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Warnings: 18+ (Mature Readers Only). This is a one-shot inspired by the 2002 film Secretary and contains explicit sexual content, boss/secretary power dynamics, light BDSM elements (spanking, dominance/submission), and suggestive language.
Kim Hanbin always marks your mistakes in red ink, and maybe, he's enjoying it a little too much.
In the month you’d been working as Hanbin’s secretary, this was the first time he stepped out of his office to call you out—over a freaking typo.
“You missed a letter,” he muttered, tapping the error with his pen on the document you’d printed. His cologne hit you—musky and leather, a scent that pulled at your senses.
“Do it again,” he said, voice firm.
“Yes, sir. My apologies.” You snatched the document back, hoping he wouldn’t notice the tremor in your fingers.
You were about to begin the rework when you noticed he still hadn’t moved. His fingers hovered on the edge of your chair, tapping against it.
You glanced over your shoulder and caught him looking at your blouse—not in a sexual way, but in that piercing, assessing look that made you swallow. There was a hint of annoyance in his eyes. “Starting tomorrow, I want you looking presentable for our clients.”
He turned away, already heading back to his office, but added one more thing: “And stop biting your lip when you type. It gives the wrong impression.”
You almost bawled your eyes out the moment his office door clicked shut.
Hanbin hadn’t stopped testing you since that day. It was as if he were always looking for a fault in your work—in everything you did. You dressed better. You prepared his coffee exactly the way he liked it. Still, he’d say, “You forgot an extra teaspoon of sugar.” So you made it a habit to leave a packet beside his mug. You even trained yourself not to bite your lip anymore. Yet, you couldn’t shake the thought that maybe he was just waiting for you to quit.
And of course—the damn red ink, circling your typos. Why did he have to act like a professor grading papers? You’d had enough.
So when everyone finally went home, you stayed behind and walked straight into his office.
“Come in,” he said. You found him by the window, watering the small plant he always kept in his office.
“I need to talk to you.”
He set the watering can down and faced you, his expression unreadable.
“I always do what you ask, sir, but I don’t know what else you want from me.”
He said nothing at first—just stared. But when his voice came, it was calm—too calm. It rattled you more than if he’d raised his voice.
“Do you?”
“Y-yes. No offense, sir, but… I think you’re doing it on purpose.”
His brow lifted. “Is that what you think?”
He stepped forward, slowly closing the space between you, inch by inch.
“You’re a perfectionist. Maybe even controlling,” you said, fighting the urge to shrink back. “But I won’t give up easily. You can’t break me, sir.”
You kept your eyes fixed ahead, his presence still clear in your peripheral vision.
Something ignited in his eyes—interest, challenge.
“Really?”
“Try me,” you said, surprised by how steady your voice sounded.
Silence.
Then he ordered, “Bend over the desk.”
“Excuse me?” you breathed, unsure you’d heard him right.
“You heard me.” His voice left no room for confusion, something darker simmering underneath.
You froze, pulse spiking. The air around you grew thick.
Hanbin stood behind you, like a predator circling its prey.
“I said, bend over,” he repeated, his voice now dangerously low.
And you did. You obeyed, bending over and pressing your palms to the cool wood of his desk, heart hammering in your ears as you waited for what would come next.
Hanbin began by caressing your back, and your body shivered under his touch.
Carefully, his hand drifted lower, reaching your skirt. He paused, lifting the fabric just enough before letting it slip away.
He took in the sight of the black lace underwear barely visible through your stockings, eyes tracing the curve of your ass down to the back of your thighs. You waited, breath held, your body aching for the return of his touch.
At last, he unfastened your stockings and slid your underwear down with maddening control. His palm pressed against your bare skin—testing, feeling—as if searching for the perfect spot.
Without a word—slap!
You gasped, the sudden sting stealing your breath.
Another strike—harder this time.
Then another. And another.
He didn’t stop until you’d lost count. By the time he was done and satisfied, your ass throbbed, red and burning. You winced as you pulled your skirt back up, the fabric scraping raw against your skin.
Leaning in, he whispered in your ear, “Now, go home.”
That day had changed everything; going to work each morning thrilled you like never before.
