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grxyxsh-rxsxs · 2 years ago

Text

as someone who’s been here since the beginning of the series i’m so so happy with how it turned out, bubbles you did an INCREDIBLE job finishing this up after so long, seriously, you’re a magician🫠🫠 these should be studied in schools, they’re actual masterpieces that show just how good writing can really be if it’s done right 🫶

Burn It | l. m.

the last installment to Punch It, a fic from the PICU

➸ synopsis: The Golden Tire Cup semifinals is today, and Minho has the opportunity to get the Wolfgang Street Racing club to the finals for the first time in four years.

Hopefully with you by his side, he'll be able to make it into the top two.

➸ starring: lee minho x female reader(ft. idols from jypnation, smtown, hybe, kq, everywhere, I went a bit crazy)

➸ word count: 3.6k words

➸ general content: streetracer!minho, very very dangerous street racing(do not attempt to do any of this, no matter how tempting it may be), a stupid amount of cameos, one somewhat misogynistic background character, gearhead culture

➸ warnings: alcohol consumption, swearing, a mild car wreck

➸ rating: teen+

➸ author's note: this is(should be) the final official installment to the picu! imagine punch it, floor it, and burn it as one continuous timeline, with the ending being this chapter. do I have a favorite? no, not after writing this chapter.

♫ this fic has a soundtrack! you don't need to listen to it while reading(especially if the lyrics will bother you), but it's a street racing tournament for crying out loud. do yourself a favor and listen to these epic vibes.

yes, it's meant to be listened to in that order(starting from Deja Vu). shuffling it will result in Minho cramming you into an air fryer for 20 minutes at 180 degrees.

♫- Deja Vu

You feel the refreshing spray of hose water on your bare back, soaking your black bikini top for the fourth time this evening.

Whipping around, you find Minho rinsing off the back of his car, free hand stuffed into his pocket as he whistles and avoids eye contact.

He’s hit with a soapy sponge, square on the back of his black shirt.

“Hey!” He ditches the hose, deciding to pause washing the vehicle in favor of chasing you around the bumper.

The Wolfgang racing club had gathered at Changbin’s house for the annual Golden-Tire-Cup-and-car-show-preparation-party, detailing and fixing cars as needed before it’s time for the race, which takes place in the California desert shortly after sundown. Members were littered across the lawn and garage, replacing rims, tightening brakes, and avoiding Minho, who had taken a liking to spraying anyone that came close to his ride.

“Yo Min, I love what you did with the brakes!” Jisung points and yells to him, twirling and fumbling a ratchet wrench as he runs into the garage, kneeling to meet Seungmin who slides out from under someone’s car on a skateboard.

“What did you do to them?” You ask, cocking your head to the side and crossing your arms.

“Oh, I painted them red to match,” he says nonchalantly, the only sign of something strange being the pink dusting his cheeks.

“Match…match what? There’s no red on your car-”

No, but your whole car is red.

A slow smile spreads across your face as you walk around the hood of the car, and Minho only looks up at you right before you lean in and plant a kiss on his cheek. He smiles as you step back, sighing and admiring your teamwork.

The 1993 Toyota MR2 glistens in the late afternoon sun, not a single scratch or scuff mark streaking the ebony shell. Minho doesn’t think the car has been this clean since he first got the keys.

“You nervous at all?”

“Me? Nervous?” He scoffs and waves you off, and then worry creases his features as he drops the act. “...a little. We haven’t made it this far in years.”

“Yeah, but…” you say, pulling him in to wrap your arms around his half-soaked waist, “for the best racer in the city, I think it’s manageable.”

“Laying it on thick, are we?”

“Better take advantage of it while you can,” you giggle, and he rolls his eyes before leaning down.

Suddenly, a set of loud engines cut into the air as they fly around the block corner, cars rumbling and thundering as they slow down and approach Changbin’s house. A modified black vintage Mustang jerks to a stop in the driveway, and then the door flies open, a slender man with long skunk-stripe hair stepping out onto the hot pavement. A leather jacket with the word Guerillaz across the back sits draped on his shoulders as he closes the car door behind him, and other men start leaving their respective cars.

“Whoa whoa whoa, what did I miss?” The man says, tilting down his sunglasses and smirking at the two of you, still holding each other. You take the hose from Minho and aim it at him, spraying a stream of water and sending him into a fit of shrieks as he holds up his team jacket as a shield.

“Look what the scaredy cat dragged in,” Changbin taunts from the garage, before ditching his work gloves and crossing the lawn to meet the unexpected intruder.

Wooyoung catches Changbin in a hug, elated to see his old teammate after so long.

He used to be a part of the Wolfgang racing club before he moved up the coast to Sacramento– but since he couldn’t keep his hands away from the wheel, he ended up making his own club, one that ended up driving back down to team with Wolfgang to win the Kingdom Cup a year later.

They only come back down twice a year; once for the Christmas car show, and again in the summer for the Golden Tire Cup Championship.

Wooyoung lets go of him, nodding towards Minho as he takes off his sunglasses.

“Semifinals, huh?” He says, looking at him in awe. “You must have gotten a lot better since I last saw you.”

“My teacher was alright,” he sighs and shrugs, and you spray his face and walk off, leaving him dripping wet in favor of going to find Yeji.

“Now that, I did not see coming,” San whispers, dapping up Hyunjin as he approaches the latter’s Supra, now painted red to match his hair. “The last time I saw them, they hated each other.”

“Wouldn’t you feel the same way if you met your match?” Ryujin pipes up from the ground, tightening the nut on a wheel. “They both thought they were the best before Minho won Changbin’s car.”

“Minho did what?” He asks, eyes turning to saucers.

“Dude, let me tell you about what happened last summer…”

‧⋆ ✧˚₊‧⋆. ✧˚₊‧⋆‧ ♫- Hall of Fame ‧⋆ ✧˚₊‧⋆. ✧˚₊‧⋆‧

Night is falling in the desert, but it’s never looked more awake.

Rows upon rows of cars line up on the dry earth, and photographers and gearheads alike gawk at the automobiles, snapping endless amounts of pictures and videos with their devices.

Further down the track a stage is set up, with some DJ working a growing crowd as they sip on whatever they can get their hands on.

You’re at the edge of the car show with Yeji, helping her ward off condescending men with boring car questions. Surely they must know that car enthusiasts don’t all have to be male.

Another one saunters up to the two of you, sizing you up with a stare that lingers just a little too long at your exposed midriff.

“And this is your car?” he asks, and in favor of keeping your team from being disqualified, you keep your arms folded tight against your chest.

“Yes, it’s-” Yeji stops you with a raised hand, looking up from inspecting her manicure and staring him dead in the eyes.

“It’s my 608 horsepower V8 engine 2015 Porsche 918 Spyder, why do you ask?” She asks sweetly, smiling and batting her eyelashes at him. He narrows his eyes and reluctantly walks away, realizing this wasn’t a fight he could win.

“Nice one,” you chuckle, right as your phone rings in your team jacket. You check the time and answer it, noting that it’s just after 8 pm before speaking.

“Hello?”

“Your boyfriend says to ‘get your ass over here’. The race is about to start,” Lia says, half drowned out by the crowd you’re sure is swarming there by now. You look at Yeji, who waves you off with a shake of her head.

“I think I can fend for myself,” she whispers, and you nod in response.

“I’ll be there in two minutes.”

‧⋆ ✧˚₊‧⋆. ✧˚₊‧⋆‧

You hear bets being made and taunts being thrown as you push your way through the crowd, making your way to the start of the track. Four cars of different makes, models, and colors sit at the starting line, with members of their respective teams standing near each one, buzzing with anticipation.

After showing the back of your jacket you get let onto the track, where at least half of your gang circles Minho, giving him some last words of advice and encouragement.

“Remember, the gas is on the right and the brakes are on the left,” Felix jokes.

