#joseph seed x ofc

[consumedkings-archive]

WITCHING HOUR, a john seed/deputy fic.

chapter ten: the kind of love we gather

word count: 7.5k

rating: m for mature

warnings: there is an interaction with an abusive ex-husband that eludes to physical/domestic violence. also, i think it's fair to warn against joseph himself--whatever argument there is to be had about the sincerity of his feelings, there's a few times where it feels like there's definitely some emotional manipulation happening.

notes: this is an interlude chapter, a little flashback/prelude going through isolde and joseph's relationship--or, at least, a significant part of it (still some secrets to be discovered!). i've had this chapter drawn up for a while and i thought this would be a great cliffhanger/changing point in the story to give their relationship and their dynamic a little more context, so i hope that's alright with y'all!

some of you folks who follow me here on tumblr may recognize a part of this chapter as a smut oneshot i wrote for them; that was the alternate universe to this instance in time, which is firmly rooted in their canon. lmao

it should go without saying that i have yeeted canon out the window for all of ancient names and witching hour, and the way that the seed brothers were pre-reaping and hope county is subject to much the same.

—Before—

The first time that Isolde saw Joseph, she knew she was in for it.

If he had been any other man, she thought, it wouldn’t have been so clearly a disaster waiting to happen. She would have been able to crash and burn with him as she pleased: but he wasn’t just any other man. He was John’s man, his older brother, the one that he tried so hard to live up to and impress. She had only heard of him in passing, but that was all it had taken. Isolde knew exactly how John felt about him.

“Who is that?” she asked, when she spotted the cleanly dressed man across the room. The office was dimly lit with the lights lowered; people mingled and chatted, drinks in hand, as everyone celebrated that they’d been able to move into a nice, new office downtown, with a whole floor to themselves.

John’s gaze followed hers. His expression flattened. “Stop it.”

No fun. Isolde feigned innocence. “Stop what?”

“That’s my brother Joseph, Sol,” he hissed. “Do not try to fuck my brother.”

“You have a couple, don’t you?” she asked. “What’s the one?”

“Fuck off.”

She sighed, taking a sip of her drink. Just her luck. A Seed boy, and yet, so fine. What a waste. “Fine, Johnny,” she said, patting his shoulder. Across the room, she saw Joseph’s gaze land on hers as he politely smiled at one of the other partygoers, and then stay locked, right on her. “I won’t fuck your very hot brother, who is very plainly making eyes at me from across the room.”

“He’s never had great taste in women.” John grimaced. “Off-limits, Isolde, I mean it.”

“Scout’s honor.”

So much for that, anyway, she thought later, when Joseph crossed the party and made his way up to her. He was even more handsome up close, and though long hair wasn’t typically her type, it looked good on him, pulled back and slick. Just enough to look polished.

“You’re Isolde?” Joseph asked, and his eyes swept over her. “That doesn’t seem right.”

“Are you the authority on Isoldes?” she replied. She arched a brow loftily at him. “I didn’t realize I was in the presence of an expert.”

“Well, it’s just that John rarely complains about beautiful women,” he countered easily, the flirtation slipping so seamlessly from his mouth that she might have missed it. “They’re his greatest vice. Yet, he complains incessantly about you.” He paused. “I’m Joseph, his brother.”

That did sound like John. Isolde wrangled a smile, leaned comfortably back against the wall as Joseph sidled over to her. With him in front of her, he almost completely eclipsed out the rest of the party, like he’d suddenly bubbled her and it was just the two of them in the entire room. He was so very good at that—with his eyes on her, it felt as though nobody else in the entire world existed.

“I’m flattered,” she murmured, “that I’ve managed to break John of his greatest vice.”

“I did come to thank you for that.” Joseph’s mouth ticked up into a smile, almost playful, if the rich timbre of his voice wasn’t so soothing. “And for taking good care of John. He’s a...”

Isolde watched Joseph through her lashes. He had no alcohol in his hands, but kept them tucked easily into the pockets of his slacks; he held himself without the easy arrogance that John carried himself. It was more like Joseph knew, exactly, his place in the world, and so didn’t feel the need to assert it. It simply was.

“Handful,” Isolde supplied.

“That’s a good way to put that,” he agreed. A quiet moment stretched between them—an easy silence, and she got the impression that it was going to be like this with him; no pressure to fill the silences—before she shifted on her feet.

“So, how are you going to do it?” she asked him, taking a sip of her drink. Joseph’s gaze, which had drifted to where John was chatting with Jacob and another guest, flickered back to her. The inquisitive tilt of his head followed after, and when she didn’t supply further questioning, he didn’t bother smothering the amused little smile on his face.

“Do what?” he asked.

“Thank me.”

The smile didn’t quite leave his face yet. “Didn’t John give you the same speech about how off-limits we are to each other?”

“Well,” Isolde relented, “whatever is he going to complain about if his brother doesn’t take me out for dinner? I’d be failing him as his vice breaker if I didn’t keep my game fresh.”

“Is that what I’m doing to thank you, then?”

Joseph’s voice was a low, rich sound, rumbling straight through her, vibrating in the cavity of her chest. She thought, instantly, that she’d like to know what it felt like to have him say her name into her skin. Isolde’s lashes fluttered; she hummed thoughtfully and polished off the last of her wine.

Dinner isn’t sex, she reasoned. So technically, I’m not really breaking John’s little agreement.

“It’s an option,” she offered after a moment. And then, in an act of what John would surely describe later as pure spite for his well-being and mental health: “Though you’re welcome to do more, if you feel inclined.”

This finally (finally, a part of her said) elicited a laugh out of Joseph. His eyes slipped from hers, lingering on her mouth before pulling away to the rest of the party, almost reluctantly.

“Tomorrow,” he said after a moment. “Are you free?”

“Technically I’m working,” Isolde drawled, “but lucky for you, I’m the boss and I can make my own hours.”

“Lucky, indeed,” Joseph replied amusedly. “Six, then.”

“And don’t tell John,” Isolde said, as though making a pact. The man inclined his head a little, reaching up and sweeping a loose strand of hair behind her ear and made a low noise of agreement.

“And don’t tell John,” he reiterated. “Yet.”

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

“I asked you for one thing, Isolde!”

John was, as to be expected, upset.

“That’s not true,” Isolde defended, busying her hands with gathering up a few files and tucking them into her bag. “You ask me for a million things, every day. Namely, tolerating your ego. Not to mention keeping your head from exploding every time someone pays you a compliment, and—”

“You know what I mean.” John exhaled sharply, pressing his fingers to his temples as though Isolde had inspired in him the greatest of headaches. She hoped that she had. It would be the least he could suffer, after all of the brainpower she had to expend on the daily to keep him in check.

Leaning back in her chair, Isolde said, “It was just dinner, John.”

“Do not pretend to be stupid all of a sudden,” John snapped. “Joseph does not date around. He doesn’t ever do something that’s just dinner."

"Funny," she mused, "it feels like that's exactly what it was. Eating food together, at a restaurant, during the evening."

John’s head cocked to the side. He leveled her with a singular pointed look and said, “Oh, yeah?”

She squinted at him. “Yeah.”

“Is that so? Then what did you do after dinner, Isolde?” He crossed his arms over his chest, leaned against the wall as he waited for her answer. She kept her face wiped clear of emotions even though John’s question instantly inspired in her a flurry of memories; Joseph, snagging her hand on their way out of the restaurant, leaning in and kissing her; and kissing her, and kissing her, keeping her pulled close against him until she thought she was going to go dizzy from it all.

And then, well—

“We’re two consenting adults, John,” she said at last, and he threw up his hands.

“I explicitly said not to!”

“Yeah, well!” There was no good excuse; she knew that. The excuse was that Joseph was incredibly attractive, and Isolde had wanted him, and so that had been the beginning and the end of it. Still, she kept her eyes on the paper in front of her. “I made that agreement before I got a good look at him. John, I’m actually trying to get some work done, so if you could—”

John scoffed. “One, Joseph is related to me, so of course he’s hot, and two—you’ve got the impulse control of a toddler. I hope you know that.”

He pushed off from the wall and started collecting his things to leave her office; a blissful departure, to be sure, but there was something sitting and stinging in the pit of her stomach that wouldn’t let her leave it to rest.

“Rich,” Isolde said demurely, “coming from the man who can’t stop an endless chain of making-up-breaking-up.”

His movements paused. He stared at her for a long moment, before he said. “Hey, Isolde?”

“Yes, John?”

“Fuck you.” John’s movements resumed to the door. “Fuck you, and see you in the conference room in twenty.” Another pause, and then thrown over his shoulder: “If you’re not too busy letting my brother—”

“Alright, point made!” she exclaimed, exasperated. “It’s really not anything serious. Okay? It was just dinner and a date, that’s all.”

This had him stopping again, paused in the doorway with a bit of frustration welling up in his voice when he said, “You don’t know my brother, Isolde.”

“But I know me. Alright?”

He sighed. “Yes, alright. Twenty minutes, then.”

For a moment, it felt like things had been settled between them. John was still young, she thought; younger than her, and the baby of his brothers, which she knew meant he held on tighter to things that maybe he needed to all the time. Too tight, or too loose, to make it hurt less when something didn’t work out.

But the peace only lasted for a moment, because a few minutes after John had settled back in behind his desk across the hall from her, their secretary came around the corner, her arms filled with a fragrant bouquet of lilies.

“Ms. Khan, you have an admirer!” she exclaimed delightedly. Isolde met John’s eyes across the hall, staring at her with an expression that could only have been described with the phrase I told you so. “It looks like they’re from a gentleman named Joseph S—”

“Thank you, Laura,” Isolde interrupted, clearing her throat. “You can set them on the table there, I’ll find them a vase.”

Laura nodded and smiled, laying the bouquet delicately on the coffee table and then making her way out of the office. Isolde left the flowers untouched for about an hour, unable to stand the thought of John catching her keeping them alive (because she would never hear an end to it), but it was killing her a little bit. She had mentioned once, in an off-hand comment, that she didn’t like the typical flower bouquets like red roses or carnations; lilies were her favorite. One tiny comment, and this was the result?

There was only a note with the flowers. It said, Hoping John isn’t giving you too much trouble. Be by at six for you.

It felt a little treacherous; just enough to make it a bit harder to look at John with a serious face and not burst out laughing at the absurdity of their situation. Thankfully, close to the end of the day John made the dramatic announcement that he thought he was going to kill himself if he had to spend even another second sitting across from the elaborate bouquet.

“I’m going to go home,” he said, shrugging into his coat, “and try to retain at least half of my brain cells.”

Isolde hmm’d. “So just the one, then?

“Ha-ha. Goodnight, Sol.”

“Have a good night.”

It seemed like there were only a few moments of quiet between John’s departure and Joseph’s arrival, though in reality it had been a few hours; focusing felt like a chore, like it took a little extra work to get through the depositions she had to prepare and the emails she had to answer.

Just dinner, she thought. Just dinner and a date, and whatever happened after. And just one more date tonight. Not a big deal; adults go on dates all the time. I’m an adult. It’s fine.

But it wasn’t just that, because she was sure her heart rate had plateaued at a solid one hundred and ten since Joseph’s I’ll pick you up from work text. Because Isolde wasn’t the kind of woman who took a man back to her place on the first date, and yet.

By the time Joseph did swing by to pick her up, John had been gone for a few hours and she’d gotten almost no work done, instead completely consumed by the predicament she’d planted herself in. It did break the rules to date Joseph. No business and pleasure, first and foremost. Normally, Isolde would have considered herself a woman of incredible discipline, able to turn down temptations of varying degrees—but when Joseph rolled through her office door with those stupid, hot yellow aviators on his face, she thought maybe she had overestimated herself.

“You look tired,” Joseph said lightly, brushing some snow out of his hair. Isolde’s expression flattened.

“Thanks, Romeo. ‘Hi, Isolde, how was your day?’ ‘Oh, just fine, except for your brother throwing a baby temper tantrum every five minutes’. ‘You poor thing, Isolde, but you have to tell me how you manage to be so exceptionally beautiful still’.”

“I didn’t say you didn’t look beautiful still,” he replied. His eyes followed her as she walked around her desk, having slid her coat on and collected her purse; they stayed trained on her all the way up to when there was no space left between them, until he was gazing at her with amusement dragging his mouth into a smile.

She said, lightly, “You didn’t say I was beautiful at all, actually.”