Hanbin felt it too—though he made sure you’d never know. He maintained his composure, face impassive, speaking only when necessary—usually when you made a mistake, which, more often than not, you did on purpose.
“What did I say about commas?” he’d scold you, tone clipped.
“Sorry, sir. I’ll fix it.”
“Do it again.”
“Yes, sir. I will.”
“You’ve been slipping.”
“I know.”
“I gave you more responsibility because I thought you could handle it.”
“I can,” you said through clenched teeth.
You couldn’t tell if he was convinced. His gaze locked on you in a way that made you feel exposed—like he was dissecting you, as if you were something to be figured out.
And yet, he made you feel seen.
“Bring them back to me as soon as you're done. Don’t use your hands.”
“Understood, sir.”
Again, you obeyed him.
An hour later, you entered his office, the papers clutched delicately between your lips. He saw that your lipstick had been wiped off, leaving only the clean imprint of your effort. He watched as you placed the papers on his desk neatly—no smudges, just proof of your attentiveness. His expression didn’t falter, but you were almost certain his fingers had tightened around his pen.
He hated to admit it, but he liked it. He liked when you improvised—how you found clever ways to accomplish every task he gave you. And this time, you’d used your jaw, your mouth. A mouth he often thought about kissing. Hard.
You both kept it up every day of the week—undetected by anyone else at the firm. No one suspected a thing.
You two were unconventional—didn’t even hold hands in the break room.
But Hanbin had his ways.
He would leave notes on your desk in that annoyingly perfect handwriting of his. Little praises. Daring challenges. Sometimes, just your name written in red ink—like a secret only the two of you understood.
In the following months, Hanbin noticed how much you’d changed. The woman who had often avoided his gaze now looked him straight in the eyes—the same woman who used to apologize even for minor things. You stood taller. Spoke clearer. You had learned to be confident in yourself.
As for him, you weren’t just the fire in his loins—you’d become a light in his life. A light he wanted to keep. For a long time.
One night, after everyone had gone home, he found you still at your computer, typing away. He knew you were pretending, as you always did—finding excuses to stay late so you could wait for him.
“You never give up, do you?”
You looked up, a playful smile on your lips. “Never.”
Hanbin’s gaze glinted. “Can you do this… twenty-four hours a day, seven days a week?”
“You know I can,” you replied, daring, matching the spark in his stare.
For the first time ever, you saw Hanbin smile. God, he looked so good when he smiled—it made your heart jump.
“I’ve made reservations at this Italian place… for us.”
Your smile widened. “Are you asking me out on a date, sir?”
He nodded.
“You know what this means, right?” you teased.
“Yes,” he said softly. “It means this.”
Hanbin walked around your desk, took your hand, and gently pulled you to your feet.
Then he kissed you—not rushed, not demanding. Just real.
All the things yet to come (Are all the things that have already passed)
𝙿𝚊𝚒𝚛𝚒𝚗𝚐 ⦂ Mentor! B.I x Female! Tribute! Reader ─── 𝚆𝚘𝚛𝚍 𝙲𝚘𝚞𝚗𝚝 ⦂ 2,473 two thousand four hundred and seventy three words ─── 𝙶𝚎𝚗𝚛𝚎 ⦂ Angst ꕤ Hunger Games AU ─── 𝙰𝚋𝚘𝚞𝚝 ⦂ It's the 15th Games and Y/N's been unlucky enough to be reaped to participate in them. And Y/N knows what fate has in store for her in upcoming days. ─── 𝚆𝚊𝚛𝚗𝚒𝚗𝚐𝚜 ⦂ Using B.I's legal name ꕤ Hunger Games canon traumatic events ꕤ One mention of throwing up ꕤ Talking about death/dying ꕤ Pessimistic Reader ꕤ Possible age gap (no age is deliberately said so its left up to interpretation) ꕤ Capitol Citizens being creepy with reader
── ⋆⋅𑣿⋅⋆ ─── ⋆⋅𑣿⋅⋆ ─── ⋆⋅𑣿⋅⋆ ──
"Welcome to the 15th Hunger Games! And may the odds be ever in your favor!" the brightly colored man cheerfully announced. He stood out amongst the dull crowd of terrified teens and their families. Their presence an new edition to the reapings and games. Everyone was fair game for the Capitol now — no amount of popularity or money could save anyone now. "Alright, for our Ladies..." they continued in the same manner despite the silence from the crowd. You watched diligently, breathe held in deep anticipation as they grabbed a slip of paper. "Y/N L/N!"
