#streetracer!han x cop!reader | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

strawberriesoup · 18 hours ago

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catch me if you can PT. 1,, ✮⋆˙

☆ street racer!han jisung x cop!fem!reader

☆ genre: street racing AU, angst, fluff, action, strangers to lovers, illegal activity

☆ warnings: lots of breaking of the law (like, felony-level breaking of the law), cursing, fire, injury/pain, near death experience, suggestive content

☆ wc: 6.5k

☆ a/n: i'm so happy i finally got to sit down and write this first part out! honestly i'm pretty pleased with it, and i hope this motivation can stay for the remaining parts! for now, enjoy!

if you make it all the way through, please leave some feedback! i always love to hear other people’s thoughts!! your feedback is what keeps me writing stories like these ❤️❤️

☆ taglist: @jisunggy @holly-here @hannamoon143 @fly-you-dam-fools @chancloud8 @hannieslittlerockstar @vixensss @skzpvol @gxtwllsn @yinzgarden @kayleefriedchicken @nightmarenyxx @ick2001 @dwesion

if you would like to be added to my series taglist or my general taglist, send me a comment or an ask! <3

── ࣪˖ ࣪ ⊹ ࣪ ˖ ──

Unstoppable, that’s what you are. There’s just something about the way your engine rumbles when you shove in the clutch and shift to a higher gear, how you can feel your tires grip the road beneath you, it’s thrilling. Yellow lines blur into one as you grip the wheel tighter, focusing your attention solely on the path ahead. Just a little farther.

Your blinker flashes as you signal your turn into the Wal-mart parking lot.

Really, you can’t imagine anything more unintresting than grocery shopping. There’s no excitement in searching through various assortments of oranges and grapes, no blaring horns and revving engines to go along with determining the best jug of milk to buy.

When you had joined the city police force, it’s safe to say that this is not how you were expecting to spend your wednesday afternoons.

How embarrassing. Yes, you know that shopping is a normal— and necessary— part of life, but that’s just the thing. It’s normal. Mundane, tedious, dull… Must you go on? A normal thing for normal people to be doing on normal days. Definitely not the action-filled life you had always dreamed of for all those years.

The bitter taste of disappointment fills your mouth as you sulk through the isles. It’s busy today. Groups of people bustle past, none of them paying you any mind. Good. You keep your head tucked towards the ground, not wanting to accidentally make eye contact with someone who might know you. In the back of your mind, you reason that it’s probably ridiculous to be feeling this way. Even still, you don’t lift your face.

The crime rate has been so low recently, with new police recruits popping up left and right, that you aren't even on duty today. While to most that might seem like good news, to you it’s probably the worst news all week. You wish that someone would just start a car chase or something, that way you might get a chance to break the speed limit. Instead,— since you like to manage your expectations somewhat realistically — you’re here, squinting at your shopping list and trying to keep your squeaking cart under control. The gods of choosing a functional shopping cart had not blessed you today.

After an unnecessarily long chat about missing puppies with the sweet old lady who probably broke the world record for the slowest grocery checkout time, you start the trek back out to your car. It shouldn’t be hard to find, given it’s painted a subtle bright crimson. You search the parking lot for the familiar vehicle. Where did you park again? You probably should have paid more attention.

Then, you hear it. At first, you think maybe it’s just the wind whistling around the building behind you. Are you hearing things? No, because there it is again. An unmistakable scream.

Groceries abandoned, you can feel your pulse leap into your temples as you sprint towards the direction of the sound. Whipping your head around, you struggle to get a grip on your surroundings, the midday sun reflecting off the pavement momentarily blinding you.

Another frantic shout brings you to your senses and you are finally able to pinpoint the source of the commotion. Not far off, a cloud of deep black smoke billows from a car on the street. The car had been capsized, shattered glass scattered in a ten-foot radius surrounding it. On first approach, you can’t even tell the front end from the back end. What’s completely unmistakable though, is the gut-dropping smell of an engine fire.

