Just Drive: Prologue
🏁 racer!han jisung x spy!fem!reader
Genre: Racing AU/Cars 2 AU (yes I know how original of me), Fluff, Angst, strangers to allies to lovers, adventure, spying
Type: Series
Warnings: Violence, spy stuff and spy typical violence, weapons, death (including important minor character death that is pretty graphic), car crash, minor injuries, one bed trope….at one point…I’m sorry, flirty!jisung is a warning in itself, he falls first but she falls harder (kinda, they both fall equally for each other in the end), cocky!jisung at the beginning (kinda like how Lightning was in the first Cars movie) (but he’s a soft boi), suggestive at some points.
Summary: High stakes environments are all Han Jisung knows, growing up to be the rookie star in racing. Facing his next challenge in the World Grand Prix, he knows winning will give him a spot in the history books. High stakes environments are all you know too, leading your double life as a spy - tackling conspiracies to assassinations and back again. When your next mission lands you in the middle of this prestigious race around the world, your accidental encounter with Jisung turns into something more. You’ll need his help to solve the case…and to mend a broken heart. Turns out, he needs your help too.
A/N: Guys. It's finally here. The first chapter of Just Drive! It's a little over 3k but I hope its ok, MORE PARTS TO COME!!!
Just Drive Masterlist - 3M Collab - Main Masterlist
Seoul, South Korea - World Grand Prix Announcement
Han Jisung twirled the miniature racecar in his hands, the distant chatter of the television barely registering in his ears. He was still high off his last race— winning gold as easy as U-turning on Gangnam Boulevard. Which to clarify, to him, would be easy. Of course, everything was easy for him. He was the best racer the world had known! A shame he wasn’t on the track right now, driving circles around that, what was his name again? Mister San Francisco? Jisung couldn’t remember. Didn’t need to remember. As someone wise once said, who needs to count when you’re number one? He was seated on a plush black leather couch, feet draped over the armrest as he pictured his winning moment in his head again. A smile was subtly inching back onto his face, and he couldn’t help it. Why not smile all the time, if you were winning all the time?
“Hey, Hannie. You should see this.” Jisung heard his crew chief’s voice over the background static, and he snapped to attention. If anyone could pull him from his post-victory stupor, it was Christopher. He’d been with Jisung since the beginning of his racing days, from neighborhood bike races to karting to now. Chris used to race, but after a bad street race that ended with a flip into a tree (now with a nasty scar down the middle), he’d “retired” from the sport, focusing on adding commentary to Jisung’s driving instead. Over time, they made it to the big leagues together, for the first time this season.
Taps on the monitor shifted Jisung’s attention to a moving screen and the flashing lights of a press conference, centered on a row of suit-wearing pricks. Wait, he couldn’t say that. Suit-wearing, potential sponsors. That’s better.
“Sir Miles Axelby has just announced his return from his off-grid trek, and with it, his new company, Allinoil!” An announcer off to the side yelled into the microphone. “CEO Sir Axelby and the executive team will now be open for questions.” Chris pointed at the monitor again.
“Allinol is just about to announce their World Grand Prix. An international race, outside all the other leagues, with eight races—and get this. Mixed cars. We’re talking Daytona, F1, GT, everything.”
“How do you know this?” Jisung is twirling his race car again. “And what does that have to do with us? Axelby Oil never sponsored us…and look now. It’s closing.”
“I’ve got friends inside. We can get you in. How do you think you’ve gotten such good rookie seasons?” Chris gave Jisung a look. “Plus, Allinol seems to be the biggest new thing. We participate in the World Grand Prix, we establish your name beyond rookie status. You won’t be racing with small names anymore, but international legends. And this is a rare race where all car types are allowed! Imagine, if you outpaced a Formula 1 car, and you won headlines everywhere?”
Chris smirked, eyes trained on Jisung’s wide ones, already pointed to the ceiling in thought. He knew the driver would now be imagining himself on every magazine cover, every luxury brand deal, and every pretty girl he could ever see slung on his arm— if he won this thing. The crisp voice of Sir Axelby leaked into Jisung’s wandering thoughts.
“…yes, the tracks will be like any other! Street circuits for all of them, with some added dirt road elements and other high stakes multi-terrain sectors!”