“Oh oh, and your seatbelt,” Jeongin joins in, egging him on, “don’t wanna break the law, now do we?”

“Alright alright, knock it off you two,” Changbin laughs, then looks to the team’s resident mechanic.

Chan is silent for a moment, then puts a hand on Minho’s shoulder.

“You’ve got this,” he says quietly, and the team nods in agreement. “Be safe.”

You push your way into the circle, and Chan smiles at you before gesturing to everyone else.

“Let’s give them some space, yeah?” he says, and the group disperses, wishing safety and slapping Minho on the back before exiting the track.

The man of the hour turns to you as you step up to him, the shouts of the crowd fading into the background as you meet his eyes.

“How are you doing,” you whisper, flicking some sand off of his team jacket. He looks out at the crowd, drawing in a deep breath before looking down at you again.

“I’m scared.”

“Scared of what?”

“Of losing,” he admits, running a hand through his black locks. “I don’t want to let everyone down, we’ve come so far-”

“Because of you, Minho,” you interrupt, pushing a pointed finger against his chest. “We only got this far because of you. We’ll be proud no matter what trophy you take home.”

The creases in his forehead ease at your words, and you take his gloved hand into yours.

“You’re not here to be the best; we already know you are,” you remind him, smiling. “You’re here to have fun. Winning would just be a nice bonus.”

“Oh yeah? And what happens if I win?” He grins, pulling your hand a bit closer as you chuckle at his forwardness.

“I can think of a couple things-”

“LADIES AND GENTLEMEN, WELCOME TO THE TENTH ANNUAL GOLDEN TIRE CUP SEMIFINALS!”

The voice of the announcer booms over the speakers as a tall man with a silver microphone enters the track. You quickly leave a kiss against Minho’s cheek, then lean over to his ear.

“Come back to me in one piece,” you whisper, then squeeze his hand and run off the track.

“WE HAVE QUITE THE LINEUP FOR YOU TODAY, SO LET'S HEAR IT FOR OUR RACERS!”

The crowd erupts into cheers as each racer stands in front of their car, awaiting their introduction.

“FROM THE P1ECE PEDAL PUSHERS, HWANG INTAK!”

A guy with curly brown hair waves at the crowd, blowing kisses and causing several girls pushed up against the barricade to faint.

“FROM THE BLUE FLAMES, NAKAMURA KAZUHA!”

A Japanese chick with sick looking sunglasses does a small curtsy, and you scream along with the crowd, always excited to see other women excited about racing.

“FROM THE NEVER CRASHING TIRES, LEE JENO!”

A guy with snow white hair spells out his team’s acronym with his hands before waving, and you can hear his team start chanting from down the track.

“AND LAST BUT CERTAINLY NOT LEAST, FROM THE WOLFGANG, LEE MINHO!”

You and the gang howl as loud as you can as Minho turns around and points to his back, showing off the detailed wolf design on the back of his team leather jacket.

The four racers shake hands with each other before each getting into their cars, waving one last time at the crowd before shutting the doors.

‧⋆ ✧˚₊‧⋆. ✧˚₊‧⋆‧ ♫- Turn Back Time ‧⋆ ✧˚₊‧⋆. ✧˚₊‧⋆‧

If Minho really thinks about it, all races are the same.

The announcer had gone over the rules, and despite this not being his first race by a long shot, he assumes that anyone would have been able to guess them.

Three laps around the track.

No shortcuts.

Start at the sound of the gun.

Unlike NASCAR, foul play technically is allowed, but none of the teams that made it to the semifinals made it by playing dirty. It felt too much like cheating. That, and no one wanted to scratch their nice cars for a trophy if they didn’t have to.

Minho grips the wheel and closes his eyes as a girl wearing next to nothing struts out to the middle of the track, holding an air gun in her gloved hand.

Slowly, the sounds of the crowd roaring and his opponents cheekily revving their engines fade into the background, the world around him becoming more still as he goes to his happy place.

He opens his eyes again and he’s back, back in the passenger seat with you holding the steering wheel.

“What are you waiting for?” you say, giving him an annoyed side eye.

“Aren’t you going to tell me when to go?”

“Okay, go.”

“What-”

BANG!

“Go!”

Minho breaks out of his reverie and floors it, the racers doing the same as the crowd screams in delight.

“AND THEY’RE OFF!” The announcer booms, standing in a tower on the other side of the starting line as a black haired girl next to him waves a giant checkered flag. The cars zoom forward, getting smaller and smaller as they tear down the track. A tiny drone follows them, becoming a tiny red light flashing in the distance.

Minho grins, falling into the rhythm of upshifting like it’s an old song he loves.

The P1ECE’s car takes the lead, narrowly cutting corners while NCT’s car stays hot on its trail, not letting it get a lead. The Wolfgang’s car gives them their space as Blue Flame’s car stays next to it, hugging the inside of every curve.

One lap down, and Minho is cruising in third place as the cars zip past the finish line.

“IT REALLY IS ANYONE’S GAME FOLKS…”

Silently, you say a prayer as the cars disappear from view, the crowd going insane around you and your gang.

Inside the car, Minho is having a ball, treating the desert track as his own personal time trial as he and the others burn rubber, trading places around every turn.

He lets Kazuha’s car pass him as he eases up on the gas, enough to let her gain a small lead.

“What is he doing?!” An angry man yells, gripping onto the barrier as the cars fly past the start again, signaling the final lap. You assume he has money on the line as you smirk, knowing Minho’s real strategy.

“THERE GO THE RACERS AND- HOLD UP- LADIES AND GENTLEMEN, DO WE HAVE A DRIFT RACER?!”

The crowd becomes uncontrollable as they hear the announcer, seeing a small cloud of smoke go up from the edge of the track as Minho drifts around the first turn, not slowing down.

“That’s my boyfriend!” You point and scream, barely keeping yourself behind the barrier.

Minho spins the wheel left and right, howling inside of his car as it slides around every curve, leaving a smoky trail behind it. Threatened, the other racers speed up, attempting to widen the gap between him and them, but he’s gaining ground way too quickly.

He couldn’t wipe the smile off his face if he wanted to. He’s having too much fun.

He hardly realizes there’s only thirty seconds left between him and the GT Cup Finale.

And then, on the final turn, the unthinkable happens.

Jeno’s car pulls away as something under Kazuha’s car explodes, and then starts smoking.

Minho watches as her car drifts into Intak’s, making them both turn sideways and start to block the inside of the turn.

Heart dropping, he realizes he won’t be able to clear the turn.

“Are you not going to slow down?!” He yells, frightened at the calmness in your voice.

“Why would I do that-”

“To keep us ALIVE?!” He screams, grabbing onto the middle console. “Because that’s how you handle turns?!”

No.

“This is how you handle a turn,” Minho whispers, and then taps on the break and spins his steering wheel to the right.

Up ahead, you feel yourself going lightheaded as you see the smoke start to build, blocking the rest of the track from view. Only the neon green NCT car was visible, blazing towards the finish line.

Next to you, Hyunjin goes pale, and you grip onto his arm, more to steady yourself than to comfort him as the crowd collectively holds their breath.

And then, the crowd explodes into cheers.

“RUN ME OVER AND CALL ME DINNER- WOLFGANG MAKES IT AROUND THE FINAL TURN!”

Minho flies around the corner, tires skidding against the ground while the car drifts before he steps on the gas again, emerging from the smoke. You scream, nearly shaking Hyunjin to death as you grip onto his jacket and watch the MR2 draw near to the finish line.

The girl next to the announcer wildly waves her checkered flag as the NCT car crosses the finish line, followed two seconds later by the Wolfgang car, before they both screech to a halt.

Minho throws the door open, nearly tripping over himself as he strains to see down the other end of the track, followed by Jeno.

A hush falls over the crowd as they wait in near silence, hoping to see anything other than smoke emerging from the two cars that fell behind.

In the red haze from their tail lights, one figure emerges.

