#be warned folks: this isn't a happy story for the resistance

[sanjoongie]

𝑩𝒊𝒕𝒕𝒆𝒓 𝑩𝒍𝒊𝒔𝒔 𝒐𝒇 𝑮𝒐𝒐𝒅

👑Pairing: Wealthy born! Prince! Seonghwa x Inherited! Princess! Reader (f)

👑Au: Modern interpretation of Sweet Sorrow of Evil, royal au, modern royal au

👑Trope: established relationship (married), reincarnated, soulmate

👑Genre: smut, romance

👑Word Count: 2,294

👑Rating: 18+, MDNI

👑Warnings: dom!seonghwa, sub!reader, oral (m), aftercare

👑Summary: a peak into the life of evil queen! reader and guard! hwa reincarnate. their date night sure isn't private but what they do in private after said date is another story entirely...

👑A/N: this is for my small's birthday @smallfrye (modern! sweet sorrow guard hwa aka prince hwa au) this has been bubbling in our brains for MONTHS and i'm happy to put the first scene i tortured myself with into words so that you can read it. Thank you for being my braincell in this journey of our friendship. I am truly thankful for your presence in my life and i hope this fic shows it 😆

“Prince Seonghwa!”

Camera’s flash and click; all the cacophony that is due with a public appearance of a royal couple nowadays. You let go of Seonghwa’s hand, but not without some resistance from your husband. The tips of his fingers curl, indicating he doesn’t want to let go but knows what you’re doing. He sends you a small smile but then focuses on his public job.

He smiles and tilts his head, putting the hand that had been holding yours in his pants pocket in a pose. It was his job to look good and thus make the royal family look good. And he always did a good job in that regard.

“Prince Seonghwa! How’s date night?” One reporter shouted. 

Seonghwa laughed gently. “I was enjoying time with my wife, of course.”

The crowd of reporters laugh together as Seonghwa pokes at the fact that they in fact interrupted said time with questions and photos. 

Seonghwa informs a fashion magazine what his fit was dutifully. He brushes a strand of his bangs out of his eyes with a pinky finger and blinks and the camera’s click in quick succession. 

“Does the Princess like the long hair?” Another reporter shouts.

Seonghwa tilts his head flirtatiously. “Why do you think I’ve left it this long for so long?”

“What’s on the itinerary after this?”

Seonghwa shakes his head. “Oh, just some boring husband duties, nothing impressive. I’m afraid my social battery is much depleted now.”

Then your husband sends the longest, most goosebumps-inducing look that makes you have to bank your face but you still swallow in futile. Your court-trained husband knows exactly how to affect you in public. And he takes great delight in testing your public mask.

You swoop in to ‘save’ your husband. “That’s all for tonight folks,” You insist demurely. 

The yells continue as you take up Seonghwa’s hand and pull him to the car that’s waiting for you outside of the high-end restaurant. You both settle into the plush leather and take a sigh of relief being out of the eye of the public. 

Seonghwa’s thumb passes over the back of your hand, as if he’s winding the string of a fishing pole and you’re at the end of the string. “Princess,” he says your title softly but you’re not falling for that trick.

“Seonghwa,” You open your mouth to scold him but he places a chaste kiss at the corner of your mouth to halt you. 

“I know. I won’t start anything in the car. But just so you know…” Seonghwa lets the words hang in the air to tempt you.

You stubbornly look out the tinted windows. “Yes, Dear.”

Seonghwa chuckles lightly. “Your tone might get you in trouble later, dear.”

You turn, head in hand, lifting a perfectly penned-in eyebrow. “Should I have not saved you from the crowd of reporters, husband?”

A polite, playful smile pulls the corner of Seonghwa’s lips. “We both know what really happened.”

You quickly glance towards the front of the car to make sure the window that separates driver from client is up and then lean over towards Seonghwa. With your entire back to the driver, you whine. “Seonghwa, you promised!” 