“Sounds like a challenge.” Chris added, writing a few things down in his notepad.
“Psh, a little dirt never hurt anyone. Maybe Franchino gets mud straight in the visor, but we should otherwise all be good.” He knocked his skull with his knuckles. “Doc trained me well.”
“Yeah, just make sure not to waste that head in a reckless move.” Chris shoved him, another chuckle slipping out. “Not all cars can pirouette.”
“Okay hey, that was like one time, and I’ll never do it again! I am against risk.” Jisung puffed out his chest in mock sincerity, quickly deflating with a yelp when Chris jabbed him in the ribs.
“Ow? That tickled?”
“I feel like ow and that tickled usually don’t go hand in hand.”
The duo watched the rest of the press conference, Chris taking more notes while Jisung tried to picture the different street circuits. He hadn’t been to many of the countries before, but certain simulators had a few of the circuits that were mentioned. Slowly, the reporters ran out of questions, and all that was left was a final announcement. All teams participating would be required to race with this new Allinoil, as part of the promotional process. The broadcast ended with another ad with merchandise featuring the Allinoil logo and the WGP’s mascot: Globie. Flowers spewed out of its tailpipe as it zipped across the screen to close the broadcast.
“I just know Phil is gonna go crazy over changing the company oil.” Chris made a note to bring up the topic lightly.
“Oh yeah, the whole government company oil blah blah blah he keeps talking about.”
“I thought he was in on a new conspiracy now?”
“Ah well, he’ll learn to deal with it. So all we gotta do is register? Paid flights, views, perks, everything.” Jisung flicked the race car across the desk.
“Everything. For you and the whole crew.”
“Wow.”
“So you up for the World Grand Prix?” Chris asked him, looking up from the computer. He pointed at the open and filled-out invitation, cursor hovering right over submit.
“Deal me in, baby.” Jisung’s grin never left his face. “And let me know if they give free Globie plushies to all the drivers.”
40° 6.80′N, 172° 23.84′W - Middle of the Pacific Ocean
The salty air blew across your cheeks, feet rocking in tandem with the ocean waves. You didn’t like where this was going. Alan Turner, your longtime partner in the agency, had disappeared a week ago after the two of you split off to follow different leads. You hadn’t heard from him since, and the only trace of him you had left were coordinates beamed from his last known location before he vanished. You both knew that the oil leak in Alaska couldn’t have been a mistake, and counting the environmental and societal damage in the area, something was off. There were no scheduled tankers that crossed through these waters, or marked drilling sites, so what caused the spill? Nevertheless, the closer you got to the coordinates, the more eerie it seemed.
“This place makes the Bermuda Triangle look like a kiddie pool…Out here is where the ocean burns.”
The words of your partner echo in your head as The Northwestern approaches the coordinates. It was one of the last things he spoke to you over the radio. It was off from his usually lighthearted tone- so you knew something was definitely wrong.
“You sure you’ll be okay out there, L/N?” The captain of the ship, Hansen, turned to look at you. The waves were choppy, and there seemed to be nothing on the horizon.
“Should be. Just, stay a few miles South at the preset coordinates, and I’ll rendezvous with you there in a few hours. I’ll let you know when, I’ll send out a ping. Don’t want you too close to…whatever this is.” You tugged at your wetsuit, then patted it down to make sure everything was still there. Gun? Check. Grappling hook? Check. You went through the list like clockwork. Suddenly, floodlights flooded your vision, and you ducked, just as the light illuminated the bridge. Hansen squinted into the light, and with a hand hidden behind the controls, waved at you to go. As you made your way to the lower decks, a megaphone crackled to life, yelling orders and threats to The Northwestern. You logged the key words in between jumping the metal steps. Privately owned waters. Heavily armed. Will fire without immediate departure. You heard Hansen’s voice crackle back. Messages on fishing, getting lost, etc etc. You took the opportunity to slide into the water, using one of the ladders near the back to slip in with as little ripples as possible. You swam just beneath the surface, careful to avoid the blinding lights as you found a ladder leading up to the foreign boat. The rungs were rusted over, and seemed to be a decommissioned warship. A warship, out in middle of nowhere Northern Alaska? You took a few photos of the exterior, some serial numbers on the side. Then, you began to climb up, to the halfway point of the ship. Eventually you heard The Northwestern turn away, and the floodlights shut off.