Kazuha’s thumb shoots up from her body, carried in Intak’s arms as he walks them both towards the starting line.

“THEY’RE OKAY!” The announcer cheers, nearly dropping his binoculars as the crowd joins him.

Relieved, Minho's eyes search for yours before locking on them, barely having any time to react as you sprint across the track, and subsequently crash into him. The rest of the gang hops the barrier, whooping and hollering as they celebrate their finalist.

“I knew it, I knew you could do it,” you nearly sob, clutching onto his jacket.

“You saved my life,” he shudders, holding your shoulders tightly. “I would have crashed into them if you never taught me to drift.”

You don’t hesitate; you can’t. You throw your arms around his neck, pulling him in for the kiss he should have gotten before the race.

The crowd screams as he picks you up and spins the two of you, not caring one bit about who’s looking as he returns your embrace in earnest, smiling against your lips.

“GET A ROOM, WILL YOU?” The announcer laughs, walking up to the two of you and dragging Jeno with him. Minho chuckles and puts you down, and you catch a glimpse of the announcer’s mic, spelling Soobin in sparkly silver letters.

“EVERYONE, OUR GOLDEN TIRE CHAMPIONSHIP FINALISTS!”

Soobin takes Minho’s arm and raises it along with Jeno’s, and the crowd goes wild.

‧⋆ ✧˚₊‧⋆. ✧˚₊‧⋆‧ ♫- Be Free ‧⋆ ✧˚₊‧⋆. ✧˚₊‧⋆‧

slowlee: come to the kitchen rq

You read the text and swipe away the notification, slipping the phone back into your jacket pocket.

“Glad to hear that no one got seriously injured,” the man you were talking to says, stepping back onto his motorbike. “Typically for people like us, crashes end up being way less epic.”

“Well I'm glad you haven't gotten into any,” you jest, waving to him and his crew before they roll off the driveway, their silver hexagonal logos glinting off their jackets in the moonlight.

You turn and walk back up to Changbin’s house, alive and overflowing with guests as the afterparty is in full swing.

Making your way through the crowded house, you dap up Hongjoong and a tipsy Mingi, do a shot with Chaeryeong and Yuna, and slide into the kitchen right as Minho picks up a brown bottle, instantly meeting your gaze.

“EVERYONE!” Minho yells, pouring a shot of whiskey into his cup before pulling you to his side. You try and fail to keep a grin from landing on your face.

“I’d like to make a toast,” he announces, surveying the room of members and supporters turning to face him and grinning. “To this team, for making it to the finals after four years!”

Whoops and whistles fly around the room.

“To Changbin, for helping me keep his old car in top condition so I don’t die on the road!”

A crazy sounding laugh comes from the man holding baby Chun Ja, complete with a mini racer jacket and red binkie.

“And to the rightful owner of his car,” he lowers his voice, face softening as he looks down at you.

“Minho,” you whisper, eyes widening as you stare up at him in shock.

“I want them to know,” he whispers back, hand squeezing your waist.

“For beating my ass by seven seconds in our duel last year,” he continues, and you watch as several members around the room blink and look at each other in confusion. Yeji and Hyunjin’s eyebrows shoot up simultaneously, and your best friend’s eyes meet yours, equally shocked. “And teaching me that there’s no point in being the best, if you’re not having fun with it.”

The room erupts into cheers as Minho raises his solo cup, and everyone follows suit, cups rising all around the kitchen. “Next stop, the Golden Tire Cup Finals!”

“Shit, I’ll drink to that,” Wooyoung laughs, before everyone throws their shots back.

As the party quickly resumes, you’re swarmed by some of the girls in the gang, bombarded with questions about the legendary duel that decided the fate of the club’s leader. Amongst the chaos, you lock eyes with Minho, who’s getting slapped on the back by Hyunjin while some other members tease him.

He mouths three words to you, and you swear you feel your whole soul light on fire.

You giggle, flaming red as you mouth them back.

I love you too.

After all, you should have known that after acquiring your heart, there’s only one thing he could do.

Burn it.

‧⋆ ✧˚₊‧⋆. ✧˚₊‧⋆‧

Burn It

a lixiesfreckles_ production

cast(in order of appearance)

Lee Minho as the finalist

Han Jisung as the baby mechanic

Kim Seungmin as the only one working

Jung Wooyoung as the old teammate

Seo Changbin as the host

Choi San as the one that's figuratively late to the party

Hwang Hyunjin as the drama

Shin Ryujin as the pit crew

Hwang Yeji as the one who knows her shit

Lia as the messenger

Lee Felix as thing 1

Yang Jeongin as thing 2

Bang Chan as the experienced mechanic

Choi Soobin as the mc

Hwang Intak as the heartthrob hero

Nakamura Kazuha as the victim

Lee Jeno as the neo one

Kim Hongjoong as the designated driver

Song Mingi as the passenger princess

Lee Chaeryeong as party girl 1

Shin Yuna as party girl 2

dedicated to everyone who read Punch It and demanded a book afterwards. it's never gonna happen, but the flattery stayed with me.

58 notes · View notes

grxyxsh-rxsxs · 2 years ago

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everyone go read this rn go go go

Punch It | l. m.

➸ synopsis: there’s an unexpected opening for the leader position of Changbin’s street racing gang club. Naturally, Minho steps up, ready to fill in the role.

He didn’t expect anyone to challenge him, though.

➸ starring: lee minho x female reader(ft. idols from jypnation)

➸ word count: 5.1k

➸ general content: streetracer!minho, actual street racing, the reader and Minho are both too cocky for their own good, rivals to something more, unacknowledged sexual tension

➸ warnings: mild swearing, briefly mentioned alcohol consumption, reckless driving(it is street racing after all)

➸ rating: teen+

➸ author’s note: this is the first fic I posted that made me feel accomplished as a writer. at the time it was the longest thing I had ever written, and I wrote 4k of it in one day; something that was unheard of for me previously. I want this fic here as a reminder as to how far I’ve come as a writer. this was originally posted in 2021, though, so please understand that it is not up to par with my recent works.

♫ this fic has a soundtrack! you don’t need to listen to it while reading(especially if the lyrics will bother you), but dude. the vibes. the speed. we are breaking traffic laws in style.

yes, it’s meant to be listened to in that order. shuffling it will result in Minho cramming you into an air fryer for 20 minutes at 180 degrees.

♫- Sin City

“A shot of hard liquor please, skip the ice,” Changbin told the bartender, pointing towards his favorite brown bottle behind the counter.

“Woah woah woah- what about our rule?” Hyunjin said, raising an eyebrow while putting a hand on the older man’s shoulder.

“Yes I know the rule; I was the one who made it,” Changbin scoffed, swatting Hyunjin’s hand away. You guys may break a lot of rules on the daily, but catching a DUI? That was out of the question. Which is why this particular club was used for group meetups and pit stops only; touch a drop of alcohol and you won’t be getting back behind your steering wheel.

Changbin turned to face everyone, sitting at the curved bar with questioning looks on their faces.

“Which I guess brings me to the reason why I called for us to meet today,” he sighed, watching how the rest of the crew glanced between each other nervously. Everyone had been sort of tense upon arrival, since this was a Thursday night instead of their usual Friday meetups.

“I'm stepping down as leader.”

“WHAT?!” was the collective reaction of all twelve members, some slamming their palms on the counter as they abruptly stood up.

“Okay so you don’t need any liquor, clearly you’re already drunk,” Minho rolled his eyes, swirling the ice around in a glass of water on the bar counter.

“Oh I’m sober,” he sighed, taking his keys and wallet out of his pocket, and you could see the color drain from Minho’s face as he realized that this wasn’t some sick joke.

“But why,” Hyunjin piped up, playing with his driving gloves. “You’re the best leader we’ve had since I joined the gang.”

Everyone nodded in agreement; out of everyone that was there Hyunjin had been in the gang the longest, he would know better than anyone else.