Joseph reached up. Though the room was empty of everyone except the two of them, somehow it still felt special when he looked at her—it still felt like nothing else in the entire world mattered to Joseph in that moment except for her. The pad of his thumb brushed her lower lip, his gaze drinking her in, admiring and hungry in equal amounts.

“You are,” he said, his voice low, the timbre of it rattling something animal inside of her. “Beautiful.”

Kiss me, she wanted to say, because he was so close and yet seemed to refuse to actually finish the job. She didn’t think she could have mustered the words even if she wanted to; Joseph was a wildfire, eating up all the oxygen around her, sucking it right out of the air until there was nothing left but for her to feel swallowed by it.

“I wasn’t entirely truthful with you, the other night,” Joseph continued, dragging his thumb from her lip down to her jawline, “when I said that John’s greatest vice was beautiful women.” He paused, his head tilting. “They’re mine.”

Isolde’s lashes fluttered. She glanced up at him, and she said, “Well, that’s not the greatest sales pitch for yourself. How many red flags should I be looking for?”

He laughed and brushed his lips against her temple. “I get the feeling you won’t miss a single one.”

It shouldn’t have been quite so endearing, his casual reference to any red flags that he might have. Even his confidence that she’d pick them out (she would; if finding red flags was an Olympic sport, Isolde would have been a gold medalist) didn’t inspire the greatest feeling in her, though if she was playing devil’s advocate she knew that there were things about herself that didn’t make her so very well acquainted with healthy relationships.

“I’m glad I was able to come and pick you up today,” Joseph continued casually as they left her office and headed down the stairs. “It’s been snowing all afternoon. I’d hate for you to have to drive in this weather.”

And then he did things like that—uncharacteristically gentlemanly of him, to not want her to drive herself home in adverse weather. “I think I would have been fine,” Isolde replied. His fingers brushed hers at her side, snagging them and bringing them up to his mouth to kiss.

“Undoubtedly.”

It hadn’t been a lie, his remark about the snow. By the time they were pushing the doors to the lobby open, bidding the security officer goodnight, at least a solid foot of snow had collected and was pushed up against the lip of the sidewalk.

She grimaced. Winter was her least favorite season. Holiday cheer and Isolde Khan were not two concepts that melded well—not that she was a scrooge, per se, but with her only family halfway across the world and, on top, a tenuous relationship at best, it didn’t make Christmas very fun.

As they walked down the sidewalk, passing Joseph’s car in favor of pursuing a nearby restaurant, the blonde kept their fingers tangled together. The gesture was light, and didn’t demand anything, but it was enough to say something: I want you close to me.

“Does your family come here for the holidays?” Joseph asked lightly, disentangling their hands in favor of giving her hip a squeeze, keeping his hand there as they drifted into a warmly-lit wine bar. “I remember you saying they live in Turkey.”

So Joseph did just have that good of a memory. She’d have to be more careful about the things she said to him. “No,” Isolde replied, desperate to steer the conversation elsewhere. “It’s too far. And I don’t go there.”

“Then what do you do on Christmas?” he prompted. He tugged a seat out for her at a spot farthest away from the door and then planted himself across from her, absently reading over the list of wines.

“This,” she said, gesturing vaguely. And then, in an effort to redirect, again: “You, if you’re around.”

Joseph’s gaze flickered up to hers from across the table. She could tell he was trying to stifle a smile. “You’d have to come all the way to Hope County if you had that penciled into your planner, Miss Khan.”

“Oh, Miss Khan, am I? We’re suddenly very formal with each other.” Isolde grinned. “And what does Joseph Seed, in Hope County, do on Christmas?”

“We haven’t spent many holidays together, but this year I’d like have a big family dinner on Christmas Eve, the handful of us.” He settled back in his chair a little, like he was getting ready to be there for a while. “Since John’s moved out here for work, Jacob’s been out of the country, and we only recently found each other again, we don’t get a lot of time together.” He shrugged. “And you, of course. If you’re around.”

Before she had an opportunity to respond, caught off guard by how easily he wielded her own flirtation against her, she felt a few bodies brush past their table and then pause, only to be followed by a dreadfully familiar voice: “Isolde?”

Something sharp and hot brought her pulse to a grinding stop—or it felt like it, anyway, like all of the breath had been sucked right out of her and she had ceased to be alive anymore, a cadaver sat up to play pretend like in those old photos. No, she thought when she felt a hand touch her shoulder, nausea welling up inside of her. No, I don’t want this, not right now.

“It is you,” Alec said, his voice blooming with warmth. “I thought I recognized you. I know you like this spot.” His hand slid from her shoulder and she felt, without even looking at him, the way he turned his eyes to Joseph. “Who’s your friend?”

“Date,” Isolde bit out. “He’s my date.”

Her ex-husband let out what she could only describe as a comical exhale of breath. Joseph was watching her, inquisitive but ever-so-composed, before he turned his gaze politely to Alec and offered his hand.

“Joseph,” the blonde said. “It’s nice to meet you.”

The sight of the two men shaking hands made her want to puke. Everything Alec touched in her life was rotten, putrid—brimming with bile and spoiled, forever. She didn’t want it to be like that with Joseph, too.

Alec began, “I’m—”

“Alec is my ex-husband,” Isolde interrupted, her voice hard, punctuating each consonant of the words that came out of her mouth with violent intent.

Joseph settled back in his seat. Suddenly, Isolde was reminded that he had a penchant for remembering even the smallest throwaway details, and that she’d probably let him in on more than she would have liked about how her relationship had been with Alec without even saying anything. Yes, Isolde thought absently, her brain careening like a plane on fire as she watched Joseph fix his eyes on Alec, yes, he can tell.

“Fresh on the dating scene, and only six months divorced,” Alec remarked lightly, his infuriatingly handsome face the only thing filling up her peripheral. “I’m happy for you, Isolde.”

“So leave,” Isolde snapped. She finally looked at him, really looked at him, and naturally he looked perfect; dark curls, stubble neatly trimmed, eyes bright and amused. There were a few thin, gossamer scars on his face from the last time they were together— but he must have paid quite a bit of money to smooth those out.

He lifted his hands in a show of surrender, his gaze sweeping over her. Just that one gesture felt like a violation—she wanted to smash his face into the table and tell him he didn’t get to even look at her anymore.

“Good luck with this one, Joe,” Alec said, his overly-familiar use of a nickname that Isolde had never heard anyone use with Joseph sticking to her ribs like a heavy dinner. “She’s a wicked little thing.”

“I think I’ll be fine,” Joseph replied serenely.

Alec paused; his gaze lingered on her neck and suddenly he was grinning. Isolde knew what it was he was looking at—a bruise, a remnant of the night before, left by Joseph.

“Yeah,” Alec agreed, “it looks like you’ve already figured out how to handle her.”

Who’s going to pity you? If you were me, you would have seen that you were begging for it. You fucking asked for it. 

Isolde stood abruptly, the chair screeching against the wooden paneling of the floor. Sick, she thought, her stomach rolling. I’m going to be sick. “Leaving,” she managed out, only vaguely aware of Joseph also coming to a stand across from her, albeit more composed. “We’re leaving.”

I’m your husband, Isolde. It means it’s my job to keep you in line.

“Not on my account, I hope,” Alec sighed. “You’ve always been so dramatic. Anyway, Joseph—a pleasure to meet you, and—you know, call me if you need help with her. I’m always happy to lend my expertise.”

Everyone knows what it takes to get you under control, and I’ll tell anyone who asks.

She pushed past him, stepping around the table and clutching her coat and purse in her hands. There wasn’t time to put them on; there would never be enough time to get as much space between herself and Alec as she wanted.

I should have killed him, she thought viciously, taking in lungfuls of frigid air, snow dappling her face and sticking to her eyelashes. Right then, I should have bashed his fucking skull in.

Fingers brushed her arm. On instinct she startled, whirling to face the impending threat, half-expecting Alec to have chased her out into the street in an attempt to corner her—a thing that he had taken great joy in before, sweeping things off of the counter to grab and pull and rip—but it was Joseph. He waited two heartbeats before he reached again, his fingertips cradling the crook of her elbow.

It was a question: can I? Will you let me?

“I wish he would die,” she said, without thinking, the words spilling out of her like a poison she just couldn’t hold in anymore. Whatever information Joseph had gleaned about her tumultuous marriage with Alec made him unbothered by this statement; he tugged her closer to him, the hand not holding her arm reaching up to brush the pads of his fingers across her pulse point.

He said, “I know.”

“Joseph—”

“Isolde.” His voice was low, the words murmured against her forehead. “Don’t explain.” Because I already know, is what he meant. Because I already understand what’s going on here.

He tugged her coat out of her hands and pulled it around her shoulders. Bent like he was, leaned into her with something that she thought might be adoration, Joseph brushed their noses together. She felt tension flood her body; she was afraid that he might try to kiss her right then, of what she might do if he did while her body was brutalized by adrenaline, but he didn’t. 

He just held her.

“Here,” Joseph said, taking her hand and bringing it to his neck until she could feel the steady, rhythmic beat of his pulse under her fingers. “I’ve got you.”

It should have frightened her. Joseph’s intensity was an intimidating kind, but in these moments, the intensity was required to cut through the panic. It overwhelmed her fried senses, the neurons firing rapidly stifled and swallowed up by the looming responsibility to recognize his closeness. The smell of his cologne, the bump of their noses, the feeling of his stubble under her fingertips, his hands closing the jacket around her shoulders. All of it meant that her brain could no longer panic, and had, instead, something to occupy itself with.

“Can you take me home?” Her voice felt small coming out of her, like it belonged to someone else. A different Isolde, at a different place and time. The girl she might have been or perhaps was before Alec.

Low, Joseph murmured, “Of course. Whatever you need.”

A sick, macabre part of her wanted to look back behind Joseph at the wine bar. It wanted to see Alec again—the way that you couldn’t stop yourself from peeking through your hands at the monster in a horror movie, the way that you couldn’t look away from a brutal car crash on the highway. Sick, she thought dizzily. He made me sick.

“Take me home,” she said, more firmly this time.

“I’m trying,” Joseph replied. His voice was so soft that she almost had to strain to hear it over the pounding of her heart. His hands came to her face, cradling. “You have to let me.”

Isolde nodded, swallowing back what adrenaline insisted on leaking into her brain. She hadn’t realized that she was bolting her feet to the floor, gritting her teeth against the gentle pressure of Joseph’s hands, until he said, you have to let me. 

“Okay,” she murmured. He nodded and brushed the hair from her face. This time, his guiding pressure actually registered in her brain; when he nudged her away from the bar and down the street to his car, she moved, instead of digging her heels in.

When they reached the vehicle, he opened the passenger door for her and waited for her to climb in before he leaned down.

“I’m—” Isolde started, the words shredding in her mouth before they got out of her. I’m sorry, she wanted to say. “About—the bar, I—”

“I told you, don’t explain yourself,” Joseph insisted, tucking her hair behind her ear. There was something almost earnest about his gaze now as he watched her, her heart thrumming violently in her chest with a different mantra now. Same, it said, when Joseph’s fingers grazed her cheek, tilted her chin up. Same as us. Ours, too. He’s our kind.

“There’s plenty of people I wish were dead, too.”

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Shoes, clothes, charger, phone. No phone?

“Where did he put my phone?” Isolde muttered, searching through the suitcase on the bed. An array of clothing was laid out, but not yet folded; in fact, the only things that were packed yet were all work things that she’d have to take with her. Joseph would probably be furious—he had, in fact, specifically insisted that no work come on the vacation—but better than anyone he knew what it was like to rely on John for things. Which was that, if you liked things done to the standard that Joseph and Isolde wanted them done to, you didn’t rely on anyone else. Least of all John.

“Soli…” It was Joseph’s voice coming from the bottom of the stairs, not questioning but asking. Beckoning. You’re taking too long. “Dinner’s getting cold.”

“Where’s my phone?” she called back, pacing around the other side of the bedroom. “I’m trying to pack it up for tomorrow so that I don’t have to worry about it.”

A beat, where Joseph was likely collecting his patience, passed. “It’s down here. You left it on the counter.” And then: “Come eat, won’t you?”

He was doing that thing where he phrased it as a question and meant it as a statement. Joseph had learned, in a very short period of time, that she didn’t like when someone told her what to do; as petulant as it was, she’d buck against something like that desperately until it felt like her idea all along.

