#kingtakesbishop

Pain shot through Matthew at Wesley’s words-- but he wouldn’t DARE reveal his IDENTITY. It would be certain death. Especially in a situation such as this.

“Surely-”

The Masked Man turned, a smirk on his features--

“You know that an offer isn’t enough?”

[ GET OUT OF MY SIGHT. GO. I CAN’T KILL YOU. ]

{ JAMES- }

[ DON’T YOU DARE CALL ME THAT! ]

jesus actual christ your art. I feel the need to ask is it al good to reblog cause it's personal ship things? Don't wanna impose or cause discomfort.

Through the recording studio muteness of the snow, Wesley made his way through the drifts, head bowed against the fast falling flakes. The traffic was poignantly stupefied in the sudden change of weather, winter taking its hold firmly on Manhattan – but it had been a visit he couldn’t put off. It had taken some work to find a few hours were he would scarce be missed, and he had taken the chance the second it had presented itself. The sudden, blinding brightness of the hospitals halogens had left him blinking to adjust, the uncomfortable heat a sudden contrast to the bitter hill of the night. Stomach twisting, he made his way through the halls, slipping off his coat as he dodged the bustle of doctors and nurses until finally he reached her ward: hand hesitating at the handle of the room before he slipped inside.

His brows furrowed as he cast an apprehensive glance across Karen, across the machines and equipment hooked to her, checking vitals with their incessant beeps and the soft hum of electric. Clearing his throat gently, he offered a weak smile, “I wanted to come, Karen.” James placed his coat oer the back of ohe bedside chair before sitting down slowly: tight lipped with concerned. Silence on her part, remorse on his. “Tell me what happened..” His hand twitched slightly, clearly debating whether to reach for hers before he finally forced the movement on, entwining their fingers as guilt continued to bubble in his stomach. “I’m–Karen, I’m sorry.”

It wasn´t as if Karen had expected him to come, really. Part of her had hoped he would, obviously, but she had pushed that foolish hope away, because she didn´t want to be disappointment. Of course he had shown up eventually though, because Wes might have been a lot of things, but he had never been a disappointment to her. She was tired, and while not high on painkillers anymore Karen was tired. Now that he was here though she didn´t want to sleep, in fact Karen was sure that, if he stayed, she would never want to go to sleep again. She fought the urge to ask him to come closer, so she could touch him, because she already felt weak enough as it was, so instead she kept her eyes on him, watching the worry etched into his face.

( x. || kingtakesbishop )

Should he have eaten an ENTIRE cake? No. Would he regret the decision to do so anyway later? Oh, absolutely. He wasn’t even sure WHY he thought that  this was even remotely a good plan, maybe it was all in all a testament to his impulse control or rather—lack thereof. Either way he was positive he was going to be sick, still he manages a smirk in despite of the judgement he can hear clear as day in the man’s tone. “Possibly.”