Or What About Hero!Jungkook X Villain!reader?

Or what about hero!Jungkook x villain!reader? 🤔

College!AU, they fall in love and don’t know that they’re fighting against each other every night until BOOM everything shatters

I know it’ll take a little long while until HR and DtS are finished but what do you want to read after that?

Drive to Survive (JJK) • Chapter 7 “Midnight Fiction”

pairing: F1driver!Jungkook x female race engineer!reader genre: colleagues2L, formula1!AU, racing!AU, drama, kind of fantasy/cyborg!AU fic rating: 18+, MDNI warnings: minor self harm kind of, lying, media fallout, foul language, Trish, slight domestication, fluff? word count: ~ 6.400

🎵Illit - Midnight Fiction 🎵

a/n: just kind of a filler chapter, hope you still enjoy it!

a/n 2: This work is purely fictional. All characters and events are entirely imaginary and do not reflect reality. Content errors related to the sport of Formula 1 are not excluded. Please do not use this story as your own. No translations are allowed without permission. Thank you for understanding! 💕

01 • 02 • 03 • 04 • 05 • 06 •series masterlist • 08

The rhythmic banging against your hotel room wall should drive you insane. The dull thudding, like clockwork, hasn't stopped since it started five minutes ago. Normally, you'd be wondering what was wrong with the person or persons responsible, questioning their inability to control themselves in such a semi-public place.

Thud. Thud. Thud.

But this noise isn't coming from the neighbouring rooms directly beside yours. It's neither Joongki on your right nor Jungkook on your left. The truth is, you are the cause of the banging. It's you, trying to knock some sense into your brain as you lightly thump your head against the hotel room wall in frustration.

This isn't about your failed solo mission or the fear and threat from Mingyu’s assault. It isn't because of the overwhelming headlines plastered everywhere. No, this torment is purely and solely because of you and your inability to keep your professional distance from your driver. Thud. Jungkook. Thud. Jeon Jungkook. Thud. Thud.

Why on earth are you sabotaging your dreams and ambitions like this?

You might blame it on hormones, but you're well past the stage of reasoning and denial. When Jungkook searched for your gaze after the race, you knew deep down he was searching for you. You hoped he was searching for you. You wanted so badly for him to be searching for you.

And when he finally found you, you realised at that very moment—when your heart burst with a warmth you'd yearned for years, when your mind finally quieted, and when every cell in your being felt euphoric—that you had truly and irrevocably fallen in love with him.

So the only logical action was to run away. You didn't get very far, but your hotel room should suffice as a refuge until the flight back to headquarters tomorrow morning.

Now, you're not sure how to act around Jungkook. Should you avoid him or try to stay professional? The thudding against the wall stops momentarily as you consider your options. No, avoidance never worked in the past, and it won't work now either. Thud. Thud.

Again your mind wanders back to the pit after the race, where the team celebrated Jungkook's win. You try to shake off the memory, but it clings to you, making your heart ache.

You let out a frustrated sigh, pressing your forehead against the cool wall. What are you going to do? How can you face him now that you know your feelings? You've worked so hard to get where you are, and now this—this uncontrollable, inconvenient, and utterly illogical emotion threatens to undo it all.

The thudding resumes, a steady beat of self-inflicted frustration. You can't help but think of all the moments leading up to this point—the stolen glances, thud, the shared laughs, thud, the way his presence always seemed to ground you even in the most stressful situations, thud. It was more than just a professional relationship, and you both knew it. But acknowledging it, admitting it to yourself, that's what terrifies you the most.

You pull back from the wall, rubbing your eyes with both hands, not caring for your makeup. You need to get a grip. Running away isn't the solution, but confronting your feelings head-on seems impossible. 

If you were honest with yourself, you always wanted a family more than a career. A loving husband, children, maybe even a dog or three. But you never imagined falling for Jungkook. You don’t even truly know him—what’s important to him, whether his moral compass aligns with yours. You’re still unsettled by his flirty nature. Or are you? He did clear the air about it. But what if he lied? Yet, he’s never lied to you before, has he? Are you just trying to find excuses again?

You pace the room, trying to figure out your next move. Maybe you can talk to him, clear the air, and set some boundaries. But the thought of that conversation makes your stomach churn. No way in hell you’re going to do that. 

Why does love have to be so complicated? Why can't you just focus on your career without these feelings interfering? Or fall for someone ordinary. Someone who isn’t in the spotlight, not your colleague, not Jungkook. But you know it’s too late for that. The heart wants what it wants, and yours is set on Jungkook.

You sink onto the edge of the bed, burying your face in your hands. The exhaustion from the weekend starts to catch up with you, mingling with the emotional turmoil. You can't keep going like this.

As you sit there, you hear a soft knock on the door. Your heart leaps into your throat. Could it be Jungkook? You hesitate, not sure if you're ready to face him. But the knocking persists, gentle yet insistent. 

Taking a deep breath, you stand. And with shaking hands, sweat coating your whole body due to your nerves, you walk to the door. When you open it, you're met with Jungkook's concerned eyes. "Hey," he says softly, his voice a balm to your frayed nerves but your heart skyrockets. "Can I come in?"

You nod, gulping dry and stepping aside to let him enter. He closes the door behind him and turns to you, his expression serious. "I noticed you left the celebration early. Are you okay?"

You nod again, but the words catch in your throat. "Yeah, why wouldn’t I?” You manage to force a laugh out, hiding your shaky hands behind your back. 

He steps closer, his presence comforting yet unsettling. "You know you can talk to me, right? Whatever it is, we can figure it out together."

You look into his eyes, the sincerity there making your heart race even more. "No, everything’s fine, Jungkook," you whisper, feeling the weight of your emotions pressing down on you.

He reaches out, but you step back. "And why’s your forehead red and swollen?"

"Huh, I didn’t notice." You play dumb, aware that he can see through your facade but chooses not to call you out on it.

"Everything’s good?" he inquires again.

Your heart plummets to the floor with the g-force of an F1 car as you reassure him, "Yep."

Jungkook looks skeptical but eventually nods. You feel a pang of guilt, but you know you need time to digest everything. You’ve spent years working towards one goal, and you don't want to act carelessly. Even if your feelings are reciprocated, you’re not willing to jump into a relationship only to see it crash down in flames because you rushed it.

"I’ll leave you be then. Please do reach out to me. I’ll be waiting for you." He stutters, his embarrassment showing in the red tint of his cheeks and ears as he walks backward to your door. "I… I mean, I’m right next door. So… yeah… good night."

"Good night, Jungkook." You’re too stressed to tease him, letting him close the door as you take a deep breath and glide to the floor.

It’s the next morning at Chubu Centrair International Airport, as you’re walking a few steps behind Jungkook. You can't keep your eyes off the back of his head, his fluffy hair bouncing with every step he takes. His headset covers his ears, and you’re sure they’re blocking out the bustling noise of the airport, including the clicking of your high heels. Namjoon walks beside you, pulling his suitcase along like you do, animatedly talking about some rare crabs found only in Japan. 

You're almost at your jet, which will accommodate the three of you. As you walk, you notice George, Joongki, and George's physiotherapist trailing some distance behind. Namjoon occasionally glances back, sharing longing looks with George. They will take a different jet since George plans to spend the time in Monaco until the next race weekend, while the rest of you head back to headquarters.

Watching Jungkook’s back, you wonder if he had a sleepless night like you did, his mind racing to make sense of the emotions coursing through him. Did he also lie awake, questioning if the other feels the same, unsure if it's real or just wishful thinking? Does he sense your feelings, is he growing suspicious, or does he simply accept your assurance that everything’s fine without giving it another thought? You ponder whether this connection is meant to be or doomed to go down in flames.

As you turn the last corner, you're suddenly blinded by a barrage of flashing cameras. Paparazzi swarm around, shouting questions which ring in your ears. Jungkook is pushed backward, colliding with his back with Namjoon as the paparazzi yell at your faces, “Are the rumours true? Are you dating Jungkook?” 

Startled and cornered by the aggressive crowd, you still manage to say with a straight face, “No comment,” knowing better than to say too much in your inner panic. You can’t slip through the throng of flashing cameras until Namjoon and Jungkook position themselves like a protective shield in front of you, guiding you to the gate. Finally airport security steps in, holding back the still-shouting paparazzi outside the gate. 

You lock eyes with Jungkook, whose headset now rests around his neck. He sighs, shaking his head in frustration. “I hate the media,” he mutters, letting himself fall into a seat until it’s time to board. 

A few minutes later, George, Joongki, and the physiotherapist step inside the gate as well. George jokes to Jungkook, “What did you do this time?” But Jungkook waves him off, clearly not in the mood.

You notice Joongki's eyes darting between you and Jungkook. You're not sure why the media is once again on your heels with these rumours, but when you recall Mingyu's parting words, everything starts to make sense. “Mingyu said I’ll pay for what I did,” you say quietly.

Jungkook straightens up, a flash of anger crossing his face. “Fucking bastard,” he growls.

Joongki adds with a smirk, “How mature.”

You settle next to Jungkook, leaving one seat between you due to the paparazzi while you straighten your dress.  “Yeah…he knows where it hurts. Toto and the shareholders won’t be happy about the PR I’m causing. Mingyu knows I’ve got a fixed-term contract that runs out after the season.” You rub your tired eyes, grateful that the next race isn’t for another three weeks in Belgium, which means significantly less travel time and some time to sleep and think. 

George flops into the seat beside you and Jungkook. “Don’t worry, we’ll plead for you to stay with us beyond the season. Am I right?” He drops his hand onto Jungkook’s thigh with more force than necessary, making Jungkook push him off onto you.

“Don’t touch me, I don’t want your loser germs,” Jungkook jokes, igniting the usual bickering between him and George. Their playful banter distracts you a little, but not enough to stop your mind from racing with thoughts about the next steps to counter Mingyu's vendetta.

