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zbtving · 23 days ago

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⋆｡𖦹°‧ faking it for real | sung hanbin | series |

PART 1: the rules of pretending

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⊹ summary: when raising actress y/n, is forced into a fake engagement with A-list star hanbin, it’s meant to be nothing more than a publicity stunt, right??

⊹ pairing: actor!hanbin x actress!reader

⊹ genre: rom-com

⊹ status: ongoing

⊹ word count: 16k

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I slam the script onto the glossy marble counter, barely resisting the urge to throw it at Hanbin’s stupid, smug face.

“You stole my role.”

Hanbin, leaning lazily against the table, barely glances up from his drink. His lips curl into that infuriating smirk, the one that makes the tabloids call him “charmingly arrogant.” I’d call it “punchable.”

“I didn’t steal anything,” he says, swirling the amber liquid in his cup. ��I was offered the role. I accepted. Simple as that.”

My fingers curl into fists. “I auditioned for it! The director said I was perfect! And then you—” I gesture wildly at him, “just waltzed in at the last second and took it!”

Hanbin tilts his head, pretending to think. “Hmm. Maybe they realized they needed someone with more… star power.” His eyes flicker with amusement. “No hard feelings, right?”

Oh, I hate him.

“No hard feelings?” I scoff. “You stole my job, and you expect me to be okay with it?”

He takes a slow sip of his drink, completely unbothered. “I expect you to be professional.”

“Professional?” My voice rises. “You’ve spent half your career coasting on your looks and name recognition, and you have the nerve to talk to me about professionalism?”

Hanbin places his cup down and finally—finally—gives me his full attention. “You really think that, huh?” His voice drops an octave, the teasing edge gone. “That I don’t work hard? That I don’t deserve my success?”

I fold my arms. “I think you’ve never had to fight for anything.”

A slow smirk returns to his lips. “And yet, here I am. The one with the role. Funny how that worked out.”

Before I can hurl an insult, a sudden burst of light flashes in my peripheral vision. I turn sharply—paparazzi. A whole pack of them, cameras clicking, whispering excitedly.

Hanbin notices too, and to my horror, his smirk deepens. “Careful,” he murmurs, lowering his voice so only I can hear. “Wouldn’t want them to think we’re fighting.”

I glare at him. “That’s exactly what we’re doing.”

“Not from their perspective.”

He’s right. From the outside, we probably look like we’re in some kind of intense, intimate moment—my furious expression, his lazy amusement, the way we’re standing too close.

And then, because the universe has a twisted sense of humor, Hanbin does something outrageous. He leans in, just a fraction, just enough for the cameras to go wild.

The headlines will write themselves.

I shove him away. “You are insufferable.”

Hanbin chuckles, completely unbothered. “And yet, you can’t take your eyes off me.”

I grit my teeth. “That’s because I’m imagining setting you on fire.”

He presses a hand to his heart. “Passionate. I like that.”

The cameras keep flashing, and I swear under my breath. This is not how I wanted tonight to go.

“I’m leaving,” I snap.

Hanbin watches me with that same maddening smirk. “See you at the press conference, sweetheart.”

I turn on my heel and storm off, my blood boiling.

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I storm out of the studio, my heels clicking furiously against the pavement. The cold night air does little to cool my temper. Behind me, the paparazzi are still shouting, their cameras flashing like lightning in a storm.

“Are you and Hanbin dating?”

“Was that a lovers’ quarrel?”

“How long have you been together?”

I clench my jaw and pick up my pace, desperate to escape.

My phone vibrates in my purse, and I yank it out, already knowing who it is.

“What the hell was that?” my manager, Saeun, hisses the moment I answer. “I told you to keep a low profile, not start a scandal!”

I rub my temples. “It wasn’t my fault! Hanbin was being—Hanbin.”

“And you fell for it.” She sighs. “The internet is already exploding. Do you know what the top trend is right now?”

I don’t answer, but my silence says enough.

“#HanbinY/NDating.”

I nearly drop my phone. “Are you kidding me?”