Your ears ringing and breath caught in your throat as everyone's eyes turned to you. As though you were trudging through quicksand, you dragged your feet behind you, slowly splitting away from the crowd. You didn't register going onto the stage, your partner being pullled nor as you were ushered into the district hall.
"3 minutes," a peacekeeper harshly spoke as he opened the door for your parents. Your mother sweeping you up into her arms, your father embracing the both of you. Finally, your tears broke through your waterline as you relaxed into their embrace.
"You're strong," your father said, tears in his eyes and voice breaking slightly. "You stand a chance." The words meant to comfort you despite the truth all of you knew. This was your end. You would leave today, only to return in the same wooden caskets as those before. You nodded wordlessly as you watched your parents — you'd never seen them in this state before. Your father, who always appeared strong & calm, with tears silently streaming down his face. And your mother holding back her sobs with a hand over her mouth.
"Never forget that we love you dear," your mother told you.
"I love the both of you too," you responded, taking them in a hug once again. The minutes passed sooner than you liked, your parents ripped out of the room from you. You were forced in the opposite direction, onto the train with your district partner, Colt, and escort not far ahead. The escort uselessly rambling on about the luxury of the capitol — not that either you or Colt were paying attention. You watched in silence as the train pulled off. Taking in the last of your home's scenery before it was replaced by the Capitol's city sights. As the last of the cow fields disappeared from your sight, you could your stomach churn in protest. You stumbled to a bathroom, ignoring your escort's sounds of possible concern, barely making it to the toilet before the contents of your earlier breakfast left your mouth. The acid burning your throat as it came up.
. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁˚ ༘ 𑣿⋆ ₊˚. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁
"Welcome to your new home!"
"Yeah, some home all right," Colt remarked under his breath as the two of you followed.
"It's better than the stables," a male voice spoke from the around the corner. The 8th games Victor, Hanbin from District 6, revealed himself as he joined the three of you in the living room.
"Ah~ There he is, your mentor," your escort excitedly introduced with a clap of their hands. Hanbin grimly smiled at you and Colt as you approached closer.
"So mentor, how do we win?" Colt asked as he sat down on the couch.
"Be smart."
'What resounding advice' you thought as you trailed behind your partner. That wasn't anything new that you couldn't have figured out from watching the games before. Winning the games rarely came down to luck; victors won due to some sort of strength — whether physically or mentally. "That's helpful," you muttered sarcastically.
"It is. Being smart means surviving. And that's why I'm here: to make you smart," Hanbin coldly spat out, emphasizing the last of his words. "Learn from me or don't. It's your life on the line," he continued, crossing his arms on his chest.
"And what advice do you have for us?"
"I can't speak from my own experience on how to charm the capitol but it's best to create a favorable image for yourself," he explains. "But what I do know is: don't paint a target on your back for the other tributes. Downplay any skills you might have," Hanbin advises as he makes pointed eye contact with the two of you.
"What if you have none?" Colt asks. He's younger than you, most likely not yet or recently having joined the work force in 10. And if you can recall correctly: his family works raising some of the livestock than handling any potential weapons. You bite at your cheek as you look away from Colt — feeling pity for the younger, his chances much lower than your already low ones. Based on previous games, he'll be dead within the first 5 minutes of it starting — likely to be killed in the beginning massacre.
"Don't worry, you can learn something in training. And you?" Hanbin's eyes lazily look towards your direction, one of his perfectly groomed eyebrows raised in question.
"I worked in the slaughterhouse with my folks."
"So you must be handy with a knife then."
"I guess," you say with a half-hearted shrug. You didn't particularly think of yourself as skilled in that area. Nor did you think it would helpful in fighting against the other tributes. "But that's only at a close range," you tack on, voice low as you sneak a glance to your left at the younger beside you.
"That's better than nothing," Hanbin responds calmly. He sips at his glass, frowning at the both of you. "I don't know what arena you'll face but my best advice, for the both of you, don't engage yourself in any fights. Running away means survival."
. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁˚ ༘ 𑣿⋆ ₊˚. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁
You inhale deeply, the cold wind whisking through the air, as you step outside. Your body aching and sore -- muslces tense in their pain. Rolling your shoulders, you look up at the darkly plain sky. The Capitol's lights having erased the stars you'd typically find comfort in back home. Stepping further out, you jump as you notice the figure of someone else in your peripheral. "OH MY GOD, do you get off on jump-scaring people?" you exclaim to the silent man. He chuckled in response, a smile finding it's way onto his face.
"Sorry," Hanbin spoke, not sounding very apologetic as he continued to laugh. "Force of habit, I guess," Hanbin lightly joked as he turned to properly look at you. Eyeing him, you moved to the other side of the balcony.
"Some habit of yours."
"You'll gain your own after this," he tells you, still facing your direction.
"Sure, I will," you say sarcastically, wistfully looking away to the lifeless night sky. A beat of awkward silence passes between the two of you.
"I miss them too," Hanbin speaks after clearing his throat. "They're probably the one good thing we have in the districts," he continues as though he can't stand the quiet for the moment.
"Yeah," you sigh in agreence. With a smile coming to your face you continue "My Grandpa once taught me how to find their shapes when I was a child."
"Really?" he asks, his eyebrows raised, in shocked amusement. You nod strongly as you uselessly strech your hand out to the sky. "Do you still remember any of them?"
"Not really," you say, your shoulders falling as you turn your attention to him. "He taught me their names but I don't really remember them anymore."
"Did you have a favorite?"
"I do," you answer with a bright grin at his question. "It's depicted to look like a small bear. I don't think there was a story behind it..." you ponder out-loud to Hanbin.
"Does that matter?" he asks, leaning in closer to you. Shaking your head with a laugh, you smile at him.
"No, it doesn't."
"Would you teach me one day? When there's actually stars to see," Hanbin says with his eyes twinkling back at you.
"Sure, one day then."
. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁˚ ༘ 𑣿⋆ ₊˚. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁
"And now welcome to the stage, from District 10: Y/N L/N!" the announcer — Lucky Flickerman — spoke loudly and enuthistically into the mic. You felt numb, the lights blinding you and the audience's cheers deafening you as you were guided onto the stage. You felt uncomfortable in your clothes — the fabric showing off more skin than you'd like. You wanted to run and cover yourself from the world, not stand and smile in front of their peering eyes.
"Hello, Mr. Flickerman. Nice to meet you," you greeted the older man with a practiced fake smile. Hanbin suggested being friendly was the best option to trying to win over sponsers. To play innocent farm kids rather than ruthless machines or charming heart-throbs.
"Oh so polite," Lucky Flickerman spoke, more to the crowd than you, with a smile.
"It's just how we're raised back home," you responded, laughing despite yourself.
"And such a pretty laugh," he commented with a laugh of his own. "Do you have someone waiting for you in District 10? A lucky man by any chance?" He continued, now looking at you. You resisted the need to squirm under his gaze.
"No, sir. Just my parents are waiting for my return."
"Well, I'm sure the boys will be fighting for a chance with you once you do. I would be," he jokes to his and the audience's amusement. Uneasily you laughed along with them despite your discomfort growing more. You wanted off the stage and out of these clothes — the dreaded capitol apartment seeming appealing to you now. It's offer of semi-privacy from the thousand of eyes on you comforting.
—.☘︎ ݁˖—
"Amazing! They loved you up there," your escort cheered as you walked down the stairs. Wrapping your arms around yourself, you nodded soullessly to his comment. "You did much better than expected. You're bound to have sponsers at your feet," he rambled on, oblivious to your discomfort.
"Here," a husky voice whispered low into your ear as a black leather jacket was placed onto your shoulders. Turning your head, you made eye contact with Hanbin.
"Thank you," you mouthed to him, eyes overflowing with appretiation as you looked up at him. Hanbin didn't respond, looking away as he instead surveyed the room. Silently, you looped your arms into the jacket — grateful for the cover it provided from lingering eyes.
"Come on," Hanbin spoke, jaw set tightly in displeasure. He gently placed his hand onto your lower back, guiding you futher away from the open area.