“Why aren’t you heading back to Korea like usual?” you hear George probe.

Jungkook visibly tenses, casting a quick glance your way. You feel a sudden rush of attention toward him. He never mentioned that he usually spends his time back home in Korea, nor that he planned on doing so this time. Your mind flickers back to a brief conversation from a few days ago, when he asked where you were heading after the race weekend. You casually mentioned Brackley, not wanting to spend time at your parents' place or alone in Belgium. You know that race engineers typically follow their drivers wherever they go, like Joongki does with George. So when Jungkook said he’d be in Brackley too, you didn’t think much of it.

Now, Jungkook stares directly into George’s eyes and flatly states, “Why would I?”

You raise an eyebrow, feeling a twinge of suspicion at his behaviour and response.

George smirks knowingly, as if he has some insight you don’t. “Why wouldn’t you? Your family’s there.”

It feels like he and Jungkook are speaking in tongues, and you're the only one who doesn't understand. Then Namjoon, with a kind smile directed at Jungkook, says, “Family can be elsewhere too.”

Jungkook nods vigorously, pointing both palms to Namjoon as if presenting the only logical answer. But his eyes flicker to you a few times, and if you’re not mistaken, his ears are slightly pink. The conversation drops after that, with Joongki calling his wife and kids via video, leaving you longing for a similar connection. The quiet shared gazes between George and Namjoon, along with the warm smile Jungkook sends your way, confirm that everyone desires the same future with a sense of belonging and family.

It’s not much later when the jet takes off, you lean back in your seat, watching Jungkook and Namjoon talk about trivial matters. Despite the chaos you left on the ground, their conversation brings a semblance of normalcy, grounding you in the moment. You know you have to address the rumours, but right now, you need to focus on your immediate reality and the team around you.

When the plane reaches cruising altitude, you unbuckle your seatbelt and head to the small galley to get a drink. Jungkook follows you, a look of concern etched on his face. “You sure you’re okay?” he asks softly, his voice barely audible over the hum of the engines.

You nod, sipping your water. “Just tired. It’s been a lot lately.”

He leans against the counter, watching you closely. “Yeah, kind of crazy if you think about it.”

“That’s one way to say it.” You manage a small tired smile even though the warmth and sincerity in his eyes makes your heart ache with a confusing mix of hope and fear. 

Jungkook’s hand twitches, almost reaching for yours resting on the counter, but he just straightens up and slips both hands into his pockets. “We’ll get through this together,” he says, glancing back at Namjoon. “The whole team.”

You’re uncertain about Namjoon’s role in the drama surrounding you both, realising he has no real part in it. Perhaps Jungkook is trying to give you the space and distance you always seem to demand, wanting to support you without crossing the boundaries you repeatedly set and tear down, only to rebuild again.

Not knowing how to respond properly, and not wanting to overwhelm him with a hug or kisses you desperately want to shower him, you offer a small nod, grateful for his support more than you can express at this moment. “Thanks, Jungkook. That means a lot.”

As you return to your seat, you notice Namjoon giving you a curious look. You know he’s seen the way Jungkook looks at you, the way he always seems to be there when you need him. You’re not sure what to make of it yourself, but for now, you tell yourself you’re just grateful to have such a supportive team around you.

The flight is uneventful, allowing you some time to think and plan. You make mental notes about the conversations you need to have with Toto, the strategies you’ll need to employ to manage the media fallout, and the steps you’ll take to ensure your contract is renewed. By the time the plane lands, you feel more composed, ready to face whatever comes next in your career. 

You spend the entirety of Monday and Thursday in your hotel room in Brackley, trying to slow down, nurture your jet lag, and come to terms with your feelings for Jungkook. The thoughts that have been repeating themselves in your mind for days and weeks on end are draining, and you know you’re turning in circles but still can’t stop. 

Even if it’s a new day, and the thoughts you meticulously organised on the flight a few hours ago, they still are scattered once again in front of you. The quiet isolation of your room becomes both a sanctuary and a prison as you replay the events of the past few days in your mind, each replay leaving you more confused and exhausted than before.

You know you need to focus on your work and the media starting the following day, so you resolve to clear your mind—again—and prepare for the three weeks ahaed. The weight of your emotions feels like a heavy blanket, but you push through, determined to not get suffocated in them.

Wednesday morning greets you with an USB stick in an envelope sent via mail, waiting on your office desk. Setting your coffee down and shrugging off your coat, you power on your computer and tablet. 

Taehyung had sent you a DM on Sunday, hinting at a surprise, which you now realise is the data regarding Mingyu. His message was deliberately vague, a precaution in case the information fell into the wrong hands you now understand. 

As your computer’s home screen appears, you plug in the USB stick and begin to scroll through the files. The evidence collected is like hitting the jackpot in Vegas, and you quickly dive into analysing the data. Each anomaly you discover feels like a piece of a puzzle falling into place, and you take meticulous screenshots and notes, crafting a report that leaves no room for doubt or interpretation.

Nearly two hours later, you're deeply engrossed in your work when Toto knocks at your door and steps inside without waiting for your confirmation. His presence is imposing, his direct and honest Austrian nature always catching you off guard. 

“Good morning, __. I’ll cut right to the chase,” he says, making you shift uncomfortably in your seat. 

You manage to respond, “Good morning, boss,” just before he launches into his concerns. 

Toto sits down in front of you, leaning forward on his knees and looking directly into your eyes. “The media screams your name. Again. It’s neither good for Jungkook nor the whole team. This has to stop. And I’m sure you’re on the same page as I am.”

You know you need to convince him that the media frenzy is not your fault and involve him in the secret of Mingyu and the FIA’s corruption. Taking a deep breath, you maintain a confident posture as you begin to explain. 

“I am. And I can assure you that the articles do not represent my work ethics or the goals I pursue for the team and Jungkook. If it’s permitted, I’d like to make a statement that doesn’t engage in personal matters at all. It isn’t my focus for the last two races, and it shouldn’t be the media’s either. Their focus should be on Jungkook’s and the team’s performance.” 

Toto nods approvingly, but before he can respond, you continue, turning your screen so both of you can see it. 

“There are also some things I’d like to discuss with you regarding Mingyu that are confidential so far. Over the weekend in Singapore, Jungkook and I discovered that Mingyu has metal parts on his neck and right thigh. After involving two other race engineers, one outside our team, we collected more evidence of regulation breaches.” 

As you scroll through the report, showing the pictures you took of Mingyu’s racing gear, Toto stays silent, biting absentmindedly on his fingernails as he scans each page. 

“We’ve also got our hands on his data regarding muscle activity and reflexes, G-force, and neural response time,” you say, showing the anomalies in multiple graphs. “I know it’s far-fetched to say he’s a cyborg, but everything, especially the data, shows results beyond humanly possible.” 

Toto takes the mouse to scroll through the pages himself, letting your words sink in, he mutters, “Who knows about this?” 

You gulp, but honesty is essential now. “Jungkook, Joongki, and Kim Taehyung of Ferrari.” 

Toto hums, still scrolling through the evidence. After a silence that feels like an eternity, you can’t take it anymore and continue, “My guess is that the FIA is involved in this scheme. It’s unusual for them to change the regulations regarding driver points this near to the championship. Mingyu’s penalty for assaulting me, especially given the previous incident of violence, is, in my opinion, too lenient.” You choose to leave out the part about Mingyu possibly being behind the circulating rumours due to lack of concrete evidence.

“Did you make this report?” Toto looks at you for the first time since you started this conversation, the gears clearly turning behind his eyes. 

“Yes, boss.”

“Good. Print it five times: give two to me, one each to you, Jungkook, Joongki, and Taehyung. Also, go to the material output in the basement, get as many USB sticks as possible, and record the report on them. Distribute them the same way as the copies. The rest, you’re going to hide in different places where they’re safe,” he instructs, his tone level and calculating. 

You nod, mentally following every step he ordered you to do. 

“I’m going to send this to the FIA. If they’re really corrupt, then we’ll hand the report directly to the media,” Toto says, standing up. 

“Yes, boss,” you respond, knowing how he prefers his conversations. 

“After you’re done, go home for today. Tomorrow, focus on Jungkook and the media. Thank you for your work, __. It was the right decision to bring you onto our team.” He smiles kindly at you, a rare gesture that speaks volumes. 

His words sheath your heart, letting you know that despite the chaos that seems to follow you with every step, your work hasn’t suffered one bit. The validation from Toto gives you a newfound purpose, and you mentally clap yourself on the back with an approving nod. 

It’s not much later when you finish preparing all the copies and USB sticks, delivering the envelopes to Toto, Joongki, and leaving Taehyung’s at the post office in the basement for it to be sent tonight. You’ve been searching for Jungkook for an hour, combing through the gym, the simulator, and every other possible place he might be. But despite your efforts, you haven't found him. 

He told you he’d be somewhere in the headquarters and insisted on driving you to your hotel once you finished your work for the day. It’s now past midday, and hunger gnaws at your stomach, prompting you to postpone your search for Jungkook. 

As you walk through the lobby, you finally spot him with his back facing you, animatedly talking to someone you can’t see. You hesitate, unsure whether to approach or hang back, but something about his posture makes you pause.

Jungkook's gestures grow increasingly tense with each word exchanged. His shoulders stiffen, his hands clench and unclench at his sides, and his usually relaxed stance becomes rigid. He steps to the side, running a frustrated hand through his hair, revealing Trish standing in front of him. Her expression is one of desperation as she touches his chest, her words inaudible from where you stand. 

The sight of her touching him sends a sharp pain through your heart, filling you with doubt. You try to rationalise your feelings, telling yourself it’s just a professional interaction, but a part of you can’t help but wonder if there's more to their conversation. The conflicting emotions make it hard to maintain the distance you promised yourself for the time being. 

Suddenly, Jungkook pushes Trish’s hand away, his voice carrying enough for you to hear him say, “Don’t touch me!”

