#im calling the wind is so loud 2night

[pup-pee]

konbart kisses on cheeks or whatever but they make cartoony "MWAH!" sound effect

[velvetchen]

Dynamic | pt. iv

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Scenario: Superhero AU Pairing: Chen/Reader Word Count: 4485 Rating: T (warning for language)

Summary: You’re the leading superhero of the city, and you’ve fought Dynamo for years. It’s the way it should be - good vs. evil, hero vs. villain. But what happens when a bigger evil threatens everything?

<< previous part x first part x next part >>

You’re all clustered around the command center of the NSN, called in for an emergency briefing after your showdown with the giant robot. The thing had somehow cut off all the NSN’s communications, so they hadn’t been able to give you any intel until you were already finished with the fight.

But the minute you’d all got back down to the ground after checking out its head, it had completely vanished without a trace.

“We’re calling him the Dragon,” the Director says. “Since he hasn’t announced himself to the public yet.”

“He? You’re sure it's a he?” Whirlwind asks, his face twisted skeptically.

“Yes,” the Director says, pulling up a grainy image of a black-clad figure leaving a building. “That’s him. We’ve been hearing reports of a very talented hero around town, long before today. We only just managed to figure he and the Dragon are one and the same.”

“Well, what's his power?” you ask impatiently.

“Metallokinesis. One of the strongest we’ve seen in decades.” He paused for effect. “He’s stronger than you three combined.”

You swallow. Dynamo had been right. This city needed everything it had to fight this new threat off.

The Director pulls up another image, this one of a face half cast in shadow. It's blurry too, like someone zoomed in from far away to take it. “This photo was taken by assets of the Villains Association,” he says. You can’t make out much other than a hooked nose and heavy eyebrows.

“This is all the information we have?” Seism asks, looking thoughtful.

“As of now, yes. Our spies are working round the clock. We’ve even got hackers tracking bank accounts, camera feeds, everything within a hundred mile radius. He’s got to have got the materials for that thing from somewhere.” The Director pulls up a hologram of the giant Dragon and rotates it with a flick of his wrist. “From your fight yesterday, we gathered that hitting the face didn’t disable it at all. It’s not electronic, it’s being controlled by him. He must have been somewhere nearby, hiding out and watching.”

That thought was scarier than it sounded - this Dragon guy had been watching you the whole time from afar, and nobody had known.

The Director continues. “We’ve decided on a mission to break in and look for possible hideout spots. Rush, you’ll be leading.”

You’re not surprised they pick you - you knew your way out of a fight, and if you needed to get out of there, they wouldn’t need to send backup. “When?”

“The minute we get intel, you’re up.” You nod.

“But what if he attacks again in the meantime?” Seism asks, and the rest of you  chorus an agreement.

“We don’t think he will. Since he hasn’t announced himself - or what side he’s on - we guessed he’s just trying to spread rampant terror. He won’t attack until this hype dies down. Then, when everyone thinks they’re safe again, he’ll strike. So,” finishes the Director, “we have a good window in which to do our reconnaissance.”

As the discussion continues, you turn to your own thoughts, which are loud inside your head. That afternoon’s events. Dynamo, catching you from falling to your death. Dynamo, suddenly serious. There’s no one I’d rather work with than you. This wasn’t your relationship. Sure, you flirted all the time, but that was when he was trying to destroy something and you were trying to thwart him. When you think about Dynamo, it’s without fondness. He’s just there, that’s it. Your antithesis. The bad to your good. The yin to your yang.

This new development confuses you more than anything else.

“Rush?” You snap your attention back to the discussion. “Patrol tonight, don’t forget.”

You groan internally. “Yes, sir.”

 When you finally leave the headquarters, it’s night. Nearly time for your patrol to start. You don’t even bother changing out of your suit, strolling into the nearest fast-food joint and ordering the greasiest, most unhealthy thing on the menu, with a large soda on top of that. The sugar and caffeine would hopefully kickstart you enough to stay awake for a few hours, at least. Then you could get a coffee and that would last you the rest of the way.

Tomorrow was a Monday, and you didn’t have any morning classes, so you’d be able to sleep in comfortably. Thank God for small mercies.

Everyone in the store stares at you point blank as you sit down with your tray, unwrap your burrito, and bite off a very unladylike portion. You ignore them. Your head pounds with the aftereffects of using your ability under pressure, and your feet are sore as hell from the three-inch heels on your boots.