“Mom!” A childs cry rings out above the other panicked voices. A teenage boy holds the little girl in his arms as she rakes at his shoulder in a feeble attempt to break free and run towards the car.

Bystanders are shouting, trying to tear a man away from the door of the car by his arm, shirt, anything they could get a hold of. You can’t tell if the man’s hands are bleeding from the broken glass or from pulling on the door so hard. Who knows, maybe it’s both.

You don’t know if you’ve ever sprung into action so fast. One second you’re assessing the situation, the next you’re shoving people out of the way to access the door.

The window frame had been crushed so much you can barely even see inside the vehicle, let alone utilize it as a viable method of escape. Judging by the lack of law enforcement around the scene, you can tell the car hasn’t been on fire for long. Good. Even though the foul rank of the engine smoke invades your senses, it’s safe to say the vehicle won’t explode. Yet.

Maybe the other door isn’t stuck. You quickly move to the opposite side and tug at the handle, but immediately jerk your hand back when the metal burns your skin. Angrily, you tug a hand across your face. Think. You need to think. Come on, think.

There. A window that hadn’t been shattered, the back windshield. To access it, you’d have to crawl under the trunk and break it open. If you do that, there’s a good chance you won’t be able to turn back around easily once inside, if at all. You can’t tell to what degree the person inside is injured, but you take the lack of any sort of cry for help as a bad sign.

The desperate wails of the little girl make up your mind for you. There’s no time to lose. You need to get this done, and get it done fast.

Shrugging off your purse, jacket, and anything that could possibly get snagged in the car, you squeeze under the trunk. It’s uncomfortably warm, reminding you of the very real possiblility of explosion once the fire reaches the fuel tank. All your faith is funneled into your pocket knife as you jam the back of it into the windshield. Nothing.

Again, you wind back the knife. A yell escapes you as you once again ram it into the window with all your might. Still, it doesn’t yield.

Shit. shit. You have to get in there. You can see the outline of what looks to be a human form inside the car, but no movement. One more time. You can do this.

The man that had been tugging at the door is kneeling behind you, unable to fit underneath the car. He reaches under, stretching his red-stained fingers towards you. At first, you don’t understand what he’s trying to do. Then, it clicks. Wrapping his hand around your own, The knife is encompassed beneath both of your hands. The man’s voice is hoarse as he counts to three. Together, you drive the tool into the windshield.

Finally, the window shatters with a crash. Dark smoke pours out, stinging your eyes and forcing a cough from your lungs. Wasting no time, you squeeze the man’s hand before taking a deep breath and ducking inside.

Shattered glass slices open your palm and you hiss at the white flash of pain. There’s no time to check the damage right now, you’ll deal with injuries later. You tearily squint through the smoke, finally laying your eyes upon a still figure in the passenger’s seat. Still buckled in, she hangs awkwardly from the seat, supported by the seatbelt.

A drop of sweat falls into your eyes. The heat alone is suffocating, but paired with the smoke the conditions are nearly unbearable. The steadily ticking clock of oxygen deprivation hangs heavy over your head, you won’t be of much help if you’re passed out. You grunt as you stretch your arm up to reach for the buckle.

With a click, the woman falls from the seat. No movement. You can’t even tell if she’s breathing.

How the fuck are you going to get her out of here? The car interior around you suddenly feels too small, your vision beginning to spin. No, get a handle of yourself. These people are depending on you. That little girl is depending on you. The image of the little girl’s face, twisted with fear and desperation, fuels you to set your jaw and grab a hold of the woman’s arm.

If you can just pull her past you, you might be able to push her the rest of the way, getting her out as quickly as possible for medical attention, as EMS should be here soon. As if on cue, you hear blaring sirens steadily approching over the crackling of the fire.

Straining, you are able to tug at the woman until she’s past you. Blood roars in your ears as you use the rest of your energy to try and push her the rest of the way. It’s not graceful by any means, but you manage to shove her far enough towards the shattered window for her to be pulled out by a team of gloved hands.

