#4thlord

if anybody on Tumblr starts saying something similar then you know who he or she got it from. 😄😄😄😄😃

the iron lord reaches for him as he climbs back into bed, arms wrapping around ethan's torso and tugging him closer towards his side. there is admittedly a slight urge to push him away — solely to tease and make karl work harder for his kisses — but he refrains. after all, he'd worked so hard to have the privilege of kissing ethan in the first place ; the least ethan can do is let him steal one whenever he feels like it.

said kiss is eagerly returned, ethan’s hand resting on his arm. eventually, ethan pulls away and asks, “ did you miss me that much? i was only gone for a minute. ”

the words are laced with teasing, but ethan understands all the same : there have been nights where he too has woken up to an empty side of the bed, the sight causing fear and dread pooling in his stomach, only for karl to just be outside having a late night smoke. nights where he needs to hold onto him tightly and as close as possible afterwards.

after all, their situation is precarious : there is always the chance of something going wrong, someone finding them and snatching away the life that ethan has grown to hold so near and dear to his heart. there will always be a sense of fear, even when everything seems fine.

and, he knows that this is all still new to karl : the sense of freedom that this new life provides. the fact that ethan is finally his. of course he would be just as on edge as ethan is ; of course he'd want to keep him so damn close. ethan knows the signs. verbally expressing emotion like that is hard — physically showing it is a different story.

“ don't worry. you can't get rid of me that easily, ” the younger of the two murmurs, pressing another kiss to his lips. a tiny act of reassurance, a promise that ethan is right here.

once the second kiss ends, ethan shifts in karl's arms. he doesn't push him away though, instead moving just enough so that he can throw his legs over and straddle his waist like a king on his throne. hand rests on the iron lord's chest, fingers threading through the hair there as he looks down at him. the only light in the room is the faint glow of moonlight bleeding in through the crack in the curtains, but it doesn't stop ethan from gazing down at him as if he's the most handsome thing he has ever seen.

ethan  hears  him  enter  the  room  beforehand  —  the  floorboards  in  this  house  creak,  and  it’s  not  lost  on  him  that  the  noise  no  longer  frightens  him  the  way  that  it  used  to  directly  after  louisiana  —  but  it  doesn’t  make  the  moment  any  less  touching.  there’s  a  soft  intake  of  breath  (  the  first  one  ethan  has  taken  in  ...  a  long  while  )    as  soon  as  karl’s  arms  are  around  him,  as  soon  as  he  kisses  him  ;  ethan  knows  what  this  is.  it’s  a  reassuring  gesture,  one  that  is  meant  to  ground  him,  to  remind  ethan  that  he’s  not  alone,  that  it’s  all  OKAY.  karl  is  good  at  picking  up  on  these  things,  good  at  noticing  when  ethan’s  having  one  of  THOSE  days  where  he  doesn’t  exactly  feel  like  himself.  it  isn’t  as  frequent  as  it  used  to  be,  but  they  still  happen  occasionally.  sometimes,  it’s  triggered  ;  other  times,  it  just  happens  without  cause.  today  is  one  of  the  latter.

almost  subconsciously,  ethan  leans  back  against  him.  his  hand  moves  to  rest  against  his  arm,  blackened  fingers  lightly  tracing  circles  upon  it.  he  doesn’t  say  a  thing  yet,  but  he  knows  that  the  other  understands  his  silence.  karl  is  always  reminding  ethan  that  there’s  nothing  WRONG  with  him  or  rose,  but  he  also  allows  ethan  his  moments  when  it  gets  to  be  TOO  MUCH.  

they  live  together,  but  they  don’t  engage  with  one  another.  it’s  not  something  they  do.  ethan  stays  as  far  away  from  karl  as  he  can  possibly  manage,  most  of  the  time  —  especially  if  he’s  got  rose  in  his  arms  at  the  time.  it’s  not  that  he  thinks  the  iron  lord  will  harm  them  —  no,  after  the  sacrifice  that  heisenberg  had  made  to  protect  the  father  and  daughter,  ethan  KNOWS  deep  down  that  that’s  not  even  remotely  a  possibility  —  but  it  doesn’t  get  rid  of  the  WARINESS.  the  memory  of  a  piece  of  metal  impaled  through  his  chest,  of  being  thrown  into  a  pit  to  be  chased  by  lycans.  yes,  even  despite  the  selfless  gesture,  those  things  still  linger  in  the  back  of  his  mind.

it’s  late,  and  ethan  should  probably  be  in  bed.  he  should  be  laying  next  to  rose,  should  be  asleep  —  but  ethan  doesn’t  sleep  anymore.  not  since  the  village.  not  since  ...  everything.  instead,  he’s  wandering  through  the  cottage  that  the  unlikely  trio  is  currently  holed  up  in.  the  bed  had  been  suffocating,  the  thoughts  that  decide  to  crash  down  on  him  when  he’s  laying  there  in  the  dark  staring  up  at  the  ceiling  enough  to  crush  him.  it  had  just  been  meant  to  be  a  trip  to  the  kitchen  to  get  a  glass  of  water,  but  as  he  walks  past  the  closed  door  of  the  iron  lord’s  bedroom,  ethan  stops.

he  hears  it,  the  noises  from  the  other  side.  ones  of  obvious  PAIN,  of  DISCOMFORT.  ethan  winces.  there’s  a  part  of  him  that  wants  to  keep  walking  ;  a  part  of  him  that  wants  to  turn  and  finish  his  trek  to  the  kitchen,  and  ignore  that  he  even  heard  a  thing.  but,  the  other  half  ...  the  other  half  knows  he  owes  him  this  ;  the  least  he  can  do  is  CHECK  on  him.  ethan  can  manage  that.

DEATH OF AN OPTIMIST  ||  ALWAYS ACCEPTING  .      ↳  @4thlord​  ASKED  :  ❛  i’m  doing  you  a  favor  .  ❜

                    “  ‘  A  FAVOR  ?  ’  ”

                    the  echo  booms  around  the  gathering  chamber  ,  as  if  the  stones  that  quake  beneath  their  feet  might  give  credence  to  her  incredulity  .  rage  burns  beneath  her  skin  .  the  longer  she  looks  at  him  ,  the  hotter  it  grows  until  a  thinly  -  veiled  inferno  churns  within  her  that  threatens  to  consume  them  both  .

                    “  DOES  THE  HUBRIS  OF  MEN  KNOW  NO  BOUNDS  ?  ”  fingers  flex  to  keep  claws  at  bay  ,  lest  she  slice  him  to  ribbons  where  he  stands  .  “  what  you  are  suggesting  is  TANTAMOUNT  TO  TREASON  .  where  is  your  loyalty  ?  your  devotion  ?  ”  hands  curl  to  fists  ,  supple  leather  squelching  as  the  pressure  at  their  seams  builds  beneath  her  strength  .  every  nerve  ,  every  synapse  fired  ,  screams  at  her  to  go  to  miranda  at  once  ,  to  warn  her  of  him  and  his  schemes  ,  and  yet  ...  she  hesitates  .