.” Jihyo looked over at her and her face dropped as she saw how much Nayeon really cared for you.

She asked all the members if they were okay with inviting you to surprise Nayeon. Everyone agreed happily as they didn’t really know you yet, but it was obvious how important you were to their oldest member. JIhyo managed to get Nayeon’s phone away from her to call you. Imagine how surprised you were when the voice on the other end of that phone call wasn’t your loving girlfriend.

Jihyo explained what Nayeon was crying about and you couldn’t help but smile. “I wanted to give you the opportunity to surprise her…and also it would be nice to get to know you, you are obviously very important to her.”

You showed up 15 minutes later with a bouquet of her favorite flowers and in her favorite outfit. When she saw you, she screamed and ran towards you. Almost tackling you into the snow. She kissed your face all over and started crying again. You held her and comforted her. “I missed you so much baby.”

You let your lips meet hers. They were so welcoming after being apart for an extended period of time. She leaned into the kiss, using her tongue to swipe your bottom lip asking for entrance. You lighty allowed it but pulled away after a few seconds.

“We can continue this later but I think it’s time we celebrate a job well done”. Handing her the flowers you got for her and kissing her forehead.

“Congratulations on another successful tour, I’m so proud of you.” She smiled and leaned into you while you went inside.

You find yourself thinking of that memory often. Her most important people welcoming you into their family as if you had already been part of it. It brought you a great comfort to know that they accepted you in a way that you didn’t think was possible.

“What about this one?” Nayeon asked, derailing the train of thought you were just having. You glanced up to see her handing you a bag of chocolate.

“Ooooo dark chocolate this time? You’re full of surprises.” lightly tossing it into the cart.

The next few stops were relatively quick so you were home and wrapped in each other on the couch by 2:30pm. Nayeon put on some reality tv show before promptly falling asleep.

She laid between your legs with her head on your stomach with a fleece blanket pulled up to her shoulders, cradling herself in it. Her light breaths are visible on your shirt as a flicker of emotions come across her face. You wonder what she's dreaming of.

Your hand slips down to lightly play with her hair. Running it between your fingers as she jolts awake from the sudden loudness of the commercials.

Nayeon sits up immediately, throwing her hands down onto your thighs. The sudden action startles you as hands lose the soft sensation of her hair and gains the hard smack onto your thigh.

You welp at the transfer and she immediately apologizes. “Oh my gosh, baby I am so sorry.” As she gave a half suppressed laugh rubbing your thigh as if she could take away the sting.

Suddenly, your stomach growls loudly. You both pause and she looks down at your exposed stomach.

The indent of her earring still visibly red, she kisses it and says “Lets order food, I’ll buy lunch. We can order your favorite. Would you grab my wallet out of my purse, babe?”

She shifts off of you so you can get up and she opens the app on her phone scrolling to find the restaurant.

“Do you want what you always get or do you want to try something new?” she shouted from the couch as you walked to where her purse was in the bedroom.

“Same thing is fine with me!” You turn your head while you speak so she can hear you. Her bag sitting on the chair in the corner, jacket on top of it from your adventure earlier in the day.

You lift the jacket and unzip the top of the bag. Fumbling around for a second through keys, chapstick, eyeliner, a phone charger and whatever else she kept in the void she calls a bag.

You pull the light blue wallet with a rabbit on it, it was a gift you got her for your 2nd anniversary, out and reach for the zipper.

“Which card do you want?” you shout to the living room.

“The red one!” She calls back. You unzip the wallet, looking for the red card in question. There’s a semi-tattered paper folded into threes in the dead center of the wallet. You remove it and place it on the chair.

Your eyes scan down the row of cards, finding the red one and pulling it from its spot. As you reach to zip the wallet back up, you’re reminded of that paper you pulled out of it. You picked it up and read “For Nayeon” in handwriting that was unfamiliar. Curiosity got the better of you as you unwrapped the note to read the contents.