Seonghwa reaches out and runs his hand over your hair. His eyes travel over your face, your body, simply drinking you in. “You look gorgeous tonight, wife of mine.”

You sigh in gratitude, a bit relieved. “Pretty enough to distract you from the not-so-private date, I hope.”

“You know when I’m with you, it’s like the rest of the world melts away,” Seonghwa admits.

You grip Seonghwa’s hand. “I know. It’s part of the reason you married me.”

Seonghwa’s soft look twists into a darker, more lust-filled one. “And the other half?”

This time you can’t help but laugh. “Seonghwa, please.”

“You’ll show me when we get back home?” Seonghwa still prompts hopefully.

“Of course,” You agree. 

That is why you knelt before your husband, whose legs were spread on your thousand thread count sheet on your bed. You subserviently removed his designer shoes and put them to the side. Next came off his socks. You then stood up on your knees, reaching for his belt. 

Seonghwa’s fingers quickly grip your wrist tightly. “Slower, dear. You promised adoration, not a quickie.”

“Yes, Prince,” You intone quietly. 

Seonghwa lets go of your wrist and allows you to proceed. You place both of your hands on Seonghwa’s knees. You squeeze his thighs, that tense in response back. You methodically squeeze up his leg until you can see that he is hard under his baggy slacks. Swallowing loudly, you dip your head to mouth at the imprint of his cock. Seonghwa makes a low noise in the back of his throat and you take that as a sign of approval. 

“Your Highness,” you say conservatively. “May I remove your royal shirt?”

Seonghwa’s pupils are blown but his eyes are lidded. “You may,” he allows.

There aren’t a lot of buttons to undo, for Seonghwa had already popped many for his date night look. His jacket is already dutifully hung up in the walk-in closet, so all you have to do is push it easily off his shoulders. 

Your breath catches in the back of your throat at how tantalizing your husband is at this moment. His palms are flat on the sheet, leaning his weight back to watch you work your magic. You can’t help but linger as your hands caress down his torso, following the lines of his muscles. 

“This body is wasted,” you murmur under your breath.

“Wasted on what?” Seonghwa chuckles.

“You should be sold to the highest bidder and then fucked every hour upon the hour,” your mouth says without a filter.

If you weren’t admiring Seonghwa’s body so much, you might have glimpsed the slight blush that clung to his cheeks. “Dear one,” he drawls. “Your mouth is getting you into trouble again.”

You drop to your knees again. You lick your lips as your hands reach for his belt buckle a second time. “Let me keep it busy then.”

Seonghwa does not stop you as you manage to free his cock from the confines of his pants and boxers. You sigh dreamily at his curved, long cock. As your husband is a dream in of itself, so is his cock. You suck happily on his cockhead, swirling your tongue around it. 

With a loud gasp, Seonghwa’s hand flies to your hair, needing a handhold immediately. His desperate cries only fuel your hunger for his cock, as you then bob up and down his length. You let your throat adjust to the length with each bob, and eventually you can manage to get him completely inside of your mouth and throat. 

The room echoes with the wet, choking noises but it seems as if Seonghwa is feeding off them. “That’s it, dear, gobble me down, you greedy girl.”

Nothing tickles Seonghwa more pink than watching you give him a sloppy blowjob. The sucking noises only add to the way your mouth circles around his length, eyes trained on him. You don't use your hands; you simply let your lip and tongue do the work. There's saliva all over your chin and cheeks and the bed sheets but you know that's the way Seonghwa likes it. Seonghwa likes knowing you'll debase yourself for him.

You reach underneath your skirt, and rub your clit through your thong. You know you're creating a wet spot on expensive silk but the need to indulge yourself burns in your lower stomach. You let out a small whimper as your finger pad brushes against your throbbing nub. 

Seonghwa’s eyes snap open. “Dear,” he croons softly, dangerously. “The only pleasure you should be getting should be from wrapping those pretty lips around my cock.”