Isolde sighed. “Yes, I’m coming, Joseph.” One more up-and-down the stairs, ten more minutes of packing, and then she’d be content enough to sit down and eat.

“Full first name?” came the leisurely reply from downstairs. “My, you are in a mood tonight.”

Isolde busied herself with folding clothes, a smile fighting its way onto her face in spite of Joseph’s insistence that she was “in a mood”. She wasn’t; if he wanted to believe that, he was certainly welcome to, but she wasn’t in a mood. She was thinking.

So she put folded clothes over the work files and said, “Joseph, light of my life; the sun which my planet orbits; the fabric by which the stars are made…”

“This sounds more like the Isolde I’m used to.” His voice was closer now, coming from the doorway, and when she looked over her shoulder at him he said, “And definitely not coming to eat.”

“Do you go by Joe?” she asked lightly, dropping the last of her clothes in the suitcase.

Joseph wandered across the master bedroom until there wasn’t any space left between them; his hand came up to her face, trailing the slope of her cheekbone. “I certainly do not.”

“So, definitely call you that, then.”

“You are testing my greatest virtue,” Joseph replied, leaning down and kissing her. Just the once, though; long enough for her to want to lean into it, and not long enough to be satisfying. He pulled back just so far as to let their lips brush when he said, “Come sit down.”

Skimming her fingers along his chest, she asked playfully, “What are you going to do if I say no?”

The blonde eyed her amusedly. “John was right. You really don’t like being bossed around, do you?”

“How dare you say those words, in that order, in my presence,” Isolde murmured without heat. “You know I can’t stand to have someone stroking his ego by admitting he’s right about something.” A low laugh slipped out of Joseph and he carded his fingers through her hair, letting the pads of his fingers skim the back of her scalp as he kissed her temple.

She loved it. She loved when he did this; Joseph was so tactile, taking every opportunity to connect them through touch, like she grounded him. Like she was something precious that he wanted to enjoy every chance he got.

“You are the only one I’ll say something to more than once,” he said, his voice pleasantly low. “But luckily for you, I find your obstinance endearing.”

“If it helps,” she countered, “I don’t mind if you boss me around. Mostly. Why don’t you give it another try?” That wasn’t true. She did. But she liked the way it made Joseph’s ego inflate the second he did, even if it was for something stupid.

“Sweet girl.” His voice was a pleasant purr against her skin. “Always threatening me with a good time.”

This made her laugh. Joseph kissed the slope of her cheekbone, and then the corner of her mouth, his fingers sliding through her hair affectionately. She finally relented and allowed him to nudge her out through the bedroom door, making her way down the stairs. It wasn’t her first time going on a vacation with a… Friend of the romantic persuasion, but it was her first time going on vacation with a friend of the romantic persuasion back home. She’d never introduced her parents to any man that she’d dated—not only because they were eleven hours away by flight, but because there just hadn’t ever been anyone.

Joseph was—different. But she had always known that; she had always known that he was an exception to a lot of people’s rules, not just her own, and she was violating cardinal rule number one of her own personal regiment, which was “don’t mix business and pleasure”. Pursuing a romantic relationship with your business partner’s older brother didn’t exactly adhere to that, did it?

“It’s going to be hot,” Isolde said, “and the flight is long, and the traffic is going to be… Well, insane. But my parents will definitely insist on feeding us the second we get there—”

“That’s fine.”

“—so what I’m saying is, if I blink at you five times in rapid succession, we need to make up an emergency to leave. What’s the emergency? We have to have one ready and on hand, otherwise my dad will see straight…”

Her voice trailed off. The kitchen was not as she’d left it, a little over an hour ago, to pack. In fact, it was dimly lit by candles, the dining table sporting a bouquet—not roses, like someone might have expected out of a scene like this, but calla lilies. Her favorite.

“What—” She stopped in the doorway, but Joseph sidled up behind her, hands on her hips and nudging her forward. “Joseph, what…?”

“I told you.” He kissed just below her ear, reaching for her left hand and bringing it up to kiss her knuckles there, too. “You’re the only person that I’ll say something to more than once—”

Isolde felt something—something both hot and cold, sharp and too soft—whip through her immediately at the leading tone. “You’re not making any sense,” she managed out, trying to dig her heels in, but Joseph wasn’t trying to push her in any further so it didn’t matter.

“I want you to marry me.” Joseph said against her skin, and he slid something cool and metal along her finger. “I want you to be my wife, Soli.”

A ring, her brain said, the alarm bells ringing immediately. That’s a ring. Holy shit, that’s a really big fucking ring. On your finger. Holy shit.

“Isolde.” Joseph turned her around to look at him fully now, brows furrowing at what was surely a look of panic on her face. What she thought had to be the assumption that they were only nerves, he continued, “I know that—”

“No.” The word came out of her mouth before she could stop it, the single-word-statement fleeing her mouth in her panic. She thought she’d feel regret about it, but she didn’t; only about the way Joseph looked at her when she said it.

He seemed to be gathering himself for a moment, like maybe he didn’t think that she meant it, that she was playing some kind of joke on him.

Joseph began, “If this is your idea of—”

“I mean it,” Isolde interjected. “I won’t marry you, Joseph. So—no. Take this—” She fumbled the engagement ring off of her finger and put it into his hand like it was a cursed item, like she couldn’t get it off of her finger any fucking quicker. “Take this back. And—that’s it, I just don’t want it.”

His eyes were fixed on her, no longer soft in their romanticism, but hard, steely. “And why not?”

She swallowed up a sound that probably would have been close to agony. It was agony, having to explain to him; her mind vibrating at an entirely different frequency than his, the panic settling into her bones. She needed to say, I’ve been married before you and I know what it’s like to give yourself over to someone, she needed to say, I won’t fucking let someone own me, Joseph Seed, she needed to say, I told you two months ago I never wanted to get married again, and you just apparently didn’t listen, which is reason enough.

“I don’t need to justify myself to you,” is what she said instead, going to step around him. But his hand caught her wrist, the carefully manicured and polished exterior fading into something that hit an edge of tension, pulling pulling pulling until she thought she was going to watch him finally snap.

But he said, “You do.”

“Fuck. You,” Sol bit out. The anger flared hot in her chest. It was, at last, a familiar emotion; anger and not panic, filling her up. Drowning out the sadness that tried to rip through her like a wildfire. “I told you. I told you I wasn’t doing it again.”

“I’m different.” Now it was his turn to sound almost petulant, his grip on her wrist like iron. “You said that yourself. That we’re—”

“Not different enough,” she snapped. “Apparently, anyway, since you couldn’t wait longer than two months to try and put your name on me, could you?” Trying to pull her wrist out of his grip proved futile, and she managed out with the timbre of her voice vibrating with poison, “And get your fucking hand off of me, Joseph.”

He stared at her for a long moment before he finally loosened his hold on her wrist. Enough to let her pull away if she wanted to. She didn’t. Isolde stayed firmly put, willing her legs to carry her somewhere else—back home would probably be the best thing, driving the hours it takes between Hope County and the nearest lick of civilization.

You said that yourself. I’m different. 

He was. She wanted to say, you are, Joseph, but she didn’t, because she knew that it would only start them in another circle again, a snake swallowing its own tail in an endless cycle. 

So they stood there for a moment: neither of them saying anything, her last threat hanging, jolts of anger fizzing and popping in the air between them. Isolde’s hand slid just enough to catch at the wrist in Joseph’s grip, and he took her hand instead, then, tugging lightly to draw her close to him.

Testing her out. Feeling her boundaries. She’d basically said I’ll tear your hand off if you don’t listen to me, but he didn’t think she would. And now he was going to slam those buttons—slide his fingers under her edges until he found the exact farthest he could push her.

“I won’t,” Joseph said, very low and quiet, “let you do this to me, Isolde.”

She had been expecting something else. Something sweet, maybe—Joseph liked to do that. Sweet girl, he’d say to her, and if anyone else had tried to call her girl they would’ve gotten dumped, but with this viper it was different. It didn’t feel condescending when Joseph said it to her. It just felt covetous. 

And that’s what he was best at: bite, and then soothe. It made his sharp edges more tolerable. It made them nice. But now he was all sharp edges, only hard lines, catching on her and tearing every time the two of them made contact. It had always been this way; John had said that he thought they were poorly matched, and at the time, she’d written it off as John not liking to share even his business partner with his older brother. 

Now more than ever, she thought that he was right. They were both too unwieldy, too wretched, to let someone else sway them from their opinions.

“You are so fucking dramatic,” Isolde said, pulling her hand out of his grip at last and turning on her heel. “We don’t need to be married to be together. And your antiquated notion—”

“There are things I want to accomplish, and they’re best done with a wife—”

“I’m sorry, did you hear a period punctuating the end of my sentence? Don’t fucking talk over me, Joseph,” she snapped. For one split second, she saw something vicious flicker over Joseph’s face—just for that one, tiny second—and then he cleared his face. 

After a second of silence, of waiting for Joseph to try and get the last word in, she finished, “You don’t know me well enough to want to marry me. And—marriage is a scam, anyway. I would know, I handle nasty divorces every day at work.” I’ve handled my own nasty divorce. “If you’re looking for a pretty housewife to sit around statuesque and have dinner ready for you when you come home, then—well, then you really don’t fucking know me.”

Joseph was silent. His jaw worked, his eyes sweeping over her, tension radiating off of her until he said, “I guess I don’t.”

“I guess so,” Isolde agreed. Another moment of silence, where it felt like they were circling each other like wounded dogs, and she said, “I’m going to go—”

“Fine,” he interrupted, the thing that he knew she hated. “When you’ve calmed down, we can discuss this like adults.”

“There isn’t anything to discuss,” she said, gathering up her coat and keys and walking up the stairs. “I’m not going to change my mind, Joseph.”

From the kitchen, she heard him agree, “Not yet.”

“Shut up,” Isolde snapped. “You make me so fucking mad.”

He didn’t respond to that; she heard him moving around in the kitchen, gathering things and putting them away as she hauled her suitcase down to the front door. He met her at the door, opening it for her—which pissed her off half as much as him putting an engagement ring on her finger.

It shouldn’t have, but it did. It was like he was saying, I know you’ll be back, so go on. Feel free to leave whenever you’d like.

Like the gentleman he was, he carried her suitcase out and loaded it into the car, lingering around the driver’s side as she threw her coat inside. And then she was the one waiting, unsure of what to do; the muscle memory of her body said, kiss him goodbye, the fury in her brain screaming to get in the car and leave.

“When you change your mind,” he reiterated calmly, reaching up and brushing the hair from her face, “you know how to get in touch with me.”

Isolde’s gaze flickered at the touch, Joseph’s warm, heady cologne washing over her as the space between them vanished. She said, the amber and vetiver of him welling up inside of her and filling her like a wineskin, “I won’t.”

His lips grazed her temple, fingers brushing her jaw. “I love you, Isolde.”

Fucking narcissist, she thought, venomously, pulling away from him. Her gaze drifted over his face, trying to find something familiar, something that reminded her of the man she had thought she had loved—but who had clearly proven he was incapable of thinking of anyone but himself.

So finally, she bit out, “This is what you think love is?”

She wanted the words to sting. She wanted them to wipe the tranquility off of his face. He had always been so composed; the wretchedness in her wanted to shake it out of him, making him squirm like he was so good at doing to her.

But he didn’t; his mouth ticked upward in a serene smile, eyes fixed on her as he stepped back from the car. He seemed confident in himself—that it was love, that she would see it was. One day.

I won’t let you do this to me, he’d said.

“Have a safe drive,” he called, when she slammed the door. It was an hour to the airport; an hour, and then however long of a flight, however long she’d have to wait for the next flight heading out to Georgia.

Joseph turned and walked back inside as she pulled out of the driveway, as carefully as she could through the snow; in her rearview mirror, she saw him stop at the door and turn to look, eyes fixed on her.

There are plenty of people I wish were dead, too.

[moving-accounts-uwu]

Home Is Where The Heart Is {Pt. 1}

Fandom: Far Cry 5 

Characters: Seed Brothers x Serah (OFC) 

Story Type: Series 

Series Warnings: Angst, hurt/comfort, death, violence, romance, fluff, polygamous relationship, abuse, smut, slight dub-con, religious themes, kidnapping, brain-washing, Stockholm Syndrome & Lima syndrome, some elements of the games is used (locations, story/timeline, etc).

Chapter Warnings: None!