“Dear Nayeon, I’m so excited about the time we’ve spent together recently and I want you to know that I love you so much. The other night was a dream. I can’t wait to have more moments like that with you. With all the love in the world, J”

You freeze. Your chest shatters as you feel the ice cold pins and needles sweep through your body. A wave of nausea hits you as you read it over and over again. You can’t help but feel numb momentarily as your body tries to push the intense emotions out of you. Your hands begin to sweat and your throat dries out.

“Dear Nayeon,” You keep reading it. Searching for clues on who it could be from. “The other night was a dream.” Nausea hits you again. You remember the marks you left on her. Wondering who else admired your artwork. You flicker from distraught, to anger, to nauseous continuously as you realize this means someone else might have touched her the way that you have.

J? “Who the fuck is J?” You say to yourself as you fold the note back up.

Tears falling down your face while you’re trying to keep your composure. The wave of sadness passes into nausea again and then back to anger.

“I need to leave.” You sniffle to yourself. You walk back out into the living room, Nayeon looks over to smile at you only for her face to turn to immediate concern.

“Y/n, what’s wrong? Are you okay? You look pale…”

Anger painted on your face, you just stand there. Trying to figure out how to ask the questions you don’t want the answers to.

You feel the saliva collecting under your tongue and your stomach gurgles. You run into the kitchen and lean over the garbage can, releasing the bile that was the only thing present in your stomach.

Nayeon is next to you immediately, hand on your back trying to comfort you. She knows how much you hate throwing up, but who actually likes it? It always induces panic in you.

She keeps rubbing your back as your emotions flashback to anger. You’re attempting to catch your breath when you hear her speaking to you.

“Baby, what happened?” She softly inquires and you pull away quickly from her touch.

You’re repulsed at the thought of someone else touching her the way you thought only you could.

A tension builds within your chest as you choke out “How could you?”

You can see the confusion on her face as you hand her the note along with her debit card she previously asked for. You immediately turn around and grab your keys and wallet off the counter and make your way towards the door.

She opens the note quickly to read it’s contents, her eyes go completely wide as she realizes what you think is happening..

“Wait, Y/n, please stop, this isn’t what it looks like!” You hear the crack in her voice and it only allows the tears to spill from your eyes at a quicker pace.

Betrayal creeps its way into the emotion cycle that you’ve been experiencing the last 15 minutes. You’ve got your hand on the door knob, but can’t quite pull the door to leave. Anger once more flushes your veins.

“Y/n please. Hear me when I say that this isn’t what it looks like, you know that you’re the most important person in my life and I would never do anything to jeopardize what we have.”

You turn your head to look at her with blood shot eyes. Sadness’ part of the cycle takes over. You sniffle and open your mouth to yell but nothing comes out. She takes this opportunity to walk up to you and cup your cheek with her hand.

“Please don’t touch me.” you say softly while looking at the ground. Tears following your stare, hitting the carpet with a thick tap. She removes her hand from your face, she always respects your boundaries. At least, you thought she did…

“Y/N…please look at me” You can taste the despair dripping from her words but you can’t make eye contact with her. You pull the door and walk through the frame, hearing the sound of the door closing behind you as you walk down the hallway.

The sound of the door opening echoes through the halls. You know she can’t chase you because paparazzi would plaster those shots all over every tabloid in the city and she can’t risk that.

“Y/n!” She shouts. You stop for a second, only to wait for the elevator. She shouts your name again, this time laced with anxiety. You still are at a loss for words. Everything is a blur as you step into the elevator quickly and hit the button for the parking garage.

You sit in your car for an ungodly amount of time. Phone in the passenger seat next to you vibrating as Nayeon calls continuously. You ignore the rhythm of the sound next to you as you just stare into the distance. You can’t wrap your head around what��s just happened.

“It’s not what I think? Who would write someone a note like that unless there was something else going on.” You scoff.