You collapse onto the floor below. Dark fog breaches the corners of your vision. Is that the smoke? Maybe. You can’t even tell at this point. A cough wracks its way through your body as the pulse of adrenaline leaves you.

Well, at least you were able to help. You can feel your eyelids slowly blinking closed, despite your efforts to fight it.

What’s left of your vision is suddenly blocked by… a face? Holy shit. Did you die? In front of you hovers a face that looks like it was sculpted by the gods themselves. A perfectly angled nose sits between two dark eyes that remind you of the cool blanket of night. His lips are moving and you lament over the fact you can’t hear his voice due to an annoyingly loud ringing filling your ears. If this is what heaven is like, you don’t think you mind dying so much.

You can distantly feel your body being lifted as you drift out of conciousness.

── ࣪˖ ࣪ ⊹ ࣪ ˖ ──

“That was some crazy shit back there, y’know.”

You blink your eyes open, focusing on the source of the familiar voice next to you. It’s Seungmin, your patrol partner. He’s sitting on the edge of the ambulance, knee bouncing up and down. His stare, unreadable as always, greets you. You let out a much-needed sigh of relief. As much as he gets on your nerves, you are definitely more than happy to see a familiar face.

“Seungmin? What happened? Is that— ow, shit!” You sit up too fast from your stretcher and immediately need to lay back down due to a stabbing pain in your skull. “Is that lady okay?” as the sharp pain withdraws into a dull throb, the past events slowly resurface in your mind. Wait. That guy. The one who you saw just before you passed out, who was he? You had never seen him before. Was he even real?

“Well, I’m not sure if ‘okay’ is the right word to use, but she’s alive at least. She was rushed to the hospital along with her family members as soon as you got her out.” Seungmin crosses over to you, leaning on the edge of your stretcher. You can see him better now, and from here you can catch the slightest bit of worry in his features that was not evident in his voice previously. “Which, by the way, that little stunt of yours almost got you killed. If that guy hadn’t gotten you out of there when he did, you would have been crushed.”

So he was real.

According to Seungmin, right after you had been dragged out, the frame of the car completely collapsed; which would have effectively both trapped you inside and squished you. He’s about to continue with details about how next you probably would have caught on fire, before you punch him square in the arm, earning a cry of pain from both you and Seungmin. You shake the pain out of your bandaged hand as you are painfully reminded of that piece of glass that had cut you.

“Anyways,” you scowl at him when he sends you a not-so-apologetic look, “who was that guy? Is he a new police recruit? I’ve never seen him before.” The only reason you know that for sure is because you would never have forgotten that face. You can picture him in your mind right now. You’ve never seen anyone so… well, perfect.

“No, he’s not. Just some civilian who was stupid enough to jump into a flaming car to save your sorry ass,” Seungmin waves away your indignant defenses and heads off towards a group of officers outside the ambulance, “It was a hit and run, the bastard who caused this mess drove off someplace so we’re trying to see—”

“Where did he go?”

Seungmin faces you, caught off-guard. “What?”

“That guy, where’d he go?” You repeat your question, obviously not at all intrested in whatever was going on with the other officers.

Seungmin’s eyebrows lower as he rolls his eyes and turns away once more. “I dunno, haven’t seen him,” he comments over his shoulder helpfully. Then, he’s gone.

Ugh.

Fuck you, Kim Seungmin

── ࣪˖ ࣪ ⊹ ࣪ ˖ ──

You have to find him. You will not be able to function as a member of society without knowing that he’s an actual person and not just a result of some hallucination. You had asked every single one of the officers and bystanders at the scene if they knew even just his name (you did not appreciate Seungmin making faces at you the whole time, thank you very much) to no avail; nobody knew anything about this mysterious man.

Fine then. You’ll just have to find him yourself.