Word count: 2.3k words

Story Summary: Serah is a young woman living in Fall’s End, Hope County and has lived there all her life. She owns her own farm and B&B, nothing very exciting ever happens in Fall’s End - except for the occasional chaos caused by Sharky Boshaw. That is until one day, three men show up with a broken down car and seeking a place to stay. Serah, being the kind and caring person she is, lets these men into her home with open arms, but she truly doesn’t know what she has invited into her life. 

A/N: each chapter will have specific chapter warnings/trigger warnings at the beginning to help those who would get triggered to know what is about to happen in each chapter. I wouldn’t want to trigger anyone tho ;w; Other than that, I hope y’all enjoy this chapter 1 and updates to this story will be slow though. I know this first chapter is short but make sure to show it some love so I know y’all like it and I can continue it!! Gif is not mine btw~

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Hope County was never really busy or loud; it was mainly quiet and peaceful. People could leave their windows and doors unlocked during the nights because no major crimes were ever committed, and the fact that Hope County only had a small amount of law enforcement because of the low crime rate. 

Hope County was the perfect place for Serah. Serah had lived in Fall's End for nearly seven years, and her life has never taken a turn for the worst while living on her farm. She owned a few cows, chickens, pigs, and horses that she tends and cares for. Her large farmhouse has also been renovated to be Fall's Ends very own 'Bed & Breakfast'; getting the occasional tourist here and there, or sometimes it's a local needing a little change in scenery. Serah's main customer is Sharky Boshaw. 

Sharky liked to cause a little trouble, otherwise, Hope County would be too quiet. Whenever Sharky was too drunk to go home, he always managed to walk to Serah's farm and keep her company while tending to him. Serah was also good friends with Kim and Nick Rye, the couple being her closest friends since she moved to Montana from New York. Serah wanted a change of scenery herself, and she always dreamed of owning her own farm and 'B&B'. 

It was a warm morning when Serah woke up in the early hours on a Saturday. She groaned a bit, rubbing the sleep from her eyes and giving her muscles a good stretch before leaving the confines of her bed. Most of her farm chores were done the day before, so only a few small chores were left remaining. Serah planned to go to The Spread Eagle to visit Mary May, another good friend of hers from when she first moved to Fall's End and worked at the bar for four years. 

As Serah was doing some dusting around the house with only having to hang out the laundry after, she was excited to get a move on and get it finished. 

"C'mon, Serah, nearly done then we can have drinks to wash the stress away." 

Serah couldn't wait to relax before Monday began; the only days she really lets loose is on the weekends with Mary May, and sometimes Sharky if he hasn't already been drinking and passed out somewhere. When the chores were done, Serah took a quick shower to freshen up and put on a cute white, lace sundress that had a deep neckline that flashed a bit of her cleavage and stopped just above her knees. 

Serah parked her car in the parking lot before pushing through the bar doors, looking around at the few patrons already there just before 1 p.m. When she approached the bar, Mary May was quick to greet her. 

"Hey, beautiful! Just finished all the chores on the farm, yeah?" 

"You have no idea..." Serah gave a dramatic sigh of relief while Mary just laughed. 

"Don't worry, sweetie! Maybe you could ask one of the boys to help you out around that big farm of yours. You probably need to hire some farmhands, otherwise, you're gonna get tired and grey from stress." Mary May was very motherly for someone who was only a few years older than Serah. 

"You know I would if I had the money, Mary. I can't afford to hire farmhands while paying my bills, groceries, and animal feed. I'd either go broke or couldn't pay them enough to keep around." Serah shrugged before getting comfortable at the bar, trying to decide what drink she'd want to order first. 

Serah ordered herself a Bourbon and Coke while conversing with Mary and a few other patrons, having the day pass slowly and having a good time. It wasn't until two in the afternoon that Serah thought about heading back to the ranch. She asked Mary if she could leave her truck in the parking lot, which Mary said yes and that she didn't need to ask, while Serah called Nick for a lift. 

Serah didn't have to wait for Nick long; he came under less than 2 mins and picked her up. 

"Hey there, Serah! You have a good time?" Nick asked while he headed towards the ranch. 

"Oh yeah, I had a few drinks to help unwind. It's been a rough few days working, but I got everything done. Maybe I'll get a few new guests or Sharky might just crash at mine whenever he's too drunk to go home." Nick and Serah both laughed at the thought. 

Nick and Serah had a sibling bond; Nick was like an older brother and Serah being younger. Serah met Nick when she turned 21 and had her first drink at the Spread Eagle, where she was introduced to Nick and Kim Rye, then five years later, she was basically another Rye in their eyes. She had a second family after losing both her parents to cancer when she was 19. Nick and Serah even got tattoos of each other's names that Nick claims 'Now you're a Rye! You're now my little sister'. The memory always brings tears of pride and joy to Serah's eyes. 

Nick parked in front of Serah's ranch before hugging her tight. 

"You know, you could always ask me to help you out if things are too much, sis." 

"I know that Nick, but I couldn't possibly ask of that from you when Kim is this far along in her pregnancy. She'll need your help more than me. She could give birth next month or so." Serah tried to reason, but Nick just scoffed. 

"Kimmie is a tough son of a bitch, every time I offer to help her, she tells me she can do it herself. Trust me, I have plenty of free time to help you out." Nick gave Serah a comforting squeeze on her shoulder before she hopped out of his car, waving him goodbye and watched him drive away. 

With a sigh, Serah walked back into her home and started to plan out what to make for dinner. She heard the soft sound of her white cat, Alpine, purring away in his perch at the window sill, the sun coating him with warmth. 

"Hey there, Alpine, did ya miss me?" Serah giggled as she walked by him, scratching behind his ear as she went. 

*2 hours later* 

Serah always had a habit of making large portions of food as if other people lived in the two-story house. She couldn't help it, Serah just created that much food so she wouldn't have to worry about making more the next day. She guessed that it was because she would have to cook for the guests when they stayed at her 'B&B' and she just can't help it. While she let the chicken and corn soup to simmer, she started to get Alpine's food ready because she knew he'd become needy soon. 

"Alright, buddy, you'll be having some delicious prawns, your favorite!" Serah sang as Alpine came rushing over and meowing loudly at the smell of the prawns. 

As Serah put the prawns into a small bowl and placed it on the floor near the kitchen island, she heard the sound of a slam and a muffled, angry voice followed by a calmer voice. Serah's curious mind got the better of her and snooped near the front window and peeked out through her translucent curtains to see what the commotion was. There was a black SUV parked on the side of the road, small amounts of smoke coming from the hood while three men stood around the front of the car. One of the men had red hair and beard with scars covering parts of his face and forearms; he was the one who was angry at the fact that their car must have broken down while the two other men stood around letting the redhead vent. One of the other men was dressed in very luxurious clothes and had many tattoos covering his arms and hands, and he also sported a beard. The other man had his hair in a bun, wore yellow-tinted glasses, and looked to be trying to calm the scarred man. 

Serah was still in a daze by watching the men that she hadn't realized that the men had noticed her house, and one of them was making their way to her front door. The sudden sound of knocking on her door startled Serah out of her daze and she quietly made her way to the front door. When she made sure her little latch lock was in place, she opened the door slightly to greet the man with the tinted glasses and man-bun. 

"Hello my child, my name is Joseph, and my brothers and I happen to be in a bit of a predicament. It seems our car has broken down and we don't know how to fix the issue, would you happen to know of anyone who knows mechanics?" The man said. 

Serah blinked for a few seconds, registering what he had said. 

"Oh!" You looked at your little wristwatch to see that the time was now 4:30 in the afternoon and that the closest mechanic store is at least 45 minutes away and closes at 5 o'clock. "Um, the closest mechanic is nearly an hour away, and they'll be closing soon, so you won't be able to see them until tomorrow." 

"That is quite alright. I also saw that this loving ranch was a 'Bed & Breakfast', would my brothers and I be able to seek refuge here for the night until one of us are ready to walk into town?" Joseph gestured to the two other men still standing by the SUV who were looking at them from afar. 

"Oh, of course! And because of your circumstances, I won't charge you; I'd feel bad if I did. Save your money for when you get your car fixed." Serah gave him a warm smile, unlatching the lock on the door and opening it wide. 

Joseph motioned for his brothers to come forth while he continued to talk to you. 

"That is very kind of you, my dear. May I ask, what is your name? It's silly of me for not asking our host's name." 

She then made way for the three men to enter her house and they huddled in the open space living room. 

"My name's Serah, and I'll be your host. I've got some chicken and corn soup that's just settling and will be ready to serve. I also have spares bedrooms upstairs if you'll follow me!" Serah led the three men to the rooms and let them choose a room for themselves while also being introduced to the two men, John and Jacob. 

Jacob was the eldest Seed brother while Joseph was the middle child, and John being the youngest. Jacob served in the army and was a hardened soldier; John used to be a lawyer while Joseph claims to be 'The Father'. He preached about the gifts of God and how God would occasionally speak to him or give him visions about 'the Collapse'. Serah was never really religious; she never cared for religion but never stopped anyone who did. She politely listened to Joseph talk about this 'Project at Eden's Gate' and how he and his brothers have come to Hope County to save as many people as he can before the collapse because that is what God has told him. 

Serah started to serve the Seed brothers the soup when John spotted Alpine walk into the dining area. 

"Oh, and who is this little guy?" John asked while petting the white feline. 

"That's Alpine; he was a stray when I found him as a kitten. He was so small and malnourished, but he stole my heart the second I saw him. He's my little fur baby." Serah picked Alpine up into her arms and cuddled him for a bit. 

The four of them ate, Joseph and Serah doing most of the talking, John contributing now and then while Jacob grunted in acknowledgment. Joseph talked more about Eden's Gate then asked where would be the best place to buy a property big enough to host sermons for him and his followers or 'children' as he called them. Serah answered as many of Joseph's questions but told them that they would have to see sheriff Whitehorse about getting a license to carry when John asked about that. 

When dinner was over, Serah grabbed all the empty bowls and was prepping to wash them when John stopped her. 

"Please, you've cooked and let us rest for the night for free, the least we could do is wash the dishes. Go and relax, dear." 

Serah gave him a sweet smile, nodded, and thanked him before heading for the living room to read a book. Jacob seemed to already have worked out the TV remote, and he and Joseph were flicking through the channels. The sat in silence with only the noise of the dishes being washed in the kitchen to fill in as background noise. The rest of the evening went by with small talk and watching whatever is on TV before the Seed brothers and Serah bid goodnight to each other at around ten. 

As Serah was about to enter her room, she was stopped by Joseph yet again. 

"I'd like to thank you again, Serah. It seems God has led us to you, and to be blessed with your kindness and hospitality. Hopefully, in weeks to come, we'll see you again. Goodnight, dear." With that, Joseph went into his room, leaving Serah in the little hallway who was touched by his words. 

As Serah did her nightly routine and hopped into bed, she had a nightmare of an explosion and the world on fire.

~

Thank you for reading this short chapter!

[quentinbecks]

"for one muse to deny the other orgasm" joseph x reader to complete the collection pls and thank u ✧･ﾟ

thank you so much for this one, ash! i went a (slightly)different route/little too self indulgent with this one and added my girl instead of a reader. i actually almost ended this after she gets hers, but that would be rude. this was also a little more sacrilegious, but i got an immediate migraine and took that as a sign lol.

prompt: for one to deny the other an orgasm

pairing: joseph seed x ofc

words: 1.3 k (short and sweet)

warnings: edging, slightly sacrilegious, (male) oral sex, and slight hints of polyseeds

It wasn’t supposed to go like this. Charlie had told John in confidence of her doubts about the project; trusted that her partner would keep her secrets safe, but with a Judas kiss he went and told Joseph. And now here she is, receiving a “punishment” that she’s certain God himself would frown upon.

She lies there, sweat soaked and fingers clutching desperately onto cotton sheets. This has been going on for over an hour and the woman finally thinks she has a grasp on the rules; no touching back and no outward signs of pleasure. Either rule is broken and he stops and it all begins again.

Charlie watches as his long fingers dance precariously down her abdomen; the rosary wrapped around his hand dangling between her thighs. She’s pretty sure at this point that despite all his talk of salvation; Joseph wants her to go to hell. And she’s certain if there is one she will because there is no way his god will ever forgive this.

“Please” she grits out, “I don’t think I can take it anymore.”

