Sheâd do anything to keep him smiling. This includes burying her reservations, denying her hopes, freeing Saeyoung of any responsibility to care for her feelings.
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MC/707 friends with benefits AU where Saeyoung stayed at the agency and didn't end up with MC at the end of his route (no names or placeholders, she/her for MC)
read on ao3
(team i just wanted to write fwb angst like please don't take the AU logistics too seriously i am just a little guy with glasses on)
âThis didnât happen.â Saeyoungâs voice is breathy, his chest heaving as he comes back to Earth. He drapes a lead-heavy arm over her waist and negotiates her closer, pressing her back into his stomach, tangling their legs together. His next words fall in the shallow of her neck, heady and warm. âNone of it happened.â
Part of her is still an hour behind the present moment, still thrilling at the way his hands melted into her waist as he bent down to kiss her for the first time. Things had moved quickly from that point. Once he knew that she wanted him, his hands had rushed from her waist to the hem of her dress and beneath. Heâd touched her in the doorway, looking down at her reactions with unrepentant awe. The rest plays back in a blurâfrantic, desperate.
It had happened almost accidentally. Heâd texted her, annoyed and frustrated by work, needing a distraction. Sheâd invited him over with a text that used plausibly deniable suggestive language. The two of them had been on the precipice of something for long enough that the suggestion alone was enough. Before anything happened, though, theyâd agreed that this would be strictly no strings attached.
She shifts against him, moving her hand to press against her own hip. She wonders if the tender spot there will bruise. This didnât happen.
Saeyoung had spent the better part of the evening touching her, denying reciprocation at every turn. âAll I want is you,â heâd said. âLet me have this.â
None of it happened.
He squeezes her against his chest, prompting a response. When she doesnât answer, worry floods his voice. âAre you okay? Did I hurt you?â
âIâm fine, sorry.â She pushes his arm away just long enough to turn around and face him. She meets his eyes, lets herself sink into his warm honey gaze once more before she agrees, offering a soft smile. âNone of it happened.â
Saeyoung breathes a sigh of relief, burying his face in her neck. She wraps an arm around his waist and pulls him impossibly closer, wordlessly begging him to stay.
Ever since uncovering Mint Eye, Saeyoung has been drowning in work. Even with help from everyone in the RFAâeven with Juminâs money and connections, a whole task force dedicated to the causeâthe work is never-ending. Every moment of his limited free time is devoted to his brother. Heâs been reintroducing himself to Saeran with the supervision of a full hospital staff and even that is risky. It isnât hard to guess at the results by the way Saeyoungâs voice shakes every time his twin comes up in conversation.
Regardless of whether he wants one or not, Saeyoung doesnât have the time to pursue a relationship. He doesnât have the peace of mind, either. Heâs always going, always on high alert. Figures from his past loom in the distance. Saeyoung has seemed to resign to the fact that heâll never quite be free to live the life he wants.
Therefore, secrecy is understandable. Expected, even. The RFA members would ask questions, would push them toward pursuing something more rounded and wholesome. The last thing that Saeyoung needs is more expectations, more ties, more obligations.
She pushes a hand through his hair, gently teasing sticky curls away from his forehead with the pads of her fingers. Her nails scratching the back of his neck elicit a satisfied hum. She wonders whether she could get him to fall asleep with her. It would be nice to confirm with her own eyes that, for once, heâs getting a good nightâs sleep.
âStay with me,â she whispers. âSleep here.â
For a moment, he considers it. He pulls back, locking eyes with her again. She watches his eyes trace the shape of her beneath the sheets, watches him linger on her lips, maybe thinking about kissing her again. She can see the exact moment that he pulls back into himself. His eyes darken, his brow furrows. He shakes his head and pushes himself away.
âI have to meet with Saeranâs doctors in the morning.â He stands at the end of the bed, quickly pulling on clothes. Just a moment later, he looks just like he did when he stepped in the door. None of it happened.
âRight.â Sheâs never felt more naked than she does in this moment. When he turns away to pick his jacket off the floor, she scrambles out of bed and into the bathroom to put on her bath robe.