You whine around his length but remove your hand from between your legs. He's right. He hates the spotlight but goes on these public dates to satisfy your need to be among your people. And so, you rewarded his time by being the one to admire him. 

In this moment, as the princess, he is the only one who truly matters, and that's all he wants. Because Seonghwa, above all of his needs, loves you.

Like a flip of a switch, you find yourself pressed against the foot of the bed. Your head is held in place against the mattress. Seonghwa is on his feet now, almost towering above you as you’re still on your knees. His tongue snakes out to lick his lips and your lower half tightens at the action. “Be a good Princess and swallow everything I give you.”

You drop your jaw in anticipation for Seonghwa to fuck your mouth. It’s still a sloppy job but it’s in no way rough like you expected. Seonghwa simply works in and out of your mouth of his own accord. Again, it’s very much about feeling like only he can do this to you; only he has the privilege to fuck the princess’s mouth. 

Your fists grab his slacks, one clutching to each thigh, to keep your wandering fingers away from pleasuring yourself. The only noises you can hear are the small, desperate gasps as Seonghwa chases his high and of course, the wet noise of his cock sliding in and out of your lips.

When Seonghwa reaches his climax, he tosses his head back, showing the line of his neck and jaws. You missed his nose scrunch because of this but his loud cry as he shoots down your throat more than makes up for it. You swallow everything, or at least attempt to, but when Seonghwa pulls out of your mouth, a tiny amount squirts on your cheek. 

Seonghwa clucks his tongue against the roof of his mouth. “You get so dirty when we do this.” He absentmindedly captures his cum with a swipe of his finger and pushes it into your mouth. 

Dirty is an understatement. You know your makeup is streaked, dry saliva and cum all over you. You’re sure your hair is a mess and so is your underwear. You are definitely in need of some much needed aftercare. But first!

You shoot to your feet, slanting your lips across Seonghwa’s eagerly. “You did wonderfully, my love,” you gasp between kisses. 

Seonghwa laughs under his breath, feeling a tad bit shy after the complete show of dominance. “You sure it wasn’t too much?”

You shake your head with a small, happy smile. “Nope. It was perfect. Help me in the bathroom? I’ll get a washcloth for you too.”

You walk to the bathroom and Seonghwa can’t help but note how, even now, after he just fucked your throat full of his cum, that you still manage to walk as if you are in public and waving to a crowd of your people. You can take the princess out of the grace, but you can’t take the grace out of the princess.

The two of you clean up and then lounge in the bath together. You have your princess crown back on, figuratively of course. You’re checking all the social media posts of your date, official and tabloids, scanning all the comments, good or bad. 

“Wooyoung,” You say your best friend’s name in part astonishment and part scolding. 

You hold your phone up to show Seonghwa. One of the reporters had perfectly captured Seonghwa’s bedroom eyes as he had peered at you earlier. Wooyoung had left a comment on said photo that was bordering on appropriate. 

Ym_ooyng: i’ll be performing my boring best friend duties tomorrow 😉

“Do you have a date with Wooyoung that I’m not aware of,” Seonghwa intones, not being able to hold his tongue when it comes to your best friend of a prince. 

“No,” You muse. “But I bet he’s planning an impromptu drop in to get the tea. You know how he is, husband of mine.”

You run your nails along Seonghwa’s inner thigh propped up beside you and he shudders delicately. You try to remind him through actions that Wooyoung can say whatever he wants, but you’re still in the bathtub with him right now. 

Seonghwa hums in acknowledgement. He dips his hand under the water and lets droplets fall from his fingertips onto your arm. “Dear…?”

“Seonghwa?” You put your phone away and give your husband your undivided attention. 

“You think we could schedule some getaway time?” Seonghwa asks.

You cannot help but turn around in the tub to look at Seonghwa’s face. He won’t meet your gaze so you use a wet hand to push up his downturned chin. “Seonghwa, look at me.”