Oh, only women knew the pain of looking good while you kicked ass. Something you and Glamour Girl had bonded over plenty of times.

You finish eating and walk back out, soda in hand, sipping casually as you pull out your phone to text Jennie.

You: hey babe im not coming home 2night Jen: oh yeah? are u with brunch boy Jen: cause if u are, GO GIRL You: nope but i have another date w him on tuesday. ahhh You: im at another friend’s place. studying for that test in gov u know Jen: got it got it You: have breakfast ready for me pls i’m pulling an all nighter Jen: sure babe Jen: love u Jen: ace that test ok You: love u too

You sigh and tuck your phone away. It was going to be a long night.

You almost drag yourself down the street at 5 am the next day. You’re sure you must look like death, even with the mask on. You’d been hoping it would be a quiet night, but you just stopped four muggings, a drug overdose, a date gone awry, and a man from pulling a gun on his family. Then you’d been called in for an emergency and hurried to the scene - all the way across town from where you were - only to have a kid ask you to get his cat out of a tree.

Still, you have one more stop before you get home. You make your way to the end of the street, where the warehouse looms, dingy and small. You swear it’s much bigger on the inside. When you push the loose window in the front wall open, the dark interior stares back at you. Empty.

You’re almost disappointed he’s not here.

You get a notepad and pen out of your backpack - both of them predictably fuschia, obviously you - and scrawl out a note quickly.

Meet me at the Spire, midnight. We’re discussing battle tactics.

♡ Rush

Pausing, you squint at your writing. Then you scratch out the heart, a habit from the hundreds of autographs you’ve signed.

You take advantage of the emptiness of the warehouse to quickly strip out of your costume and into your clothes from yesterday, one of your nicer blouses and a pleated skirt. Then you trudge out, look from side to side to make sure no one’s watching, then start the walk home.

The Spire isn’t it’s official name, but that’s what it’s called in the super world - the tallest building in the city, one hundred fifty floors, a perfect vantage point to watch the downtown area. And a place where no one would question your presence.

You wait, legs dangling off the edge precariously, chin in the cradle of your hands as you watch the cars a thousand feet below zip past like ants. As much as you care for them, as much as you love them - the people of this city are just as insignificant to you as they look from this height. All of them, spread out below you - yet you know nothing. There’s this huge barrier between you and everyone else. Because you’re a super. Because you’re idolized, you’re put on a pedestal. They probably forget you’re a person under that mask, a person with a real life who goes to school and works and goes out with friends and does all the other normal people things they do.

With the exception of being super, of course.

Sighing, you shift your gaze from the ground to the sky. It’s cloudy, overcast, and you can feel your hair frizzing up. Maybe it was a bad idea to pick the tallest building around for miles as your meeting place.

“Hey.” You don’t turn around as Dynamo appears, floating down to sit next to you. Thankfully, he keeps his distance, staying a good foot away from you. Any further and you wouldn’t be able to hear each other over the lashing of the wind. “What’d you want to discuss?”

You finally move to face him, pulling your legs up onto the roof and sitting with your elbows over your knees. “We know a little more about the Dragon now. He’s-”

“I know,” Dynamo cuts you off. “Metallokinesis. Super ultra powerful. A recluse, showed up out of nowhere. That’s what they briefed me at the V.A.” He sighs. “Depressing, huh? And I thought I was the most powerful super in the city.”

“Second only to me,” you cut in, grinning. “But seriously, they didn’t tell you anything else? No secret villain-only info?”

“Nope,” he says. “Half of the villains want to side with him, anyway. They’re suck-ups. So it’s a need-to-know basis. We’re mostly just supposed to stay out of the way.”

“You don’t plan on doing that, do you?” You watch him carefully.

He doesn’t waver. “I teamed up with you for a reason, partner.”

For once, you wish you could see his face. Then you push the thought away, shocked. It was better you kept your lives secret. Even within the heroes, none of you revealed your identity - not even to the NSN. It always got too messy.

You don’t reply to his statement. “They want me to raid his possible hideouts.” He opens his mouth to continue but you keep going. “No intel yet. Apparently he was remotely controlling that thing.”

“I figured as much. Metallokinesis, right? It’s got range.”

“Yeah, so they want me to find him out.” You swallow. “I want you with me.”

His response is instant. “Okay. I’m with you.”

“Not just this one,” you say. “All my missions. We’re a team now, we have to fight together. I’ll talk to my superiors.”