Changbin was silent for a moment before he opened his wallet, taking out a small shiny Polaroid.

He slid it across the counter so the group could get a good look at it.

At the bottom, the name “Seo Chun Ja” was written hastily in black ink, along with a date that couldn’t have been more than a week ago.

In the photo was a woman that you had known by now to be his wife, but she was holding something in her arms on the hospital bed.

A baby girl.

Donning a knitted pink cap with yellow flowers, the child couldn’t have been bigger than Changbin’s forearm as she rested in her mother’s arms.

It only took a couple of seconds for everyone to register what was going on.

“You’re…you’re a father?!” You squealed, leaning farther over the counter to see the bundle of joy in his wife’s arms. You weren’t the only one surprised; Changbin preferred to keep his personal life private, and the only indication that most people had that he was even married was from the gold band on his left ring finger. He smiled fondly at the photograph before nodding, and took the photo back into his fingertips.

“How old is she?” Someone chimed from the other end of the group.

“Three days? Or maybe four,” he chuckled, sliding the photo back into his wallet. “I don’t know, I haven’t gotten much sleep since she made her grand entrance into the world.”

“Does she cry a lot?” Hyunjin asked.

“Yeah.”

“Yup, she’s a Seo alright,” Minho chuckled, raising his eyebrows before taking another sip of his water. Changbin yelled in annoyance as Hyunjin high fived the older boy, cackling wildly.

Congrats and thanks were shared across the bar for another minute before everyone slowly fell silent, taking in the gravity of the situation as the bass thrummed through the room.

“So…does this mean you’re not going to race anymore?” You said quietly, looking up at Changbin. He squinted his eyes before taking a deep breath.

“No, I’m not going to stop racing,” he started, and everyone breathed a sigh of relief. “I just don’t have the time for our weekly meetups, not until little Chun Ja can sleep through the night.” You nodded in understanding; racing while sleep deprived would be taking the fast track to heaven.

“And I mean…not that what we do is entirely life threatening, but the wifey is a bit worried that me barreling down the highway at 100 mph isn’t exactly keeping the family’s best interests at heart,” he chuckled nervously, taking the glass that the bartender slid to him and downing it in one go. “I’ll show up every once in a while though.”

“So who’s gonna be the next leader then?” Minho asked, finally putting his glass down.

Changbin threw the keys he had in his other hand towards the middle of the counter, and everyone’s eyes went wide.

Those were the keys to his favorite car, a sleek black 1993 Toyota MR2.

“Changbin, you drove that car here,” Hyunjin said, crossing his arms and tilting his head. “Who’s going to drive you home?”

“You will,” he grinned, and the tall boy slapped a hand to his forehead and groaned.

“I take back what I said about you being the best leader-”

“Shut it, pretty boy.”

“What do you even want us to do with those?” Yeji piped up, your favorite driving partner by far. Her hair was braided into one long platinum tail down her back, and although she used to race motocross, she picked up street racing because those types of bikes weren’t allowed on city roads.

Changbin cleared his throat.

“Since I’m not going to be racing all that frequently, I would hate to see my baby be locked up in a garage to rust away with my other SUVs, so…” he pushed the keys forward with his finger a bit more, “whoever thinks they’re the best driver, after me of course,” he snickered, and you could hear someone snort behind you. “Stand up and take the keys.”

Hyunjin and Minho stood up, but after glancing at Minho, Hyunjin sat back down, to which Minho chuckled to himself.

What Minho wasn’t expecting however, was for you to stand up too.

He stared at you in mild disbelief before looking away and scoffing.

“You’re kidding right?” He said, raising an eyebrow. You folded your arms, taking a defensive stance.

“I’m standing, aren’t I?”

Hyunjin took a sip of his virgin Shirley Temple and side eyed Yeji, who had the same mischievous look on her face.

“I test drove race cars for four years!”

“So?” Yeji chuckled, keeping her attitude at bay while fixing her gloves. “Y/n’s good. Like really good.”

“But doesn’t experience matter more-”

“Alright alright, calm down,” Changbin said, waving his hands while he grabbed the keys. He then swiftly tossed them to Minho, whose face lit up, then quickly fell after seeing Changbin shake his head.

“You know how we settle things around here, don’t you?”

‧⋆ ✧˚₊‧⋆. ✧˚₊‧⋆‧ ♫- Automatic ‧⋆ ✧˚₊‧⋆. ✧˚₊‧⋆‧

The car rolled to a stop in between two streetlights, stopping at an intersection of an alleyway and a back road on the edges of the city. Minho leaned back in his seat, beginning to roll up the sleeves of his white button down shirt as you pulled up a stopwatch on your phone.

“And out of all the tracks we like to race,” he huffed, glancing at you, “why did you pick the track that I hold the fastest time for?”

“Simple,” you said quietly, propping your phone up on a vent clip.

“That way when I beat you, the look on your face will be priceless.”

His jaw dropped at your confidence, but he would be lying if he said he didn’t find it the slightest bit attractive.

“Everyone’s tried to beat my record, even Changbin-”

“Not me,” you quipped.

“So you’re just gonna claim that you can right off the bat?” He scoffed, pulling the strap tight on his gloves.

“There’s a first time for everything.”

“You’re-”

“Are you gonna drive or are we gonna sit here and bicker all night?” You cut him off, leaning towards him in your seat. “Because I can do both, but I’m sure the gang would love to know who won the race and not our argument-”

“Okay okay, sheesh,” he said, readjusting himself in the seat and taking the car out of park.

The rules were simple. One lap around downtown on the usual track, no shortcuts, no shenanigans, and no cheating of any kind, such as distracting the driver. It was late enough as is so there would be no pedestrians or traffic, not that this part of town was particularly busy at any time of day. The track took a little more than a minute if you were an experienced street racer, but for Minho, his time to beat was fifty-six seconds.

“Start the clock whenever you’re ready,” he mumbled, one hand on the steering wheel and the other on the gear shift. He was mad, you could tell. You found that hot, which you hoped he couldn’t tell.

“Three-”

He trained his eyes on the road.

“Two-”

He revved the engine twice. The little show off.

“One-”

He clicked the car into first gear, and you barely registered yourself pressing the start button and yelling “GO!” before the blaring sound of the engine roaring to life filled your eardrums.

You were both pressed into the back of your seats as the car zoomed forward, turning the small dots of light in the streets into streaks while the black rocket whizzed by.

A sly grin grew on his face as he upshifted twice, and after a few seconds he was well over the speed limit, not that any police officers lingered around this side of the city.

He knew this road like the back of his hand. Every pothole, every crack, anything that would slow him down he knew just how to avoid it. Even when he approached sharp turns, he knew just when he had to start downshifting, and even that was seamless.

Calculated.

Precise.

Completely and utterly predictable.

Everything he is and everything you aren’t.

He rounded a corner perfectly and kept shifting gears until he was tearing down the now not-so-quiet street at 70 mph, tapping on the clutch as if he was trying to match the beat of a song. At this speed, he was going to beat his previous record out of spite.

Outside of the constant roar of the engine, things were dead silent inside the car. Minho was too busy concentrating on the road to speak, and you were analyzing his every move, not that there was much to analyze. He never made any mistakes.

Which is why when he zoomed by the starting streetlights with a record time of fifty-four seconds, you were anything but surprised.

“What’s my time?” He huffed, relaxing into the seat as his chest heaved.

“Fifty-four seconds.”

A pleased grin made its way onto his face before replacing itself with a smug smirk, Minho tilting his head as he turned the car off.

“I’m the best you’ve ever seen, admit it.”

“No thanks,” you replied, unlocking the door and stepping out of the car. “I’ve looked in a mirror before.”