Trish’s eyes snap to you, and her expression contorts into a sneer of pure malice. Her upper lip curls in disdain as she scoffs loudly, shaking her head in apparent disbelief. She mutters something under her breath to Jungkook, the words lost in the distance between you, but the venom in her tone is unmistakable. In a final act of contempt, she hurls a small object at him, which he barely manages to catch with a quick reflex. Without another word, she spins on her heel and storms out through the front doors, her departure as dramatic as her presence. 

The scene is so absurd, so surreal, that you find yourself questioning if you really saw what just transpired. It seems unfathomable that your mere presence could provoke such an intense reaction from her. What could possibly have driven her to leave so abruptly, her fury overflowing just by the sight of you? The whole encounter feels like a fever dream, a bizarre moment suspended in time, leaving you bewildered and questioning the reality of it all.

Jungkook watches her leave, exhaling deeply as his shoulders visibly relax, the weight of the world seemingly lifted off him. When he turns and sees you, his frown lines and frustration vanish, replaced by a light that makes your heart flutter and worries vaporise into thin air. The smile he sends you while approaching is one you will never tire of. It feels like his smile alone breathes oxygen into your lungs, making you finally breathe again.

“Hey,” his soft, deep voice reaches you just before his familiar scent envelops you. 

“Hey, what was that?” The curiosity gnaws at you, still you glance over his shoulder to ensure Trish is indeed gone. 

Jungkook frowns slightly, but the sparkle in his eyes remains. He doesn’t even bother to turn around, his focus solely on you. “She came to return the access card and I happened to walk by. Said she’s sorry for overstepping my boundaries while doing just that again.” 

“Oh.” You lock eyes with him, getting lost in their depth. And it’s his hand on your upper back guiding you to the reception desk, that wakes you from the trance. As you take three steps to match his pace, he noticeably slows down to accommodate you. 

“Let’s just hand this back, then we can go to your office if that’s all right with you,” he offers. 

“Yes, please. I’ve got some news.” You grin at him, and he raises an intrigued eyebrow, playing with his lip ring with his teeth. 

When you reach the reception, Jungkook leans over the desk, greeting Paul with a handshake as he hands over the card. 

“It’s Trish Baker’s card. She’s not allowed any access anymore. Could you please forward it to security, too?” 

“Sure, JK. Never been a fan of her anyway,” Paul mumbles as he types away on his keyboard. 

The statement makes you snort, but it’s Jungkook’s words that shock you into silence. 

“Yeah, she’s fucking mental. See ya, P.” 

As Jungkook turns toward the elevators, you hurry after him, whisper-yelling, “Jungkook! That’s rude!” 

He briefly glances at you, “But it’s true and you know it.” 

“That’s not the point.” Standing beside him, you try to suppress the smile that wants to take over your features.  

“Oh, but it is, babe. I’m doing community service by warning every good guy I know about her.” 

You blush, shielding your pink cheeks by lowering your head as you both enter the elevator. As the doors close, you see Jungkook’s smug expression in the blurred reflection of the brushed metal. 

“Don’t call me babe.” 

“No can do.” You look at him, playfully angered, his expression revealing the fun he’s having. “Can’t break habits that easily.” 

His face falls, looking shocked by his own words as yours explode into mischief and pure glee. “What habit are you talking about?” 

“I didn’t say that.” 

“Oh, but you did.” You laugh, cornering the much taller Jungkook, who avoids your eyes like the plague. His burning red ears, which he tries to hide by scratching his hair, give him away. “What habit, Jungkook?” 

But as the elevator dings and the door opens, he walks straight out, “Chop chop, we have places to be.” 

You laugh, trying to catch up with him, simultaneously greeting your colleagues who walk by. 

As you reach your office, Jungkook sits in the spot before your desk as if he’s been waiting for hours. It would have worked, if his moving torso wouldn’t betray him. 

Shaking your head with the grin still intact, you sit down, but before you can start, your stomach growls loudly. Jungkook looks up, concern etched on his face. “Have you eaten yet?” 

You shake your head, embarrassed. “No, I haven’t. Had to search the whole country for Mister Jeon.” 

He immediately pulls out his phone and starts ordering some chicken to be delivered to your office. “Let’s get you fed first then,” he says with a smile more to himself than you. The gesture making you feel cared for and appreciated, more than it should. 

Once the food is ordered, you begin to tell Jungkook about your morning. “Toto knows about Mingyu. He’s going to inform the FIA,” you say, handing him his copy of the report, which he briefly scans. “And I’ve also got these USB sticks that need to be hidden,” you add. 

Jungkook’s eyes light up with an idea. “We can hide some in my apartment. It’s safe there,” he suggests. 

You nod immediately, considering the practicality of his offer. "Great idea," you say, taking a handful of USB sticks and pushing them towards him. "These will do."

Jungkook pushes them right back to you, shaking his head. "Oh no, no, no. You're coming with me. How will you know where they are if I get kidnapped or something?"

Even though the idea of him getting kidnapped seems far-fetched, he still has a point. It would be crucial to know where as many USB sticks are placed as possible. But your mind races with the thought of being alone with him in his apartment. Can you handle it? Will your emotions betray you? You know that domestication is a weak spot for you, one you try to avoid with every fibre of your being. The thought of seeing him in a space that is entirely his, surrounded by his things, living a life you’ve only glimpsed from a distance, stirs something deep within you.

As you ponder, Jungkook’s puppy eyes work their magic, convincing you to agree. “Okay, but just for a bit,” you finally relent, reassuring yourself that you’re not that weak. Or are you? 

Soon after, Paul calls your office phone to inform you that the food has arrived. Jungkook stands up, ready to retrieve it. "I'll be right back. It's on me," he says with a wink, closing the door behind him. As you watch him leave, your heart races from the simple act of him fetching the food and paying for it. You feel a twinge of regret about agreeing to go with him tonight, silently scolding yourself for letting such a small gesture affect you so deeply. If something this minor can unsettle you, you're terrified of what being alone with him in his apartment will do to you.

The door to Jungkook’s penthouse opens with a soft click, the lock’s faint buzz barely noticeable, a clear reflection of the refined technology that his tax bracket affords. As you step into the expansive space, you realise just how wrong you were about being close to Jungkook’s level of wealth. 

The apartment exudes a sophisticated charm, with a palette of neutral tones punctuated by vibrant accents in the decor and lush plants. It’s a grand, open expanse that immediately feels both welcoming and overwhelming. His scent washes over you like a warm, enveloping wave, a fragrance that seems to settle into every corner of the room. 

You find yourself momentarily imagining what it would be like if this place would be yours, to share it with him. But as you let the thought drift through your mind, you quickly pull back, reminding yourself to keep a clear boundary. You can picture living here in a purely hypothetical sense, but you mustn't let the fantasy of domestic life take hold.

Jungkook leads you into the living room, his movements smooth and confident. “Do you want something to drink?” he asks, glancing over this broad shoulder. 

You shake your head, trying to stay focused. “No, thanks. I’m all good. Should we hide these?” you say, pointing to the USB sticks hidden in your purse.

He nods, his eyes serious. “Please follow me.” He guides you through the hallways, leading to his bedroom and other rooms you can only guess the purpose of. As you step into his bedroom, his scent intensifies, wrapping around you even tighter. His bedroom is exactly how you imagined it would be—cozy, inviting, and full of soft, warm fabrics that make you want to lie down and never leave.

“We can hide some in the closet,” Jungkook suggests, opening the door to a walk-in closet. You follow him inside, marvelling at the details around you. You’re so engrossed in your surroundings that you don’t notice Jungkook has stopped, and you bump face-first into his hard chest with an “uff.”

“Sorry,” you mumble, your cheeks heating up, but Jungkook just waves it off with a smile. “No need to apologise. I’m fine.”

You look around, and can’t help to wander further inside the closet as your fingers brush over the sleeves of his sweaters. “They look so cozy,” you mumble to yourself.

“Yeah, I hate clothes that don’t feel right,” Jungkook says, startling you with his proximity. You had momentarily forgotten he was right behind you.

“I can tell,” you say, meeting his gaze, which is warm and inviting. “Where do you want to hide those?” You pull the USB sticks out of your purse, barely fitting them into both your hands. 

“Here, let me,” Jungkook says, taking the sticks from you with one of his large hands with ease. You watch as he moves around the closet, hiding each USB stick with precision. His movements are swift and purposeful as you’re used from him, his muscles flexing under his shirt. You gulp, feeling yourself falling deeper and deeper for him with each passing second. 

When Jungkook finishes, he turns to you with a proud smile. “You want to drink something now?”

You nod with a small smile, following him back to the living room. “Just get comfortable. What do you want?” he asks, heading to the kitchen.

“Just water, please,” you reply, settling onto the couch. When Jungkook returns with two glasses of water, he hands you yours and sits at a respectable distance. You sip the cold water, the silence between you soothing rather than uncomfortable. You wish you could snuggle up to him, as if it were the most natural thing in the world.

“I won’t comment on our relationship status,” you say, breaking the silence. 

Jungkook looks surprised, his eyes big and focused on yours. “Why?” he asks.

You shrug, looking out at the dark nighttime view. “It doesn’t really matter to the championship and the team, you know? I talked to Toto and he’s approved this. Regardless of our private lives, the focus of the media should always be on the performance of the team and you and George.”

Jungkook smiles shyly, nodding. “I admire how you handle the media. I wish I could be as eloquent and witty as you are.”

An airy laugh escapes you as you sink further into the couch. The cool water soothes your racing heart but chills you too much, only now noticing that you forgot your jacket at the office. “You are. I’ve seen all your interviews.”

Jungkook rests his elbow on the backrest, his knee lying on the couch as he leans slightly toward you. The glass in his hand seems forgotten as he speaks with a mischievous tone. “So you’ve been keeping track of me.”

You blush, choosing not to comment. Jungkook continues, “Will you at least tell me now what your type is?”