“I...okay.” Now he looks taken aback.

You stand up, brushing off your suit, bracing yourself against the wind. You reach your hand out to help him up. “Please don’t shock me this time.”

He takes it, and the tingles of electricity that shoot up your arm are warm and pleasant, like laughter. When he stands to face you, you notice that he’s actually not that much taller than you. Nor is he particularly bulky or intimidating. He actually has a lean, average physique, fit from the years of supervillain-y activities. Huh. Perception really changed things.

“When do you want to meet next?”

You look away, thinking. “Not tomorrow. Besides, I don’t yet have any info from the NSN,” you say. “We could do a little spying of our own, if you want.”

“Wednesday?”

“Yeah, sounds good.” You move toward the edge of the roof. “Bye, Dynamo.”

Just as you’re about to go, he calls after you. “Rush?”

“Yeah?”

“You can actually call me Chen. If you want.”

Your lips quirk into a small smile - at the same time your heart rate picks up. “That isn’t your real name, is it?”

He laughs. “No. But it’s the name I picked for myself when I first decided I wanted to be a supervillain. I like it better than Dynamo.”

Your smile widens. “It suits you. See you on Wednesday, Chen.” Then with a running start, you dive off the edge of the roof, plummeting down, the wind on your face like a thousand tons of force. With a loud whoop, you fall faster and faster, until you’re almost all the way down and then suddenly you blink - and you’re safely on the ground.

Sometimes, having an ability was seriously great.

Paragon was a borderline indie bar/club/thing that you’d gone to often, but not often enough to be familiar with. Today it’s packed. For a Tuesday, that’s pretty incredible. The tables are all crowded, the floor in between filled with people talking to each other and dancing in the music that plays lightly over the speakers. The stage, however, is still empty.

You pull out your phone.

You: im so anxious. there’s so many people here Jen: on a tuesday??? wowwww You: yeah i wonder if they’re all here for him though You: because if they are??? You: i literally will not be able to handle it Jen: ;) You: jennnnnnn come on

When she doesn’t reply, you sigh and put your phone away. Just in time, too. The whole crowd goes strangely quiet as a light flicks on stage, and then a figure is walking out and standing at the single mic. He takes a minute to fix it up, tapping and mouthing something to someone backstage, who finally gives a thumbs-up.

“How’s everyone doing tonight?” he says. A cheer goes up and you’re surprised when you even hear a couple I-love-yous screamed out. “I’m Jongdae and I’ll be your entertainment. Have a wonderful evening.”

Music starts up immediately, a strong electronic and jazz sort of fusion that has everyone drawn in by the energy. And then he starts singing and holy shit, you’ve never heard anything like it before. His is the most lively voice, warm in timbre and perfect in pitch. You know enough about music to tell his vocal technique is near perfect.

It’s obvious why the crowd’s so huge. He’s something else.

You spend the whole one hour show with your mouth slightly open, as he goes from song to song and shows off his amazing repertoire. From ballads to 80’s pop hits to electronic, he can pretty much sing anything. Near the end of the show you realize you’ve somehow made it to the front of the crowd. Here the press of people cheering and dancing is more than ever, and you just stand there, entranced.

It’s more than disappointing when he finishes up for the night and thanks everyone, waving enthusiastically as he disappears backstage. From there the people start to disperse, but there’s still a lot of people in the building for a Tuesday.

You decide to go looking for him.

Winding through the crowd, you skirt along the far wall and towards the door you saw him go through earlier. “Excuse me,” you mutter, nearly crashing into someone with a tray of drinks. Finally you make it, and even though the door is closed, you hold your breath and knock, thrice.

When no one opens up, you figure they must not hear you above the blaring music and knock again, harder this time.

The door swings open to reveal a scary-looking bouncer. You’re thrown off for a minute, but regain your confidence. “Uh, I’m Y/N,” you nearly yell. “Jongdae invited me.”

The bouncer guy eyes you up and down, then closes the door. You hear someone - Jongdae? - yell loudly from inside, then the door opens again and you’re ushered in quickly.

“Y/N,” Jongdae says, arms outstretched from his perch on a retro orange sofa. “You made it! I didn’t think you would.”

You shift on your feet, suddenly awkward. “Well, I did promise.”

He chuckles and pats the seat next to him. “Sit down. Want a drink?” You look at the table next to him, with a half empty bottle of wine, and realize he’s probably had a few drinks already. Unsure, you sit next to him on the sofa and take the glass he hands you.