Your heels clicked around the front of the car as Minho got out, shaking his head while he held the door open. Stopping in front of the open door, you nodded your head to tell him to get to the other side of the car so you two could get this over with, but he just looked down at the seat and back at you, waiting for you to step in. You reluctantly sat down and he closed the door behind you before walking across the front.

So he is a gentleman, you thought to yourself while pulling the Velcro on your gloves.

And a handsome one at that, was a thought that you quickly shooed away, not liking how your eyes admired the way the streetlights hit his face for a split second before he got back in the car.

You both buckled your seat belts and he cleared the timer on your phone, opening a fresh stopwatch log and waiting for you to look at him.

But you didn’t, you only tapped impatiently on the steering wheel with a manicured nail.

After a few seconds of tense silence you spoke up.

“What are you waiting for?” You gave him an annoyed side eye.

“Aren’t you going to tell me when to go?”

“Okay, go.”

“What-”

“Go!”

You switched the car out of park and straight into first gear, making him shriek and start the timer while you snickered. The car barreled down the street, picking up fallen leaves and rattling trash cans with the engine alone.

You reached over to your left side and pressed a button, lowering all of the windows in the car at once, and Minho looked at you in disbelief.

“Do you not care about the drag you’re gonna get from that?” He yelled over the roaring wind.

“Not one bit.” You grinned, fixing the rear view mirror with your right hand.

It was at this point that Minho realized that he had never been in a car while you were behind the wheel, and his hand instinctively held on to an interior handle while you upshifted again. His heartbeat started to pick up as he noticed that you didn’t downshift, in fact whereas he usually would be two gears lower by now, you upshifted again and he held the handle tighter.

“Y/n,” he began calmly, looking at the speedometer, “do you see that turn up ahead?”

“Uh huh,” you yelled, holding the steering wheel with both hands now.

“Are you not going to slow down?!” He suddenly yelled, frightened at the calmness in your voice.

“Why would I do that-”

“To keep us ALIVE?!” He screamed, grabbing onto the middle console. “Because that’s how you handle turns?!”

You quickly looked behind you before pushing yourself far back into the seat, pressing your heeled foot a little bit further onto the acceleration pedal.

“This is how you handle a turn.”

Everything seemed to move in slow motion as you spun the wheel to the left just before you hit the corner, and you and Minho were suddenly pressed into the right sides of your seats, the centrifugal forces taking over the black vehicle. The wind whistled through Minho’s window as the sound of tires skidding along the pavement filled the street, and just as he got a grasp as to what was happening, you spun the wheel the other way, realigning the car with the road ahead before you slammed on the acceleration.

And that’s when it hit him.

You were a drift racer.

And you didn’t slow down at all that entire turn.

You screamed in delight, almost as loud as the engine did as you tore up the street, the car swerving left and right as you drifted around nearly every corner, barely pausing to downshift or brake at all. You kept your mischievous eyes on the road, both hands on the wheel, and your foot on the acceleration the whole time.

Minho, in a panic, glanced at the stop watch after you shredded your way through a hairpin turn.

Thirty-eight seconds.

Oh my god, she’s going to beat me.

The final turn of the course approached quickly, thanks to your apparent resentment to using the brakes, and Minho started to grip the center console again, but instead of drifting around it like you usually did, you held onto the gear shift, pulling it towards you in succession just like he did when he drove. You shot him a wink before you rounded the corner, and his heart raced, but no longer out of fear.

The starting streetlight shot by you and you didn’t even bother to slow down, glancing at the stop watch to see that it read forty-seven seconds before taking the route that led to the highway.

“Where are we going?” He yelled, frantically putting his window back up, and you followed suit.

“Back to the club, silly,” you responded, before upshifting one last time.

‧⋆ ✧˚₊‧⋆. ✧˚₊‧⋆‧ ♫- Break From Toronto ‧⋆ ✧˚₊‧⋆. ✧˚₊‧⋆‧

You pulled the life out of the car with a twist of the keys, killing the engine before turning it over in your hands. The once shiny Toyota symbol was now faded to a dull gray, and many of the markings for the lock buttons were missing.

“Why...why didn’t you drift on the last turn?” Minho finally spoke up, looking at you while his chin rested in his palm. “You would have gotten a faster time-”

“I don’t care about records Minho,” you stated, undoing the Velcro on your gloves. “I already knew I was going to beat you, that was just to show off.”

You swiftly unbuckled your seatbelt and got out of the car, stepping into the parking lot which was mostly empty by now, and he slowly did the same. He was still mostly in shock, lacking comebacks and sass just because he couldn’t process that he had lost.

Walking across the front of the car, Minho approached you with a hand outstretched, wanting to keep good sportsmanship despite his colossal defeat. You gladly accepted it, closing your hand around the keys you were twirling and offering it to firmly shake hands with him.

“They’ll have a good leader,” he said, nodding his head slightly.

“I don’t doubt that for a second,” you replied, before taking his hand and pressing it to his chest.

The keys to Changbin’s car fell into his hands as he looked between you and them, confused.

“But...you won,” he whispered, turning the key over in his hands.

“Damn right I did,” you chuckled, “but I don’t really want to be the leader, and besides, his car doesn’t have a Bluetooth radio, and I don’t feel like switching it out.”

He furrowed his eyebrows in shock, trying to come up with a response.

“So what do I tell them then?”

“Whatever you want Lee, I don’t care,” you said, stepping closer to him. His breath caught in his throat as you paused, looked him up and down, then straight into his eyes.

“You can tell them I lost, but we both know who the fastest racer in this city really is.”

And with that, you spun on your heels, walking towards your car as Minho stood there, dumbfounded.

“You’re going home?”

“Yeah,” you called back to him, “I’ve had enough excitement for one night.” Your heels clicked away at the pavement and Minho couldn’t help but watch, trying to make sense of the strange whirlwind of emotions in his stomach.

“Oh and uh...a word of advice,” you laughed, turning back to look at him, “you’d be a lot more enjoyable without that pole up your ass.”

‧⋆ ✧˚₊‧⋆. ✧˚₊‧⋆‧ ♫- Early ‧⋆ ✧˚₊‧⋆. ✧˚₊‧⋆‧

“Sheesh,” Hyunjin swooned, trailing his fingers over the black exterior of the vehicle, assessing its every curve. “This car is sexy.”

Minho sat on a bench on the curb, trying to let the bass from inside the club soothe his mind as he held his head in between his hands.

“Ugh and it even matches my hair- if I had this car, I’d never bleach my hair again,” he sighed dreamily, adjusting a rear view mirror so he could look at himself. “Imagine showing up to parties in this baby, and-”

Hyunjin paused, narrowing his eyes at his best friend on the bench, who had barely said a word since he walked into the club and declared himself as the new leader.

“-and why do I get the feeling that I’m more excited about this car than you?” He said, trading his grin out for a concerned pout as he joined Minho on the bench.

“Because...I don’t deserve it,” Minho said slowly, staring at the license plate.

“Are you kidding?” Hyunjin scoffed, looking at the other in disbelief. “You’re the best racer that I know! Of course you deserve it, you wo-”

“She won.”

Hyunjin tilted his head, letting a small nervous chuckle escape his lips.

“What?”

“Seven seconds Hyunjin,” he began, standing up and rubbing his face with his hands. “That’s how much she beat me by.”

Hyunjin’s face went pale.

“That’s...that’s impossible,” the taller boy whispered to himself, and Minho laughed bitterly at that statement, reminding him of what he had thought earlier that night.

“Not for a drift racer, apparently!”

Minho turned around, facing the other who had shock written all over his face.

“Have you seen that woman drive?!” He practically yelled, and Hyunjin stopped to think.

“Come to think of it, no,” he realized, looking up at his friend. “She’s always helping Yeji learn the ropes when we go on our group drives, so they carpool-”

“Well you should watch her drive,” he continued, more hysterical laughter spilling from Minho’s lips, “she’s reckless, and she doesn’t slow down, and she drifts around every corner, and she drives with the goddamn windows down, and in the last hour she’s made me question everything I ever knew about street racing!” He paused to take a deep breath.