You think back to the morning you woke up hungover in Singapore, finding Trish in Jungkook’s hotel room and his teasing afterward. The bitter taste of that morning still lingers as you carefully formulate your answer. “I’m into loyalty. Someone who tells the truth, without exceptions. Someone whose values align with mine and who makes me laugh and smile.” You realise with a pang that even though you’re in love with Jungkook, you don’t really know him at all—his wants, his life plans, his values. It cools you down more than the cold water freezing your hands.

“What about you? What do you want?” you choke out, trying to level your tone. 

Jungkook’s eyes soften, filled with a longing that tugs at your heart. He lowers his gaze, a smile playing on his lips. When he turns his head to look outside, his voice mirrors his face “Trust, loyalty, and humour as well. But also a future, not just the now. I want a family, getting married, and having kids. I want to be the best husband for the woman I adore with all my heart and the best father for the kids I love.”

You can’t take your eyes off his profile, his eyes sparkling with the future he envisions. It’s something you’ve always wanted too but never dared to voice, too scared to jinx it. 

You sigh, and as you look out at the view, you notice Jungkook watching you through the window’s reflection. It hits you that he’s been looking at you, not the view, as he voiced his wishes. Goosebumps rise on your skin, overwhelmed by the emotions trapped within you.

“Are you cold?” Jungkook’s soft voice breaks through your thoughts.

You nod, and he stands up silently, disappearing toward his bedroom. When he returns, he hands you a black, soft sweater, his eyes filled with care. “Please take it. There are important weeks ahead of us.”

“Thank you,” you say, “I’ll wash it as soon—”

“No need to,” Jungkook interrupts, his voice firm yet gentle. “I’ve got more than enough, as you now know.”

You nod, accepting the sweater with a reluctant smile. As you put it on, it swallows you in its size, the fabric infused with his scent making you dizzy with a mix of emotions you know you’ll never be able to suppress. The warmth and intimacy of the gesture make it clear that you’ll never part with his sweater, not even if everything around you were to eventually fall apart. 

And for now, you choose to dwell in this midnight fiction, where the lines between reality and dream blur into an escape, you know you desperately long for. 

01 • 02 • 03 • 04 • 05 • 06 •series masterlist • 08

a/n 3: lmk what you think in any way you like! what was your favourite part of this chapter? a/n 4: please send me a message, ask or comment if you would like to be tagged for upcoming chapters 💕 also - character asks and drabble requests are open

Like what you read? Check out my other work here!

taglist: @jksusawife

Yes! He sets the bar 🫠

Drive to Survive (JJK) • Chapter 7 “Midnight Fiction”

pairing: F1driver!Jungkook x female race engineer!reader genre: colleagues2L, formula1!AU, racing!AU, drama, kind of fantasy/cyborg!AU warnings: minor self harm kind of, lying, media fallout, foul language, Trish, slight domestication, fluff? word count: ~ 6.400

🎵Illit - Midnight Fiction 🎵

a/n: just kind of a filler chapter, hope you still enjoy it!

a/n 2: This work is purely fictional. All characters and events are entirely imaginary and do not reflect reality. Content errors related to the sport of Formula 1 are not excluded. Please do not use this story as your own. No translations are allowed without permission. Thank you for understanding! 💕

01 • 02 • 03 • 04 • 05 • 06 •series masterlist • 08

The rhythmic banging against your hotel room wall should drive you insane. The dull thudding, like clockwork, hasn't stopped since it started five minutes ago. Normally, you'd be wondering what was wrong with the person or persons responsible, questioning their inability to control themselves in such a semi-public place.

Thud. Thud. Thud.

But this noise isn't coming from the neighbouring rooms directly beside yours. It's neither Joongki on your right nor Jungkook on your left. The truth is, you are the cause of the banging. It's you, trying to knock some sense into your brain as you lightly thump your head against the hotel room wall in frustration.

This isn't about your failed solo mission or the fear and threat from Mingyu’s assault. It isn't because of the overwhelming headlines plastered everywhere. No, this torment is purely and solely because of you and your inability to keep your professional distance from your driver. Thud. Jungkook. Thud. Jeon Jungkook. Thud. Thud.

Why on earth are you sabotaging your dreams and ambitions like this?

You might blame it on hormones, but you're well past the stage of reasoning and denial. When Jungkook searched for your gaze after the race, you knew deep down he was searching for you. You hoped he was searching for you. You wanted so badly for him to be searching for you.

And when he finally found you, you realised at that very moment—when your heart burst with a warmth you'd yearned for years, when your mind finally quieted, and when every cell in your being felt euphoric—that you had truly and irrevocably fallen in love with him.

So the only logical action was to run away. You didn't get very far, but your hotel room should suffice as a refuge until the flight back to headquarters tomorrow morning.

Now, you're not sure how to act around Jungkook. Should you avoid him or try to stay professional? The thudding against the wall stops momentarily as you consider your options. No, avoidance never worked in the past, and it won't work now either. Thud. Thud.

Again your mind wanders back to the pit after the race, where the team celebrated Jungkook's win. You try to shake off the memory, but it clings to you, making your heart ache.

You let out a frustrated sigh, pressing your forehead against the cool wall. What are you going to do? How can you face him now that you know your feelings? You've worked so hard to get where you are, and now this—this uncontrollable, inconvenient, and utterly illogical emotion threatens to undo it all.

The thudding resumes, a steady beat of self-inflicted frustration. You can't help but think of all the moments leading up to this point—the stolen glances, thud, the shared laughs, thud, the way his presence always seemed to ground you even in the most stressful situations, thud. It was more than just a professional relationship, and you both knew it. But acknowledging it, admitting it to yourself, that's what terrifies you the most.

You pull back from the wall, rubbing your eyes with both hands, not caring for your makeup. You need to get a grip. Running away isn't the solution, but confronting your feelings head-on seems impossible. 

If you were honest with yourself, you always wanted a family more than a career. A loving husband, children, maybe even a dog or three. But you never imagined falling for Jungkook. You don’t even truly know him—what’s important to him, whether his moral compass aligns with yours. You’re still unsettled by his flirty nature. Or are you? He did clear the air about it. But what if he lied? Yet, he’s never lied to you before, has he? Are you just trying to find excuses again?

You pace the room, trying to figure out your next move. Maybe you can talk to him, clear the air, and set some boundaries. But the thought of that conversation makes your stomach churn. No way in hell you’re going to do that. 

Why does love have to be so complicated? Why can't you just focus on your career without these feelings interfering? Or fall for someone ordinary. Someone who isn’t in the spotlight, not your colleague, not Jungkook. But you know it’s too late for that. The heart wants what it wants, and yours is set on Jungkook.

You sink onto the edge of the bed, burying your face in your hands. The exhaustion from the weekend starts to catch up with you, mingling with the emotional turmoil. You can't keep going like this.

As you sit there, you hear a soft knock on the door. Your heart leaps into your throat. Could it be Jungkook? You hesitate, not sure if you're ready to face him. But the knocking persists, gentle yet insistent. 

Taking a deep breath, you stand. And with shaking hands, sweat coating your whole body due to your nerves, you walk to the door. When you open it, you're met with Jungkook's concerned eyes. "Hey," he says softly, his voice a balm to your frayed nerves but your heart skyrockets. "Can I come in?"

You nod, gulping dry and stepping aside to let him enter. He closes the door behind him and turns to you, his expression serious. "I noticed you left the celebration early. Are you okay?"

You nod again, but the words catch in your throat. "Yeah, why wouldn’t I?” You manage to force a laugh out, hiding your shaky hands behind your back. 

He steps closer, his presence comforting yet unsettling. "You know you can talk to me, right? Whatever it is, we can figure it out together."

You look into his eyes, the sincerity there making your heart race even more. "No, everything’s fine, Jungkook," you whisper, feeling the weight of your emotions pressing down on you.

He reaches out, but you step back. "And why’s your forehead red and swollen?"

"Huh, I didn’t notice." You play dumb, aware that he can see through your facade but chooses not to call you out on it.

"Everything’s good?" he inquires again.

Your heart plummets to the floor with the g-force of an F1 car as you reassure him, "Yep."

Jungkook looks skeptical but eventually nods. You feel a pang of guilt, but you know you need time to digest everything. You’ve spent years working towards one goal, and you don't want to act carelessly. Even if your feelings are reciprocated, you’re not willing to jump into a relationship only to see it crash down in flames because you rushed it.

"I’ll leave you be then. Please do reach out to me. I’ll be waiting for you." He stutters, his embarrassment showing in the red tint of his cheeks and ears as he walks backward to your door. "I… I mean, I’m right next door. So… yeah… good night."

"Good night, Jungkook." You’re too stressed to tease him, letting him close the door as you take a deep breath and glide to the floor.

It’s the next morning at Chubu Centrair International Airport, as you’re walking a few steps behind Jungkook. You can't keep your eyes off the back of his head, his fluffy hair bouncing with every step he takes. His headset covers his ears, and you’re sure they’re blocking out the bustling noise of the airport, including the clicking of your high heels. Namjoon walks beside you, pulling his suitcase along like you do, animatedly talking about some rare crabs found only in Japan. 

You're almost at your jet, which will accommodate the three of you. As you walk, you notice George, Joongki, and George's physiotherapist trailing some distance behind. Namjoon occasionally glances back, sharing longing looks with George. They will take a different jet since George plans to spend the time in Monaco until the next race weekend, while the rest of you head back to headquarters.

Watching Jungkook’s back, you wonder if he had a sleepless night like you did, his mind racing to make sense of the emotions coursing through him. Did he also lie awake, questioning if the other feels the same, unsure if it's real or just wishful thinking? Does he sense your feelings, is he growing suspicious, or does he simply accept your assurance that everything’s fine without giving it another thought? You ponder whether this connection is meant to be or doomed to go down in flames.