“Nope.” I hear furious typing on her end. “There are already fan edits of the two of you. Some people are calling you ‘soulmates,’ and others think you had a secret relationship this entire time.”

I groan. “Unbelievable.”

“What’s unbelievable is that you shoved him. Why would you do that in front of cameras?”

“Because he’s insufferable! And he leaned in on purpose—he wanted this to happen!”

“Of course he did! He thrives on this kind of attention!” saeun sighs again, and I can hear the exhaustion in her voice. “Look, the agency’s calling a meeting first thing tomorrow morning. You and Hanbin need to do damage control.”

Before I can respond, a black car pulls up beside me. The tinted window rolls down, revealing Hanbin, his usual smug expression firmly in place.

“Need a ride, sweetheart?” he drawls.

I glare at him. “I’d rather walk barefoot through broken glass.”

His grin widens. “Suit yourself.” and then he drives away.

I hate him.

I really hate him.

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“Excuse me, what?”

I stare at my manager, waiting for her to take back the absolutely insane thing she just said.

“We need to capitalize on the media buzz,” she says instead, arms crossed like she’s already decided my fate. “The internet thinks you and Hanbin have insane chemistry. We’re turning it into a PR stunt.”

I let out a sharp laugh. “No. Absolutely not.”

Saeun gives me a pointed look. “It’s already been arranged. The studio wants you two to fake date until the movie’s premiere.”

I groan, dragging my hands down my face. “Why me?”

“Because,” she says, as if it’s obvious, “your name is trending for the first time, and this could skyrocket your career.”

I hate that she has a point.

Before I can argue, the door swings open, and he walks in.

Hanbin.

Looking annoyingly perfect as always, dressed in a fitted black sweater that’s way too flattering for his own good. His confidence fills the room before he even speaks, and I instantly know he’s enjoying this way too much.

His gaze sweeps over me, and then he smirks. “Guess you heard the good news.”

I shoot him a glare. “This is your fault.”

He places a hand over his chest in mock offense. “My fault? I didn’t tell the media to fall in love with us.”

“Us?” I scoff. “There is no us.”

Hanbin shrugs. “Not according to the internet.”

I grit my teeth. “I hate you.”

“Aw.” He leans against the desk beside me, tilting his head. “That’s not a very romantic thing to say to your boyfriend.”

Saeun clears her throat. “Let’s focus, please. We have a lot to discuss.”

I throw up my hands. “There’s nothing to discuss! I’m not doing it.”

Saeun pinches the bridge of her nose. “Look, I know this isn’t ideal, but this kind of attention is golden. You’re getting more press than ever, and the studio loves it.”

I cross my arms. “So? I’d rather succeed because of my talent, not some ridiculous fake relationship.”

Hanbin chuckles under his breath. “Well, I think it’s a great idea.”

I whip my head toward him. “Of course you do.”

He grins. “It’s a win-win. More attention for the movie, more fans for you, and I get to spend time with my favorite co-star.”

I glare at him. “I’d rather eat glass.”

Saeun sighs. “Too bad. You’re doing it.”

I gape at her. “You can’t force me.”

She gives me a knowing look. “Oh, really? Should I remind you about your contract? The one that has a promotional obligations clause?”

I freeze.

Crap.

Hanbin whistles lowly. “Oof. You didn’t read the fine print, did you?”

I clench my fists. “Shut up.”

Saeun pats my shoulder. “It’s only for a few months. Smile, hold hands, pretend you don’t hate each other. Simple.”

I shoot Hanbin a death glare. “If you so much as breathe near me, I swear—”

Hanbin smirks, leaning in just enough to make my pulse spike. “Careful, sweetheart. Wouldn’t want the fans to think we’re faking it.”

And somehow, this is only the beginning.

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Our first date is a disaster.

Not that I expected anything else.

The moment we step out of the sleek black car, cameras flash from every direction. Hanbin, ever the professional, slides an arm around my waist like it’s second nature. I stiffen. His touch is light, almost casual, but the way his fingers linger sends an unexpected shiver up my spine.