“I feel like I’m losing my mind.”

“She’s that good?”

“God, she’s incredible,” he confessed, leaning against the side of the car. “And she could have lowered her time too; at the last corner of the race she downshifted almost perfectly, and didn’t drift because ‘that was just to show off.’”

Hyunjin started laughing, for it wasn’t often that he got to see Minho all riled up about something...or someone.

“Never,” Minho spat, “never in my eight years of driving have I ever met anyone with the audacity to-”

“Minho! Minho Minho Minho,” Hyunjin chuckled, getting up off the bench to stand in front of a wide-eyed Minho, placing his hands on his shoulders.

“Hey,” he gave him a knowing smile, “it’s okay to have a crush-”

“Yah! Does everyone have to be drunk these days?” He yelled, pushing the younger one off of him as he opened the car door to get in. Hyunjin collapsed to the ground, lost in a fit of giggles among the asphalt.

“Call me when you want to talk about your feelings,” he swooned, erupting into laughter again before Minho slammed the door, shaking his head.

‧⋆ ✧˚₊‧⋆. ✧˚₊‧⋆‧ ♫- Get It, If You Let Me ‧⋆ ✧˚₊‧⋆. ✧˚₊‧⋆‧

The highway seemed awfully quiet as Minho zoomed along the shoulder, watching the street lights flicker through the car like a broken headlight as he let his mind wander. This night had taken more turns than the Le Mans race track, and he was way overdue for some sleep.

He sighed, looking through the windshield, and as he shifted his vision he noticed something amiss on one of the vents.

You had left your phone.

You must have forgotten to put it back in your bag, and Minho cursed at himself for forgetting to take it out and give it to you.

Then again, he was apparently desperately needing driving lessons, specifically the ones where you learn to drift.

Minho slowed down, coming to a stop at a red light as he pondered his decision. He knew where your house was, and knowing you, you’d still be awake, thanks to the countless times he had muted your endless chatting with Yeji in the group chat.

He was definitely too arrogant earlier. Would you even be willing to accept an apology or give him a second chance?

The light in the left lane flickered to green, letting an absolute lack of drivers make left turns and U-turns back into town, and Minho’s grip on the steering wheel tightened once again.

To hell with this.

He slammed on the acceleration, crossing the three empty lanes between the shoulder and the left turn lane before making a U-Turn, and nothing had felt more right than when he grinned and shifted the car into second gear.

Only one thing left to do now I guess, he thought to himself.

Punch it.

‧⋆ ✧˚₊‧⋆. ✧˚₊‧⋆‧

“You should have seen the look on his face,” you practically squealed, kicking your legs up off the couch while trying not to spill your glass of wine. “The man was going to pee himself!”

“I know I nearly did the first time I rode with you,” Yeji chuckled, unscrewing the oil cap with a click. “H-Hey, I got it to come off!”

“Good!” You sat up on the couch, suddenly focused. “The oil is coming out black right?”

“Yeah...it’s kinda gross,” she drawled.

“Make sure you empty it all the way-”

Your train of thought was broken by the low rumble of a familiar engine on your street, slowly pulling into your driveway. You squinted your eyes in concentration, trying to identify who was at your house at this hour as Yeji confusedly called your name through the landline.

“Yeji? Are you going to be up for a while?” You said suddenly, holding the receiver up to your face again.

“Yeah...I have a couple more things to fix,” she said, and you heard the sound of a wrench clattering to the floor through the receiver. “Why?”

“I think Minho is at my house.”

“Ooooooooh-”

“Shut up, I’ll be right back,” you laughed, and then swiftly hung up, just in case this took longer than you expected.

You walked up to one of the windows near the driveway, lifting up one of the blinds to see if your suspicions were correct, and they were; Minho got out of his new car, shoving the keys into his pockets before closing the door behind him.

One glance into a mirror and you realized the absurdity of this situation.

You had quickly ridden yourself of the glittery makeup and cute outfit in favor of pajamas as soon as you got home, and here he was walking up to your door, still looking as sharp as he did earlier that night.

Good thing you didn’t care what he thought of you.

Mostly.

A hand through the hair would have to suffice for now.

He stepped up to your door, contemplating whether a knock or doorbell ring would be better, but you quickly erased both options, opening the door as soon as he stood on the welcome mat.

“I knew you’d be back but…” you looked him over and smiled, “...not this soon.”

He only responded with a light chuckle before pulling your phone out of his dark wash jeans.

“I wasn’t planning on being here like this but this was left in my car,” he said, holding it up to his face. “Figured you’d want it.”

You hummed, nodding in thanks and quirking an eyebrow.

“But…?”

“But what?” He laughed nervously.

“But no man in their right mind would drive to some chick’s house just to give her something that could have waited until the next morning,” you tilted your head in amusement and swirled the wine in your glass. “Unless you’ve come to apologize.”

“For?”

“Um, underestimating me?”

“Oh yeah, that,” more nervous laughter fell from his lips. “Sorry about that.”

“And the arrogance.”

“And the arrogance,” he mumbled, rolling his eyes.

“Cool. So now that that’s out of the way,” you whispered, putting your glass on a table inside near the door, closing the door behind you and leaning against it, “why are you really here?”

His eyes widened, clearly not prepared for you to have read him so easily.

“I…” his hands fumbled with the edges of his rolled up sleeves as he tried to get his thoughts together. After a few seconds of silence he dropped the act, relinquishing his cool demeanor.

“Back there, when you were driving,” a slow look of astonishment spread across his face, “how did you do that?”

“Do what? Drift?”

“Yeah.”

“You want to be a drift racer?”

“Not necessarily,” he explained, “it's just...we should have flipped over- I don’t get how you did that.”

“All I did was let the weight of the vehicle drive the car instead of me,” you said, nodding towards the hunk of metal on your driveway. “If you’re driving fast enough, turning sharply will make the car drift; the back wheels will try to swing to the front and centrifugal force and whatnot.”

Minho visibly winced.

“To put it simply, it’s about controlling a lack of control.”

“How is that safe?”

“It’s not,” you laughed, then turned serious. “Not that anything we do is safe.” He just blinked at you, trying to process what he was supposed to do with this information.

“Minho, on average, how much do you lower your record every time you attempt to beat it?”

“Uh,” he squinted his eyes. “I don’t know, like a half second maybe? Why?”

“You do the same thing every time don’t you?”

“Why does that sound like a bad thing coming from you?” He chuckled nervously, shifting on his feet.

“Well then it’s no wonder how I beat your record so easily,” you cackled, “you’ve basically optimized your route; to you, nobody can beat it, because nobody is going to try anything different.”

“Where are you going with this?” He tilted his head, assuming a defensive stance.

“You can’t get better unless you try something new.” You deadpanned, looking him straight in the eyes. “In other words, you can't beat me until you quit being so scared.”

“I’m not scared!” He retorted.

“You basically tried to become Mariah Carey when I drove!”

He opened his mouth to snap back, then for his own safety, decided not to.

“Look, I get it,” you said quietly, “losing control in a car while you spin in a metal box isn’t everyone’s idea of fun-”

“Not when you put it like that-”

“But,” you chuckled, and the sparkle in his eyes returned, “because I know how this is going to keep you up tonight-”

“I’ll sleep just fine, thank you,” he laughed, folding his arms.

“I’ll give you one tip, for free.”

He raised his eyebrows.

“Loosen up,” you said, giving him a light shove, and he stumbled backwards slightly. “Otherwise you’ll be stuck at fifty-four seconds.”

He just watched you turn to leave before you added, “I’ll be at the giant abandoned parking lot past downtown tomorrow night with Yeji, in case you want a lesson or something.” And with that you stepped behind your door, flashing him a smile before closing the door.

Minho stood there, blinking hard and trying to regulate the erratic beating of his heart before you opened the door again, giving him a strange look.