Joseph leans up, wiping a free falling tear from under her eye. “You need to learn to trust me. That’s why you’re here.” He eyes her; her green eyes dazed and body slackened from exhaustion. “My brother gives you what you want, whenever you want. He’s spoiled you too much, sweet girl.”

Charlie finds herself glaring at the ceiling, wishing that they had made her an angel or had her run a trial; anything would be better than this. She had agreed to this arrangement because she thought her resolve was much stronger than it is; that and her sick attraction to the Father himself.

She feels his fingers slide back down in between her legs, twitching as they roll over her overstimulated bundle of nerves. Peering up, she catches him watching her face; unnerved by his unwavering intensity she has to look away. Charlie tries to focus on anything but the digits that have picked up speed. She wonders if he edges all his doubters or if she’s the only fortunate soul.

“You’re doing so well. I think it’s time, don’t you?”

Her eyes widen at his words; finally, the release she’s been waiting for. “Yes, please” she nods her head wildly. Charlie watches as he sits back on the bed, legs slightly spread as he beckons her towards him.

“Come here.”

She crawls over, stopping to take him in. She wonders how many people have the luck to see him like this. The setting summer sun glistening off his skin combined with his confident stature makes him look like a god and she wants to worship him.

“Can I?” Charlie asks as she reaches out a hand towards him, unwilling to touch without his consent.

Joseph nods, allowing her to slither up his body. Her hand reaches out, fingers tracing over the “lust” tattoo carved above his groin. She secretly hopes he’ll have a third one etched into his flesh soon; the idea of causing him to sin thrilling her.

His hands replace hers, making quick work of his belt to pull his jeans down. Charlie immediately straddles him; both eager to please and to be pleased.

Finally.

She’s not surprised by how easily he slides inside her, her folds slick from prolonged teasing. Her hips immediately start to rock, desperate for that sweet release, only for the older man’s hands to hold her in place.

“Be patient. Do you not trust that I’ll give you what you want?”

No Charlie thinks to herself.

Nevertheless, she nods. “I’m sorry, Joseph. Of course I trust you.”

Joseph’s hands grip onto her hips, moving her body the way he sees fit. The first hint of friction hits her; body twitching as if she’s been struck by a bolt of lightning. The intensity increases as she feels his lips trailing lightly down her neck onto her collarbone. She’s amazed at how he’s able to keep up this slow and steady pace; his self-restraint proving to be enviable.

Charlie doesn’t think she can take anymore when his thumb rolls circles over her clit, her hips moving in sync with his motions. “Please” she throws her head back with a cry, sweat and a stray tear rolling down her flushed cheeks.

Joseph doesn’t respond, he doesn’t need to. She can feel him begin to fuck into her from below, his hips thrusting so intensely she’s practically bouncing on his lap. His eyes never leave her as she squirms around, soft moans falling from her lips.

“Look at me” he commands as she starts to tighten around him. Charlie really doesn’t think she can keep her eyes open; let alone focus on him throughout her orgasm. She manages to obey, though, the look on his face as her eyes flutter open making her unravel

“Fuck” she cries out, her walls clenching around him causing him to let out a hiss. She stills for a moment, her body too exhausted to move or speak.

“Thank you” she sleepily plants a kiss to Joseph’s jaw before moving down to his neck. “Let me take care of you now.”

Charlie slides off his lap, trailing nips and kisses along each one of his scars and tattoos. The muscles in his abdomen twitch as her lips reach his “lust” scar; an earlier source of fixation.

“I should be the one taking care of you.”

She rolls her eyes at Joseph’s unwillingness to not be in control, but she’s pretty sure she’s had her fill of being dominated today. “Relax.” Lightly pushing him back, she takes a firm hold of his cock; her tongue dragging up the shaft in one long stride.

Joseph is lucky she’s not petty; that she won’t inflict the same stops and starts on him, even though the idea is tempting. A light kiss is given to the head, her soft tongue flicking out to swirl around the slit. Looking up through her lashes Charlie watches as the man inhales sharply, his eyes shutting tightly. Wetting her lips, she moves to take him in more, eager to extract similar noises out of him.

She slowly bobs her head as her right hand pumps in time with the movements of her mouth. Charlie feels his hands threading her long waves, pulling them back to be able to watch her better; the act making her moan lightly around him.

Outside of the soft sucking sounds and birds chirping, the room is completely quiet. She hears an intake of breath and feels his hips thrust into her mouth. Trying to keep up with his pace, her cheeks hollow and her left hand digs into his hip. Joseph is only able to keep this speed for so long, the time spent inside her combined with the wetness of her mouth sending him over the edge.

Charlie’s jaw slightly aches from the current momentum; relief washing over when she tastes the familiar salty seed fill her mouth. After giving a few last languid pumps, she pulls up, licking her licks to remove any remnants of the Father.

Crawling back into his lap, she places a lazy, chaste kiss to his pink lips. “I’m sorry for doubting you, Joseph. You’re right. I need to learn to trust people more.”

“All is forgiven.” He kisses her forehead before resting against it. “You’ll still need to atone for your actions. I think sloth is the most fitting for this.” Charlie nods solemnly before moving to get up, but a hand on her elbow stops her.

“Just rest here for now. Atonement can wait.”

Joseph gets up then, forcing her to lie back in the bed. He gets dressed and gives her one final kiss before heading back out to work on his sermons.

“Goodnight, Charlene.”

Charlie just nods, already dozing off. A final thought passes through her mind: was this “lesson” actually for her benefit or his? Either way, she’s grateful.

[honeysidesarchived]

thought it was about time i got things all tidied up in here! all of my writings/one-shots/etc i THINK should be listed and organized under the cut. explicit content will be denoted with a *, with specific warnings prior in each individual oneshot/chapter. thank you! ♡

you can find my original masterlist posted on my archive here

—DEPUTY ELLIOT HONEYSETT—

MAIN UNIVERSE » ANCIENT NAMES » complete

masterpost

MAIN UNIVERSE » WITCHING HOUR » in progress

masterpost

OUTTAKES & DELETED SCENES » ANCIENT NAMES-ADJACENT

troublemaker • iloveyou • sinful • stay • animals

OUTTAKES & DELETED SCENES » WITCHING HOUR-ADJACENT

—JACOB SEED & ARDEN HALE—

my someplace is here • pareto optimal *

—ISOLDE KHAN X JOSEPH SEED—

let me sanctify you * •  sanctify you, excerpt *

ALTERNATE UNIVERSE » HERALD ELLIOT & THE UNHOLY TRINITY

love made me do it * • a venom dripping in your mouth • vicious traditions • blood on my name • heart of glass, mind of stone • this domain of hunger * • playing with fire, living in sin * • condemnation *

ALTERNATE UNIVERSE » ELLIOT HONEYSETT x DIANA BAKER

loose cannon • a test of strength • listen before i go • i'm your man (feat. sharky) *

ALTERNATE UNIVERSE » ELLIOT HONEYSETT x WESLEY BROOKS

too close to stars

ALTERNATE UNIVERSE » ELLIOT HONEYSETT x LYRA FAIRBANKS

this can’t happen again

ALTERNATE UNIVERSE » PRE/NO-CULT AU

—ELLIOT HONEYSETT x JOHN SEED—

wrap me around your fingertips * • hands all over * • fever * • just like magic • equitable exchange • domestic warfare • golden morning • blue, baby • honey lavender * • party favours

ALTERNATE UNIVERSE » ISOLDE KHAN, THE BRIDE OF GOD

—ISOLDE KHAN & LYRA FAIRBANKS—

our muses are mistaken to be a couple by someone else

—ISOLDE KHAN x AUDRY ROOK—

sugar-coated, the most sweet • sweet little unforgettable thing *

ALTERNATE UNIVERSE » OUR CATHEDRAL IS THE BADLANDS

—ISOLDE KHAN x MICHAEL S. HUGHES—

dreaming of you • stained glass • parental disaster

—HELMI x DEPUTY JESTINY ELLEN—

devour

—ROMAN SIONIS x OFC! VARYA ASTAKHOVA—

MAIN UNIVERSE » CARRY YOUR THRONE

available only on ao3

MAIN UNIVERSE » THE LAND OF GODS & DEVILS

masterlist

ONESHOTS » CYT/G&D-ADJACENT

pavlovian * • damage done & damage made • danse macabre

—SANTINO D'ANTONIO x OFC! EUPHEMIA VOLPE—

MAIN UNIVERSE » NO TEMPTATION/NO GLORY

masterlist // read on ao3

ONESHOTS » NT/NG ADJACENT

pretty please * • i'm hanging up *

[outlawed-deputy]

Fallen

John Seed x OFC

This is a little project I've been thinking about writing for a while. I'll post the first chapter on here and see how things go. Anyway, it's about my OC, Azrael, a fallen angel, and how she fits into the Seed's lives.

Chapter 1

To most angels, mortal life seemed meaningless. Pitifully short. What difference could one human life make to the world? Angels had lived through millennia of heroes and villains constantly fighting. Back and forth, back and forth. But was there ever a winner? And who were the real heroes? Questions like these puzzled angels, but they were never anything to trouble themselves about for too long. Humans lived, and then they died. The angels looked down upon the world and watched with indignation as people wasted their lives, allowing their sins to devour them. And where did their sins lead them? The world was rapidly losing faith, humankind hurtling towards destruction by their own doing, and yet they did nothing to stop it. Further still, He did nothing to stop it. In fact, He encouraged the destruction. The world was teetering on the brink of the Collapse. He prepared His faithful few. As for the others? Well, mortal life seemed meaningless.

But not all angels shared this view on the inhabitants of the world below. Azrael, for one, enjoyed watching them. It was her job, after all. As the Angel of Death, she came to value human life far more than her brothers and sisters. Perhaps valued it even more than He did. She didn’t take joy in watching their unfortunately short lives come to an end, but knowing she could ease their passing to the afterlife gave her job meaning. If she wasn’t there to guide souls to their end, and into their new beginning, they simply got lost. Needless to say, she took her role very seriously.

But when she came across one soul, she couldn’t let him perish. She had watched over him all his life – you wouldn’t believe how many times he should have died. Especially as a baby. His parents would leave him alone all day. It broke her heart to see a child live like this, but his bright blue eyes held so much hope, and she could not be the one to take that away from him, to snuff that flickering light of hope within him. Perhaps she should have, though. She didn’t think there could be worse parents in the world than those though left him there, alone, crying in his cot. But she was wrong. Apparently, some humans took pleasure in abusing their children, moulding them into some twisted distortion of the person they used to be. And it certainly didn’t get better in adulthood. Keeping him alive had become a full-time job to Azrael. She’d protected him for this long, she was determined to carry on. Even through his addictions and his carelessness, those blue eyes still carried a tiny spark of hope. Eventually, he found peace, safety, security. Family. And in this, Azrael could finally rest.

Except there was no rest where she was heading.

Her time as the Angel of Death brought her pain, regret, guilt. But one thing she never was, was alone. With a blinding flash of light and a searing pain burning across her back, she found herself leaning against a tree. Frantic, scared, a mixture of emotions she was unfamiliar with, and very much alone. The pain she felt was gone, but there was a very evident dull ache across her back.

Her wings. They’d been cut off.

That was her punishment. For distracting herself with one soul, meddling in human affairs, and disregarding the many souls she was supposed to guide to heaven and hell, now lost. She had fallen, that much was clear. Her wings had been carelessly cut from her body, and she had been thrown down into the mortal world. She felt so weak, fragile. Lonely.

And where on earth was she?

She looked around, searching for anything to give her any clue to her location. She had travelled a lot through her existence, exploring hidden corners of the world and watching civilisations develop and rise and fall. There was an odd sense of familiarity about where she stood. However, everywhere felt oddly familiar to her, so that didn’t help. She followed a beaten trail through the trees, hoping to find something, someone. Moonlight shone down, lighting her way forward, the bright light unobscured by clouds in the sky, only broken by the imposing trees that towered over the small fallen angel.

She almost looked a like a phantom, ghosting between the trees towards a glowing light in the distance. At least He has been kind enough to send her down here fully dressed. A mid length, black dress, mimicking her usual dark cloak, blew around her in the gentle evening breeze. Her hair, long and thick, pulled into a delicate braid, was just as black as her attire, a stark contrast to her pale skin. She still appeared angelic, despite her apparent fall from grace.