“Relax,” he murmurs, his voice smooth and calm, as if this is all perfectly normal. “Try to at least look like you’re enjoying yourself.”

I grit my teeth. “Try to at least pretend you’re not an arrogant ass.”

Hanbin chuckles, the low sound vibrating against my skin. “This is going to be so fun.”

“Only for you,” I mutter under my breath.

I don’t get the chance to tell him just how not fun this is before we’re swept into the restaurant—a five-star, ultra-exclusive spot reserved for A-listers and the ridiculously wealthy. The kind of place that probably charges extra for breathing its air. Hanbin, naturally, acts like he owns it.

“Sir, your usual table is ready,” the man says, leading us to a candlelit table by the window—a perfect view for the paparazzi waiting outside.

I scowl as Hanbin picks up his menu, completely at ease. “You could at least pretend to be interested,” he says without looking up.

“I could say the same to you.”

He smirks. “Oh, but I am interested. Just not in the food.” He finally looks up, eyes gleaming with amusement. “You’re much more entertaining.”

I resist the urge to throw my menu at him. “Enjoy it while it lasts.”

“Oh, sweetheart, I plan to.”

I ignore him and focus on the menu, which—of course—is filled with dishes that sound more like riddles than actual food.

“What the hell is a ‘deconstructed truffle-infused foam risotto’?” I whisper, horrified.

Hanbin snickers. “Want me to order for you?”

I narrow my eyes. “No. I am perfectly capable of ordering my own food, thank you very much.”

Two minutes later, I point at a random item and try to pronounce it. I fail.

Hanbin grins as the waiter turns to him. “She’ll have the filet mignon, medium rare,” he says smoothly. “And an extra side of truffle fries.”

The waiter nods and disappears. I gape at Hanbin. “Did you just—”

He leans back in his chair, looking way too pleased with himself. “You’ll thank me later.”

I cross my arms. “You’re really enjoying this, aren’t you?”

“I have to say, watching you struggle with fine dining has been a highlight of my week.”

I glare at him. “You know what would be the highlight of my week? Watching you trip and fall on your stupidly perfect face.”

Hanbin smirks. “Careful, sweetheart. That almost sounded like a compliment.”

I groan and drop my head into my hands.

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The night drags on, filled with him teasing me at every opportunity. But the worst part? The cameras love us together.

I can already imagine the headlines:

“Hanbin and Rising Star Caught on Romantic Dinner Date!”

“The Chemistry is Unreal!”

“Are They Really Just Acting?”

I scowl at my plate, stabbing my fork into my filet mignon like it personally offended me. Hanbin watches with open amusement.

“Why do you look like you’re plotting a murder?” he asks.

“Because I am.”

His lips twitch. “Should I be worried?”

“No, you’re not the target.” I glance at the window, where a cluster of paparazzi are snapping photos. “I’m thinking of assassinating a few photographers first.”

Hanbin chuckles. “That’s one way to make headlines.”

I sigh. “This is exhausting.”

He takes a sip of his wine, still looking infuriatingly relaxed. “That’s because you’re trying too hard to fight it.”

I glare at him. “Unlike some people, I don’t have a lifetime of experience pretending to be charming.”

Hanbin gasps dramatically. “Are you saying my charm isn’t natural?”

“I’m saying it’s a carefully manufactured scam, and I see right through it.”

He grins. “And yet, here you are. Fake dating me.”

“Trust me, it wasn’t my idea.”

Hanbin shrugs. “Could be worse. I could be some talentless hack with no social skills.”

“You are a talentless hack with no social skills.”

He laughs, and to my horror, it sounds genuine.

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I feel like I’ve just run a marathon. My face hurts from all the fake smiling.

As we step outside, the paparazzi swarm again.

Just when I think I’m finally free—

Hanbin tugs me close, his lips brushing against my ear. “Smile,” he murmurs. “This is the moment they’ll put on the front page.”

And before I can protest, he kisses my cheek.

The world explodes in camera flashes.

My breath catches, and for a split second, I forget how to function.