“So, how’d you like it?” he wiggles his brows. The polite, simple Jongdae from your previous meetings seems to be gone; tipsy from alcohol and the high of his performance, he’s a lot more bold. A sheen of sweat still shines on his forehead, and his eyes spark as he looks at you.

“I loved it,” you try not to gush, but he must see it. “It was - incredible. You’re incredible.” Despite yourself, you blush.

“Thanks,” he says, a self-satisfied grin on his face as he leans back. “It means a lot more coming from you.” He winks. Your cheeks grow even hotter.

“Are you flirting with me?”

He takes a sip of his drink. “Only if you want me to be.”

You smirk back, feeling a little shot of confidence, your alter ego, come seeping in. “Well, in that case-” you reach out and put your hand on his arm “-please continue.”

He raises his eyebrow, obviously pleasantly surprised by your change in personality, but the drink is starting to hit your nerves and you only feel your adrenaline go up. “And what if I skip the flirting and go straight to propositioning you?”

“Try and see.”

His voice is close to your ear, breath warm on your skin. “How about we don’t go for dinner and you come over instead.”

“I don't know, don't you think it's a little soon for that?” Are you just imagining it, or are his lips on your neck? Blushing again, you feel your confidence waver for a minute. But then he’s really kissing you, and you're the one pulling him up from the sofa and towards the door.

He’s laughing as you drag him along. “Demanding, aren't we?” He still comes with you though, stepping out of the back of the building into a small alley.

“Which way?” you ask, looking left and right.

He just grins and pulls you down the alley, stopping in front of a monstrous-looking motorbike with yellow lightning bolt accents.

“Wow, I didn't peg you for a motorbike guy,” you say, a little anxious, but you take the helmet he gives you nevertheless. You climb on behind him, grasping around him loosely as the engine comes to life, and then fear overtakes your uncertainty and you’re clinging on to him for dear life, burying your face in his jacketed shoulder. He smells like standard men’s shower gel and vanilla and slightly like sweat - a scent that’s both comforting and exciting. Eventually, you gain the courage to watch your surroundings as you pass the downtown area and into an area with numerous apartment buildings.

“Wait, I thought you-”

“That’s my brother's place,” he cuts in. “I have my own.” You're both relieved and newly anxious that there won't be anyone else at his place.

Not that you were going to do anything. It would just complicate things. You’d had one-night-stands before - and they were one night stands because you snuck away right after. Usually your partner was too drunk to remember you and probably passed you off as a dream or someone else.

But it was different now, because you liked Jongdae. You knew him. Even with your limited time together, you could feel the beginnings of a bad crush, and even though you were willing to see where it went, the thought of a relationship still scared the crap out of you.

You had second thoughts suddenly. How would you explain it if you needed to leave this time? What if he asked too many questions, or rummaged in your bag, or you got too drunk and spilled your biggest secret? You almost grip his shoulders and ask him to turn around - just as you pull up in front of a fancy looking apartment building.

He parks. There’s no turning back now. “This is the place?”

“This is the place.” He hops off and then holds out his hand for you to take. As always, there are those familiar tingles dancing up and down your skin. You pull back your hand quickly, hoping it didn't look like you were being rude. Thankfully he doesn't seem to think so, and puts his hands in his pockets, humming a song from earlier that night as you begin to walk.

The door unlocks smoothly. He switches on the lights and you look around. Jongdae’s apartment is less personal than you expected it to be. It's also a lot more expensive than you expected it to be - everything is clean and modern, with decorative touches that have the hand of a professional and not a twenty-something guy who sings at bars. There are pictures of him and his family, but strategically arranged across the wall. His fridge has touristy-looking magnets that hold up printed out recipes and some scrawled notes.

He locks the door behind you. “I haven’t been spending much time here, so don't be surprised if you see dust or a stray sock or something,” he says, scratching the back of his head. Like he's nervous. You find it oddly cute. “Um, make yourself at home. I’ll see if I have anything to eat.”

You wander into his living room, which is more of the same. There are a few more photos of people who must be his parents and brother, a signed photo of him singing at another club, skin turned blue by the lights. You pick it up and look at it - study the electricity in his eyes and how alive he seems. So this is who he is.

“Is ramen okay?” he calls from the kitchen.

“I don't mind,” you call back as you put the photo back. There are some knickknacks: several small cat plushies, a jar full of coins and a handwritten note from someone named Kim Minseok, whom you guessed was Jongdae’s brother.