As you turn the last corner, you're suddenly blinded by a barrage of flashing cameras. Paparazzi swarm around, shouting questions which ring in your ears. Jungkook is pushed backward, colliding with his back with Namjoon as the paparazzi yell at your faces, “Are the rumours true? Are you dating Jungkook?” 

Startled and cornered by the aggressive crowd, you still manage to say with a straight face, “No comment,” knowing better than to say too much in your inner panic. You can’t slip through the throng of flashing cameras until Namjoon and Jungkook position themselves like a protective shield in front of you, guiding you to the gate. Finally airport security steps in, holding back the still-shouting paparazzi outside the gate. 

You lock eyes with Jungkook, whose headset now rests around his neck. He sighs, shaking his head in frustration. “I hate the media,” he mutters, letting himself fall into a seat until it’s time to board. 

A few minutes later, George, Joongki, and the physiotherapist step inside the gate as well. George jokes to Jungkook, “What did you do this time?” But Jungkook waves him off, clearly not in the mood.

You notice Joongki's eyes darting between you and Jungkook. You're not sure why the media is once again on your heels with these rumours, but when you recall Mingyu's parting words, everything starts to make sense. “Mingyu said I’ll pay for what I did,” you say quietly.

Jungkook straightens up, a flash of anger crossing his face. “Fucking bastard,” he growls.

Joongki adds with a smirk, “How mature.”

You settle next to Jungkook, leaving one seat between you due to the paparazzi while you straighten your dress.  “Yeah…he knows where it hurts. Toto and the shareholders won’t be happy about the PR I’m causing. Mingyu knows I’ve got a fixed-term contract that runs out after the season.” You rub your tired eyes, grateful that the next race isn’t for another three weeks in Belgium, which means significantly less travel time and some time to sleep and think. 

George flops into the seat beside you and Jungkook. “Don’t worry, we’ll plead for you to stay with us beyond the season. Am I right?” He drops his hand onto Jungkook’s thigh with more force than necessary, making Jungkook push him off onto you.

“Don’t touch me, I don’t want your loser germs,” Jungkook jokes, igniting the usual bickering between him and George. Their playful banter distracts you a little, but not enough to stop your mind from racing with thoughts about the next steps to counter Mingyu's vendetta.

“Why aren’t you heading back to Korea like usual?” you hear George probe.

Jungkook visibly tenses, casting a quick glance your way. You feel a sudden rush of attention toward him. He never mentioned that he usually spends his time back home in Korea, nor that he planned on doing so this time. Your mind flickers back to a brief conversation from a few days ago, when he asked where you were heading after the race weekend. You casually mentioned Brackley, not wanting to spend time at your parents' place or alone in Belgium. You know that race engineers typically follow their drivers wherever they go, like Joongki does with George. So when Jungkook said he’d be in Brackley too, you didn’t think much of it.

Now, Jungkook stares directly into George’s eyes and flatly states, “Why would I?”

You raise an eyebrow, feeling a twinge of suspicion at his behaviour and response.

George smirks knowingly, as if he has some insight you don’t. “Why wouldn’t you? Your family’s there.”

It feels like he and Jungkook are speaking in tongues, and you're the only one who doesn't understand. Then Namjoon, with a kind smile directed at Jungkook, says, “Family can be elsewhere too.”

Jungkook nods vigorously, pointing both palms to Namjoon as if presenting the only logical answer. But his eyes flicker to you a few times, and if you’re not mistaken, his ears are slightly pink. The conversation drops after that, with Joongki calling his wife and kids via video, leaving you longing for a similar connection. The quiet shared gazes between George and Namjoon, along with the warm smile Jungkook sends your way, confirm that everyone desires the same future with a sense of belonging and family.

It’s not much later when the jet takes off, you lean back in your seat, watching Jungkook and Namjoon talk about trivial matters. Despite the chaos you left on the ground, their conversation brings a semblance of normalcy, grounding you in the moment. You know you have to address the rumours, but right now, you need to focus on your immediate reality and the team around you.

When the plane reaches cruising altitude, you unbuckle your seatbelt and head to the small galley to get a drink. Jungkook follows you, a look of concern etched on his face. “You sure you’re okay?” he asks softly, his voice barely audible over the hum of the engines.

You nod, sipping your water. “Just tired. It’s been a lot lately.”

He leans against the counter, watching you closely. “Yeah, kind of crazy if you think about it.”

“That’s one way to say it.” You manage a small tired smile even though the warmth and sincerity in his eyes makes your heart ache with a confusing mix of hope and fear. 

Jungkook’s hand twitches, almost reaching for yours resting on the counter, but he just straightens up and slips both hands into his pockets. “We’ll get through this together,” he says, glancing back at Namjoon. “The whole team.”

You’re uncertain about Namjoon’s role in the drama surrounding you both, realising he has no real part in it. Perhaps Jungkook is trying to give you the space and distance you always seem to demand, wanting to support you without crossing the boundaries you repeatedly set and tear down, only to rebuild again.

Not knowing how to respond properly, and not wanting to overwhelm him with a hug or kisses you desperately want to shower him, you offer a small nod, grateful for his support more than you can express at this moment. “Thanks, Jungkook. That means a lot.”

As you return to your seat, you notice Namjoon giving you a curious look. You know he’s seen the way Jungkook looks at you, the way he always seems to be there when you need him. You’re not sure what to make of it yourself, but for now, you tell yourself you’re just grateful to have such a supportive team around you.

The flight is uneventful, allowing you some time to think and plan. You make mental notes about the conversations you need to have with Toto, the strategies you’ll need to employ to manage the media fallout, and the steps you’ll take to ensure your contract is renewed. By the time the plane lands, you feel more composed, ready to face whatever comes next in your career. 

You spend the entirety of Monday and Thursday in your hotel room in Brackley, trying to slow down, nurture your jet lag, and come to terms with your feelings for Jungkook. The thoughts that have been repeating themselves in your mind for days and weeks on end are draining, and you know you’re turning in circles but still can’t stop. 

Even if it’s a new day, and the thoughts you meticulously organised on the flight a few hours ago, they still are scattered once again in front of you. The quiet isolation of your room becomes both a sanctuary and a prison as you replay the events of the past few days in your mind, each replay leaving you more confused and exhausted than before.

You know you need to focus on your work and the media starting the following day, so you resolve to clear your mind—again—and prepare for the three weeks ahaed. The weight of your emotions feels like a heavy blanket, but you push through, determined to not get suffocated in them.

Wednesday morning greets you with an USB stick in an envelope sent via mail, waiting on your office desk. Setting your coffee down and shrugging off your coat, you power on your computer and tablet. 

Taehyung had sent you a DM on Sunday, hinting at a surprise, which you now realise is the data regarding Mingyu. His message was deliberately vague, a precaution in case the information fell into the wrong hands you now understand. 

As your computer’s home screen appears, you plug in the USB stick and begin to scroll through the files. The evidence collected is like hitting the jackpot in Vegas, and you quickly dive into analysing the data. Each anomaly you discover feels like a piece of a puzzle falling into place, and you take meticulous screenshots and notes, crafting a report that leaves no room for doubt or interpretation.

Nearly two hours later, you're deeply engrossed in your work when Toto knocks at your door and steps inside without waiting for your confirmation. His presence is imposing, his direct and honest Austrian nature always catching you off guard. 

“Good morning, __. I’ll cut right to the chase,” he says, making you shift uncomfortably in your seat. 

You manage to respond, “Good morning, boss,” just before he launches into his concerns. 

Toto sits down in front of you, leaning forward on his knees and looking directly into your eyes. “The media screams your name. Again. It’s neither good for Jungkook nor the whole team. This has to stop. And I’m sure you’re on the same page as I am.”

You know you need to convince him that the media frenzy is not your fault and involve him in the secret of Mingyu and the FIA’s corruption. Taking a deep breath, you maintain a confident posture as you begin to explain. 

“I am. And I can assure you that the articles do not represent my work ethics or the goals I pursue for the team and Jungkook. If it’s permitted, I’d like to make a statement that doesn’t engage in personal matters at all. It isn’t my focus for the last two races, and it shouldn’t be the media’s either. Their focus should be on Jungkook’s and the team’s performance.” 

Toto nods approvingly, but before he can respond, you continue, turning your screen so both of you can see it. 

“There are also some things I’d like to discuss with you regarding Mingyu that are confidential so far. Over the weekend in Singapore, Jungkook and I discovered that Mingyu has metal parts on his neck and right thigh. After involving two other race engineers, one outside our team, we collected more evidence of regulation breaches.” 

As you scroll through the report, showing the pictures you took of Mingyu’s racing gear, Toto stays silent, biting absentmindedly on his fingernails as he scans each page. 

“We’ve also got our hands on his data regarding muscle activity and reflexes, G-force, and neural response time,” you say, showing the anomalies in multiple graphs. “I know it’s far-fetched to say he’s a cyborg, but everything, especially the data, shows results beyond humanly possible.” 

Toto takes the mouse to scroll through the pages himself, letting your words sink in, he mutters, “Who knows about this?” 

You gulp, but honesty is essential now. “Jungkook, Joongki, and Kim Taehyung of Ferrari.” 

Toto hums, still scrolling through the evidence. After a silence that feels like an eternity, you can’t take it anymore and continue, “My guess is that the FIA is involved in this scheme. It’s unusual for them to change the regulations regarding driver points this near to the championship. Mingyu’s penalty for assaulting me, especially given the previous incident of violence, is, in my opinion, too lenient.” You choose to leave out the part about Mingyu possibly being behind the circulating rumours due to lack of concrete evidence.

“Did you make this report?” Toto looks at you for the first time since you started this conversation, the gears clearly turning behind his eyes. 

“Yes, boss.”

“Good. Print it five times: give two to me, one each to you, Jungkook, Joongki, and Taehyung. Also, go to the material output in the basement, get as many USB sticks as possible, and record the report on them. Distribute them the same way as the copies. The rest, you’re going to hide in different places where they’re safe,” he instructs, his tone level and calculating. 