Heâll probably go home and straight back to agency work. This is how he spends most of his nights, sacrificing as many of his sleeping hours as possible to the agency so that he can leave the day to Saeran and the RFA. She would admire his work ethic if she werenât so fucking worried about him.
âIâm sorry,â he says, so quiet that she almost doesnât hear it.
There is nothing to say, so she says nothing. This is exactly what she expected, exactly what she agreed to. When he called earlier that night, frustrated and angry and exhausted, sheâd harbored no secret hopes in inviting him over. Still, she canât help the lump that forms in the back of her throat.
Saeyoung frowns. Worry, again, evident in his furrowed brow. Itâs impossible for her to keep from going to him, wrapping her arms around his waist and pressing her cheek against his chest to hear his beating heart.
âYou have nothing to apologize for.â
He squeezes her back. When she looks up, he offers a soft smile. He repeats, âIâm sorry.â
She forces herself to smile back, swallowing her heart. âDonât worry about me. Like you said, none of this happened.â
The next week is uneventful. Saeyoung is just as busy as always and no one in the RFA hears from him. He can be a ghost when he wants to be, completely missing in action, hidden away at the desk in his dark office.
She worries, thinks about calling, fantasizes about cooking a warm meal for him and bringing it over. None of these fantasies stick long enough for her to follow through with them. After all, she has her own responsibilities to attend to.
Itâs not until the very end of the weekend, a rainy Sunday night, that she hears from him again. He appears on her doorstep in the dark, still dressed in a suit and tie befitting the C&R office, rain soaking through his trim jacket.
âCan I come in?â he asks, already halfway through the door.Â
This time, sheâs the first to touch him. All the regret and worry of the past week floods her in an instant, so she distracts the feeling by wrapping her hands around his tie and pulling him down to her height.
He responds quickly, grasping at her waist and kissing her back. He kisses her like he wants to eat her alive. Desperate, frantic.
âIs everything okay?â she asks in-between kisses.
âPlease,â he groans, âjust you.â He grabs two handfuls of her thighs, pressing her against him like his ultimate goal is complete fusion of the atoms that make them up. âItâs been such a long week⌠I just want you.â
She breaks the kiss and falls to her knees in front of him, gratified by how he squirms and blushes at her undoing his belt. âIs this okay?â She takes him in her hand, pumps slowly.
He gives a breathless laugh, truly caught off guard. âPlease donât ask silly questions.â
The sound he makes when she takes him into her mouth sends a thrill up her spine. She quickens her pace, coaxing more sounds from him. He threads his hands through her hair, rewarding her efforts with gentle tugging at her scalp. When itâs too much, he pulls her away.
âPlease,â he begs, âif you keep going, Iâm not going to be able to do what I came here to.â
She releases him, looking up with a smile, and he pulls her to her feet and into his arms. He carries her to the bed in a rush, then tosses her onto it.
This time, he is not so thorough in exploring her. He helps her out of her pajamas, then hooks his hands under her knees and pulls her to the edge of the bed.
âYouâre so beautiful.â He palms her breasts with calloused hands as he leans down to kiss her again. âSeriously, men kill for this.â He chuckles at his own hyperbole. One hand ventures further down, splaying against her stomach before finding its place between her thighs. âIâd be one of the men in question if it came to that.â
Her laugh is smothered by a sigh as Saeyoung pushes inside her. When she looks up at him, she can see a once-familiar humor on his face. He looks like heâs trying to produce another joke and coming up short. She takes in his smile and the scrunch of his nose and the warmth of his eyes as if she is seeing him for the first or last time.
Saeyoung pouts. âDonât look at me like that.â
âLike what?â
He lets out a breath, pushing into her again. He leans forward, leveraging himself so that he can go faster without breaking eye contact. âLikeâŚâ He grunts. âLike Iâve got something on my face?â
âI think youâre beautiful,â she admits, her hands finding his face and holding him steady while he fucks her, âespecially when youâre like this.â
When theyâre like this, his shoulders are light, his eyes sparkle. She remembers what things were like when they first met.