Seonghwa tentatively looks up, eyes bearing his soul to you, and then looks away. “Just a little bit of time. To get away from the cameras.”

Your heart wrenches. You know that he’s become a public figure simply for you. But you’d throw it all away if he asked it of you. “Of course. I’ll speak to Jongho, get him to figure out what would be a good time--”

“Tomorrow.”

“Before Wooyoung can drop in?”

A small, conspiratorial smile pulls at Seonghwa’s lips. “Maybe.”

“Okay,” You agree. You turn back around and settle into Seonghwa’s chest, tucking his arms around your collarbone.

Seonghwa squeezes his arms so that they’re wrapped around you. “Okay.”

You slowly fall asleep as Seonghwa rocks you gently, humming a mindless tune under his breath. You are in and out of consciousness as he drains the bath and bundles you up in a robe. The last thing you remember is a kiss on your forehead, and then your nose, and then your lips before Seonghwa mumbles, “Goodnight my fair princess. Sleep well.”

[silica-sunset]

Whumptober Day 3 - Held at Gunpoint

1.4k words of a far cry cult au

CW: gun violence, major (resistance member) character death, graphic depictions of strangulation

Rook only has himself to blame for the position he’s in, on his knees with his hands zip tied behind him. He knew it was stupid, knew there was no way Nick wanted to have a parley with him without ill-intent. But Nick was his favorite of the people he left behind and even though he tried to kill who he was before, he couldn’t kill the part of himself that loved Nick. He was Rook’s weak point, the one person he refused to hurt, and Rook knew the sooner he got the Rye family out, the faster Rook could help tear the county apart without that bit of hesitation getting in the way. He wanted so badly to save his old friend that he went against his gut, suffered through John’s jealousy-fueled sullen silences and bursts of anger just to ensure Nick and Kim would have safe passage out of Hope County. 

He knew something wasn’t right when he pulled up outside their home, but determination always made him stupid. Rook couldn’t trust anyone else to make sure they got out all right, and he paid the price for it in the form of a bat to the back of the head when he stepped out of his truck. He was unconscious before he could even hit the dirt.

His head hurts like a motherfucker when someone finally kicks him awake, hard enough to break his ribs. Someone behind him lifts him roughly upright again when the kick forces him onto his side, jostling his pounding skull and his aching shoulders. The nausea is overwhelming and the stomach acid burns his esophagus when he pukes it up on the floor in front of him. There’s a sound of disgust and he blearily looks up. He’s near the arcade machine in the Spread Eagle and Mary May is standing in front of him. He hasn’t seen such contempt since the night he walked out of this place and joined Eden’s Gate. Not even the Peggies hate him this much, and he’s killed way more of them.

“Did you enjoy your time with them?” Mary May spits. Her body lurches with the force of her fury but the shotgun in her hands doesn’t waver from where she points it at Rook’s head. “Did you get what you wanted?”

Her eyes tell it all: no matter what he says, she’s going to kill him. She just wants to hear him admit he made a mistake, that he’s sorry and beg for his life, that he should’ve known better than to trust Joseph Seed. That he regrets all the Resistance members he’s killed. He won’t give her the satisfaction because there isn’t any to give. 

“Yeah. I did,” Rook says. It’s just the honest truth. He always suspected he was going to die in Hope County and he can finally say that he doesn’t feel like it’ll be a waste. Even the brief involvement he had in the Project felt more meaningful than anything else he’s done in his wretched life. He’ll go to his grave absolved of his sins by the only people that matter. He will miss Boomer though. “You know you’re going to die for this, right? I don’t care that you’re going to kill me, but the Father definitely will. John will raze Fall’s End to ashes before the week is over.”

“Let him try,” she hisses, “I’ll kill him too.”

Rook laughs, body slumping. He tries to test the restraints and feels blood trail sluggishly down his hands from where the skin near his wrists has been rubbed raw. “Yeah, right. I’m the only person who ever stood a chance at killing John. The second I joined them, you lost any chance you ever had at winning.”