Weeks go by, and his face never leaves your mind. Sometimes you swear you can see a flash of his honey skin, or those gorgeous eyes, only to look up and realize with disappointment it is in fact, not him. You wonder how many random passerby you have given an unexplainably sour face. Not that it matters what they thought of you. They probably worked a nine to five at some boring old desk.

One night, Seungmin had caught you searching through the criminal records. Maybe it was a stretch, but hey, you were desperate. You had just reached the ‘H’ column when he snuck up behind you. Upon him tapping your shoulder with a “Whatcha doing” on his lips, you had jumped three feet in the air and quickly closed the tab, responding with a very convincing “Nothing!” and rushing out of the room.

Just a name, that’s all you need. Is that really too much to ask?

Suited up in your standard police attire, you wait in line at your favorite coffee place before your night shift with Seungmin. You had finally been scheduled a full eight hours, but honestly your mind was anywhere but work. The bustling coffee shop atmosphere and the overwhelming smell of coffee does nothing for your scattered thoughts. Why the hell are so many people in line for coffee at 10:00 at night?

“One iced americano for Han Jisung?” The barista calls out the next order.

No way. There’s actually no way.

You have to do a triple take to make sure your eyes aren’t deceiving you. It’s really him. You would recognize his face anywhere.

He’s just as stunning as when you had first seen him. Eyes that same dusky brown, nose that same perfect shape. He has a pair of sunglasses perched on top of his head, his hair falling from them in loose waves around his face, framing him like an artwork from the renaissance period. The way he holds himself, too. A casual swagger that so few people can pull off, but he wears it so naturally; completely at ease. One hand in his pocket, he smiles at the barista as she hands him his order, somehow lighting up the entire room with simply his expression.

You are so awestruck that it takes you a second to realize that he’s turned his attention directly to you.

When you do realize though, your heart drops right into your ass. Your first instinct is to jump your gaze to the floor or the ceiling, feigning nonchalance, but you’ve been hyper fixated on his face for so long you cannot bring yourself to look away.

His eyes spark with recognition. You can tell by the way his eyebrows raise amicably as he starts heading towards you. Your heart speeds up to about a million miles per hour.

That is until he looks you up and down. His expression drops and his eyes widen for just a fraction of a second before returning to his previous smile, but this time it feels just a little forced. As he passes you, he nods politely and sweeps past without so much as a word.

What just happened? You watch as he exits the coffee shop. Wait, no, you can’t lose him now, you at least need to thank him. He did save your life after all.

You hustle past the long line much less gracefully than he, catching him outside the door before he can cross the street.

“Hey, wait up!” You call after his retreating form. You see him pause, but he doesn't turn around as you jog up to him. “It’s you! Jisung, right?”

Finally, he faces you. His sunglasses now sit neatly on the bridge of his nose, obscuring his eyes from sight. You can’t detect any of the uncomfort from before in his features. Did you imagine that? Maybe he’s just in a hurry.

“That’s me,” Jisung says, a cute little chuckle punctuates the end of his sentence. His voice is sweet, reminding you of warm brown sugar and butter. Your heart skips a beat as he addresses you with that grin of his, “can I help you with anything, officer?”

It takes you a second to respond, the way he tilts his head at you whilst waiting for a response has you feeling all kinds of weird, bubbly feelings in your chest. You stomp them down and clear your throat.

“No, no I actually wanted to thank you. You know, for saving me. You really didn’t— I mean that was really… courageous of you. And stuff. Anyways. yeah, thanks.” You finish awkwardly, stumbling over your words. Damn it.

Jisung laughs. A beautiful sound, really.

“Thought I recognized you! You’re the pretty little thing who saved that lady from the fire. Gotta hand it to you, officer, you’ve got some guts in there.” He gestures to your badge with a tilt of his head, leaning back on the crosswalk pole and sticking one hand in his pocket.