You reach for your phone, wait for it to stop ringing, and call Momo.

“Y/n! Hey! What are you up too?” Momo answers her phone, seemingly excited to hear from you. You immediately start bawling your eyes out as you explain to her what just happened. She gasped.

“You’ve got to be kidding.” She exclaimed with audible shock.

“What’s going on?” You hear Dahyun ask in the background.

“Y/n, do you want to come here? Are you okay to drive? Do you want us to come get you?”

You clear your throat and try to compose yourself. A weak attempt, but an attempt. “I can drive.” You whisper.

“Alright, if you aren't here in 15 minutes, I’m going to come out and look for you. Be safe and we love you.” Momo states.

You note the concern in her voice and let her know you’ll be safe and there shortly. Before you can utter another word, she hangs up. Your phone goes back to constantly buzzing with text messages and phone calls from Nayeon. You turn it on “Do not disturb and drive in silence to Momo and Dahyun’s house.

Take Me Back to Eden - Granite - Part 2

#Nayeon x Fem!Reader #Twice fic #Twice Imagines #Twice fluff #twice angst #nayeon x reader #im nayeon #wlw #lesbian #kpop x reader

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mncxbe · 1 year ago

Text

What looking in their eyes feels like♡

𝒇𝒕 𝑭𝒚𝒐𝒅𝒐𝒓, 𝑷𝒐𝒆, 𝑵𝒊𝒌𝒐𝒍𝒂𝒊 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝑻𝒆𝒄𝒄𝒉𝒐𝒖

°☆○

𝑭𝒚𝒐𝒅𝒐𝒓

like looking at a reflection of all your sins and finding absolution

Your boyfriend has always been a people watcher and you knew that. Wherever you went, his cold gaze scanned the setting; analysing, weighing possibilities, reading people like open books. He understood human nature better than anyone; with just one look he could determine the true nature of one's heart, one fleeting look was all it took for him to know everything.

And yet here you were, legs loosely draped over the armrests of your blue velvet couch as you flipped through the pages of your book. On the other side of the room Fyodor idly plays the cello; bow sliding swiftly across the strings, coaxing mellow octaves. This was a song reserved for you only, the melody of his soul.

When you rose your head from the yellowing pages you met his violet eyes, petals of hydrageas piercing your soul like shards of glass. But there's something comforting and warm about this feeling, a knowing that he sees you for who you are and doesn't judge. No, he never judged you, he always loved you~ and if you looked close enough you could even see that adoration pooling into his eyes like honey in honeycomb.

𝑷𝒐𝒆

like the soft glow of the moon cast over a wisteria tree on a foggy night

You tossed around among the crumpled sheets, relishing the warmth of the morning sun on your skin; like a lover's embrace.

"Good morning sweetheart" mumbled your boyfriend in that sleepy morning voice you so adored. A mellow smile made its way to your lips as you turned to face him, shifting your body closer.

"Good morning to you too. How did you sleep?" you asked merrily and he nodded, sighing gently.

"As usual. But it's good to wake up next to you."

Reaching a hand to brush away his disheveled bangs you met his gaze- those pretty eyes of his, glazed in adoration- and your heart skipped a beat.

For a moment you watched as the soft rays of sunshine shifted the hues of his irises: silvery grey, foggy blue-violet, flakes of liliac; like a Garden of Eden bathed in moonglow.

"You're so beautiful you know" you whispered as you moved closer to press a chaste kiss on his forehead, causing the man to blush.

"I uh- thank you dear. You are too, my treasure"

Sweet. It was sweet how his face turned a rosy shade and his eyes sparkled. No matter how long it passed since you got together you were still not used to how expressive they were; conjuring up all the love he held for you.

They say there's no deeper love than that of a poet and looking into his soulful eyes you can't help but agree.