Somehow, things were simpler when there was a nameless hacker and a secret agency and a mysterious cult. Now, the complications are in the specifics. Saeyoung has to care for his brother, he has more work for the agency, heâs been betrayed by his friends and threatened by his family. The RFA members occasionally wring their hands and worry for him but, for the most part, they go about their lives while Saeyoung drowns. Here, now, everything fades away. Saeyoung is able to laugh like he used to.
âWhat do you mean âespecially?ââ He chuckles. âYou think Iâm prettier naked?â
âNo.â She reaches out for him, pressing a hand against his stomach and tracing the muscles there. âI mean, when youâre not worried about anything.â
âYou think this is me not worrying?â He thrusts again, harder.
âIsnât it?â She frowns. Her eyes find his and it causes his hips to stutter.
Saeyoung pulls back and flips her onto her stomach with one swift hand. He crawls into bed on top of her and pushes into her again. Closer, harder. The thread of their attempt at conversation is momentarily lost, then forgotten entirely.
When theyâre finished, Saeyoung bends at the elbows, pressing his full weight into her for just a moment. His lips graze her shoulderâa half-hearted attempt at a kissâas he rolls over to lay on his back.Â
âDonât you know that being with you terrifies me?â he asks, voice sounding far away. âJust because Iâm having fun doesnât mean Iâm not worried.â
She stays on her stomach. Something in her knows that itâs easier for him to admit this when he doesnât have to look her in the eyes. Thatâs what all of this is, isnât it? Closeness without any of the vulnerability. She pushes up onto her knees. Below her, Saeyoungâs face is stuck in a soft smile, even though heâs still catching his breath. His curls are mussed, sticking up in every direction, and for the first time she notices the galaxy of freckles on his chest.
Gently, as if Saeyoung is the most fragile thing in the world, she ghosts one finger over his torso, tracing a line from one freckle to another on the path to a full constellation.
âAre you terrified even if it, umââ She swallows, trying to find the words. Her finger keeps on its path and Saeyoungâs breath hitches when she stops at a mole at the base of his neck. ââif itâs just this?â If itâs like it never happened. If no one finds out. If they arenât attached.
He catches her hand in his and clutches it against his chest. âWerenât you listening?â Again, thereâs a flicker of his old humor in his eyes. âJust because Iâm having fun doesnât mean Iâm not worried.â
Her first thought is one that she stifles. What is the point of all the secrecy and avoidance if itâs only going to worry him anyway? She frees her hand to trace the corner of his smile. Sheâd do anything to keep him smiling. This includes burying her reservations, denying her hopes, freeing Saeyoung of any responsibility to care for her feelings.
âThereâs no reason to worry. None of this matters, right?â She reaches down to kiss him, her hair falling to form a curtain around their faces. For just a moment, the whole world consists of only the two of them.
Saeyoung pulls back from the kiss, his eyes darkening. He seems to remember himself, pushing up into a seated position and smoothing his hair back into place.
âYouâre right.â When he speaks, his voice sounds uncharacteristically bitter.
He dresses quickly and a distinct feeling of dĂŠjĂ vu overtakes the girl watching. Just like the first time, he sheds all traces of her from himself with remarkable ease. In moments, he is dressed again. Soon after, he is out the door.
>> me after reading this fic and immediately being hit by x10 Saeyoung fwb brainrot
No joke I have been thinking about this fic in some capacity since I first read it. You manage to capture the delicate balance they're treading so well. It's hot and it's painful and it's everything I need a fwb fic to be. The repetition of this never happened is just the cherry on the ouch cake.
Also!!! The way you write Saeyoung is perfection. The little details you sprinkle in make him feel so fleshed out I can all but see him. His voice, his mannerisms god I wish that were me
Finally, some lines that made me particularly feral:
Once he knew that she wanted him, his hands had rushed from her waist to the hem of her dress and beneath. Heâd touched her in the doorway, looking down at her reactions with unrepentant awe.
Unrepentant awe!! That's my boy!!!
âSeriously, men kill for this.â He chuckles at his own hyperbole. One hand ventures further down, splaying against her stomach before finding its place between her thighs. âIâd be one of the men in question if it came to that.â
AARRGH
Sheâd do anything to keep him smiling. This includes burying her reservations, denying her hopes, freeing Saeyoung of any responsibility to care for her feelings.
