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Amadeus
A Stray Kids/ Bang Chan Fanfiction
Semi-weekly updates starting 14.06.22.
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Amadeus | b.ch Masterlist
Genre: Werewolf AU, slight Fantasy AU, Musician!Reader
Pairing: Bang Chan/Reader
Rating: M
Warnings: violence, gore, weapon usage, potential smut later on (individual chapters will continue warnings)
Synopsis: Chan belongs to the Order of Amadeus who work to keep the kingdom safe from the lycanthropy plague spreading among the populace. You can only hunt so long before you become what you hunt.
Y/N is a violinist in a traveling music troupe-one of the few left in the kingdom. One morning when she is practicing in the woods, a man emerges from among the trees and changes her life forever.
Down a member, the Order of Amadeus continues their mission to end the lycanthropy plague, but their missing member remains in the back of their mind as they narrow in on the worst wolf of them all.
*Inspired by Wolfgang by Stray Kids
Chapters:
Teaser
Teaser 2
Chapter One: The Plague
Chapter Two: The Elite Eight
Chapter Three: The Violinist
Chapter Four: The Seven
Amadeus Teaser
Genre: Werewolf AU, slight Fantasy AU, Musician!Reader
Pairing: Bang Chan/Reader
Rating: M
Warnings: violence, gore, weapon usage, potential smut later on (individual chapters will continue warnings)
Synopsis: Chan belongs to the Order of Amadeus who work to keep the kingdom safe from the lycanthropy plague spreading among the populace. You can only hunt so long before you become what you hunt.
Y/N is a violinist in a traveling music troupe-one of the few left in the kingdom. One morning when she is practicing in the woods, a man emerges from among the trees and changes her life forever.
Down a member, the Order of Amadeus continues their mission to end the lycanthropy plague, but their missing member remains in the back of their mind as they narrow in on the worst wolf of them all.
It all started one day when an injured wolf hobbled into a village on the edge of the forest. Blood spilled from its shoulder and it panted as it made its way into a field of sheep. The farmers were used to watching for wolves emerging from the forest, usually staffing a local teenager to sit at the edge of the field and watch. A shotgun leaned against the watch stand, dusty
When she noted the scruffy gray form moving towards her, the girl squinted her eyes as she reached for the shotgun. Her hand on the cool metal of the barrel, her fingers didn’t wrap around it as she noticed the weakened gait and the blood dripping from its shoulders, down the front leg, and between the toes of the paw.
The girl knew she should shoot it and put it out of its misery, but her job was to protect the flock of sheep and this wolf was obviously no threat to them. Slowly climbing down the elevated watch stand, the girl approached the wounded animal.
The wolf approached her as if it was there specifically for her. Laying down on its uninjured side, yellow eyes watched as the girl lightly touched the wound, blood coating her hand.
“How did you manage this?” she asked as if talking to a housecat.
The wolf let out a whimper.
The girl looked around, hoping her bosses were not nearby. She knew this would likely get her thrown off the job, but the animal was helpless. Remembering that a blanket was kept in the watch stand, she climbed back up and brought the layers of thick cotton back down.
“I’m not sure how much I can do, but this should stop the bleeding.”
Two Weeks Later
“The wolf is dead!”
Bells chimed and people emerged from houses and businesses as the crowd of the village’s men walked into the square. Torches illuminated the branch slung over the shoulders of two men. People craned their necks to catch a glimpse of the creature, but instead caught a glimpse of bloodied human skin.
“You’ve killed a man!”
The body was that of a young man, probably no older than twenty-five. His dark hair hung down as if standing up along the back of a threatened wolf. Each of his limbs was tied to the branch with coarse rope. Mouths dropped and villagers gasped. Children swept behind skirts.
The men looked between each other. “He was a wolf when we shot him.”
Silence fell. If he was a wolf and then turned into a man that could only mean one thing.
Amadeus Teaser 2
Genre: Werewolf AU, slight Fantasy AU, Musician!Reader
Pairing: Bang Chan/Reader
Rating: M
Warnings: violence, gore, weapon usage, potential smut later on (individual chapters will continue warnings)
Synopsis: Chan belongs to the Order of Amadeus who work to keep the kingdom safe from the lycanthropy plague spreading among the populace. You can only hunt so long before you become what you hunt.
Y/N is a violinist in a traveling music troupe-one of the few left in the kingdom. One morning when she is practicing in the woods, a man emerges from among the trees and changes her life forever.
Down a member, the Order of Amadeus continues their mission to end the lycanthropy plague, but their missing member remains in the back of their mind as they narrow in on the worst wolf of them all.
There was nothing you loved more than a foggy, misty morning on the edge of the forest. The dew kissed your skin as you left your tent with your violin case slung across your body. It was made of fine brown leather, a gift from your adoptive family for your birthday earlier in the year.
The violin itself had been your grandmother’s and thus was made of an antiquated willow wood that was rarely found in modern violins. However, your troupe liked the older, deeper sound provided by your violin, becoming a mainstay of their sound.
You walked lightly to prevent waking anyone in your troupe, especially Anton. He had become your de facto older brother since you joined the troupe. He did not like your morning trips into the woods to practice saying that you would one day come face to face with a wolf. Yet, in your two years traveling with troupe, never had seen the glowing, yellow eyes of a wolf up close.
Whenever you and the troupe camped near the woods, you often heard their howls and barks in the distance. Sometimes, it would send shivers down your spine, but then you would glance at the shotgun outside each tent and feel a bit safer. Never had anyone needed to use one but as one of the few traveling music troupes in the realm, you all had to take precautions.
Reaching a lone black poplar tree near a quick running brook, you slung the case over your body and undid the clasps to bring out your violin. It was stained a red-brown which everyone likened to your hair. When your grandmother gave you her old violin, it seemed like it was an indication you were meant to have it.
Placing the instrument between your chin and shoulder, the leather of the chin rest having worn a lighter color where your skin so frequently touched it. Bringing the bow to the strings you began to play. You were not playing any tune, in particular, preferring to let the light pressure of your wrist guide you.
The tune turned somber as it so often did. Unless following the notes laid out on paper, it seemed impossible for you to play a happy song since an avalanche destroyed your village. You still do not know how you ended up at the lodge at the bottom of the valley where the avalanche did not reach. Yet, you’d woken up on soft linen sheets with your violin case laid next to you. The sheets caressed it just as it gently wrapped around your bruised body.
At the lodge, you’d taken to entertaining the guests by the shores of the lake and sometimes in the late evening in the lounge. When the troupe stopped in the nearby village, Anton heard you playing by the lake one day. After an impromptu audition, he asked you to join the musical troupe because their strings section lacked and use the unique sound of your willow violin.
You were thankful to have found a family after losing your own. Still, it was in these early mornings that you became pleasantly somber. Watching the sturdy winter tadpoles practice swimming against the current, you heard a sound among the trees. The bow ceased its fluid movements as you looked around, not catching sight of any glowing eyes or bared teeth.
It was early, but well past dawn. You would never venture into the woods in the dark. Though, you had heard rumors of eternal wolves–werewolves that never left their wolf form–daytime wolf attacks were rare. It was more likely to be a hare or deer whom you often see eating their breakfast during your practice sessions.
The bow glided over the strings again. The music floated high into the trees almost blending in with the sharp breeze as if it belonged there. You hummed along with the tune absentmindedly, your feet soon joining in to slowly move to the sorrowful melody. This was your favorite part of playing, the way it made you feel like you were lifted high in the air.
A growl sounded in dissonance to the violin.