The treeline eventually broke to reveal a small gathering of buildings, surrounded by enormous fences topped with barbed wire. Not the most inviting of scenes, but right now, Azrael was too alone to care. Further down the path, where the lights shone brightest, stood a quaint, beautiful church. A church, Azrael thought to herself, and rolled her eyes, of course it’s a church. She looked up to where she knew He was watching and sighed, before taking slow footsteps forward. The compound seemed abandoned, but the doors of the church were open slightly. She felt compelled to enter. If there was anywhere she should feel welcome, it would be in the house of God. Are those who are cast out even welcome inside a place of worship to the one who threw you aside?

Gently, with a caution she had never known before, Azrael pushed one of the doors open further, silently entering the church and feeling relief to see four figures huddled together at the front. One of the men was sat on the floor, shirtless, holding his head in his hands. Azrael could conclude he was in pain. She’d seen enough of it in her existence. A petite woman, slender in figure, sat beside him, a hand on his shoulder, an attempt to comfort him. Two men stood in front of them, preventing her from getting a good look at them all. One was tall, muscular, imposing. The other, slightly shorter, with a lean figure, dressed in a long trench coat than reminded her fondly of her old cloak. Her soft footsteps allowed her to quietly approach them without them noticing her just yet.

“They’ll want to know why you cut the sermon short, Joseph.”

“I heard the voice again, Faith. Someone is coming to us.”

“Who?”

“I don’t know, Jacob. Pass me that water?”

The muscular one walked to the side to retrieve a glass for the one sat in pain, and as he moved away, the woman looked up, spotting Azrael.

“I’m sorry. The Father’s sermon is over.” A hint of anger resonated in her voice – Azrael knew that emotion very well.

“I didn’t mean to disturb you, I just…”

What was she supposed to say? Hi, I’m a fallen angel. God cast me out because I wouldn’t let a human die. Please help me? No, they would think she was insane. And she had plenty of experience watching how humans treated others they thought crazy.

“I need help. I’m lost, and have nowhere to go.”

“He told me you were coming,” the shirtless man the others seemed to be protecting rose, and stepped towards Azrael, “told me He had no choice but to force you out.”

Azrael looked at him, confused. She knew she recognised him, but after millennia of guiding souls to heaven and hell, she had difficulty placing where exactly she knew him from.

“He had a choice,” She stood confidently, ignoring the brawny man stood beside her, eyeing her up like a piece of meat, “there is always a choice. I made mine, and He made His.”

“What did you do to invoke such wrath from God himself?”

“I saved someone’s life. Someone who’s time was up long ago.”

“And he cast you out. For that?” Azrael shifted nervously at his words, unsure of how much danger she was in. “You’re safe here. Trust me, you can share you true identity with my siblings. I already know who you are.”

His words somehow soothed her, calmed her from a burning fire she didn’t realise had ignited within her.

“And He really wants you to help me? A fallen angel?”

“All He did was inform me of your arrival.”

“Hang on, a fallen angel? You want us to believe this woman is an-”

The slim figure emerged from behind the shirtless one and stopped dead in his tracks when he locked eyes with Azrael. She could feel those blue eyes boring into hers, filled with hope once more, like they used to be. And she smiled. For the first time in a long time, she smiled.

“John?”

He looked startled, shocked, as if he’d seen a ghost. Which wasn’t too far from the truth, she supposed. He had been seeing her all his life. Sometimes she was across the street, watching him. Others, she was by his side. More often than he would like to admit, he dreamt of her. She looked… smaller than usual. Frail, lost. And he had never seen the earthy hues of her brown eyes reflect such despair.

He, on the other hand, looked happy. Happier than she had even seen him. She could see that he finally felt at home, a feeling unfamiliar to him, until now. She was struck by his handsome features, as she was every time she laid eyes on him. His ocean eyes drew her in, and she gazed upon those pools of cerulean, his perfectly trimmed beard, his…

Was that a scar across his chest?

“You… you know my brother?” the shirtless man asked cautiously, trying to pull Azrael’s attention back to him, attempting in vain to bring an end to the way they stared at each other with a burning curiosity.

“He’s the one, the soul I’ve been saving his whole life.”

[suffering-and-happy-about-it]

My messy masterlist:

Far cry 5 fandom:

One shots:

New Hope (Joseph Seed x reader)

Description: Once you've decided to visit your auntie and uncle living in Hope County, Montana. And you met an interesting man in there.

Read here: New hope

The fourth brother

Description: There were only three brothers from the beginning - that's the story the citizens of Montana know.

Read here: The fourth brother

The Father who fell for his Sheep (Joseph & reader)

What would happen, if Father discovers that he has a favorite sheep?

Read here: The Father who fell for his Sheep

Uncharted fandom:

Stories:

Little Sadie (Samuel Drake & reader) (Finished)

Description: based off on a Last of Us II. Gameplay trailer and the song from Crooked Still is a story about falling for your best friend, finding love and losing it. But after fifteen years, he's back.

Warnings: A little bit of fluff, a little bit of angst and smut. Who said that???

Part one   Part two   Part three  Part four

In and out (Nathan Drake x Male reader) (In progress)

Description: There was a deal between Elena and Nathan to make her way to Yemen for managing to get them to the city. But plans don't go so easily as they should. Well, isn't that pretty common thing for Nathan & Co.™?¨

Part one Part two Part Three Part Four Part Five Part Six

The Girl With A Red Shirt (Young Victor Sullivan x Reader) (Finished)

Description: Victor Sullivan, treasure hunter and a businessman in his late thirties. One day, he got back from his gig and met a cute girl in his favorite laundry; just to forget his talisman there. And so, the trouble with the girl starts.

Read here: Part One  Part Two  

I want to tell you... (Nathan Drake x Reader)

Description: Nathan Drake is not the exact definition of an unhappy man. His job is steady, his friends still see him from time to time, he plays football, but his marriage is his main problem. Many things will change when a special person comes to his life

Part one  Part two  Part three  Part four  Part five  Part six

Girls (Chloe Frazer x female reader)

Desription: Chloe Frazer. She was a woman of many names, many jobs, and many looks. But sometimes even she had to rest from her life full of adventure. Especially when Samuel Drake introduces her to his friend.

Part one  Part two  Part three  Part four???

One-shots:

Shaken, not stirred (Samuel Drake & reader) 

Description: You've been living with your boyfriend Samuel for quite some time now, and he has finally come home from a seriously long treasure hunting job. And he found his new weakness - every single James Bond movie ever made.

Warnings: I'm a terrible and naughty person, so smut ahead, ofc. Fluff and joking around with that goofball too!

Read here: Shaken, not stirred

The Princess of the Prom (Teen Sam Drake x Reader)

Description:  Y/N and Sam were the best friends of high school, no denying in that. Even tho Samuel’s Prom was actually amazing and fun, Y/N doesn’t feel good about going on her own.

Read here: The Princess of the Prom

Headcanons:

Samuel Drake:

Living with the Original Drake™ might include (Part I.)

Living with the Original Drake™ might include (Part 2)

Living with the Original Drake™ might include (Part 3)

Living with the Orginal Drake ™ might include (Part 4) 

Living with the Original Drake™ might include (Part 5) 

Living with the Original Drake™ might include (Part 6)

The Word Starting With The D (Smutty as hell)

Two broken hearts, a man and a woman

Imagine Samuel Being a Father

Nathan Drake:

Nightmares from the past

[moving-accounts-uwu]

Story Summary: Serah is a young woman living in Fall’s End, Hope County and has lived there all her life. She owns her own farm and B&B, nothing very exciting ever happens in Fall’s End - except for the occasional chaos caused by Sharky Boshaw. That is until one day, three men show up with a broken down car and seeking a place to stay. Serah, being the kind and caring person she is, lets these men into her home with open arms, but she truly doesn’t know what she has invited into her life.

Story Status: [In Progress]

Series Warnings: Angst, hurt/comfort, death, violence, romance, fluff, polygamous relationship, abuse, smut, slight dub-con, religious themes, kidnapping, brain-washing, Stockholm Syndrome & Lima syndrome, some elements of the games is used (locations, story/timeline, etc).

Chapters

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

(more chapters to come! This series is still in progress)

[quentinbecks]

Summary: Charlie left Hope County years ago hoping never to come back. But when she learns of her parents involvement with the local doomsday cult, she finds herself heading back to a life she thought she left behind. (Begins two years before the reaping/events of the game)

Pairing: Eventual John Seed x Non-Dep OFC

Words: 3.5 k

Warnings: mentions of alcohol, manipulation, blackmail, and the Seeds’ general lack of personal boundaries.

A/N: First off, thank you so much to @adelaidedrubman for being my beta! You’re a godsend and I cannot thank you enough! And thank you so much to @smut-goblin for hitting me with a stick to keep writing. You guys are the best 💕 Also, a quick thank you to @consumedkings for the gorgeous header!

I apologize for taking so long with getting this out, but the story is finally kicking off so updates will be coming regularly now. Enjoy :)

Chapter 3: The Beginning is the End is the Beginning

Shit.

Attracting the attention of not one, but two Seeds, was the last thing Charlie thought would happen when she stepped onto the compound. All her life she tried her best to make herself unassuming. Not because she doesn’t covet attention, but because the only attention that ever seemed to covet her is negative. So she shouldn’t have been surprised by the Father seeking her out, or John Seed’s unnerving gaze lingering on her, but the woman finds herself trembling nevertheless.

Luckily for her, her mother takes hold of the conversation. “This is my daughter, Charlene. I think I may have mentioned her once or twice before,” her voice dripping with sweetness. Too sweet. Too fake.

You could talk to a stranger, a cult leader about me, but you couldn’t respond to my calls for three years? She thinks to herself. It takes all of her willpower for Charlie to not roll her eyes right then and there.

Joseph smiles in recognition. “Of course. We’ve heard so much about you.” He extends a hand to her, his grip brutally strong.

“All good things I hope?”

Despite the fact that she’s here to convince her family to leave Eden’s Gate, she would still prefer the cult’s members weren’t aware of the more unsavory parts of her past. The less that they know about her the better. But she doesn’t have a chance to hear the Father’s response as her gaze is drawn towards the towering figure standing guard at the back of the church.

Jacob Seed.

His stature is larger in person than it ever looked through binoculars; his appearance meaner as well. Terror grips her as she’s reminded of her very recent activities in the Whitetails and what the consequences would be if the soldier was to put two and two together. Her death by his hands would be the only suitable justice in his book; an exceptionally slow one, she’s sure. And who could blame him? She sure couldn’t.

“Charlene?”

Charlie is drawn out of her reverie by her mother shaking her, trying to get her attention. “What?” she snaps a little too harshly.

“Brother John asked if you would be joining us for the service.”

She looks over at the youngest Seed, his face a mixture of annoyance and impatience. Clearly she’s not getting off to a good start with anyone here. “I don’t see why not,” she offers with a small smile.

Her brain is screaming that this is a terrible idea; that she’s falling into a trap dozens have fallen into before her. But the childlike yearning for attention and affection from her mother always wins out in the end.

The dark haired man gives her a smug smile in return. “That’s settled then. I think you’ll enjoy it.”

Doubtful.

“Yes,” Joseph beams, rough hands coming to cup her face, “I think you might find a home here, my child.” Soft lips caress her forehead before he pulls back, leaving her shell shocked from both his actions and his words.

Christine nudges her back towards the pew, the old wood creaking as they sit down. Charlie watches curiously as the three heralds converge in the pew right in front of them. The trio couldn’t be any more different from each other, yet all give off the same threatening aura.

The church falls silent as Joseph takes his place behind the pulpit; his mere presence commanding respect and obedience from his followers.

“Good morning, my children. I see God has brought a few new sheep into the flock today. I’m sure most of you recognize them; some might be your neighbors, your friends or family, but today they are all your brothers and sisters. Regardless of how you may have felt about them in the past, we will all need to rely on each other when the collapse comes.”

Charlie begins to tune out The Father at this time, nerves overtaking her entire being. What starts out as a simple leg shake turns into full blown spasms, kicking the back of the pew in front of her.Unfortunately, the person sitting in front of her is the youngest Seed and if she hadn’t already annoyed him enough in their short acquaintance, she’s definitely upped the ante now.

“Stop.” A smooth hand holding down her leg draws her back to the present. She stiffens, less uncomfortable and more irritated by this family's lack of physical boundaries. She grabs his hand, allowing her nails to dig in a little too deep. “I’m so sorry,” she mouths, a fake smile plastered to her face as she shooes his hand away.

