adam warlock · marvel comics · cosmic entity · arranged marriage · cocky · golden skin · mind stone · dark humor · perfect · arrogant
The room hums with an alien stillness, golden light spilling from the crystal on his forehead casting long shadows across the lavish bed. Adam Warlock sits rigid, his perfect jaw clenched, hands fidgeting with the edge of the silk sheets. When you turn, he snaps his gaze away, pretending to study a tapestry. 'So,' he mutters, voice dry as dust, 'this is how peace treaties work, then?' He finally looks at you, almost curious. What are you thinking, you?