You pointed at him and raised an eyebrow, and he looked down to where your finger was pointed.

“Oh, right,” he chuckled, handing you your phone and you laughed, taking the device from him.

“Goodnight Minho,” you whispered before closing the door again, not giving him time to respond.

Your ability to make him speechless was getting out of hand.

Something tells me I’m supposed to get used to this…

“...goodnight.”

‧⋆ ✧˚₊‧⋆. ✧˚₊‧⋆‧

Punch It

a lixiesfreckles_ production

cast(in order of appearance)

Seo Changbin as the only one with a life

Hwang Hyunjin as the drama

Lee Minho as the obvious choice

Hwang Yeji as the best friend

in memory of my old self. you had no idea what you'd be capable of one day.

51 notes · View notes

grxyxsh-rxsxs · 2 years ago

Text

Floor It | l. m.

the sequel to Punch It, a fic from the PICU

➸ synopsis: You and Minho have been driving circles around each other for months now, but you can't seem to figure out what's holding him back from being the most skilled street racer in the city.

Tonight, you decide it's time to take matters into your own hands. Or wheels.

➸ starring: lee minho x female reader(ft. idols from jypnation)

➸ word count: 2.8k

➸ general content: streetracer!minho, very very dangerous street racing(do not attempt to do any of this, no matter how tempting it may be), police car chase, even more unacknowledged sexual tension

➸ warnings: mentions of alcohol, like one swear word

➸ rating: teen+

➸ author's note: the last time I wrote for this au was over two and a half years ago! and then I listened to break from toronto by partynextdoor and it all came rushing back. I've literally had this fic planned from March and I finally wrote it in under three hours HELP

♫ this fic has a soundtrack! you don't need to listen to it while reading(especially if the lyrics will bother you), but there's a police chase in this part, and I swear the steering wheel was in my grip while I read with the music playing.

yes, it's meant to be listened to in that order(starting from Best Lover). shuffling it will result in Minho cramming you into an air fryer for 20 minutes at 180 degrees.

♫- Best Lover

You open the door to your red Nissan Silvia S15, stepping out onto the dried grass as semi-chilly air blows across your face.

I thought I might find him here.

Below the cliff, Changbin’s old Toyota speeds around the run-down parking lot track, creating clouds of smoke as it drifts around the poorly lit corners. The corners of your lips turn up slightly, unaware of how much Minho had been practicing between your impromptu lessons.

A little to your left, you see one of your friends observing the grand prix from afar, silver hair fluttering from the wind as he leans against his matching car. You lock your ride and shove your hands into your racer jacket, walking up to stand beside the man before breaking the silence.

“I was wondering where he was running off to so fast after our meetup.”

He clicks his tongue, standing up from the hood and pointing towards one end of the makeshift practice course.

“He's spent the last few nights here trying to perfect that turn,” Hyunjin says, and you both watch as the Toyota speeds up, and then attempts to slow down way too much as it approaches a hairpin turn, before ultimately running off the track halfway through the curve. You both watch in mild amusement as the car comes to a halt, and then you hear several short beeps echoing up from the lot. “He was so sure he'd have it down by tonight, at least.”

You turn to him, raising an eyebrow.

“Why tonight?”

He's quiet for a moment, folding the arms of his black and white racer jacket and watching as Minho takes off again.

“It's his birthday.”

You sharply draw in a breath and nod, understanding the nature of your rival’s thought processes. He's been the leader of the street racing gang for a few months now; that man has nothing to prove to anyone other than you or himself. And yet you're fully aware that it drives him crazy that you never gave him a time to beat for any tracks.

Mostly because you never timed yourself in the first place.

“I was gonna see if he wanted to do a celebratory round of shots with some of the gang,” Hyunjin says, turning and walking back towards his car. “But I think he'd just get annoyed at me breaking his focus.”

He pauses at his car door, watching you gaze down at the cliff with a strange look in your eyes as his hand lingers on the handle.

“You're more than welcome to join us, you know.”

“Nah…I think I'll stay behind,” you decide, eventually turning your focus back to the silver haired man. “I'm gonna try talking to him.”

He cocks his head to the side. “And risk pissing him off?”

You simply smile and shrug your shoulders.

“That's kinda my thing.”

“Don't I know it,” he chuckles under his breath, and you don't have time to ponder what he means by that before he waves goodbye, disappearing into his silver Supra.

You watch him drive off until his taillights disappear, then look back down off the cliff. Minho approaches the turn again, but the same thing happens– he slows down, loses momentum, and loses control.

You wish you could say you're surprised.

Just then, a horrible idea crosses your mind.

Before you can talk yourself out of it, you're already in your car, revving the engine to life before making your way down the cliff.

‧⋆ ✧˚₊‧⋆. ✧˚₊‧⋆‧ ♫- MotoSpeed 24 ‧⋆ ✧˚₊‧⋆. ✧˚₊‧⋆‧

Minho’s gloved hands grip the steering wheel as he pants, waiting for the smoke to clear before trying again.

He doesn't understand. He's been able to clear that turn so many times before, when he wasn't drifting. Shouldn't he be able to make a tighter circle if he wasn't going as fast?

He's about to step on the gas when he hears something in the distance getting closer. And louder. Until he turns his head to look and sees your Silvia zoom past his car, tearing down the track at breakneck speed.

You slip and slide around every turn, the smell of burnt rubber filling the old parking lot as you whip around in the night, in almost the same fashion that Minho did. He watches you in awe(although he will never admit that), and focuses once you approach the turn that's been giving him trouble for days, sitting a couple yards away from the track.

He can hear you upshift again and he unconsciously holds his breath, silently praying that you don't mess this up, for both of your sakes.

And seamlessly, he watches as you jerk the front wheels to the left, causing the back wheels to swivel to the right as you create a cloud of smoke with them that just barely traces the outer edge of the curve.

Insane. All those months ago he lost to someone that was completely and utterly insane.

Eventually you slow to a stop, then throw the car into reverse and back up, eventually landing in the gravel before easing your car next to Minho’s.

Your window goes down first, and then his, albeit reluctantly.

“What are you doing here Lee,” you yell, and he strains to hear you over the roar of the engines.

“Practicing,” he shouts back, nodding towards the course.

“Practicing for what?”

He opens his mouth, and then closes it. Somehow, saying that he was practicing to beat you felt a little too vulnerable for his taste.

“Are you scared?!” You yell again, and he quickly averts his gaze from yours.

After he doesn't respond, you sigh and roll your eyes.

“Just follow me!”

Before he has time to protest, you're already rolling your window up and revving the engine, rolling forward to the track.

You don't take off until you see he's right behind you, flashing you with his high beams.

‧⋆ ✧˚₊‧⋆. ✧˚₊‧⋆‧ ♫- The Bat ‧⋆ ✧˚₊‧⋆. ✧˚₊‧⋆‧

Something tells you Minho’s never taken a joyride before.

At every stoplight your phone blows up with messages from Minho, frantically asking you “What the hell was that?” after you pull a stunt on the highway or demand to know where you're taking him. You don't answer any of them.

You both pull up to a stoplight now, and after seeing that your windows are down, he rolls down his passenger one. He looks frantic in comparison to you, with your one hand casually resting on the top of the wheel while something high energy hums from the sound system.

“Y/n, where are we going?!”

You blink at him twice and shrug, fighting a smile.

“You wanna race?” You yell at him, and he creases his eyebrows, annoyed at your blatant ignorance of his question.

“I wanna know where we're going!”

This time you bat your eyelashes at him, letting the car lurch forward slightly as you rev the engine. His eyebrows shoot up, incredulous, before he revs his as well, unable to resist a challenge. You both alternate creeping forward towards the white line, not paying any mind to the strangers around you that were witnessing the spectacle.