𝑵𝒊𝒌𝒐𝒍𝒂𝒊

like watching the waves roll onto the shoes of the Mediterranean Sea~ blue and green

"Y/N" whined your partner from across the bathroom "Hurry up dove I wanna see how I look"

While still searching through the plush makeup bag, you turned your head to face a pouting Nikolai; perched on the edge of the marble bathtub- arms crossed over his chest.

"Just a second love I'm trying to find the liner" you reassured him before procuring a black stick from the bag.

Walking back to your boyfriend you nesteled yourself between his thick thighs and seized his chin, slightly tilting his head backwards.

"Now hold still. If I mess this up I'll have to do the whole look again"

A faint giggle rolled past his lips as he took in your concentrated expression; brows slighty furrowed and lips pursed as you drew sharp wings at the corners of his eyes. It was routine already, you doing his makeup on Halloween.

Once you were done you took a step back to admire your work, nodding contently. The black eyeshadow contrasted with his silvery hair, making his eyes pop; the emerald green of one and icy blue of the other were like the surface of the sea on a hot summer day: always warm and kind as he gazed at you yet still showing a shadow of a wild sparkle.

"So? How do I look" asked your boyfriend, interrupting your train of thought.

"You look like an emo snowflake" you replied nonchalantly, leaning in to press a kiss to the tip of his nose; but before you got a chance to do it Nikolai rose to his feet and slid his arms around your waist, pulling you flush against him.

A mellow smile tugged at the corners of his lips as he pressed his forehead against yours, hot breath fanning over your lips.

"Perfect dove. That's all I wanted" he chuckled, gently pressing his lips against yours.

𝑻𝒆𝒄𝒄𝒉𝒐𝒖 (for the anon that requested Tecchou content♡ I got a bit emotional with it)

like crisp yellowing autumn leaves filtering the afternoon or morning sun

Friday morning. Mid October. You watched the little white marshmellows slowly melting into the cup of hot chocolate. Outside, golden leafed trees lined the sides of the boulevard where you studio apartment complex was, the home you shared with your boyfriend.

As you rose the cup to your lips to take a sip, the faint sound of footsteps echoed behind you. A strong pair of arms wrapped loosely around your waist.

"What are doing angel?" asked your partner in a mellow voice.

You couldn't help but smile when you felt him resting his chin on your shoulder, warm lips peppering a string of chaste kisses on your neck. You reached a hand to ruffle his hair, soft locks sliding through your fingers like cashmere.

"Good babe. By the way I made you breakfast" you smiled, pointing at a plate on the counter where a simmering omelette lay folded. Your partner languidly moved his gaze to the plate and nodded before spinning you around and pressing a kiss to your lips.

"Thank you dear. You truly are an angel"

His sweet words and beaming smile had you weak in the knees. There was nothing you loved more than seeing Tecchou happy, because despite his gentle personality he always wore a stoic expression, as if he viewed the world from a faraway place. But not now, not when he was with you in the comfort of your shared apartment.

His gentle, amber eyes glimmered with adoration like pearls. They somehow reminded you of the yellowing leaves hanging from branches outside your condo, bathing in the morning sun and you felt your chest swelling with love.

You wanted to tell him how much you adored him, how happy and whole you felt beside him; as if he were the missing piece of the puzzle that was your soul, how he changed you in ways you never imagined were possible, how he mended all the parts of you that have been broken by others and that you knew he was the one for you- now and for all eternity.

But the langour brought on by your slumber was still there, fogging your brain and you pushed those thoughts somewhere in the back of your mind, saved them for another time. So you resolved to simply handing him your cup of hot chocolate with a smile.

"Go and eat your breakfast, love. It'll get cold"

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koji-haru · 1 day ago

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Sweet Dreams, Adam

[Perfect combo with this.]

The kiss of the early sun had never been kinder, the hug of the morning breeze never been softer, the songs of the waking birds never been sweeter, and before Adam knew it, he had awoken back in paradise.