—.☘︎ ݁˖—
You sat in the dark of the room, curled into yourself on the couch. Startling as a door creeked open and the lights flickered on — revealing Hanbin standing there in an oversized white shirt.
"Why are you awake?" he askes, eyebrows furrowed in confusion as he stared at your figure.
"Couldn't sleep," you replied as you curled futher into yourself.
"Why's that?" You watched as he walked past the couch into the kitchen. Casually pouring himself a glass of water as though he hadn't discovered you in the middle of the nightwas a typical interaction for the two of you. And maybe you could trick yourself into belieiving it as well if the thought of tomorrow didn't loom like a dark cloud over your head.
"It might sound a little odd but..." you trailed off, looking away from the older male before continuing. "But I feel dirty. Like their eyes are still on me; looking where I don't want them to." You're taken aback by surprise when the couch dips next to you. Hanbin's hand outstreched towards you, quietly offering a glass of cold water. He's silent as you gently take the cup, urging you to drink through his eyes.
"There's nothing I could say to comfort you." His eyes glide to the thinly concealed camera, jaw clicking as he glares in it's direction. "And if you win, it's not promised to be any better," Hanbin says realitstically — never one to sugar-coat his words. You've come to appericate that aspect from him, especially in a time where everybody seems to be lying.
"So it's better to die?"
"No." Hanbin's head snaps to look at you, his disapporval clear. "Dying means they win: without consquences."
"And what does living mean?" You ask, eyebrow raised curiously, tilting your head as you make eye contact with him.
"That's for you to decide." In stunned silence you watch as Hanbin rises from the couch, returning to his bedroom before stopping infront of the door. "Don't stay up too long," He adds, shortly looking back at you.
. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁˚ ༘ 𑣿⋆ ₊˚. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁
It's oddly quiet as you leave your bedroom. While the previous mornings couldn't be described as lively either; today's quiet is grimmer than usual.
"Come, come," your escort urges you, noticing your still lingering figure, with a wave of his hand. "We're on a tight schedule today," he says as though it's regular day back at District 10. As though tonight, the two of you'd return to the apartment for dinner. As though the two of you would return at all. The casuality of his setence angering you but you swallow it down. Choosing instead to stare blankly at the array of food on the table before you as you sit down.
"Here, you should eat something," Hanbin says softly, placing an biscuit onto your plate. In a lackluster manner, you follow his words despite the obselete desair to do so. And once again, time doesn't wait for your preparation. Your escort ushering you and Colt to the elevator in what feels to be a blink of an eye. "Wait a moment," Hanbin says, grabbing your wrist as he holds you back.
"Make it quick." You're surprised, your escort's tone lacking it's typical cheerful upbeat as he advises the two of you. Both you and Hanbin nod, like scolded children, before watching the other two move around the corner.
"Hanbin?" you ask as you turn to the mentor. He's quiet, still watching beyond the corner. "What is it?" you ask again in concern, eyebrows furrowing as you look at him.
"Just.." he trails off, staring at where his hand is still wrapped around your wrist. "Don't count yourself out so soon. I'm not," Hanbin says with a caress to your wrist. You scan his face in stunned silence as his words settle warmly into your chest. The words felt different from his mouth, confident unlike when others had spoke similarly.
—.☘︎ ݁˖—
𝚜𝚑𝚊𝚗'𝚜 𝚝𝚑𝚘𝚞𝚐𝚑𝚝𝚜
i actually feel bad for Colt. imagine being in his shoes & your shared mentor only pulls one of you to the side!! ㅠㅠ
you woke up on your bed when you smelled something from outside of your bedroom. getting up from your bed, bring the headache straight to your head. ah i went crazy last night.
trying your best not to bump into the walls while walking to the kitchen till you see someone’s back, cooking something, smelled like pancakes. his back turned around, “youre awake?” you nodded.
