#s: Mick & Adler 🎙️

[fleshqounds]

lil gif set of my boy and adler <3

ADLERMICK‼️ *I say as I jump for joy*

[fleshqounds]

TIL’ FREEDOM DO US PART

1 / ?? — VIEL OF LIES

“ It's an American wedding. They don't mean too much, But we were so in love. “ — Mick, a rookie operative, is trapped in a forced marriage with Adler, a cold but seasoned CIA operative. What begins as a means to an end soon blurs the lines between duty and desire, as Mick grapples with his feelings for a man who sees their union as nothing more than a strategic movement.

cw : forced marriage, power imbalances, emotional manipulation, heavy age gap, unhealthy coping mechanisms (from Mick), dubious consent, coercion, probable eventual smut(?)

The room was suffocatingly quiet, save for the steady tick of a clock on the far wall. Mick stood near the window, arms crossed, glaring out at the rainy D.C streets. His jaw clenched, creaking lightly as he heard Adler’s chair scrape against the hardwood floor behind him.

“So, this is it, huh?” Mick muttered, his voice dripping with defiance and irritation, dwelling in a mixing pot. “You think throwing a ring on my finger is gonna magically fix whatever fucked-up plan you’ve got in mind?” He finally turned, meeting Adler’s cold gaze.

Adler leaned back in his chair, lighting a cigarette with almost maddening calmness. He exhaled slowly before replying, his voice low and deliberate. “It’s not about fixing anything, kid. It’s about survival. You want to walk out of this alive? Then you play the part.”

Mick scoffed, running a hand through his hair. “Yeah? And what part do you play in this, huh? The loving husband?” The words were laced with venom, but the flash of hesitation in Adler’s eyes told Mick he wasn’t the only one questioning this.. arrangement between the pair.

Mick clenched his fists, eyes narrowing as he looked at Adler. “Survival, huh? You really think this is the only way out?” His voice shook with a mix of anger and disbelief. “This whole thing’s a fucking joke. You think a piece of paper and a ring are gonna protect us? From what, exactly?” He shook his head, pacing back and forth in the dimly lit room.

Adler remained unshaken, exhaling another puff of smoke, his eyes never leaving Mick’s figure. “You don’t get it, do you?” He leaned forward, his tone sharper now, more.. irritated. “The world doesn’t give a damn about what you think is right. If we want to come out of this on top, we have to do what’s necessary.”

Mick shot him a bitter laugh. “Oh, so now you’re the martyr? The big savior who’s going to sacrifice everything for the greater good?” He took a step closer to Adler, daring him to argue back. “You’re full of shit. You think this is about some big noble cause? Your making me your fucking puppet, and I gotta play along like a good little soldier. It’s disgusting.”

Adler flicked his cigarette into the ashtray, his eyes hardening. “Call it what you want. It doesn’t matter. The moment that ring goes on, it’s game over. There’s no walking away from this, Mick. You’ll see that soon enough.”

The air in the room was tense, suffocating, as the officiant droned on, his voice muffled by the pounding of Mick’s heart in his ears. He stood beside Adler, the cold weight of the ring in his palm feeling like a betrayal. He couldn’t bring himself to look at Adler, too furious, too confused, his mind a warzone of disgust. The words from the officiant drifted in and out, but it was the question that made Mick’s stomach twist painfully.

“Do you, Mick Gore, take this man to be your lawfully wedded husband?”

Mick’s heart hammered in his chest. The room felt smaller, almost suffocating. His breath hitched. He wanted to scream, to refuse, to run out of the damn building and run far, far away from Langley — Back to Kansas. But he knew better than that. Adler’s hand was steady on his shoulder, and Mick felt the heavy weight of his gaze burning into the side of his face. “Do it,” Adler murmured under his breath, almost too quietly for anyone else to hear, but it was enough to make Mick’s blood run cold.

Mick’s throat went dry, but he forced the words out, two words tasting like bile in his mouth. “I do.”

The officiant nodded, oblivious to the tension pulsing between them, and turned to Adler. “And do you, Russell Adler, take Mick Gore to be your lawfully wedded husband?”

Adler’s gaze shifted toward Mick, locking eyes for a moment before he spoke. “I do.”

The officiant beamed, clearly pleased with the simpleness. “I now pronounce you husband and husband.” The words hit Mick like a punch to the gut, and he barely took into account the rather polite applause of the two witnesses stationed in the corner—both operatives, of course. It wasn’t real. None of it was. But the weight of the ring on his finger told a different story, one he knew he couldn’t escape from.

Adler didn’t spare him a glance, his attention already shifting to the folder on the nearby table that contained the forged documents they needed to sell this charade. “That’s it,” he said, his tone as detached as ever. “We’re done here.” He stepped away, leaving Mick standing at the altar, staring down at his hand, the gold band gleaming under the harsh overhead light, fist clenching lightly.

Mick swallowed hard, something sour pooling in his gut. “That’s it?” he mumbled, more to himself than to Adler, but the older man caught it anyway.

Adler paused, his back to Mick, and took a moment to light a cigarette. “What else were you expecting?” he asked, his voice sharp, though not unkind. He exhaled a plume of smoke, finally glancing over his shoulder. “This is a means to an end, kid. Nothing more. Don’t make it something it’s not.”

Mick’s jaw tightened as he’d look back as well, a flash of hurt breaking through his thinly veiled mask of anger. He didn’t respond, couldn’t trust his own self to. Instead, he looked down, his hands clenching into fists at his sides. Adler turned back, already halfway to the door.

“Get your head straight,” Adler called out as he reached for the handle. “We’ve got work to do.” And just like that, he was gone, leaving Mick standing alone in the silent room, feeling like he’d signed away a part of himself for nothing more than another one of Adler’s games.

Mick always thought that he’d marry someone for the sake of love, that he’d found the one as so many people would say — but Mick didn’t think he’d end up here, marriage forged by a contract instead of love.

Mick wished he could call his dad — tell him the “good news”, about the “lucky guy”, about their honeymoon and whatever else — but he was sure his dad would scoff in his face. Only leave behind the stench of cigs and hurt.

Maybe he was a fool, but he’d be damned if Adler played him like one.

[fleshqounds]

Y’all, please give me your opinions on AdlerMick or my vers. of Adbell 😇 (I honestly love listening to what ppl think about these two)

[fleshqounds]

absolutely insane about these two + mick himself 😇

sigh.. AdlerMick where do I even start about these two 😔