“You shut your mouth.”

“You never could handle the truth.” He tugs harder at the zip tie. “Some outsider nobodies managed to hold your entire fucking county hostage, and your only hope of salvation was the National Guard. And when that didn’t work out, your second best chance was another outsider nobody, just some rookie cop with a hobby for firearms. You all are Weak, running around like children with the most ass-backwards priorities -”

“Shut the hell up, Rook! We were managin’ just fine before you showed up.”

Rook laughs again - meaner, full of violence. “You can lie to yourself all you want. I’m right like I was right that night weeks ago. You guys couldn’t make a single goddamn dent in the cult’s firepower.”

“Shut up -!”

There’s the sound of wood splintering just as Mary May takes a step forward. He may have a concussion but he still has muscle memory. He snaps the zip tie as he hears a shot ring out. He doesn’t turn to see who the shooter is; he’s either going to get shot in the back or the head, and he’ll take being shot in the back if it means he gets to kill Mary May first. He grabs the barrel of her shotgun while she’s distracted, shoving it forward so the stock hits her directly in the nose. There’s the crunch that he’s become so accustomed to hearing in his few months here and a fountain of blood as she stumbles back in pain. He wobbles when he gets up but he uses that momentum to tackle her.

They hit the ground hard. There’s more shots, more bodies falling around them. The adrenaline drowns out everything that isn’t Mary May’s shocked and bloody face. Rook wraps his hands around her throat, putting all his weight behind it. She claws at his arms, long nails leaving aching grooves, and it’s hard to keep his grip with his hands slick with blood, but if this is the last thing he’ll have the opportunity to do, he’s going to make sure he finishes the job. 

“You think you can kill me?” Rook demands, close enough to her face that her desperate gasping hits his lips. He feels Mary May’s windpipe cave under his palms. “The Guardian of the Father? The executor of his Will? You can’t fucking kill me!” He doesn’t realize he’s evolved into wordless, feral yelling until her arms stop trying to push him away and her body stills.

There’s a hand on Rook’s shoulder and he whips around, falling off Mary May’s body onto the floor, nauseated again. He looks up and there’s John, his messy hair haloed by the ceiling lights. It’s the closest he’s ever felt to seeing something holy in his life. If God is real, He brought them together for this specific moment.

“Rook, are you all right?”

“I think I have a concussion, maybe some bruised ribs.” Rook gestures vaguely at the body next to him. “Better than her though.”

John starts to help Rook up, supporting him when Rook stumbles to his knees and retches again. “I knew I shouldn’t have let you go to Nick goddamn Rye,” John says tersely. 

“Lucky for us, the Resistance is short-sighted. If they had any sense, they would’ve killed me the second I was in their crosshairs.”

“They’ll never get the chance again.” John leads them out of the Spread Eagle and puts Rook into the passenger seat of a cult truck. “Jacob has found the Wolf's Den, Faith is closing in on the prison, and I am about to burn this place to the ground.” 

Rook sees other cars around their own, cultists with absurd amounts of fire power hefting C4 and gasoline out of truck beds. Hearing that everything is falling into place all at once settles something within him. He makes a grab for John’s hand across the center console after John starts the engine. Blood transfers from Rook to John, looking black in the night. “Thank you. For saving me.”

“I won’t let anyone hurt you ever again,” John promises. He intertwines their fingers and squeezes once before letting go to get them back to the ranch. “There’s a doctor waiting for you. It was only supposed to be a precaution, but trouble always seems to find you.”

“Being the attack dog of a cult will do that,” Rook says. He means no malice when he says it, simply stating a fact. And he’s not mad about it; he’s accepted it as easily as he’s accepted every other new facet of his life as it’s come about. He wouldn't say he’s happy, because he doesn't know if his mind remembers what that’s even like anymore, but he’s something. Content, at the very least.

Injuries aside, it’s a pretty okay life.