The rest of the service goes exactly the way most church services go; a few inspirational sermons from the heralds and a couple of songs from the choir. Charlie supposes this is how most people get sucked into Eden’s Gate, the normalcy of it all.

While waiting for her mother to say her farewells, Charlie notices the way the Seeds watch her. Jacob whispers something to his family that makes the youngest Seed eagerly interject.

Coming here was a bad idea.

Last time she checked she didn’t have a death wish, but since she’s come home she’s been making one bad decision after the next; this current one easily the worst.

Her mother’s face pops into view, blocking her from seeing the rest of the interaction. “You ready to go, baby?”

“God, yes.”

The car ride back to her parents house is awkward, to say the least. The two Berger women have never really been as close as the young woman wishes they could be; her mother always preoccupied with some new interest and Charlie marrying the first chance she could.

“Do you think you’ll stay?” Christine presses. “I know you’re not a very spiritual person, Charlene, but I really think you might like the Seeds. They’ve done so much for your father and I. Maybe they could be a good influence on you too?”

“I don’t need their help…” Charlie trails off, choosing to watch the passing countryside rather than look her mother in the eye, already uncomfortable with where the conversation is headed. “But since when do you and daddy live in the valley? We’ve always lived in the Henbane.”

“Since brother John helped us pay off our debts and find a house.”

Charlie rolls her eyes. “What a saint. Did you ever think maybe he’s only doing this to keep your loyalty, rather than out of the goodness of his heart? And from what I’ve heard, that family has no good in them.”

Her mother lets out a sigh, clearly aggravated by her insolence, but Charlie’s thoughts turn elsewhere as the woman rounds the bend, the Berger’s new house coming into clear view.

“How?” she asks, both curious and uneasy. The home lies just a few feet down from the Doverspike Compound, not an easy piece of land to acquire and an even more difficult family to work out a compromise with.

“Like, I said, baby. The Seeds are incredibly generous with their congregation.”

The young woman lets out a low whistle as she gawks. “I guess your loyalty paid off.”

“Charlie, why don’t you quit worrying about our financial situation and come in and see your father?”

Unbelievable, she thinks to herself. So caught up in the cult you forgot about your dad.

Nodding, she follows her mother into the house.

“Gabriel?” Christine calls out.

A noise comes from the back of the house as Charlie leans nervously against the doorframe. She watches as her father emerges, his appearance noticeably different from the last time she saw him. The man’s normally slender build has become muscular, his olive skin covered in tattoos and scars; the look so shocking it takes her aback a bit.

“Ma fille!”

The young woman can’t help the grin that spreads over her face; a stark contrast to the earlier greeting given to her mother. “Hey, daddy,” she says as she rushes over to embrace him. Despite everything that’s happened in the last few years she’s comforted to be back in the presence of her family. Relief washes over her at the thought of her father’s involvement with the cult being more limited compared to her mother’s.

Gabriel pulls back a bit to study his daughter’s face. “What happened to you? You look like a twig. Sweetheart, why don’t you make her something to eat? Our daughter looks awful.”

Charlie scoffs a bit at his comment, he’s now the second person in less than twenty four hours to tell her she looks terrible. “Is that anyway to greet your long lost daughter? ‘Welcome home! You look like shit.’”

“Well,” he says, ushering her to sit at the nearby table, “it’s the truth. I know you hate to cook, but I didn’t think it was this bad.”

“That’s why it’s good she’s home now,” Christine says as she walks past, squeezing her shoulders as she goes.

This all feels strange to her. The whole day in general has felt surreal to her; like she’s going about the motions in someone else’s body. If they were a normal family in Montana this would have been the average Sunday, a church service and lunch afterwards. Instead, they’re here pretending as if they didn’t join a cult and ignore their only child for years; as if fifteen minutes ago they weren’t sitting on said cult’s compound.

Charlie clears her throat awkwardly. The mood amongst the three of them is something she’s craved for most of her life, it’s a comforting feeling; it’s familial. The desire to stay and pretend like everything is okay is too tempting. But if her parents won’t leave Hope County, or at least Eden’s Gate, she has to go back home. To Portland. Montana is no home to her anymore.

“I actually wasn’t planning on staying that long,” she says sheepishly. “This whole…” she gesticulates “‘situation’ here with the Seeds doesn’t seem like the coziest environment to live in.” She feels bad about not telling them she’s been here; that she spent the past year in the Whitetails, but like with Mary May, the less they know the better.

Her father gives her mother a look before turning back to Charlie. “I take it you weren’t as enamored by them as your mother was.”

That’s putting it lightly.

“You know me. I hate having to follow rules, especially religious ones. And besides, they look like they’re doing alright from the crowd that was there this morning, so I’m not sure they’ll be too upset if they can’t have me too.”

“They would love to have you. And so would I.” Christine grabs her hands suddenly, soft hands gripping hers tightly. “Just stay a week. Come with me to another service next week, and if you still hate it, then that’s it. Just give us a chance.”

Us.

Her skin bristles at hearing her mother so openly align herself with the cult. But if she wants to help them out she has to at least try to understand where they’re coming from. Closing her eyes, she gives a nod.

“Fine. One week.”

The next few days pass by as normal; chronic nightmares and trying to drink away the trauma at The Spread Eagle. It’s her third day back now and she’s feeling better than she ever did in the bunker. She has a couple of drinks with Mary May before heading to the General Store to pick up some food and a new knife to replace the one she’d given to the peggie guard.

While shopping she can’t help but feel uneasy, as if someone is watching her. Looking over her shoulder she checks out the two other customers; an elderly woman rifling through magazines and a child no older than eleven. Neither of them were paying her any mind.

It’s not until she’s checking out that she notices the red sports car parked in front of the store, John Seed sitting atop the hood like a king on his throne. Which seems fitting, she thinks, given he lauds over the valley like a pompous royal.The sight makes her furious.

“Oh, fuck me,” she mutters before making her way over. “If you wanted to talk to me you could have came to my house, not tracked me down. This is a little creepy.”

“I noticed you in there,” he nods towards the shop “figured I would offer you a ride.”

“Yeah, no. Sorry, my parents warned me about getting into cars with strange men.” They never actually told her that, but anything to get out of this situation. “And besides, I kinda feel like you had to stalk me to find me.”

“I’m not fucking stalking you,” he hisses, lifting himself off the hood of his car. “But I’ll happily show you what it’s like to have me following you, if that’s what you want.”

From the corner of her eye Charlie can see a group of patrons at the Spread Eagle watching them intently. The last thing she wants is for the locals to spread gossip about her, especially since she’s been town fodder in the past. She chews the inside of her cheek before focusing her attention back on John. He’s too close for her comfort, adding to the unease of the situation.

“Fine, but only because I’m not trying to cause a scene and you don’t seem like someone who takes ‘no’ easily.She thrusts her bags into his arms before pushing past him to get in the car.

The first few minutes of the ride are awkward, to say the least. The young woman finds herself focusing on the dashboard in front of her, willing the minutes to pass by faster. Until she looks up and notices they’re heading towards the wrong side of the valley.

Charlie feels like an idiot. She hadn’t even noticed that John took the wrong way leading out of Fall’s End. Seeing now that they were nearing Nick Rye’s house, she starts to panic.

“This isn’t the way to my house.”

“I know,” he says, barely sparing her a glance. “I have a meeting with your mother at the ranch in an hour. I figured it would be easier for all of us.”

“You have got to be fucking kidding me” Charlie mutters under her breath. “You basically accosted me outside the store to accept a ride from you and now you’re not even taking me home? You know I’m going to tell Sheriff Whitehorse you stalked and kidnapped me, right?”

“I doubt anyone would believe that.”

She knows he’s right, a whole group of people saw her willingly get into his car with him. Nothing but her own idiocy forced her into this situation. She feels angry and embarrassed, so she does the only rational thing, she starts pouting. Like a child, Charlie slouches back in the seat; folding her arms across her chest.

“I think you’re enjoying this,” she says glaring at him. “Everyone is gonna think that there’s something going on here.” She can’t help the whine that falls from her lips; she truly is acting like a child.

John just flashes her a toothy grin. “Sounds like you’re projecting.”

I’m going to kill him.

Charlie chooses to ignore him for the rest of the car ride until they pull up his long driveway. “Holy shit,” she mutters, unable to stop herself from openly gawking.

“You like it?”

She bites her lip, not wanting to pay him any compliments, but she can’t help the nod of her head. “I’ve never seen anything like it.”

Charlie isn’t lying, she’s never seen anything quite as large before; especially not in Hope County. She finds herself in awe of the place with her mind wanting to examine every last drop of the ground; this almost trance like state, allowing John to push her inside.

She sits on the couch, watching as John signals for the peggies patrolling his ranch to go outside before heading into his kitchen. Nervously playing with frayed denim at the bottom of her shorts, her mind begins to wander to darker thoughts. Maybe he’s brought her here to hurt her; brand her like Mary May. Or worse, maybe he’s brought her here to kill her outright.

It doesn’t take too long for her to find out his true intentions as he calls out to her from the other room. “So, I heard an absolutely fascinating tale about your time up in the Whitetails.”

Charlie’s blood runs cold at the mention of the mountains. No one outside of Eli and the militia knew she was up there. “Oh, yeah? And what’s that?” she calls out, not wanting to let him know he’s made her anxious.

John comes back into the room then, two glasses of water in his hands. “A little birdie told my brother that while you were up in the mountains playing vigilante you killed a man. A brother of ours.” She shifts uncomfortably, eyeing the glass held out to her suspiciously.

“Let’s just say that was true. How would you know? And why not go to the police?”

John sits down next to her, placing her untouched glass on the coffee table in front of them. “My brother has a mole in your little resistance. Oh, and he has told us so much about you, which is partially why I wanted you here today.”

The mention of there being a mole inside the Whitetails makes her freeze, wishing more than ever she could flee and contact her friends; let them know of the danger they’re in. The danger she’s in.

But she can’t run and tell them. Instead, she has to sit here and play whatever game the Baptist has in mind.

“I should have known there was no meeting. What exactly do you want from me?”

“I want you to let me save you,” he says as if that’s the most obvious answer.

Charlie can’t help the laugh that falls from her lips; the first genuine one in ages. “Sorry, but I’m not joining your church.”

She can tell immediately that she’s fucked up when John inches himself closer to her, so close their knees are touching. “I’m doing you a favor, Charlene. I could send you to my brother or sister and let them have their way with you. I can assure you, you would not like what they have in store for you.” His light blue eyes study her face for a moment before he reaches out, pushing her hair behind her ear; fingers stopping at the back of her neck.

“And besides, that would be a waste of something so beautiful.”

She inhales sharply at his words before glowering at the man. The audacity to think flattery would make her acquiesce so easily. But that boldness had to have come from somewhere.

“Are you saying if I don’t, what, let you baptize me you’ll send me off to be killed?” she practically whispers the last word, fear starting to bubble up inside of her.

“Jacob believes an eye for an eye is the only fit punishment, especially for someone like you. And Faith, she won’t kill you. But you won’t come out the same.”

Charlie stands then. “So, all I have to do is take a swim in the river and you’ll keep my secret?” Her words come out hysterical and she can’t help but start pacing around the living room. “Like I asked before. Why not just go to the police?”

“Because.” John lets out a sigh, leaning back on the couch as he watches her pace. “Because I’ve heard things about you. From your mother, from our insider. I see a bit of myself in you. Your longing for family, desperation to be loved.”

“Stop it,” she hisses. “I am nothing like you. I don’t know what you heard, but I am not some sad little girl looking for a new family.”

The brunette just shrugs off her words, continuing on anyway. “I know Palmer took advantage of that. Took advantage of your loyalty to him to get you to do his bidding. Your family is already a part of the project. The Father could give you what you’ve been searching for. But if you keep refusing, we’re going to have to start taking your sins out on your loved ones. And I don’t want to have to do that.”

Charlie leans against the cold brick housing the fireplace. She doesn’t believe him. From what she’s heard of the Seeds, hurting people comes naturally and without care. But she doesn’t want anyone else to suffer for what she’s done. If giving into John will protect them, then she’ll do it.

And besides, she thinks to herself. You’re a murderer. This is what you deserve.

“If I do this, you won’t let your brother go after the militia?” she asks hopefully; too hopefully.

“I can’t make any promises, but I’ll try.”

More bullshit.

John strides over suddenly, practically backing her into the wall. Like his brother did a few days ago, he cups her face, sighing before leaning his forehead against hers.