A small smirk brightens his features as he puts his window back up, both gloved hands gripping his steering wheel in anticipation. You're already grinning, now turning your attention to the light, just itching for it to change color.

One second passes.

Minho revs his engine again. You giggle.

Two seconds.

You return the gesture, hand falling to the gear shift as the last car clears the intersection.

Three seconds.

Green light.

Floor it.

The engines roar to life as you and Minho break away from the commuters, upshifting in sync as you blaze down the parkway.

Once you reach a decent(blatantly illegal) speed, you tap the horn and point to an exit, and Minho lets you take the lead as he slows down to enter the on ramp.

But you don't.

You step on the gas and whip the car around, drifting all the way through the curve and gaining some distance from Minho before entering the highway.

So that's how you clear the turn.

Checking and confirming that he's still behind you in your rearview mirror, you just barely slide between a green sedan and a white van, making your way over to the fastest lane. Five-lane highways were playgrounds to you; it was so easy to lose someone if you wanted to.

Of course, right now you don't want to. You want to see if he has the balls to keep up.

Minho merges onto the highway, upshifting as he weaves around a red mustang to try and get closer to you. Up ahead, you turn your matching red underlights on, the ones he never told you he thought were pretty.

They're also illegal to use on the road.

Minho turns on his purple ones and speeds up.

Squealing, you dart around a blue Cadillac, both you and the driver nodding at each other before you speed past it and get into the next lane over, trying to maintain your distance. But Minho is relentless, upshifting again and making ground in an emptier lane, and then passing a yellow Camry up ahead when it gets in his way.

You two haphazardly weave lines through traffic, the adrenaline fueling both of you as you slide behind cars, and then you see it just a second too late.

An idle car sitting on the shoulder, just waiting for someone like you or Minho to show up as it turns its headlights on, and subsequently its siren, complete with blue and red flashing lights.

“Shit,” Minho curses, eyeing the problem in his rearview mirror. You however, don't even break a sweat, tapping the horn twice and sliding back to the right lane as you speed up.

Minho sees the exit coming up and knows where you're gonna take him.

“Let's see how badly you wanna evade the cops, Lee,” you chuckle, grinning as you get into the exit lane and start drifting, already gaining distance just from not slowing down.

He sees what you're doing, sees the lights behind him, and makes up his mind.

Oh, what the hell.

He steps on it and throws the back of the car around, drifting around the exit in probably the most seamless curve he's done yet. When you hear his tires screeching behind you, you let out an exhilarating cheer, hoping he can't hear you over the tires he's burning.

Barreling towards the track where you first beat him, he pulls up next to you, lowering the window as the blue and red lights reflected in the exit start getting brighter.

“You wanna do this?!” You scream, unable to control your excitement.

“Yes, yes I do,” he yells back, grinning. You don't think you've ever seen him do that, ever. You pump your fist and speed up, heading towards the first turn that had Minho hollering when you were behind the wheel all those months ago.

And just like before, you drift around it, feeling the wind whip through your car as you spin your steering wheel.

But this time, Minho follows just behind you, purple underlights lighting up the asphalt below and giving his smoke a cooler tone as slides around the corner, no downshifting to be heard of.

He's doing it. He's finally doing it.

The two cars blaze around the track, the sirens getting more and more distant as you make more ground between you and the police, but you've already forgotten about them. You're laughing and screaming uncontrollably, trying your best not to let Minho catch up to you, like some sort of extreme game of tag.

Even when you approach the last turn he doesn't relent, hot on your fiery red trail as you whip around the final corner and tear off into the night.

‧⋆ ✧˚₊‧⋆. ✧˚₊‧⋆‧ ♫- Therapy ‧⋆ ✧˚₊‧⋆. ✧˚₊‧⋆‧

You find yourselves driving up a parking garage, essentially corkscrewing your way up to the top floor as you pass empty overnight cars. The empty building echoes with the roar of your engines before you meet the open sky, faintly littered with specks of white as the light pollution from the city overpowers the stars.

You pull up to a stop across several spaces, not caring about parking rules as you kill the engine, and watch Minho pull into a single slot. Car doors open as you both hop out of your respective rides, the chilly October air biting at your face as you pull your racer jacket tighter around you.

He leans against his car, an unreadable expression on his face as he takes in the view of the city, alive with cars and buses streaking the roads. A long time ago he used to be just like them, only driving to get from point A to point B.

He then chuckles, considering the events of the last half hour.

“You are insane.”

You look over at him, who was regarding you with a stern expression on his face. Typical Minho.

“Eh, it takes one to know one,” you jest, leaving the side of your car to walk over to the railing of the building. You hear him scoff behind you.

“We could have gotten into some serious trouble back there.”

“But we didn’t,” you cheer, and then look back at him, smirking. “And I saw you– don’t act like you weren’t enjoying it.”

His expression dissolves to one of…agreement? You don't think Minho’s ever agreed with you. You decide to push a little further, seizing this rare opportunity.

“You know Lee, there’s no point in being the best if you don’t have fun with it.”

The moment immediately shatters, his stance taking a defensive one as he crosses his arms.

“I do, I’m just-”

“Afraid?”

“What?”

“You’re afraid to try something new,” you conclude, pushing off the wall towards his Toyota. “That’s why you do the same thing over and over again even though you’re trying to get better results.”

He will never admit it, but you are right.

You laugh, finding his silence very telling of your accuracy.

“You know that’s like, the textbook definition of insanity, right?”

“I am not afraid,” he protests.

“I am not afraid,” you mock, stepping closer.

“I’m not!”

You stand in front of him, silently regarding the man in front of you as clouds of steam leave your mouths.

He barely catches you glance down to his neck before you’re grabbing both sides of his jacket collar, pulling him down to your eye level.

His eyes go wide for a moment, unable to predict what you’re going to do next.

“You are,” you whisper, looking him dead in the eyes as you do. You then release him, stepping away so he can finally resume breathing. With the way the steam cloud forms in front of him in short puffs, you’re nearly certain you made his heart jump.

“When you’re ready to say you are, you know where to find me.”

He watches in silence as you get back into your car, revving your engine before pulling away from the railing and stopping beside him. You roll down the window and lean over the passenger seat, holding onto the steering wheel.

“Oh, and happy birthday,” you yell, and his eyebrows raise up in shock, unaware that you even knew the importance of today. “The gang is lucky to have you as their leader.”

And with that, you roll up your window and put the pedal to the metal, leaving him speechless with the sky.

‧⋆ ✧˚₊‧⋆. ✧˚₊‧⋆‧

Your doorbell rings the following Friday night, but you’re not surprised. You’d heard his car come thundering into your driveway from the inside of your garage.

Minho steps away from your front door as he hears the garage door rise, peering around the corner to see you standing right behind the metal. He walks back to your driveway, watching as you take off your gloves and toss them onto your car– it looks like he was interrupting a wheel rotation.

You don’t say anything, simply folding your arms and waiting for him to state his case.

“Okay…” He sighs. “I am.”

Unsatisfied, you blow a strand of hair out of your face, wearing a bored expression.

“You’re what?”

He rolls his eyes and looks away. You really are so annoying.

“...afraid.”

Smiling, you nod and walk back to your car, picking up your gloves off the trunk.

“Next Monday, the parking lot, at 6 pm,” you say casually, then throw a deathly glare his way. “Show up late and I’ll slash three of your tires.”

He winces slightly as you walk back over to the garage control pad.

“Oh and Lee,” you call, and he regains his focus, looking at your hand hovering over the buttons.

“It’s a date.”

You swear you see the slightest hint of a smile on his lips as the door lowers, before it obstructs his gaze from your view.

‧⋆ ✧˚₊‧⋆. ✧˚₊‧⋆‧

Floor It

a lixiesfreckles_ production

cast(in order of appearance)

Lee Minho as the birthday boy

Hwang Hyunjin as the spectator

for everyone who wanted a book in between Punch It and Drive. thank you for loving this au so much.

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