Jongdae enters the kitchen, two cups of ramen in both hands and a wine bottle tucked under his arm. He sets them down on the coffee table and doubles back for a couple of glasses. “Ramen and wine,” he says. “I know, I'm the epitome of hospitality.”

You giggle and take your share. “Thanks.” It's the instant stuff, but you're hungry and it tastes good.

Your teasing mood from earlier is gone, worn away by the ride here and the calm aura of his apartment. Right now, you just want to talk, lulled by the wine and the comfortable silence in between you as you eat.

You fumble for a place to start, going for an easy opening. “So, besides singing and eating brunch, what do you like to do?”

“Well, considering you just summed up my life in two activities, I’d say not much else,” he grins. “But Y/N, I barely know about you. What do you like to do?”

Usually you have a basic answer about your job ready to go, but this time you feel like you should be honest. Well, as honest as you can. “I’m actually a bit of a thrill-seeker,” you say tentatively. “I trained in mixed martial arts for a long time, actually. I like heights and horror movies and I have three tattoos.”

Jongdae actually looks impressed. “I would not have guessed that about you. I’m kind of proud I managed to scare you with my motorbike.”

“Surprisingly I've never been on one before,” you say. “But I really liked it. I’d love to go again.”

“Anything else you haven't done?” His eyebrows rose. “I’m not asking for the sake of future dates.”

“I’ve never been skydiving, for all my love of heights. You?”

“I’ve never actually sung in front of my parents. I think about that a lot.”

“Oh?” you finish up your noodles. “Why not?”

“Well, we're not really on good terms,” he says, looking down at his bowl. “I moved out early, because they didn’t approve of me trying to drop out of school. I started singing when I was sixteen, a few months after I moved in with my brother. So yeah. I haven't talked to them since then.”

“That’s kind of sad,” you say quietly. Your free hand inches across the space between you. “Why did you want to drop out of school, though?”

He shrugs. “I thought I had better things to do. Turns out they were just big dreams. I went back to school and graduated a year late.”

“What kind of things?” Against your will, your fingers have twined with his.

He smiles softly. “That’s a story for another time,” he says. “If you stick around long enough.”

“I plan on it.”

His grin widens. “Can I kiss you?”

“You already did.”

“Yes, but I didn't ask first that time.”

The corners of your mouth turn up. “Okay.”

He leans forward, excruciatingly slow. You close your eyes and swallow. It's not your second kiss, not even your twentieth, but it feels intimate and vulnerable in a completely different way. You actually care what he thinks, what he sees when he looks at you.

His lips touch yours, and you forget about the liabilities.

You wake, unsteady, in a room that's not your own. The covers are kicked off halfway and the other side of the bed is cold. You catch your reflection in the mirror across from you. You look exhausted, and there are a couple of wine-purple marks on your neck. Panic hits, sudden and familiar.

Shit. Did I -

You tiptoe out of the room cautiously. Jongdae is awake; you can hear him humming as he shuffles around the kitchen. Wary, you keep moving forward until he sees you and his face lights up.

“Good morning, Y/N. I wasn’t expecting you to wake up anytime soon. You sleep like the dead.”

“Good morning,” you return, uncertainly. “Jongdae, did we, you know…I don't remember.”

“Don't worry, nothing happened,” he says, grabbing eggs out of the fridge. “Do you like them scrambled or fried?”

“Fried, please,” you say, leaning hesitantly on the counter.

“Right. We were talking and you fell asleep on me a couple times. You looked pretty tired, so I carried you to the bed.” He looks up at you, a reassuring smile on his face. “So yeah, nothing happened.”

Relief spills through you, evident on your face. “Good,” you say, and then quickly rectify, “I mean - I was drunk-”

“No offense taken,” he laughs. You’re quiet as he cracks the eggs into a pan, working a little clumsily, but singing absently as he does so. You close your eyes and listen to the honeyed sound of his voice, a song you’ve never heard before but one that still feels familiar nevertheless.

With a pang, you realize that you could get used to this. 

And that terrifies you.

All of a sudden you want to get out of here. You clam up again, looking for an opening to leave - but he’s turning to you with a plate in either hand and the most blinding smile on his face, and you can’t help but stay a little longer.

a/n this is p long compared to what i usually write i’m actually surprised ? also is anyone else swooning over jongdae bc i am wow falling for your own character why dont you get an actual life mer