“did you sleep here, bin?” he nodded, “i fell asleep on the couch, i was planning to drive back home but yea” he shrugged. “i see. are you making pancakes?” “yea, i made some hangover soup for you too. go wash your face first”
after brushing your teeth and all, you started eating the soup hanbin made for you, “bin” he looked at you with pancakes full in his mouth. you chuckled, “i want to ask you something” he nodded, “go on”
“did i do something yesterday..?” he tilt his head, “what do you mean?” you sighed, “did i… sleep with someone..?” he stared at me with a shock face “wh-.. i.. uh.. no..” you frowned, “really? youre not lying right?”
she doesn’t remember.
but she has the right to know, hanbin.
you shrugged, “i asked because when im drunk, i’ll wake up with someone beside me. but, i’ll just believe you. thank you for the soup, i feel so much better now. youre done right? i’ll go wash the dishes” you were going to take his plate but he hold your wrist, “i lied.” you looked at him, “hm?” you sat back down.
“i..u- we..” he stuttered. “what is it?” you asked. “we..” we?… oh … oh. “hanbin, did we..?” he tries avoid your eye contact, “i couldn’t.. hold myself.” he sighed, “imsosorryiknowyouhatemenowyoucanpunchmeslapmeitsmyfault” you chuckled and hold his hand, “hanbin, i dont hate you.” he looked up to you, “but-“ “im pretty sure its my fault” you looked down. silence came for like 5 seconds till he speaks up, “i didn’t hate it though..” you smiled, “even though i cant remember it, but i didnt regret it. im glad it was you. its really a shame that i cant remember it” you caressed his hand before letting go and took the dishes to go wash it. he sat there, eyes widen a little when he heard you say that. then his mind went back to last night..
“we shouldn’t…” his mouth said it while his body reacted the opposite, his hand on your waist, pulling your close even though he keep repeating shit like “we shouldn’t” “we cant”
“i know you want it too, bin..” he hates how right are you and that he cant deny that. the way your hand feels on him. no, she’s drunk. you cant hanbin. “you wont regret this, i promise.” you whispered as your lips brush against his. im fucked. “ah fuck it” he groans before smashing his lips into yours, immediately entering his tongue in.
pushing you down your bed, both instantly taking off your clothes. “do you have any condom, princess?” you shakes your head, “fuck me raw, hanbin.”
his mind went back, looking down to his pants, seeing his hard cock already bulging the pants. he turned to you at the sink, before biting his lips, trying to stop himself. i didn’t regret it. thats what she said. she didnt regret it.
you heard hanbin standing up from his chair before you feel his presence behind you, when youre about to turn around, he hugged you from behind. “han-“ then you feel it. something poking your ass. he sighed into your neck, “i cant stop thinking about it..” he mumbles. you can feel your face turning red. “you’ll remember this time, princess. please just let me..” he starts grinding on you slowly. you turned to him, “do whatever you want to me, bin.” he stared at you before smashing his lips on yours.
It was a small glade with a river running through it and sunflowers everywhere. It made his small cramped office more depressing to hang such a picture on his wall, but at least now he could pretend he had a window.
Hanbin knew you hated his job as much as much as he did. You could’ve pushed him to quit and pursue his dream making music, but you understood that he needed something reliable to pay the bills. Even if it was soul sucking.
Just as he sat as his desk, there was a delicate knock at his door. He looked up to find your gorgeous smile. “Hey, Binnie.”
“Hey, baby.” He tried to stand but you waved him off, shutting the door behind you then going to sit on his lap. “What brings you all the way up here?”
You pressed a kiss to his cheek. “Had to go to FedEx to drop off packages for shipping. I saw that I wasn’t too far from you and thought I’d come see you. Did I interrupt anything?”
He kissed your neck in return. “Not at all. I just put up the painting you bought,” he nodded his head in its direction, “and was thinking it’s way too beautiful to be kept away in here.”
You looked at it. “Hm. You could paint your office a color to match the palette. Make it more cheery and calming.” You pursed your lips as you thought about it. “Some plants and knick-knacks and it could remind you of home.”
“So I should just paint your face across one wall? ‘Cause home is wherever you are.”
You blushed and hid your face in his neck. “Stop it.”
“It’s true! I think I could happy anywhere as long as you’re with me.”
Pairing: time traveller!B.I x time traveller!reader
Summary: The Person of Action and the Person of Withholding: two forces materialized in the form of people who time travel to keep the world’s balance. When they meet, who knows what will happen.
