Bang Chan – Fake Dating a Superstar

Bang Chan was supposed to be untouchable. K-pop’s genius producer, the boy who built his career from nothing with relentless practice and raw talent, who wrote lyrics so painfully honest they made you ache.

But these days? He’s tabloid fodder. There are stories of bar fights, leaked recordings of him screaming at managers, late-night lives where he’s barely coherent. Fans can’t decide if they want to save him or abandon him.

And in his latest viral interview, he was asked—point-blank—about his so-called “disaster reputation.” He’d laughed, eyes dark with exhaustion, and said:

“Sure. Fine. The next person I kiss in public? I’ll settle down with them. Let’s see who wants to take that bet.”

It was supposed to be sarcastic. But it became a meme. A punchline. A dare the whole industry wouldn’t forget.

⸻

You weren’t thinking about that when you sat on the floor of your apartment, back against the couch, phone in hand, staring at the photo of your ex smiling with someone new.

The man who lied, borrowed money you’ll never see again, who made you doubt everything about your taste, your judgment. Your chest was tight, eyes burning—but you refused to cry.

Your roommate crouched beside you. “Nope. Not tonight.”

You tried to wave her off. “I’m fine.”

“You’re lying. Get dressed.”

She had two exclusive tickets to the launch of some new club downtown, a favor from her dad. She insisted you needed to get out. You didn’t fight her too hard.

⸻

The club was sleek and modern. Neon lights pulsed with the bass, the air smelled like designer perfume and expensive alcohol.

You let her buy you a drink. Then another. You felt looser with every sip—just a little warm, more willing to let go.

Your friend made you laugh, dancing with her arms over her head, trying to cheer you up. It was working. You were sipping your third drink when you bumped into someone.

He was shorter than you expected, lean, with striking eyes and a sly smile that made your friend go starstruck.

Kim Hongjoong. Idol. Producer. Legend in the making.

You apologized quickly, cheeks hot, but he just laughed. “You alright?”

“Yeah, sorry—I wasn’t watching.”

“Don’t worry.” He glanced at your friend, then back to you. “Haven’t seen you here before, and I'm sure I'd remember a pretty face like yours.”

You introduced yourself, a little shy. He asked what you did.

“I’m trying to be a choreographer.”

His eyebrows lifted. “Yeah? Tell me about that.”

Maybe it was the alcohol, or maybe the fact that he was actually listening—but you talked. About studying movement, about the way beats feel in your bones, about wanting to design for real artists one day.

Hongjoong didn’t look bored. He actually seemed thoughtful. “That’s cool. You sound like you mean it.”

You shrugged. “I do.”

He tipped his head toward the VIP section. “You know who’s here tonight?”

You blinked and shook your head.

“Bang Chan.”

Your heart jumped. “You’re kidding.”

“Nope.” Hongjoong smirked. “He’s… tricky. But he’s got an eye for talent. Might be worth meeting him.”

Your friend looked like she might faint. “Wait—are you serious?”

“I’ll introduce you.”

⸻

VIP was quieter but somehow heavier. Chan sat in a black t-shirt, silver rings on his fingers, glasses perched on his nose. He looked like he hadn’t slept in days but still managed to radiate dangerous charisma.

Hongjoong dropped onto the couch next to him. “Hyung. This is {{user}}. Up-and-coming choreographer. Good brain. Good eye.”

Chan barely lifted his gaze at first, unimpressed.

But you didn’t shrink. Even with the nerves crawling up your spine. You told him your name. Told him you wanted to work. He asked you questions. Direct. Not polite.

“What makes you think you’re good enough?” “What do you even know about this industry?”

You answered every one. Not cocky, but certain.

Hongjoong watched you both with a pleased little smile.

Chan didn’t smile back. But his eyebrow arched once. Almost approving.

You didn’t stay long. You thanked them both and went back to the main bar with your friend, heart thudding.

⸻

More drinks.

Your friend teased you for “holding your own with Bang fucking Chan." You laughed. Warm all over now. A little flushed. Confident. Touchy. You squeezed her hand. Hugged her once. Everything felt… softer.

You realized halfway through your next drink that you’d left your bag in the VIP section. Your friend offered to get it but you waved her off, turning to head back.

Except Chan was already there.

He held the bag in one hand, watching you with that same unreadable expression. “You forgot something.”

Your mouth felt dry. “You didn’t have to—”

“You were too busy celebrating.”

Your friend snorted at that. You shot her a look.

Chan’s eyes were on you. Sharp. Curious. Tired.

And the drinks in your system made you bold. You took a step closer. “Are you always this much of an asshole?”

He huffed a laugh. Low. Dark. “Usually.”

You were so close now you could smell the expensive cologne, see the way his glasses had slipped slightly down his nose.

“Thanks,” you murmured, fingers brushing the bag.

But you didn’t pull it away.

He didn’t let go.

The world felt like it was tilting, the music pulsing behind you like your own heartbeat. Your friend faded into the background.

And you kissed him.

A bit sloppy. Definitely drunk—the kind of drunk that makes you shameless. Hungry. Confident enough to tug him closer by his shirt.

Chan froze for a heartbeat... Then his fingers fisted in your hair and he kissed you back. Hot. Hard. Like he’d been waiting for an excuse.

Phones flashed. People gathered. You heard your friend shriek your name. But you didn’t stop.

When you finally broke apart, you were both panting. His eyes were wide, pupils blown.

“Shit,” he breathed.

You turned and fled, heart hammering so hard you thought you might die, vomit, or pass out.

⸻

By morning it's everywhere.

A REAL LIFE CINDERELLA STORY: BANG CHAN LOOKING FOR MYSTERIOUS CLUB KISS

WHO IS THE MYSTERY CUTIE CAUGHT KISSING BANG CHAN?

Your phone won't stop buzzing... You're just trying to nurse one hell of a hangover with your roommate's incessant teasing- Then your phone rings.

“Hello? Is this {{user}}?”

“Who’s this?”

“This is Jang from 3RACHA Entertainment. Mr. Bang’s management team.”

Your mouth goes dry.

“We’d like to discuss… a proposal. Mr. Bang’s comments about ‘settling down’ have been taken very seriously by the public. Last night’s footage has gone viral. We want to get ahead of the story.”

You say nothing.

“We’re prepared to offer you a contract. Eight weeks. You’ll publicly date him. Attend events. Appear in photos. Live with him if necessary.”

You nearly choke on the glass of water you're drinking from. “Live with him? Date him?"

“You’ll need to sell the relationship. Convince the public you’re in love.”

Your heart thunders. “What do I get out of it?”

“Financial compensation. Debt forgiveness. And guaranteed placements as a choreographer with top-tier acts. Your career launched. No more ‘aspiring.’ Just ‘working.’”

You exhale shakily.

“I need an answer. We'll have someone pick you up so you can sign the contract. I'm offering to change your life in exchange for just eight weeks of it."