Then he pulls back, looking way too pleased with himself.

I narrow my eyes. “I hate you.”

Hanbin grins. “Sure you do.”

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The internet loses its mind overnight.

By the next morning, my phone is flooded with notifications. Twitter is covered in clips of Hanbin’s cheek kiss, slowed down to an infuriating degree.

“Hanbin and (Y/N): Are They Faking It?”

“The Chemistry is Unreal!”

“Forget Their Movie—We Need a Rom-Com Starring Them IRL!”

I groan and throw my phone across the bed.

This is my nightmare.

A sharp knock at my door startles me. I groan again, dragging myself out of bed to answer it.

Standing in my doorway, looking as infuriatingly perfect as ever, is Hanbin.

I blink. “No. Absolutely not.”

He raises an eyebrow. “I haven’t even said anything yet.”

“You don’t have to. Your existence is already annoying enough.”

Hanbin smirks like he takes that as a compliment. “Charming as ever, sweetheart.”

I cross my arms. “Why are you here?”

He holds up two iced coffees. “Figured you’d need caffeine after last night.”

I eye the coffee suspiciously. “What’s in it?”

Hanbin scoffs. “Do you really think I’d poison you?”

“Honestly? I wouldn’t put it past you.”

He rolls his eyes and takes a dramatic sip of one of the cups. “See? No poison. Just good old-fashioned caffeine to fuel your daily dose of hating me.”

I narrow my eyes but take the coffee anyway. “Fine. But I still don’t trust you.”

“That’s the foundation of every great fake relationship.” He leans against the doorframe, looking way too pleased with himself. “Speaking of which, we should… rehearse.”

I nearly choke on my coffee. “Rehearse? For what?”

Hanbin gestures vaguely. “If we’re going to keep this up, we should make sure our stories match. You know, in case we get asked about our relationship.”

I scowl. “Fine. But no unnecessary touching.”

Hanbin raises an eyebrow, that damn smirk creeping back. “Unnecessary? So you admit some of it is necessary?”

I slam the door in his face.

From the other side, I hear him laugh. “I’ll take that as a yes.”

I begrudgingly let him in (after making him swear to keep his hands to himself), and we sit across from each other on my couch.

He pulls out his phone, scrolling through something. “Alright, let’s start with the basics. Where did we ‘meet’?”

I frown. “We met at the audition.”

Hanbin snorts. “Right, because nothing says ‘romance’ like you accusing me of stealing your role.”

“Because you did steal it.”

He waves a hand dismissively. “Let’s go with something cuter. Maybe we met at a coffee shop.”

I give him a flat look. “That is literally the most cliché fake dating backstory ever.”

He grins. “Exactly. The media eats that stuff up.”

I groan. “Fine. We met at a coffee shop. You spilled your drink on me.”

“You ran into me,” Hanbin corrects.

“Why would I be the one running into you?”

“Because it’s more believable. You, flustered and embarrassed, me, charming and forgiving—”

I throw a pillow at him. “Forgiving? Please. You’d find a way to make me apologize.”

Hanbin dodges the pillow, laughing. “You’re learning.”

I sigh, rubbing my temples. “Fine. We met at a coffee shop, and somehow, despite my better judgment, I agreed to go on a date with you.”

Hanbin nods. “Perfect. Now, favorite things about each other?”

I blink. “Excuse me?”

“If people ask us, we need to have answers.” He smirks. “So, what do you love most about me?”

I stare at him. “Your ability to survive despite having zero redeeming qualities.”

Hanbin presses a hand to his heart. “Ouch. That was almost mean.”

I shrug. “I’m just being honest.”

“Alright, then. My favorite thing about you?” He taps his chin, pretending to think. “Probably the way you get all flustered when I—”

“Nope!” I grab a second pillow and hurl it at his face.

Hanbin laughs, catching it effortlessly. “You’re so fun to mess with.”

I groan. “This is going to be the worst thing I’ve ever done.”

He grins. “No, sweetheart. This is going to be the performance of a lifetime.”

And for some reason, that makes me even more nervous.

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