[a/n]: can you tell that i miss him?
this is written kind of like a blurb or synopsis or summary or something.. so if anyone wants a more fleshed out version or anything relating to this, just shoot me an ask :-)
The ability to time travel was both a blessing and a curse. It was fascinating to see the world during different time periods, but your responsibilities were a big burden. You couldn’t choose where you wanted to go, or rather, when, and you were only allowed to stay for a set number of days. During this time, you had tasks to complete. They could be as small as moving a potted plant or as big as stopping someone from taking a job offer. By carrying out these tasks, you would maintain the peace and natural flow of the world. Some things were not meant to happen, and it was your job to stop them from happening.
Someone else was in charge of making things happen. The two of you were opposing forces: contrasting greatly but vital for the world. You both needed to exist and carry out your tasks so that the world would not fall apart.
You rarely met. In fact, you never met until you were both sent to the same time at the same time.
He was required to assist a group of musicians, a band who wanted to make their debut. You were required to put the debut of the competing trainees on hold.
Your first meeting with him in the company’s building was not even a proper meeting. The two of you passed by without batting an eye, and it was only after he was long gone that you realized he was wearing a ring on his finger when he passed you. His ring was red; you knew that ring.
The ring of Action.
Yours was blue, the ring of Withholding.
That was how you were able to realize who he was, and when you found him in the building again, you greeted him. He was too lost in his work to properly pay attention to you, but he still smiled politely and greeted you in return.
It was as you were buying a coffee for yourself when he finally realized, noticing the blue ring on your finger as you held your credit card, ready to pay.
“It’s you?” he asked, when you stepped out of the line to wait for your coffee.
You recognized him right away.
“It’s me, which means it’s also you?” you asked in return.
The two of you had to speak strangely because no one was allowed to know of your existence. Time travelling was only a rumour, and the ideas of destiny and fate were used to cover up your presence.
He nodded with a small smile, scratching the back of his neck.
“I never thought I would meet you,” he said. “I’m Hanbin.”
You twisted the ring around your finger, feeling shy. Who knew that the Person of Action would emit such a warm energy...
You were able to discuss your role with him over coffee, laughing and venting about some of the previous tasks you had to carry out in the past. It felt nice to be able to actually tell someone about your duty for once, to open up and talk to someone who understood.
He also shared a few stories with you, too.
You had to leave this time setting after thirty days, and so did he. At first, you were worried about spending so much time in a foreign place all alone, but after meeting Hanbin, you were able to spend all those days in his company.
While completing your task, you were able to be with Hanbin when you weren’t busy. He gave you advice and you also consoled him in return.
You didn’t think that your rings would turn purple. You didn’t think that you would fall in love.
It only took two weeks for you to realize that he was your other half, that you loved him.
When thirty days were up, both of you were in deep. You had spent intimate days and night together going on dates. He felt like the closest person to you, even though you had just met him.
After thirty days, it was time to go. You didn’t know when you would see Hanbin again, and as you said goodbye to him, he pressed a finger to your lips.
“Not goodbye, but see you soon. If we met once, we’re bound to meet again.” His smile was all teary eyes and wobbly mouth, but it was beautiful.
You were also struggling to hold back tears as he cupped your face in his warm hands, stroking your cheeks with his thumbs. The kiss that he planted on your nose left a tingling sensation even as you both disappeared.
-
“[y/n], I am somewhat disappointed in you.”
“What is it, master?”
“I allowed to two of you to meet, but I did not want you to meet in that way. The two of you are parallel lines, heading in the same direction but never supposed to touch. Sure, he was present in the same time as you. But did you have to go and make your rings turn purple?”
“I don’t understand. What’s wrong with that?”
“You are meant to exist separately. If you collide, the world’s balance will turn into chaos. Thank goodness I set your time limit to thirty days. If you continued to meet with him and your ring became a deeper purple, we would not be able to recover.”
“Why did you let me meet him then?”
“It was a test of your conscience. I realize that the test was too difficult, though. I will have to separate the two of you properly, now.”
-
He still searched for you. He searched for you in the stars that you had peered at together one night; he searched for you in cafés that reminded him of the ones where you shared your deepest feelings; he searched for you in every place where you had left your trace, in every place where his memories with you lived in reality.
You both carried out your duties diligently, but you were both nothing but two separated souls who longed for each other at night.