You nod, mentally following every step he ordered you to do. 

“I’m going to send this to the FIA. If they’re really corrupt, then we’ll hand the report directly to the media,” Toto says, standing up. 

“Yes, boss,” you respond, knowing how he prefers his conversations. 

“After you’re done, go home for today. Tomorrow, focus on Jungkook and the media. Thank you for your work, __. It was the right decision to bring you onto our team.” He smiles kindly at you, a rare gesture that speaks volumes. 

His words sheath your heart, letting you know that despite the chaos that seems to follow you with every step, your work hasn’t suffered one bit. The validation from Toto gives you a newfound purpose, and you mentally clap yourself on the back with an approving nod. 

It’s not much later when you finish preparing all the copies and USB sticks, delivering the envelopes to Toto, Joongki, and leaving Taehyung’s at the post office in the basement for it to be sent tonight. You’ve been searching for Jungkook for an hour, combing through the gym, the simulator, and every other possible place he might be. But despite your efforts, you haven't found him. 

He told you he’d be somewhere in the headquarters and insisted on driving you to your hotel once you finished your work for the day. It’s now past midday, and hunger gnaws at your stomach, prompting you to postpone your search for Jungkook. 

As you walk through the lobby, you finally spot him with his back facing you, animatedly talking to someone you can’t see. You hesitate, unsure whether to approach or hang back, but something about his posture makes you pause.

Jungkook's gestures grow increasingly tense with each word exchanged. His shoulders stiffen, his hands clench and unclench at his sides, and his usually relaxed stance becomes rigid. He steps to the side, running a frustrated hand through his hair, revealing Trish standing in front of him. Her expression is one of desperation as she touches his chest, her words inaudible from where you stand. 

The sight of her touching him sends a sharp pain through your heart, filling you with doubt. You try to rationalise your feelings, telling yourself it’s just a professional interaction, but a part of you can’t help but wonder if there's more to their conversation. The conflicting emotions make it hard to maintain the distance you promised yourself for the time being. 

Suddenly, Jungkook pushes Trish’s hand away, his voice carrying enough for you to hear him say, “Don’t touch me!”

Trish’s eyes snap to you, and her expression contorts into a sneer of pure malice. Her upper lip curls in disdain as she scoffs loudly, shaking her head in apparent disbelief. She mutters something under her breath to Jungkook, the words lost in the distance between you, but the venom in her tone is unmistakable. In a final act of contempt, she hurls a small object at him, which he barely manages to catch with a quick reflex. Without another word, she spins on her heel and storms out through the front doors, her departure as dramatic as her presence. 

The scene is so absurd, so surreal, that you find yourself questioning if you really saw what just transpired. It seems unfathomable that your mere presence could provoke such an intense reaction from her. What could possibly have driven her to leave so abruptly, her fury overflowing just by the sight of you? The whole encounter feels like a fever dream, a bizarre moment suspended in time, leaving you bewildered and questioning the reality of it all.

Jungkook watches her leave, exhaling deeply as his shoulders visibly relax, the weight of the world seemingly lifted off him. When he turns and sees you, his frown lines and frustration vanish, replaced by a light that makes your heart flutter and worries vaporise into thin air. The smile he sends you while approaching is one you will never tire of. It feels like his smile alone breathes oxygen into your lungs, making you finally breathe again.

“Hey,” his soft, deep voice reaches you just before his familiar scent envelops you. 

“Hey, what was that?” The curiosity gnaws at you, still you glance over his shoulder to ensure Trish is indeed gone. 

Jungkook frowns slightly, but the sparkle in his eyes remains. He doesn’t even bother to turn around, his focus solely on you. “She came to return the access card and I happened to walk by. Said she’s sorry for overstepping my boundaries while doing just that again.” 

“Oh.” You lock eyes with him, getting lost in their depth. And it’s his hand on your upper back guiding you to the reception desk, that wakes you from the trance. As you take three steps to match his pace, he noticeably slows down to accommodate you. 

“Let’s just hand this back, then we can go to your office if that’s all right with you,” he offers. 

“Yes, please. I’ve got some news.” You grin at him, and he raises an intrigued eyebrow, playing with his lip ring with his teeth. 

When you reach the reception, Jungkook leans over the desk, greeting Paul with a handshake as he hands over the card. 

“It’s Trish Baker’s card. She’s not allowed any access anymore. Could you please forward it to security, too?” 

“Sure, JK. Never been a fan of her anyway,” Paul mumbles as he types away on his keyboard. 

The statement makes you snort, but it’s Jungkook’s words that shock you into silence. 

“Yeah, she’s fucking mental. See ya, P.” 

As Jungkook turns toward the elevators, you hurry after him, whisper-yelling, “Jungkook! That’s rude!” 

He briefly glances at you, “But it’s true and you know it.” 

“That’s not the point.” Standing beside him, you try to suppress the smile that wants to take over your features.  

“Oh, but it is, babe. I’m doing community service by warning every good guy I know about her.” 

You blush, shielding your pink cheeks by lowering your head as you both enter the elevator. As the doors close, you see Jungkook’s smug expression in the blurred reflection of the brushed metal. 

“Don’t call me babe.” 

“No can do.” You look at him, playfully angered, his expression revealing the fun he’s having. “Can’t break habits that easily.” 

His face falls, looking shocked by his own words as yours explode into mischief and pure glee. “What habit are you talking about?” 

“I didn’t say that.” 

“Oh, but you did.” You laugh, cornering the much taller Jungkook, who avoids your eyes like the plague. His burning red ears, which he tries to hide by scratching his hair, give him away. “What habit, Jungkook?” 

But as the elevator dings and the door opens, he walks straight out, “Chop chop, we have places to be.” 

You laugh, trying to catch up with him, simultaneously greeting your colleagues who walk by. 

As you reach your office, Jungkook sits in the spot before your desk as if he’s been waiting for hours. It would have worked, if his moving torso wouldn’t betray him. 

Shaking your head with the grin still intact, you sit down, but before you can start, your stomach growls loudly. Jungkook looks up, concern etched on his face. “Have you eaten yet?” 

You shake your head, embarrassed. “No, I haven’t. Had to search the whole country for Mister Jeon.” 

He immediately pulls out his phone and starts ordering some chicken to be delivered to your office. “Let’s get you fed first then,” he says with a smile more to himself than you. The gesture making you feel cared for and appreciated, more than it should. 

Once the food is ordered, you begin to tell Jungkook about your morning. “Toto knows about Mingyu. He’s going to inform the FIA,” you say, handing him his copy of the report, which he briefly scans. “And I’ve also got these USB sticks that need to be hidden,” you add. 

Jungkook’s eyes light up with an idea. “We can hide some in my apartment. It’s safe there,” he suggests. 

You nod immediately, considering the practicality of his offer. "Great idea," you say, taking a handful of USB sticks and pushing them towards him. "These will do."

Jungkook pushes them right back to you, shaking his head. "Oh no, no, no. You're coming with me. How will you know where they are if I get kidnapped or something?"

Even though the idea of him getting kidnapped seems far-fetched, he still has a point. It would be crucial to know where as many USB sticks are placed as possible. But your mind races with the thought of being alone with him in his apartment. Can you handle it? Will your emotions betray you? You know that domestication is a weak spot for you, one you try to avoid with every fibre of your being. The thought of seeing him in a space that is entirely his, surrounded by his things, living a life you’ve only glimpsed from a distance, stirs something deep within you.

As you ponder, Jungkook’s puppy eyes work their magic, convincing you to agree. “Okay, but just for a bit,” you finally relent, reassuring yourself that you’re not that weak. Or are you? 

Soon after, Paul calls your office phone to inform you that the food has arrived. Jungkook stands up, ready to retrieve it. "I'll be right back. It's on me," he says with a wink, closing the door behind him. As you watch him leave, your heart races from the simple act of him fetching the food and paying for it. You feel a twinge of regret about agreeing to go with him tonight, silently scolding yourself for letting such a small gesture affect you so deeply. If something this minor can unsettle you, you're terrified of what being alone with him in his apartment will do to you.

The door to Jungkook’s penthouse opens with a soft click, the lock’s faint buzz barely noticeable, a clear reflection of the refined technology that his tax bracket affords. As you step into the expansive space, you realise just how wrong you were about being close to Jungkook’s level of wealth. 

The apartment exudes a sophisticated charm, with a palette of neutral tones punctuated by vibrant accents in the decor and lush plants. It’s a grand, open expanse that immediately feels both welcoming and overwhelming. His scent washes over you like a warm, enveloping wave, a fragrance that seems to settle into every corner of the room. 

You find yourself momentarily imagining what it would be like if this place would be yours, to share it with him. But as you let the thought drift through your mind, you quickly pull back, reminding yourself to keep a clear boundary. You can picture living here in a purely hypothetical sense, but you mustn't let the fantasy of domestic life take hold.

Jungkook leads you into the living room, his movements smooth and confident. “Do you want something to drink?” he asks, glancing over this broad shoulder. 

You shake your head, trying to stay focused. “No, thanks. I’m all good. Should we hide these?” you say, pointing to the USB sticks hidden in your purse.

He nods, his eyes serious. “Please follow me.” He guides you through the hallways, leading to his bedroom and other rooms you can only guess the purpose of. As you step into his bedroom, his scent intensifies, wrapping around you even tighter. His bedroom is exactly how you imagined it would be—cozy, inviting, and full of soft, warm fabrics that make you want to lie down and never leave.

“We can hide some in the closet,” Jungkook suggests, opening the door to a walk-in closet. You follow him inside, marvelling at the details around you. You’re so engrossed in your surroundings that you don’t notice Jungkook has stopped, and you bump face-first into his hard chest with an “uff.”

“Sorry,” you mumble, your cheeks heating up, but Jungkook just waves it off with a smile. “No need to apologise. I’m fine.”