The choppy waves became your companion for the next little while, and the moon in the midnight blue sky was the only thing that illuminated the way. Just when you were about to consider strapping yourself onto the ship, you felt the ship slow down. You see the huge pillars rising from the sea, reaching upwards and into the night. The only thing that could possibly be there in the middle of the ocean with pillars as big as these had to be oil rigs— though none were supposed to be in the area.
Suddenly, torches of fire light up the night sky, and all around you oil rigs emerge from the darkness. You see distant dots of movement, people up there on the oil rigs. Much more than if they were just manning some stations. The flaring brought a scow to your face, but you had to keep your head in the game. Surveillance, nothing more. Do not engage. Unless absolutely necessary. At least, that was always the first protocol.
The ship shifted violently, and two large hooks attached themselves to the two sides of the ship, slowly lifting it upwards. You slipped cautiously onto the deck of the ship, as it rose, hiding amongst the shadows before you reached a group of large storage containers on a wheeled dolly. Sandwiching yourself between the boxes, you waited for the ship to stop. A ramp extended from the rig platform to the ship, and the dolly wheeled forwards.
Once you were on the oil rig, and the people pushing the containers parked them near the edge, you slipped out again. The whole platform was crowded by shady looking men, oil barrels and boxes moving throughout. Stalking upwards on the metal staircases, carefully avoiding others, you climbed higher to get a better advantage. Your spycam was out, snapping pictures of logos, people, the whole operation. You were about to move to the other side of the platform when a distinctive voice carried over the wind. Double doors were hastily pushed open by a man in a lab coat, walking quickly and confidently across the platform. He had wiry gray hair and a monocle, pressed a little too close to his eye.
“Too many people here! Out of my way.” You zoomed in on your spycam, pulling up Interpol on the side as well. Facial-recognition tagged him almost immediately.
“Professor Zündapp?” You whispered. You remembered him from an old case, something about chemical weapons being developed illegally East of the Wall. He had disappeared soon after first reports were made, and the contacts soon stopped responding as well.
“Here it is, Professor. You wanted to see this before we load it?” The man in red pulls out a yellow, heavy-duty box.
“Ah yes, very carefully now. You don’t know how much this cost to make.” Professor Zündapp tutted. “You Lemons need to make sure this is protected at all costs.”
You noted the name Lemons, a term usually used to describe old cars. By the various abandoned vehicles on the platform, you could guess where the nickname originated.
The man in yellow, who stood next to the man in red, popped open the yellow case.
“Oh, a TV camera.” The man in red looks back at the Professor. “What does it actually do?”
“This camera is extremely dangerous, capable of something extraordinary. Made it myself, so it’s to the highest caliber of course.”
You narrowed your eyes at the scene, taking more pictures of the camera and of the Professor.
“This is valuable equipment. Make sure it is properly secured for the voyage.”
“You got it, Professor.” The man in red closes the case, and the other guy takes it away.
“Hey! Professor Z!” A new voice calls out from the right, and another garage door opens to reveal more stacked boxes, some long, some square.
“This one of ‘em spies we told you about.”
You flinched. Spy? Was Alan caught already? Or were you? You did a quick double take in the area, checking to your left and right, above, the perimeter. Nothing. But if this was Alan…
“...yeah we caught this one sticking his nose where he didn’t belong. Haha…”
“Ah, that Alan Turner? He was always a nuisance. I’m glad we’ve got him now.”
A crowbar was inserted in the edge of the wooden box, and the lid popped. Professor Zündapp leaned in closer.
The lid was pushed aside, and–
Your mouth fell open, ice running down your spine, and heart dropping to your stomach as it registered in your head what you were witnessing. This was Alan. His burnt clothes and flesh were compressed into a block, and the cruel snickering of the Lemons could’ve been heard from miles away. You couldn’t stop the tear that rose to the surface of your pupils, blurring your vision. You cursed– quickly wiping it away on your sleeve. You had no time for emotions– impaired visual contact. But he was…your brother.
A chorus of cackles were heard amongst the Lemons, each one hugging their stomachs and doubling over. It was disgusting.
“Heh, you see this pathetic little guy now, wait till you see the rest of ’em at those races!” More laughter followed.