Everything was as he had remembered; flora that remained evergreen, never knowing the concept of decay; animals in playful harmony, the spilling of blood never crossing their thoughts; waters so clear and crisp, untouched by the filth and grime of the quotidian earthly life; and food so fresh and abundant that the humans of the garden never knew of hunger and hardship. As soon as Adam began to move, he felt a familiar weight on his back, one that had journeyed with him for over countless millennia – his beautifully golden wings. A confirmatory hand reached over to the top of his head, and he was right, a cool ring floated above his head – his halo. And now that he had finally fully got his bearings did he realise that he was wearing robes, white and gold and lilac, one he normally wore on the daily. Loose robes, a glowing halo and large golden wings, Adam wasn’t a human in the garden anymore, he was an angel.

No matter how hard he tried, searching every nook and cranny of his brain, no memory prior to this arrived in Adam’s mind. Nothing at all, not even a hint as to how he managed to return to Eden. Adam looked around the garden, despite the life teeming freely in here, it also seemed so empty and quiet; missing the loudly cheerful voices that used to freely roam and explore everything their soft, unmarred hands could reach and touch. Where was Eve? Her striking appearance was not something to be easily missed, nor her loud exuberance. Or Lilith, who often sought places such as this in the garden, where everything was still and calm. It was as if the garden was empty; not even a sign of odd temporary creations, colourful magics or the tune of a fast paced instrument. Even he didn’t seem to be here.

Or at the moment he wasn’t anyway. Because as soon as Adam decided to get up and explore this oddly empty garden, a voice called out to him with a cheer that hadn’t been directed to him in an uncountable amount of time.

“Adam!!” A cheerful voice and a speedy fluttering of white and red was all the warning Adam got before he got captured in a tight and excited hug, pushing him back down to sit on the grass. “I missed you so much!! Sorry I haven’t been around lately.”

Lucifer hugged and nuzzled what he then believed was the most perfect creation of God, his top hat forgotten on the grass. Only when he finally pulled back did he notice something was amiss with his human. Confusion immediately formed in his features in the shape of furrowed brows and a tilt of his head. He blinked once, then twice, then thrice letting go of the grip he had on Adam’s shoulders briefly before grasping onto them once more, even tighter this time as his ruby eyes widened with both surprise and amazement. “Adam!! Since when did you become an angel?!”

It had been so long since Lucifer had behaved this way towards Adam that could only find himself stunned into silence as the playful angel eagerly examined his supposedly ‘new appearance’. Touching his halo, feeling his wings, even examining the fabrics of his robe, before moving onto his face, turning his head side to side, absorbing every new detail.

Lucifer gently ran his thumb just under Adam’s eyes, a soft smile playing on his lips. “Your eyes are still as pretty as when you first opened them.”

It was then that Adam unfroze from his stupor and pushed the smaller angel away from, the curious touches a softly painful wake up call to the life he had led after the garden. “Don’t touch me like that, I don’t like it,” he mumbled out, a slight frown on his face.

Lucifer looked hurt at Adam’s rejection of him, and a part of Adam wanted to comfort him, say he was sorry and that he didn’t mean it, but Lucifer’s presence itself already felt like a stab in his heart, salt in a festering wound that simply refused to heal. And so, he kept his words to himself lest he would end up saying things he couldn’t take back.

“Sorry,” apologised Lucifer, still trying to keep his smile, though it was faltering. “So. You’re an angel now, huh? How did that happen? Wow…,” he chuckled nervously, afraid that Adam, who was now part of Heaven, had also begun to dislike him.

Adam wasn’t sure what compelled him to answer somewhat truthfully, but he did so without a second thought. “I lived a full life outside the garden, died and then became an angel.” He turned to fully face Lucifer, holding his gaze. “That’s all.”

“Um…but I visited you just two sunsets ago??,” asked Lucifer with a confused smile. “Your life couldn’t have gone that quickly.”