“We’ll begin the process of atonement immediately.”

[quentinbecks]

stillness in woe

Summary: Charlie left Hope County years ago hoping never to come back. But when she learns of her parents involvement with the local doomsday cult, she finds herself heading back to a life she thought she left behind. (Begins two years before the reaping/events of the game)

Pairing: Eventual John Seed x Non Dep OFC

Word Count: 1.9 k

Warnings: mentions of death and vomiting

A/N: I was a little nervous that introducing Charlie’s descent into the cult in the second chapter would be too soon, so I made a little filler chapter. Not the best, but the real meat of the story begins in the next chapter.

Chapter 2: Family Reunion

She hears footsteps coming up behind her. She pauses, thinking it’s only a figment of her overtired imagination. The noises don’t stop. Instead, they only increase in proximity. She’s barely turned around when she notices the red and white camo that signals Jacob’s hunters. The sight alone sends her into a panicked frenzy. Both the hunter and its prey raise their weapons at the same time. Luckily for Charlie she shoots first. Stomping over to the body she rips the red ski mask of their face. This time it’s not the usual boyish face that greets her; it’s her own.

“Charlie!”

The young woman awakens with a start. For a second she’s confused about her whereabouts, not used to sunlight first thing in the morning. After realizing that she’s in Mary May’s apartment she quickly relaxes, but that doesn’t last very long. Her nightmare combined with her current hangover causes bile to rise up in her throat. Charlie bolts upright and runs towards the bathroom, Mary May following right behind her.

She can only make it as far as the sink before her body retches into it. She feels Mary May rubbing circles on her back as she trembles, clutching the porcelain.

“You okay?”

“No” Charlie sniffs, wiping away the tears pooling down her face.

“You wanna talk about it?”

Charlie shakes her head no. She doesn’t need her friend knowing about what she was doing up in the Whitetails. She knows Mary May said things were bad in the valley, but she doubts John Seed is as much of a monster as his brother is. At least not yet. Instead of worrying her, Charlie chooses to tell a white lie.

“It’s nothing. I’m just worried about going to Joseph’s service. Can’t shake the feeling I’ll be held hostage at his compound.” It’s not completely untrue. Charlie is worried about losing herself to the Seeds. She’s heard and seen too much to not have that weigh heavy on her mind.

“Hey” Mary May says, forcing her friend to look at her. “I’m not gonna let him take you. Not when we just got you back.”

Good luck with that she thinks to herself

“My hero” Charlie says with a smile, choosing to forgo voicing her doubts. “I should shower and at least make an attempt to look decent. I wouldn’t want to show up to a Sunday service looking like a sewer rat.”

“Clearly you haven’t seen many peggies.”

In the shower she tries to wash away all of her fears, but the image of Mary May’s scar keeps flashing through her mind. How many other people in the county have been scarred by the youngest Seed? His handiwork looks painful and she doubts anyone would choose to have it done willingly. She wonders what sin will be chosen for her when the time comes. With her luck her whole body would adorned with all seven.

Charlie leaves the apartment to find Mary May helping Casey Fixman open up the bar. She gives a twirl as she hits the ground floor. “You think daddy Seed will like me in this dress?”

Mary May crinkles her nose in slight disgust. She had been gracious in Miami her friend a dress her, recently deceased, brother Drew had bought her for her graduation. On Charlie’s newly slimmed down body the white dress hangs a bit loose, the straps barely clinging to her shoulders.

“I’m sure Joseph will like a lot of things about you if you call him daddy.”

The blonde studies her friend’s appearance closely. The two of them know the importance of appearance to the cult. Due to the release of the documentary ousting the behavior of Eden’s Gate, the group has become more serious in trying to root out those that come with ill intent. And given by the knife holster strapped to Charlie’s thigh, the woman isn’t going in with good will.

“Come here” Mary May pulls on her pony tail once she’s close enough, letting her waves cascade over her shoulders. “There, see, now you look docile and sweet. Just the way the cult likes.”

Charlie wants to remind her friend no one has called her docile or sweet, not even when she was a child, but she can see something is bothering the younger woman. “You do know Nolan will there, right?” Mary May inquires before she can even ask what was wrong.

“No. No I didn’t fucking know that. I shouldn’t be surprised that he’s involved with something illegal, but I am.”

“Your ex husband is basically a glorified drug dealer. He’s helping turn the people in the Henbane into angels” Casey calls out from the kitchen.

“Angels? You know? No. I don’t want to know what that means.”

“Hey” Mary May calls out, bringing her hands to rest on Charlie’s shoulders. “Don’t think about him. Focus on what really matters. Like getting your family out of a cult.”

Charlie nods. She knows Mary May is right, but she can’t help how she feels. It’s been five years since they divorced and she left Hope County, but the wound still feels so fresh.

After promising to check in after the service, she decides to head out to the church. The warm, late summer sun and some classic rock helps Charlie relax on the ride over. Makes her realize there are bigger problems in the world than cheating exes.

The woman is shocked to see the throngs of cultists loitering around and inside the compound, making it almost impossible to find a spot to park her car.

After ditching her car at the end of the drive and doing a few sets of breathing exercises, Charlie makes her way inside. Before she can make her way past the gate she’s stopped by burly, bearded middle aged man.

“Sorry, ma’am I’m afraid I can’t let you past without searching you for any weapons.”

Choices quickly flood Charlie’s mind. She can run past this guard, try to hide amongst the crowd; the crowd wearing mostly uniformed clothing. Or, she can try her hand at improvisation; pretend she really is innocent and sweet. She chooses the latter option.

“I’m sorry” she says, lifting her dress a little to show the knife strapped to her thigh. “You can never be too safe as a woman.”

Charlie pulls the weapon out of its scabbard, holding it out to the man. “If you do me a small favor you can keep this.”

The cultist eyes her warily; unsure of whether she’s worthy of his trust or not. But, to her surprise, her charms worked on him. “What do you want?”

“Well,” Charlie bites her lip before getting as close as she can “I was just wondering if you could introduce me to John Seed. My mom works for him and I just wanted to meet the man she speaks so highly of.”

“I don’t know…” he trails off, looking back at the Seeds and the flock congregating around them.

“Please?” Charlie looks up at the man through her lashes. The man has a rancid odor to him and she wishes she had chosen to duck and run into the compound instead of flirting. “You don’t know how much it would mean to me.”

“Fine. But don’t try anything once you’re inside.”

Pathetic

Charlie flashes him a smile. “Thank you so much.”

The man leads her up the gravel path and through the crowds up to the front of the church. There stood three men and one young woman that everyone seems to gravitate towards.

The Seeds

Charlie’s blood runs cold at the realization that she’s finally in their presence. It dawns on her too late that they may know she was the one responsible for the death of the young chosen. Fortunately she doesn’t have time to dwell too long on that thought as the man pulls her gently towards John Seed.

“Brother John?”

The young man looks up and she’s struck by the fact that he’s actually handsome. He’s well dressed and equally well groomed with a lordly posture. She recognizes immediately that she can’t manipulate him with her feminine wiles, he’s clearly too worldly for that. The older man pushes past two young women who were waiting in line to speak to the herald.

“This lost soul has been looking for you.” Charlie tries not to roll her eyes at the descriptor, but she knows she can act the part if it brings her closer to her parents.

“Is that so?”

“Yes” Charlie answers for the cultist, a sudden surge of bravery overtaking her as she steps around him. “I haven’t heard from my family in years. I heard they were here and I wanted to see if they were okay. A wellness check, if you will.”

“That’s not what you…” John cuts the man off before he can continue on.

“Did you not recognize her?” he asks as his eyes light up with recognition. Charlie freezes.

How? He can’t possibly know.

“She’s clearly our accountant’s daughter” he says lightly spinning her around.

The other man studies her face for a moment. “Huh. You really do look exactly like Christine.”

“You know, there’s really nothing to worry about. Your family is doing well here, but, if you want to do your little ‘wellness check’, you best follow me, sweetheart” John suggests over her shoulder.

Charlie fights the urge to make a snarky retort, choosing to cast a smile over her shoulder instead. “Of course. After you.”

They head inside and Charlie is flanked on all sides by peggies. Two to her side, one behind her, and John in front of her. If she’s being honest she doesn’t understand why they need to guard a tiny, unarmed woman. Besides, who goes to reunite with their family just to attack them?

All of that goes out the window when she sees her mother. She barely registers John calling out to her mother before she’s shoving past him.

“Mama?”

Christine steps forward, her hands cupping her daughter’s cheeks. “Charlene? Baby, what are you doing here?”

Charlie blinks back the tears she can feel tears threatening to spill down her cheeks. “You haven’t returned any of my calls in almost three years. I was scared” she whispers, hoping none of the cultists can hear.

Unfortunately for her the youngest Seed does hear. “I told you there was nothing to worry about” he says, clasping both Berger women’s shoulders. “Your family is doing well here, even better, they’re thriving.”

Her mother nods and smiles at John. Charlie can tell her happiness is real and it pains her to see it. If it weren’t for the armed militia around the compound she would punch the smug look off of his face.

“Sweetheart, now that you’re back in Hope County; now that you’re home, why don’t you move back in with your dad and I?”

It sounds like a terrible idea. The last thing she wants is to be stuck in a house with two people who only want to talk about Eden’s Gate. She goes to protest when she realizes she hasn’t even seen her father yet.

“Oh, no I really couldn’t... Wait, where is daddy?”

Before her mother can explain a deep voice from behind her interrupts, stopping everyone in their tracks “Who’s this?”

Charlie turns around to see who intruded on their conversation. She recognizes Joseph almost immediately, his man bun and glasses giving him

Shit

[consumedkings-archive]

thought it was about time i got things all tidied up in here! all of my writings/one-shots/etc i THINK should be listed and organized under the cut. explicit content will be denoted with a *, with specific warnings prior in each individual oneshot/chapter. thank you! ♡

—DEPUTY ELLIOT HONEYSETT—

MAIN UNIVERSE » ANCIENT NAMES » complete

masterpost

MAIN UNIVERSE » WITCHING HOUR » in progress

masterpost

OUTTAKES & DELETED SCENES » ANCIENT NAMES-ADJACENT

troublemaker • iloveyou • sinful • stay • animals

OUTTAKES & DELETED SCENES » WITCHING HOUR-ADJACENT

—JACOB SEED & ARDEN HALE—

my someplace is here • pareto optimal *

—ISOLDE KHAN X JOSEPH SEED—

let me sanctify you * •  sanctify you, excerpt *

ALTERNATE UNIVERSE » HERALD ELLIOT & THE UNHOLY TRINITY

biting down • love made me do it * • a venom dripping in your mouth • vicious traditions • blood on my name • heart of glass, mind of stone • this domain of hunger * • playing with fire, living in sin *

ALTERNATE UNIVERSE » ELLIOT HONEYSETT x DIANA BAKER

loose cannon • a test of strength • listen before i go • i'm your man (feat. sharky) *

ALTERNATE UNIVERSE » ELLIOT HONEYSETT x WESLEY BROOKS 

too close to stars

ALTERNATE UNIVERSE » ELLIOT HONEYSETT x LYRA FAIRBANKS

this can’t happen again

ALTERNATE UNIVERSE » PRE/NO-CULT AU

—ELLIOT HONEYSETT x JOHN SEED—

wrap me around your fingertips * • hands all over * • fever * • just like magic • equitable exchange • domestic warfare • golden morning • blue, baby • honey lavender * • party favours

ALTERNATE UNIVERSE » ISOLDE KHAN, THE BRIDE OF GOD 

—ISOLDE KHAN & LYRA FAIRBANKS—

our muses are mistaken to be a couple by someone else

—ISOLDE KHAN x AUDRY ROOK—

sugar-coated, the most sweet • sweet little unforgettable thing *

ALTERNATE UNIVERSE » OUR CATHEDRAL IS THE BADLANDS

—ISOLDE KHAN x MICHAEL S. HUGHES—

dreaming of you • stained glass • parental disaster

—HELMI x DEPUTY JESTINY ELLEN—

devour

—ROMAN SIONIS x OFC! VARYA ASTAKHOVA—

MAIN UNIVERSE » CARRY YOUR THRONE

available only on ao3

MAIN UNIVERSE » THE LAND OF GODS & DEVILS

masterlist

ONESHOTS » CYT-ADJACENT

pavlovian * • damage done & damage made