You look around, and can’t help to wander further inside the closet as your fingers brush over the sleeves of his sweaters. “They look so cozy,” you mumble to yourself.

“Yeah, I hate clothes that don’t feel right,” Jungkook says, startling you with his proximity. You had momentarily forgotten he was right behind you.

“I can tell,” you say, meeting his gaze, which is warm and inviting. “Where do you want to hide those?” You pull the USB sticks out of your purse, barely fitting them into both your hands. 

“Here, let me,” Jungkook says, taking the sticks from you with one of his large hands with ease. You watch as he moves around the closet, hiding each USB stick with precision. His movements are swift and purposeful as you’re used from him, his muscles flexing under his shirt. You gulp, feeling yourself falling deeper and deeper for him with each passing second. 

When Jungkook finishes, he turns to you with a proud smile. “You want to drink something now?”

You nod with a small smile, following him back to the living room. “Just get comfortable. What do you want?” he asks, heading to the kitchen.

“Just water, please,” you reply, settling onto the couch. When Jungkook returns with two glasses of water, he hands you yours and sits at a respectable distance. You sip the cold water, the silence between you soothing rather than uncomfortable. You wish you could snuggle up to him, as if it were the most natural thing in the world.

“I won’t comment on our relationship status,” you say, breaking the silence. 

Jungkook looks surprised, his eyes big and focused on yours. “Why?” he asks.

You shrug, looking out at the dark nighttime view. “It doesn’t really matter to the championship and the team, you know? I talked to Toto and he’s approved this. Regardless of our private lives, the focus of the media should always be on the performance of the team and you and George.”

Jungkook smiles shyly, nodding. “I admire how you handle the media. I wish I could be as eloquent and witty as you are.”

An airy laugh escapes you as you sink further into the couch. The cool water soothes your racing heart but chills you too much, only now noticing that you forgot your jacket at the office. “You are. I’ve seen all your interviews.”

Jungkook rests his elbow on the backrest, his knee lying on the couch as he leans slightly toward you. The glass in his hand seems forgotten as he speaks with a mischievous tone. “So you’ve been keeping track of me.”

You blush, choosing not to comment. Jungkook continues, “Will you at least tell me now what your type is?”

You think back to the morning you woke up hungover in Singapore, finding Trish in Jungkook’s hotel room and his teasing afterward. The bitter taste of that morning still lingers as you carefully formulate your answer. “I’m into loyalty. Someone who tells the truth, without exceptions. Someone whose values align with mine and who makes me laugh and smile.” You realise with a pang that even though you’re in love with Jungkook, you don’t really know him at all—his wants, his life plans, his values. It cools you down more than the cold water freezing your hands.

“What about you? What do you want?” you choke out, trying to level your tone. 

Jungkook’s eyes soften, filled with a longing that tugs at your heart. He lowers his gaze, a smile playing on his lips. When he turns his head to look outside, his voice mirrors his face “Trust, loyalty, and humour as well. But also a future, not just the now. I want a family, getting married, and having kids. I want to be the best husband for the woman I adore with all my heart and the best father for the kids I love.”

You can’t take your eyes off his profile, his eyes sparkling with the future he envisions. It’s something you’ve always wanted too but never dared to voice, too scared to jinx it. 

You sigh, and as you look out at the view, you notice Jungkook watching you through the window’s reflection. It hits you that he’s been looking at you, not the view, as he voiced his wishes. Goosebumps rise on your skin, overwhelmed by the emotions trapped within you.

“Are you cold?” Jungkook’s soft voice breaks through your thoughts.

You nod, and he stands up silently, disappearing toward his bedroom. When he returns, he hands you a black, soft sweater, his eyes filled with care. “Please take it. There are important weeks ahead of us.”

“Thank you,” you say, “I’ll wash it as soon—”

“No need to,” Jungkook interrupts, his voice firm yet gentle. “I’ve got more than enough, as you now know.”

You nod, accepting the sweater with a reluctant smile. As you put it on, it swallows you in its size, the fabric infused with his scent making you dizzy with a mix of emotions you know you’ll never be able to suppress. The warmth and intimacy of the gesture make it clear that you’ll never part with his sweater, not even if everything around you were to eventually fall apart. 

And for now, you choose to dwell in this midnight fiction, where the lines between reality and dream blur into an escape, you know you desperately long for. 

01 • 02 • 03 • 04 • 05 • 06 •series masterlist • 08

a/n 3: lmk what you think in any way you like! what was your favourite part of this chapter? a/n 4: please send me a message, ask or comment if you would like to be tagged for upcoming chapters 💕 also - character asks and drabble requests are open

Like what you read? Check out my other work here!

taglist: @jksusawife

Oh, this is like looking into a mirror 🫠

I feel like editing is such an Achilles heel for me. Like I write what I want, but then when I edit all of my doubts break free.

"Why did you use this word?", "Aren't you just repeating what you said before?", "How's this necessary to the story?", "This is all ridiculous filler".....thus half my original word count gets deleted RIPP

Drive to Survive (JJK POV) • Chapter 1

pairing: F1driver!Jungkook x female race engineer!reader genre: colleagues2L, formula1!AU, racing!AU, drama, kind of fantasy/cyborg!AU fic rating: rating: 18+, MDNI warnings: Jungkook is hopeless...and a simp...and stupid, Trish is a B, foul language, lmk if there's something missing word count: ~ 2.690

a/n: surprise, surprise! Super excited to share the first Chapter in JK's POV - it's here! YEY! I had a blast writing it and can't wait for you to read it. Get ready for more chapters from his POV because he's just too precious not to be in the spotlight!👀

series masterlist

I sit in the meeting room, waiting for the new race engineer to arrive so we can finally start. The air feels thick with anticipation, and I’m hyper-aware of George, who’s sitting beside me. He’s talking my ear off about some nonsense I can’t even begin to focus on. Something about his playstation racing session with Max Verstappen and his latest lap times, maybe, but his words blend into a dull buzz in the back of my mind.  

I lean back in my chair, trying to shake off the remnants of last night. I made the mistake of going to that party of this douchebag I don’t even know the name of, and now I’m paying for it with a migraine that throbs at my temples. 

Trish had clung to me all night, her flirtatious shrill laughs echoing in my head even now, hours later. Her touch was persistent, unwelcome. I can still see her manicured nails brushing my arm, lingering too long, ignoring every polite boundary I’ve set. She’s just my physiotherapist, and I’ve tried so many times to make it clear that all I want from her is friendship. Professionalism, at the very least. But she doesn’t seem to understand, or worse, doesn’t care.  

I exhale deeply and drag my focus back to the present. Around me, George is still talking, Joongki is tapping on his phone, James is jotting something down in his notebook, and Toto is checking his watch, probably planing every minute after the meeting is over. 

I can’t sit still, and my knee bounces under the table with restless energy. I think back to Hans, my last race engineer. He stepped down to spend more time with his family, and I admired that decision. One day, I want that for myself too—a family, children. I’d probably make the same decision as Hans if I were in his shoes. Probably a lot sooner than he did. I know his wife begged him for months to spent more time with them. 

Suddenly, there’s movement outside the door, and I sit up straighter, watching as you walk along the corridor. 

My heart stops. 

It can’t be. 

My request for you to replace Hans was a joke, a whimsical suggestion thrown at Toto in passing. Never did I imagine they’d actually choose you, let alone allow a female race engineer into the notoriously traditional world of Formula 1.  

Yet here you are.  

No. No. No, no, no, no.

Your eyes meet mine, and disbelief washes over me, leaving me momentarily stunned. How could this be happening? Please, no.

You’re beautiful, as always, your dress flowing effortlessly around your long legs, and the sunlight streaming through the window, casts a halo around you. 

Ethereal. That’s what you are.  

You’ve always been my dream girl, now woman, ever since I first saw you on track, your passion for racing as fierce as your smile is bright. I’ve spent countless days, no years, drooling over you from a distance, like some lovesick puppy, admiring you in secret. Every attempt of getting closer to you smashed with ease from you. As if you couldn’t care less about me. But now, reality crashes in—I’ll have to work with you, be around you, keep everything professional.  

Panic grips me, a cold sweat prickling at my skin. How am I supposed to maintain an emotional distance? The answer is simple yet infuriating—I can’t. There’s no way. 

My stomach twists with the realisation, and the panic quickly turns into anger. Anger at myself for feeling this way, anger at you for being so...perfect. How dare you show up and upend my world like this?  

I struggle to keep my expression neutral, even as a storm brews inside me. I latch onto the anger, let it fuel my resolve. I have to keep my distance from you, keep everything strictly professional.  

After a soft knock on the door, you stride into the room with a confidence that captivates everyone. “Good morning.” Your angelic, soft, beautiful voice swirls around the room like a spring breeze in a field full of flowers. It momentarily suffocates the anger within me and caries me away in a dream where’s only you.

George’s elbow hitting my shoulder shatters everything within seconds, only now realising everyone except from me got up to pay the deserved respect for you. “Don’t be a dick.” George scolds me silently before I school my features back to annoyance and pure indifference. 

“Good morning,___. Thank you for being here.” Toto says, breaking the silence, his tone cordial and welcoming. “Everyone, this is our new race engineer.”  

The room turns to you, offering polite nods and greetings. I force myself to join in, though my voice feels detached, a million miles away.  

“Hi, I’m Jungkook.” I manage, the words tasting strange, as if uttering them is an admission of something deeper.  

You smile, and it’s like a punch to my gut. It’s disarming, and I feel my defences crumble a little, despite myself.  

The meeting starts, discussions swirling around the expectations from you, upcoming races, the new car setups. I try to focus, thinking I’m nodding in the right places, but my mind keeps drifting back to you. I watch you interact with the others, handling each question with poise and insight. You’re so competent, so sure of yourself, and it’s maddening. Truly devastating. 