You’re pretty sure your brain short-circuited at the words ‘pretty little thing’ and you’re not quite sure how to answer, your mouth opening and closing a few times, but no words falling from it.

Jisung grins at your tongue-tied state, letting out another amused huff of laughter and hitting the crosswalk button.

“I’ve got somewhere to be, but you stay safe out there ok? Don’t go jumping into any more flaming vehicles if you can possibly help it, next time I might not be there,” He clicks his teeth and you swear you can see him wink from under his shades. The crosswalk changes to give Jisung the right of way and he heads off across the street.

There you stand, a blushing mess, watching as he heads to a nearby parking spot.

Wait a second, is that his car?

Jisung closes the door to a Chevrolet Camaro, colored in a tasteful matte black. Are you kidding? No, this has got to be a joke, there’s no way he has that car. As the engine purrs to life, you can feel the rumbling vibration in your chest even from across the street. When he pulls out, it’s evident just how suped up it is. There’s an added spoiler on the back and… are those LED lights on the rims? That’s it. You might actually be in love.

The hum of the engine steadily approaches as he pulls up next to you on the street, rolling down the window and looking up at you and your wide eyes.

“Like what you see, officer?” Jisung raises his eyebrows teasingly, a smug little smirk playing on his lips. If it had been anyone else, you’re sure you would be enraged by the expression, but there’s something about him that makes it hot rather than insufferable. He hangs an elbow out the window, lightly tapping his fingers to the bass of some song that plays from his speakers as you take in the vehicle.

“Shut the fuck up, this is yours?” You raise your voice over the sound of the engine, leaning in closer so he can hear you. You momentarily forget that you’re technically on duty right now.

There it is again, that hearty laugh of his. Definitely one of your new favorite sounds.

“Yes ma’am, all mine,” Jisung pulls up his sunglasses, finally giving you a clear view of his face. His face that’s looking more mischievous by the minute. “Maybe one day you’ll do me the honor of taking you for a spin, how’s that sound?” He reaches out and lightly flicks his index finger up the bottom of your chin. Your stomach explodes with butterflies as a result.

“I’m…” You consider your options. Is he serious? He’s definitely flirting with you. Right? He literally just touched your chin while asking if you wanted a ride in his car. He’s definitely flirting. Yeah.

“I’m free tomorrow,” You blurt, against your better judgment. There’s no way in hell you’re going to turn down a opportunity like this.

“Same time, same place?”

You glance at your watch. 10:30 p.m. You should be in the patrol car with Seungmin right about now.

“That works,” You nod. Your answer is a little shaky, but you hide it well.

“Guess I’ll see you then, officer,” Jisung flashes you one last smile, scrunching up his nose and throwing you a half salute. He revvs up his engine once, twice, and then he’s gone.

Letting out a breath you didn’t know you were holding, your legs shake as you head back into the coffee shop to re-order a cup of coffee. You’re going to need it.

── ࣪˖ ࣪ ⊹ ࣪ ˖ ──

This is stupid. Like, really dumb. You can’t believe you’re doing this.

You’ve been sitting on a bench outside of the coffee shop for the past fifteen minutes. Granted, you’re the one who decided to show up fifteen minutes early, but you’re starting to regret that decision. At least it’s not cold out.

You had spent probably a good three hours debating what the hell you were going to wear. Might seem excessive but there were just so many points to consider. What if you come off too strong? but then again, you wouldn't want to underdress. Or overdress. It’s not even a date, he’s just giving you a ride around, right? Why are you stressing so much?

And so here you wait in your cute little mid-thigh skirt, having decided with a nod that it was a safe bet all around. Plus, it makes your legs look great.

You’re definitely thinking about this too hard.

A quick beep of a car horn catches your attention. You look up right as you feel the distinct purr of Jisung’s engine rumbling in your bones. Thank God, he actually came.