KGFSJHDFGSD FAYEEE THANK YOUU this rb was so sweet ilusm !!! i'm especially so happy that you felt like the characterization was on point because that was really the thing that i struggled the most with when i was writing this?? like i was sooo worried that it would come across as just, like,, generic smut bc that shortcoming is so common with fics like this đ
i rlly do want to write a sequel with saeyoung's pov so i hope i do get around to it !! it depends on um. when i have the time to write it because i am doing camp nano next month and i want to devote most of my writing time to original fiction BUT!! SOON!!
but ksjfhdf i cannot stress enough how much this made my day dude i was actually super sick yesterday and this comment singlehandedly kept me from finding a cliff to jump off of i think
Every so often, I can't help but think about all the dirty jobs Saeyoung had to do during his time as an agent. I'm not talking about the usual digital crime stuff he feels comfortable enough to mention openly. I'm talking of those missions he'd rather just shut up and never speak a word about. What about all the missions that went wrong for him, back when he was still young and inexperienced?
The fact that he has blood on his hands is apparent to us. But, do you ever think about whether or not he was forced to kill an innocent? Be it by some cruel accident or by direct order from the higher ups he had no choice but to obey? Have you ever thought of him having to make a quick elimination on yet another corrupt member of society, only to realize that his family, who has nothing to do with this, had seen him?
Have you ever thought about him doing everything he can to fix this: coming up with shaky lies on the spot, attempting to fabricate evidence, eventually resorting to pitiful begging that goes nowhere. But there should not be any witnesses. It's too late to turn back now. He got sloppy. His DNA is already on the scene of the crime. If he refuses, he not only puts his own safety at risk, but these people will get eliminated regardless. The least he can do is make it quick and painless. Have you ever thought of him still having to come back to his sad parody of a home and pretend like everything is fine? Like this was just another Tuesday, and not one of the most sickening things he had to do and witness?
Have you imagined him sitting down, staring at his bloodied hands with a blank and glassy look to his eyes, his weapon still in his grasp, and his ears ringing from every shot he has fired? Have you ever thought of him feeling so utterly disgusted and ashamed of himself that it almost seems like the silver cross on his neck that has always brought him a sense of security, is burning through his clothes and straight into his flesh? He won't take it off, no matter how heavy it feels. He wears it as a constant reminder of the sins these hands have committed. He knows that God has seen it all. He knows that, much like Lucifer, he will never be allowed to step foot over the Heaven's Gates. His soul is too sullied. Too dirty. Too sinful.
I feel like these are the days when he goes complete MIA. He tells everyone in the RFA later that he just slept through these few days.
He maintains contact with V, just in case. But, really, he spends these few days just... in a daze. Luciel has no remorse for selling his entire life away to guarantee his brother's happiness. He does not regret sullying his hands in the darkest sins this world had to offer, if only it means that Saeran's hands will get to do all the good things he has always dreamed about. He does not regret forsaking his own childhood, because he never thought of himself as a child in the first place.
But, in these moments... as the events of what he has done continue to unfold in his head over and over again, like he never even left, he feels it. Regret. Guilt. Disgust.
Luciel harbors a deep hatred towards his parents. He hates his joke of a mother, who has brought nothing but endless torment on her own children for ruining the life she foolishly destroyed all by herself, something he despises with all his heart. He hates his father for forcing them to live in constant fear and paranoia, just for the unforgivable crime of being born into this world. He hates every bystander who has done nothing to correct such an unfair act of pure cruelty unfolding right in front of their eyes.
But, as his vacant gaze keep drifting back to the equipment he has stashed away in one of his many drawers, a grim thought claws at his insides, tearing him apart piece by piece like a vicious parasite feeding on his flesh: is he... really that different from them?
Vanderwood ends up being the one find him, slouched in his seat, his hands still caked and crusty with blood. They just sigh, already knowing what happened. It's something they all had to go through. They just sit next to him, letting the younger agent know he's not alone. And, once Luciel's shoulders start to shake with choked, painful sobs, they don't say a word. They just let him break down into their arms.
It's one of the rarer moments of tenderness between the two.
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