I sneak glances at you when I think you’re not looking, totally not staring at you while the time, studying the way you tilt your head when you listen intently, the slight furrow in your brow when you consider a tricky question. Every little detail pulls me in deeper, against my better judgment.  

Focus, I scold myself. Get a grip. I’m here to win races, not get caught up in some hopeless infatuation.  

As the meeting progresses, I try to find something, anything, to criticise about you. A flaw, a mistake, a reason to justify the distance I need to keep. But you handle everything flawlessly, and it only fuels my frustration.  

George leans over, whispering something about how impressed he is with you, how refreshing it is to have someone like you on the team. I grunt in agreement, unwilling to give voice to the swirling mix of admiration and annoyance I feel.  

And god, as my name falls over your perfect lips, I’m done. I’m dead. Finito. I’ve died, resurrected and died again. 

“Not yet, but I’ve prepared a setup proposal based on our simulation and historical data. I plan to discuss it with Jungkook later today, if he’s free.” 

Your voice is like a drug to me, intoxicating and addictive, leaving me in a daze where coherent thoughts slip through my fingers like sand. The fact that we’re going to spend time alone to discuss the data sends my heartbeat pounding in my ears, drowning out everything else. My eye twitches with the effort to maintain my composure. I force myself to nod once, desperately hoping it looks natural, but deep down, I know I’ve failed miserably to hide the effect you have on me. It’s the worst. 

A little while later, you meet my gaze directly, and I’m taken aback by the sincerity and fire in your eyes. “I believe in open communication and transparency," you say, your voice steady and sure. "I aim to build a strong working relationship with you based on mutual trust and respect. I’ll be proactive in seeking your feedback and ensuring you feel fully supported.”  

Your words strike a nerve, and I feel my irritation growing, though I can’t quite put my finger on why. Maybe it’s because your earnestness is disarming, making it hard to maintain the annoyance I’m clinging to. Or perhaps you highlighted the working relationship when I’ve longed for you since ever. 

There’s a short silence that stretches out awkwardly in the room, and I’m aware of George discreetly kicking me under the table when he hits a nerve with a sharp pain. I cough, masking the wince from the kick, and force a smile that I know doesn’t reach my eyes in the slightest. “I appreciate that approach. Communication is key during the race weekend, especially with strategy adjustments and car performance updates.”  

My response feels stiff, not quite reflecting the turmoil inside me. I’m annoyed, sure, but there’s also something else—a pull toward you that I just can’t mask, no matter how hard I try. Your confidence and professionalism are driving me nuts, and yet they’re exactly what draws me to you.  

Finally, the meeting wraps up, and everyone starts to disperse, heading off to their respective tasks. 

Everyone, except of George, who has the audacity to wrap his slimy, bony arms around you. “Oh, please, call me George.” Out of the corner of my eye, I see you smile at him, and I roll my eyes, throwing my head back in annoyance. Great, just what I need—a charming, smiling George.

“Oh wow, you’re taller than I thought,” you say, pulling away from George. I can’t help myself and make a fake gagging sound. He’s not that tall, jeez. Okay, maybe he is, but still.

George laughs and I think I’m going to kill him this instant. “And you’re so tiny.” How dare he ruffles your hair. “Anyway, I’ll leave you both to it. See you tomorrow.” Why the fuck is he winking at you?! But when he finally heads out, I let out a relieved breath. But then his head pops back in, and he points at me. “You, behave.” With that, he’s gone and with him my resolve to not kill him the next time I see him.

Silence stretches between us as we lock eyes, and neither of us dares to look away. Is this a game? Am I supposed to do something? I didn’t even realize it was a challenge until you blinked, and I couldn't help but burst out, “Ha! You lost.” 

You blink again, slower this time, confusion all over your face. Oh no. I cringe internally. You idiot. It’s absurd and dumb, I know, but there’s something strangely satisfying about winning that ridiculous staring contest.

“Okay, now that that’s settled, let’s get down to business, shall we?” you say, your voice steady as you dive into the details. “So, the Hockenheimring was dropped from the calendar for the last few years, so it’ll be not only new to me but also to…”

“Why are you so obsessed with me?” The words spill out before I can stop them. Fucking hell.

You slowly turn your gaze from your tablet to me, blinking as if to compose yourself, and I think I might cry. It’s not only others who suffer from my stupidity. No, I’m right there with them.

“We should obviously review the track,” you continue, unruffled. “I’m sure you’re aware of its tight hairpins and long straights. Also, I’d like to know your preferred tires so the technical sectors don’t…”

I scoff, cutting you off. Just because I’m clearly a moron doesn’t mean you can dodge my question. My arms cross as I give you a challenging look. “It all makes sense now. You’ve been obsessed with me since the first time you saw me. Doing everything in your power to work with me. Even graduating ridiculously young and declining the offer from Haas.”

Your irritation is oozing from you now, and you fire back without hesitation, “I think it’s funny you’ve kept tabs on me for all those years.”

Fuck. How do you know? “No, I haven’t.” I lie, trying to bullshit you. “It’s common knowledge. You’ve always wanted a piece of me. It’s flattering, really.”

“I can assure you, my interest has always been in the job, not in you. And it’s flattering to know that my vitae seems to be common knowledge to you.”

Shut up, Jungkook. Don’t make it worse. But of course, I can’t stop now. “Sure, sure. You don’t have to play coy. It’s perfectly natural to be drawn to someone as experienced as I am. But let’s keep things professional, alright?” Yep, I hate myself, and now you probably do, too.

“Fine by me.” You smile, and I can’t understand why. I clearly tried to gaslight you here. “So, yes. The tires you’d prefer to—”

„It’s,“ I interrupt again, unable to help myself, and you slump defeatedly into your seat, looking at the ceiling. It’s kind of cute, “just that your enthusiasm to work with me comes off as a bit… personal. But don’t worry, I can handle it.” No, I obviously cannot.

You’ve clearly had enough of my antics, your tone flat as you counter, “If anyone’s having trouble handling things, it seems to be you. Your comments suggest you’re projecting your own feelings onto me.”

“Projecting? That’s a bit of a reach. I’m just stating what I’ve observed.” I try to act surprised, an exaggerated hand on my chest, but inside, I’m crying. Crying over being the dumbest man alive, who’s going to be hated by the only woman I ever wanted.

“What you’ve observed is likely coloured by your own assumptions. I’m here to work. If you feel uncomfortable with my presence, perhaps it’s your own obsession that’s the issue.”

My ears heat up, and I feel a flush creeping up my neck. “My obsession? That’s absurd. I’m perfectly professional.”

And it’s the nail in my coffin when you push further. “Yet you seem fixated on making this about something other than work. It’s almost as if you’re trying to convince yourself of something.” A twitch of amusement plays on your lips, your perfect kissable lips.

“I… No, that’s not it at all. I’m just pointing out what I’ve noticed.” I feel the embarrassing red tint spread from my ears to my cheeks.

“What you’ve noticed is a fabrication of your own making. Let’s stay focused on the race. If you can’t handle working with me professionally, that says more about you than it does about me.”

“I’m completely professional! It’s just… Look, let’s just get this done.” I’m flustered, trying to salvage what’s left of my dignity. I’ve royally messed up. And I know there’s no coming back from this. I’ve lost you for good.

“Exactly. Let’s focus on the tires for now and leave personal assumptions out of it, hm?” Your smile is practiced, and it frustrates me that I’ve let this conversation get so far out of hand.

The tension between us isn’t good, and I’m acutely aware of how much I’ve let my emotions cloud the discussion. But as you start talking about the race, I know there’s nothing left to do but focus.

“The Hockenheimring has a mix of high-speed straights and tight hairpins, so we'll need a tire that offers a balance between grip and durability. What’s your preference?” you ask, your voice clear and professional.

Finally, I get my head back in the game, my mind becoming more focused. As we delve into the technical details, I try to settle with the thought that if there’s no future for us as a couple, then a future as colleagues needs to suffice. Somehow.

“Alright, I think we’re set for now,” you say after we’re done discussing, shutting off your tablet. Your smile is genuine, and I can’t help but falter a bit as I pack up, noticing how your demeanour has shifted. Shifted like the shards of my heart on the floor while I stand up as well. “I’ll finalise these settings, and we’ll review them again on Friday.”

“Thanks for the detailed rundown. I appreciate it.” I appreciate you. Always.

You offer me a genuine smile, and I hope it’s never going to vanish when looking at me. “No problem. Let’s make sure we’re both on the same page from here on out.”

I nod, even though I know we’re never going to be at the same page when it comes to us. With a final, respectful glance, I leave the room followed by a long silent exhale, trying to push the defeat as far away as possible.

series masterlist • JK 2

a/n 2: lmk what you think in any way you like! what was your favourite part of this chapter?

a/n 3: please send me a message, ask or comment if you would like to be tagged for upcoming chapters 💕 also - character asks and drabble requests are open

Like what you read? Check out my other work here!

taglist: @jksusawife

That sounds soooo good!

Title: Crimson Shadows

Hey everyone! Excited to share a sneak peek into my latest fanfiction, "Crimson Shadows," where Jungkook from BTS takes the lead role.

Pairing: Jungkook x Reader

Genre: Mystery, Thriller, Romance

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a/n: This work is purely fictional. All characters and events are entirely imaginary and do not reflect reality. Please do not use this story as your own. No translations are allowed without permission. Thank you for understanding!

All Rights Reserved ©

@dumbheadblog 2024

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Summary: Detective Jungkook never expected to find his childhood crush, you, crying on his doorstep. You tell him your best friend, a pregnant woman, has died, and while everyone believes it was suicide, you're convinced it was murder. Desperate, you beg Jungkook for help.

Even though Jungkook thinks it was a suicide, he agrees to look into it for you. As he digs deeper, he discovers you were right—it was murder. Now, the killer is after you, and Jungkook has to solve the case fast to keep you safe and maybe win your heart too.

Can't wait to share more with you all soon!