You’re not sure if you’re jittering from the excitement of going on a— Date? You really don’t want to make any assumptions because he hadn’t straight up asked you on a date per say— with the most gorgeous man you’d ever laid eyes on or the excitement of getting to ride in his car. Maybe both. You clench and unclench your fists in anticipation. You’re positively itching to feel what it’s like on the road.

Jisung exits the low car smoothly, heading towards you with a wave. His eyes scrunch up at the corners when he smiles, painting his expression with such a lovely friendliness that makes you want to curl up in a ball and cry. His outfit drastically contrasts his inviting face though, he’s dressed in dark grey washed jeans and a burnt orange short sleeve that hugs his upper body almost skin-tight, a jacket tied loosely around his waist. The duality of man, you suppose. The slicked back style of his hair on top of literally everything else about him screams one thing. This man looks like a goddamn racer.

As soon as you realize you’ve been gawping at him for a good couple of moments now, you snap your focus up to his eyes, already feeling a blush creeping it’s way across your cheeks.

“You don’t look too bad yourself, officer,” Jisung gives you a quick up and down, meeting your eyes afterwards with a look that can only be described as playfulness.

Oh he just knows he’s hot, doesn’t he? Obviously you’re not going to argue, because he’s right.

“Oh my god, don’t call me that,” You protest, lightly punching his arm in retaliation. You definitely don’t miss the unmistakable feeling of muscle under your fist, but that’s really besides the point. The point is he has you all bothered and shit with that nickname. You’ve never been called ‘officer’ so… affectionately.

“You’re right,” He raises his hands in defense, “my bad, babe.”

A retort shrivels on your tongue. You’re pretty sure you can feel your body temprature go up at least two degrees as Jisung heads back to his car, beckoning you to follow him. His back is turned but you can already imagine that little self-satisfied smirk on his face.

He’s going to be the death of you.

── ࣪˖ ࣪ ⊹ ࣪ ˖ ──

You can feel the weight of your body being pressed back into the seat as Jisung speeds up his pace, making your eyes nearly roll back into your head.

The engine roars in your ears as you watch the speedometer whip from zero to sixty in the span of three point five seconds. You can’t help but have a wide grin plastered on your face. It feels like a good stretch after a day of sitting on the couch, you can’t even remember the last time you’ve just, well, drove. Carefree, without the looming restriction of a speed limit or the stress of swerving after a runaway car. Just you and the road. And Jisung, but that’s a plus.

One of the biggest reasons you had strived to join the police force throughout the beginning of your adolescence is that you just could not get enough of that adrenaline rush that comes from zooming down the highway at outrageous hours of the night, competing with your high school friends to see who’s car could accelerate the quicket, maintain the best speed, sound the coolest. The amount of sleepness nights you had spent installing countless upgrades on your car just to beat your friends in some silly bet over a couple of dollars instilled in you the certainty that this is what you wanted to do for the rest of your life.

You had foolishly thought that becoming an officer would cure that hunger burning in your gut, but it just made it worse. You didn’t realize just how bad it had gotten until just now, the familiar sound of hopping gears and the healthy rev of a well-loved engine resurfaces so many emotions that you had so carefully stowed away when you had all graduated and moved on to university, no longer having the time or bravery to risk getting caught anymore.

You glance over at Jisung in the driver’s seat. He looks so at ease, you can tell this is his home, his element. You wonder if he feels the same emptiness by adhereing to the law that you do. It seems taboo to think that way, given your occupation, but you can’t help it.

Jisung flicks on his blinker to exit the highway, and you give him a look out of the corner of your eye.

“Mind telling me where we’re going?” You inquire as he slows to a stop at the intersection.

“Thought it would be nice to go to dinner, don’t you think so?” He glances down either side of the street to ensure it’s clear as he proposes the offer.

Maybe that empty feeling in your stomach was hunger.

“Yeah, actually, I do think so.”

── ࣪˖ ࣪ ⊹ ࣪ ˖ ──

The restaurant seems strangely empty. A few of the white-clothed tables scattered about the hall are occupied by the quiet bubble of conversation, but other than that the atmosphere is quite still.