Races? You wracked your head. The World Marathon Majors? Formula 1? The new World Grand Prix? The Grand National? Or was it something smaller? A targeted city-wide race, or even at a school? Collegiate competitions? Which country? How many people would be killed? Tortured, like….Alan? You were brought back to reality by a plume of fire behind you, illuminating the sky. A flare at just the right time. Great. You caught your shadow on the ground, and Professor Zündapp slowly turned back to look at you.
“A SPY!” The Professor yelled.
“No–” You bolted past the pillars to the staircase to descend back into the water, but you heard the loud echoes of footsteps quickly ascending. The only way to go was up. You cursed yourself for not bringing the parachute (but it was an additional weight), being that you were supposedly just going to be in the water. You climbed upwards, grabbing rung after rung on a ladder to get to a higher level. Lemons followed you, and you let a pack of oil leak behind you, bringing the matchbox from your pocket to between your teeth. You climbed to the top, and ripped a matchstick out, and struck it against the sandpaper.
“SHE’S GETTING AWAY!” Someone shouted.
You dropped the match at the same moment. A wall of flame erupted behind you, yet you had to keep climbing. Your lip trembled, but you saw more Lemons that came up other stairs, and you ran faster. Not fast enough.
“AHA!” A man collided into your right, pushing you down onto the floor. You kicked him off almost immediately, skidding several feet. When you were both at level with each other, you made a sweep for his legs –one that he dodged– and you had to instead dodge his attack. You looped an elbow around his arm, pinning him to his knees and back. He wrestled free, and pushed you again.
“Argh! Crap.” You looked to your left, nearing closer and closer to the edge of the metal floor. An idea formed in your head. Beneath you would be the sea. You remained on your back as you scooted towards the edge, drawing him closer. As if on cue, he lunged, and you braced your leg to his chest, spinning him midair and off the edge.
“AHHHHHHHHHH!” His screams echoed into the night and you scrambled up, resuming your run to the top. Eventually you reached the helipad, brightly lit by floodlights. The clamorous voices of the Lemons drew nearer, and eventually you were surrounded on one side by the Lemons, the other by the dark ocean.
“Give up now, L/N, and we might spare you!” The man in red laughed, gun cocked in his left hand and ready. “Or not.” Laughter followed.
“KILL HER! She’s seen the camera!” Professor Zündapp snapped, his orders coming out of the large speakers. “Do it now.”
You were backed closer to the edge of the helipad, and you took a breath.
“You’ll pay for this.” You whispered under your breath. Then, you kicked off the floor and over the edge. The cold night air wrapped around your body as you dove downwards, arms tucked as close as possible.
Activating the propeller (which extended out from your backpack) as your body met the frigid water, you quickly dodged the thin bullets around you. Then, a larger and longer missile, a sign that the ships were being deployed. You saw the bottoms of the metal ships under the water as you swam forward. Some came close- too close, but you had another idea in mind. Taking out a small package from your pocket, you quickly tore off the strip holding everything in place. You squeezed the blood packet tight, setting off a small explosion as you let go, releasing blood but also debris from clothing and fake inflatable limbs just as another missile crashed beside you. You surged deeper, crimson dyeing the water around you, and you dove deeper. Floodlights started to reach down, but by then you were deeper and farther than any of the lights could touch. It was only then when your tears joined the sea and its briny depths.
A/N: AHHHHH SO PART ONE IS OUTTTT I hope you guys liked it, even though lowkey nothing happened? Lol? But it's setting up the stage! Building the anticipation! At least, I hope it is, haha. Enjoy the little peek of cocky!racer!jisung!!!!
Taglist: @jinnie-forthe-winnie @strawberriesoup @jisunggy @kayleefriedchicken @nightmarenyxx (comment below to be added!)
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These are fictional works, and do not represent the written persons in its entirety, I cannot be 100% correct in their personalities, decisions, beliefs, or ideals. Please respect them in real life.
Copyright Notice: While this idea with these specific characters is my own, the story and most of the characters belong to, well, you know, the rightful owners. Certain lines from the Cars movie(s)/some picture books (yes, I referenced some picture books for this) have been paraphrased or directly used as well. I just thought I would specifically highlight this because of the specific lines that are used.