“Why do you even care?,” Adam groaned, annoyed at the perceived pretence of care. He remembered all those times when Lucifer would apologise to him for being ‘too busy’ to play with him only to find him spending all his time with Lilith. It hurt Adam a lot, but what hurt more was the fact that Lucifer couldn’t even be honest with him. He could take rejection, he could accept the truth, just not betrayal. “Shouldn’t you be with Lilith anyway?”

“Lilith? Who’s that?”

“Quit fucking with me,” Adam hissed.

“I– Huh? I don’t really understand…” Lucifer sat back on his heels, timidly twiddling with his fingers as he looked randomly all over the grass, eyes avoiding Adam’s. A heavy sadness weighed on his chest as he slowly began to accept the fact that the only person who seemed to like him and his ideas now disliked him too. “...sorry, I–”

“I don’t hate you, okay?,” Adam quickly cut in once he realised this was truly his best friend, still untainted by betrayal and lies. The one he shared his happiest memories with, the one he wished he could have spent eternity with, his unattainable dream. “Life just hasn't been so easy. Sorry.”

A small smile returned on Lucifer’s lips, as he breathed out a small sigh of relief knowing that Adam didn’t hate him. He moved closer and sat beside Adam, a comforting hand on his shoulder. He, too, had hard days; Heaven wasn’t always welcoming of strange new ideas, and the feeling of isolation in a place full of people simply struck especially painfully. “You can spill your feelings out to me if you want.”

“I…I’ve made so many mistakes.” Adam looked down, tears threatening to form in his eyes. Something about returning to the very beginning, when things were simpler and nothing was wrong, brought out the sensitivities he had long killed and buried deep within him. It came back in rushing waves, ready to overwhelm him with memories of what used to be, and projections of what could’ve been. Nostalgia and pain swirling and mixing together into a messy concoction that wore down the walls he had painstakingly built throughout the millennia. “And so many things I can’t ever get back to…”

Suddenly, a softness with all the care in the world wrapped around him – six wings, two slender hands, and eyes that held him ever so tenderly. “But you’ve made it, right? Look, you’re an angel! Just like me!”

And then the dam broke. Tears flowed down heavily from Adam’s eyes, years of buried pain and regrets gushing out in uncontrollable waves. “I just missed you so much..!,” he cried, hugging Lucifer tightly back, afraid to ever let go for fear that he would lose him again. “When you left…I wasn’t sure if I wanted to continue anymore…”

“Oh Adam…,” Lucifer cooed, lifting Adam’s face up to try and wipe his tears away.

“Without you…life was just so much more difficult..!,” Adam continued to sob, letting all of his pain out.

“Ssshh, I’m here now,” whispered Lucifer as he placed a gentle kiss on Adam’s forehead. “I won’t leave you,” he promised while cupping Adam’s face, sincere devotion in his eyes.

Adam kept his words to himself, knowing the true hollowness of that promise, but for now, he decided to turn a blind eye to that so that he could bask in this comfort, temporary as it may be. Because as of now, it wasn’t a lie, not when it was still the two of them together.

“I’m sorry I wasn’t there when you needed me,” Lucifer continued. “But I’m proud of you for staying so strong. I can’t imagine how difficult it must’ve been.”

“You could never…,” Adam whimpered, half replying to what Lucifer said, half implying something else.

…

The pinkish rays of Heaven’s first rays filtered through the curtains of Adam’s room, no kind kiss from it; nor was there a soft hug from the morning breeze blocked by glass panes; the early birds sang a song that brought nothing but a buzzing background noise; and before Adam knew it, he had awoken back in Heaven face wet with things that he wished could’ve been.

“You could never…”

---

[I told you it would happen again @twost3ps, so this was somewhat a reverse of the previous one.]

#hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel adam #hazbin adam #hazbin hotel lucifer #adamsapple #lucifer x adam #🍎🎸#short and sweet 2.0 :)

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