Jisung pulls out your chair for you, flamboyantly flipping his hand into a bow as he waits for you to sit. You roll your eyes, badly supressing a smile as you slide into the seat with as much grace as you can manage.

You had both just picked up the menus that had been set in front of you when a low whistle sounds from behind you.

“Who’s the pretty lady, huh, J? Finally found the time to go through that roster of yours?” Your body tenses as someone approaches from the side. You quickly turn your head to get a better view of the newcomer. Oh wow. Was Jisung just friends with hot people in general?

“Ha ha.” Jisung pulls a half-amused face at the man, and gestures to the seat next to him. “This is Changbin. He’s not usually like this, I swear,” Jisung reassures you, leaning back and crossing his arms over his chest as Changbin plops down on the seat over. Despite his bold entrance, he nods politely at you in greeting. It becomes evident that he’s just trying to mess with Jisung, meaning no ill-intent (or even much intrest) towards you. You let your muscles relax.

“Well, were you gonna bring her with us tonight?” Changbin gestures towards you, “you know they always get their panties in a twist when one of us has a girl on our arm—”

“She works in law enforcement, isn’t that cool?” Jisung announces a little too loudly, interrupting Changbin, who immediately snaps his mouth shut.

You don’t miss the way Jisung quirks an eyebrow ever-so-slightly at him, a warning. Huh. Your eyes squint in suspicion. What’s this all about?

“Bring me where?” You question Changbin innocently, pushing past Jisung’s subject change and batting your eyes once or twice, just for good measure.

“Bring you to— well, I mean, It’s a place. Definitely. Yeah. Bring you to a place. Somewhere,” Changbin keeps glancing at Jisung as he speaks, who is currently pinching his nosebridge between two fingers, head tilted towards the ceiling.

Changbin falls silent after that, suddenly very intrested in the condition of his shoelaces. You shift your gaze between the two men as an awkward pause falls over the table.

After a long sigh eminating from Jisung, he leans forwards on the table, hands clasped in front of him. His voice is lowered as he speaks.

“Do you trust me?” His eyes bore into your own, not breaking contact as your mind starts running a mile a minute.

Now, the logical answer you would give to a stranger you hardly know is a resounding ‘of course not,’ but this isn’t just anyone. It’s Jisung. The man who risked his very life to save yours, out of the pure goodness of his heart. You can’t imagine not trusting him, you realize. Because you do, you trust him more than you trust yourself, because he did what you couldn’t that day. Without him, you wouldn’t even be here.

“…Yes, I trust you,” You respond, conviction clear in your voice.

Jisung lets out a breath, once again settling back in his chair.

“Then buckle up babe, ‘cause you’re in for a wild night,” He says with a soft chuckle, just as a loud commotion breaks through the restaurant and crowds of people start to pour in through the front door.

── ࣪˖ ࣪ ⊹ ࣪ ˖ ──

Jisung is a racer. A street racer, to be specific. Very dangerous, and definitely very illegal.

The restaurant turned out to be a meeting point for two rival districts to compete in some sort of tiebreaker race tonight, and it seems like nearly the entire city had come to watch. Jisung had dragged you through the bustling hall off into a corner, where he met up with Changbin and one other racer. You think you heard the name ‘Chan’ but you’re not too sure. It’s quite loud when you have a room filled with excited fans shouting bets this way and that, sure that their district will win and that they’ll walk home with the jackpot.

Jisung, Changbin, and Chan form a three person racing team. They call themselves ‘3racha’. You thought the name was a joke at first, but the laugh caught in your throat when you realized they were being dead serious. Right now the three are huddled together, murmuring over the pre-determined race course, deciding on any last minute strategies.

Right about now, you should be alerting your police team of the highly illegal activity buzzing all around you. Troops would be sent in immediately and the whole event would be shut down, arrests being made left and right.

But, you don’t want that to happen. Not in the slightest.

