#hedosadism

hedosadism  asked: ❛    i’m worth more to them if they catch me alive .    ❜

          Most  days,  arguing  with  John  is  like  trying  to  empty  the  ocean  with  an  eyedropper.  Worse  are  the  times  he  gets  like  this—externalizing  that  inner  monologue  without  the  help  of  his  ears  to  act  as  brakes  for  when  it  begins  to  veer.  Bless  his  optimism,  but  it  would  damn  him  today.  

                                        ‘    —More?      ’

They’d gotten themselves into a bit of a pickle. Investigating cases didn’t always require them breaking the law, but if they had to do something illegal, then Alex was the one to do it. He was the one most likely to get any charges placed against him dropped, but for once he wasn’t so certain. They’d made enemies of a government official, a corrupt one for sure, but the guy had connections in all the right places locally whereas they had none. His parents had gotten him out on bail quick enough, but he wasn’t looking forward to a court date where the scumbag would do his best to drag it out, keep their side of the story silent and probably get Alex in even more trouble.

He was fully expecting the piece of shit to come up with some lies to slander him while paying someone off to create documentation to make said lies look legit. Alex spoke with his parents over the phone, surprised they’d already lawyered him up and set up an appointment with said lawyer for that day. Hannah and Sara were on standby at the hotel they’d booked, which meant he was off to meet the guy by himself.

Alex didn’t have much in the way of nice clothing. Packing light was a requirement when on the road and sharing space with two other people, but he did manage to find a nice button up shirt at a nearby thrift store. Paired with his dark denim jeans he almost looked presentable. Better than flannel he supposed. When he gets to the address he’s unsurprised to see how nice it is from the outside, and even less surprised by the interior. It screams expensive and he hates that his parents are wasting money on him like this. They had enough of it, sure, but he needed to be more careful about his escapades in the future. After checking in with the secretary at the lobby he waits a few minutes before getting approved to take the elevator up to what he suspects is the guy’s office. A floor to himself? Must be super legit. Or super shady. Maybe both?

The cheerful ‘ding’ snaps him out of his meandering thoughts, and he steps out of the elevator and into a surprisingly tasteful looking office. His gaze roams around the space as he walks towards the large desk with his lawyer standing behind it. Degrees framed on the wall, newspaper clippings and other photographs are carefully hung on the walls. Alex hadn’t bothered looking into who John Duncan was before coming here. He trusted his parent’s judgment when it came to these sorts of things.

The man’s back is to him, looking out at the nice view he has of the city from his windows, and when he turns around Alex’s greeting gets lodged in his throat.

What the fuck.

He couldn’t be that much older than he was, right? Alex glances back towards the diploma with his name on it, then down to the placard on the desk. Yeah, they matched so that had to be him, but .  .  . Alex narrows his eyes. “I am officially worried about the kind of person you are.” He’s never been one for standard greetings, and even less so with lawyers or cops. He folds his arms and tilts his head, eyeing him as he tries to guess his age –– maybe twenty eight? “You’re what, a couple years from thirty and already have an office this nice and successful high-profile cases? That’s kind of terrifying.” Impressive, but terrifying given what lawyers had to go through and do for their career choice. “Alex.” He finally introduces himself, one corner of his mouth lifted in a lopsided smile. Sure, they may be meeting under what are shitty circumstances for Alex, but he doesn’t seem perturbed by it.

@hedosadism​ asked:  ❛ it’s just a scratch, don’t worry. ❜

                                       &. 𝐬𝐡𝐨𝐫𝐭 𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐬𝐭 𝐬𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐞 𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐬./ status: ACCEPTING

           ---- JOSIAH JUST STARES AT HIM FOR A FULL MINUTE - not saying anything but just giving john this blank stare. ‘ -- i don’t care if you stepped on a lego after getting bitten by a mosquito between your toes why would i worry about a scratch on you?‘

@hedosadism​ sent ;

❝There's really just one thing that we have in common: neither of us will be missed. ❞

always accepting random asks!

Alex should be dead –– he should be dead. It’s a thought he can’t stop thinking as he stares up at John’s silhouette from where he’s bent over on the ground, denim torn and knees bleeding from where he’d hit the pavement earlier that night. Fingers dig into the cool concrete, nails chipped and chipping further with the action as he tries to muster up the strength to get to his feet, but he’s too dizzy. He crawls his way over to the nearest wall, leaning his burning shoulder against it as an anchor point. It’s sturdy and doesn’t move which is good enough for Alex to drag himself up and stand there. He may sway a little, but it’s better than being on his knees.

His mind runs in circles, trying to make sense of how he’d gotten here. There had been an explosion. Screaming. Alex got thrown from the force of the blast and barely been coherent enough to crawl away. There had been voices. He remembers the gunshots and then a firm grip in the back of his shirt, hauling him up.

It’s all black after that, until he’d come to in the bunker. The bunker again. Alex begins to breathe faster, panic making his chest hot and cold all at once.

“John.” He says his name, but his voice is raspy, sounding as weak as he felt at that moment. Alex was alive because of John. Why? After everything Alex had done, why would John do something like that? When the Baptist shifts his weight from one foot to another, Alex has to fight the instinctive urge to find the nearest exit. As is, his fingers curl into fists, adrenaline running low, but enough rushes through his body to send his heart racing. When John turns to face him, his shoulders pull back, eyes widening at the expression he makes out on the other man’s face.

They stare at one another, neither saying anything. Alex doesn’t try to guess at what’s going through John’s mind. Can barely figure out his own thoughts.  

John steps closer, somehow keeping a steady beat, steps echoing. He gets close enough to place a hand on Alex’s shoulder, fingers curling in there, and Alex doesn’t move. He should, but he doesn’t. Finally, John looks up, their eyes meet, and Alex doesn’t like what he sees there. It’s not what he’d expected. Anger, hatred, defiance, but there was none of that. If anything he looks  ––

“There’s really just one thing that we have in common: neither of us will be missed.”

He physically recoils, tearing his shoulder away from John’s grasp as he stumbles back a step, leaving a red smear against the wall he’d been using for support. Alex’s mouth opens then shuts, trying to think of a retort to that. To the way John stares at him. His fear had shifted to something more instinctive. What is he to do with this? With John? Not much time had passed, but it felt like minutes to Alex. Seconds stretching onward until he finds his voice. “You’re wrong.” He doesn’t specify which of them would be missed, or by whom, but he repeats it for emphasis, “You’re wrong.”

“Are ya not?”

Jacob did not hide the low chuckle that came from deep within his chest as he eyed his younger brother. John always had a way with words, silver-tongued lawyer that he had been for years. But the fear he evoked in so many would never cross Jacob’s mind. To him John was mostly still just his little brother. The man, who had once been a little boy howling from being beaten by their useless bastard of a father.

“Then I suggest you don’t even think about wantin’ to carve anything into my skin.”

The smirk that twisted Jacob’s red beard slightly was amused, though his eyes were serious. He did not want John to carve any sins into him.

“You know I have a bigger knife than you.”