You know could lose everything over this, your career, your friends, your reputation. None of that matters to you right now. All you want is to see Jisung and his team race.

Not far off, a group that you assume to be the opposing team stares daggers at 3racha, the tallest one of them making eye contact with you. He says something with a scoff, but you can’t make it out just by reading his lips. Whatever it was though, his other two teammates found it hilarious, one doubling over with laughter and the other giving him a jovial smack on the back.

You back away from their prying eyes, accidentally colliding with Jisung in the process. He looks up at you as you send him a quick ‘sorry’, then he shifts his gaze to the still chortling trio. You can see something in his normally soft gaze harden as he straightens up and reaches an arm around your shoulder, gently but firmly pulling you flush to him.

His physical presence overwhelms your senses, suddenly wrapped in a blanket that dulls the rest of the chaos out. You’re positive he can feel your heart racing as he leans in to whisper in your ear,

“I need you to ignore them, okay? They’re just trying to get us bothered, and you’re an easy target for them. Just stick by us. Can you do that for me?” His breath tickles your ear with every syllable he speaks, making your legs weak. You manage a nod and he pulls away from you with a reassuring pat to your shoulder.

Changbin sends a not-so-discreet middle finger their way, which earns both a scowl from the them and a reprimanding tap on the back of the head from Chan.

Frankly, you are a bit overwhelmed. Even though it was just for a second, you miss Jisung’s calming arm around you. Without it, you feel like you are drowning in the unfamiliar voices babbling every which way, every conversation fighting to be understood in your mind at once. Usually, you know exactly how to handle any given situation with a clear mind— it’s part of your job after all— but this? It’s all so foreign to you you don’t even know where to begin.

As soon as the clock strikes midnight, the crowd forms a clear space around both of the teams, allowing room for them to exit the building and enter their vehicles. You scurry after 3racha, feeling quite out of place.

It was to be a relay race. The rules are simple: Three laps around the entire course, each lap assigned to a respective member of each team. Whichever team’s car crosses the finish line first, wins the tiebreaker and takes home the prize. You can tell that mountains of cash are on the line for the boys. Some of the numbers you hear thrown around have your eyes as wide as saucers. If 3racha really is that good, it’s no wonder Jisung is able to afford the kind of car he has.

You’re watching Jisung do a once over of his car, ensuring that everything is safely in order, when he crosses over to you, extending his hand. You furrow your brows, slightly confused, but you take his hand. He smiles, wrapping his fingers tightly around you and squeezing once.

“I want you to ride with me, please?” He says, eyes never leaving your face. You stand in silence for a moment, just soaking in the weight of his hand and the familiarness of his face. The curve of his eyebrow, the slope of his nose, the way his bottom lip always seems to pout out just a little bit, and, oh, those eyes. You feel like you’ve known him for your entire life.

You feel yourself break into a smile.

“Let’s go then,” you squeeze his hand in return.

Jisung’s engine roars to life as him and the other first racer, the tall one’s name is apparently Hyunjin, line up at the designated starting line. 3racha had implored that Jisung go for the first lap, so they would have a healthy leg up on the competition come the second lap, where Changbin would be waiting.

As you wait for the countdown to start your knee bounces up and down, the sickly feeling of intense anticipation eating its way through your stomach.

You feel Jisung’s gaze as he glances over at you, a half grin on his face. What’s he thinking? Your internal question is soon answered as he reaches over and grabs your hand, guiding it to rest on the gearshift.

“10!” A loud voice bellows from a megaphone from outside. The countdown has begun.

Jisung clasps his hand over your own, capturing you in between himself and the vehicle. He’s so warm. Meeting your eyes, he gives you a reassuring nod when he spots your expression, running a thumb along the back of your hand. Now your heart is pounding for a different reason.

“3!” The revving of engines combines with the rush of blood in your ears, the vibrations sending a chill up your spine.

“2!”

“1!”

“Go!”

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