#wolfgang x sun x will | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

lixiesfreckless · 6 months

Text

Burn It | l. m.

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

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

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

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

➸ word count: 3.6k words

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

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

➸ rating: teen+

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

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

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

♫- Deja Vu

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

No, but your whole car is red.

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

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

“You nervous at all?”

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

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

“Laying it on thick, are we?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Hello?”

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

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

“I’ll be there in two minutes.”

‧⋆ ✧˚₊‧⋆. ✧˚₊‧⋆‧

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I’m scared.”

“Scared of what?”

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

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

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

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

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

“I can think of a couple things-”

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

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

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

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

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

“FROM THE P1ECE PEDAL PUSHERS, HWANG INTAK!”

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

“FROM THE BLUE FLAMES, NAKAMURA KAZUHA!”

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

“FROM THE NEVER CRASHING TIRES, LEE JENO!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Three laps around the track.

No shortcuts.

Start at the sound of the gun.

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Okay, go.”

“What-”

BANG!

“Go!”

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

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

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

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

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

“IT REALLY IS ANYONE’S GAME FOLKS…”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Why would I do that-”

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

No.

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

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

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

And then, the crowd explodes into cheers.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“EVERYONE, OUR GOLDEN TIRE CHAMPIONSHIP FINALISTS!”

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

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

slowlee: come to the kitchen rq

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Whoops and whistles fly around the room.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You giggle, flaming red as you mouth them back.

I love you too.

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

Burn it.

‧⋆ ✧˚₊‧⋆. ✧˚₊‧⋆‧

Burn It

a lixiesfreckles_ production

cast(in order of appearance)

Lee Minho as the finalist

Han Jisung as the baby mechanic

Kim Seungmin as the only one working

Jung Wooyoung as the old teammate

Seo Changbin as the host

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

Hwang Hyunjin as the drama

Shin Ryujin as the pit crew

Hwang Yeji as the one who knows her shit

Lia as the messenger

Lee Felix as thing 1

Yang Jeongin as thing 2

Bang Chan as the experienced mechanic

Choi Soobin as the mc

Hwang Intak as the heartthrob hero

Nakamura Kazuha as the victim

Lee Jeno as the neo one

Kim Hongjoong as the designated driver

Song Mingi as the passenger princess

Lee Chaeryeong as party girl 1

Shin Yuna as party girl 2

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

#stray kids #stray kids fanfiction #skz #picu #lee know fanfic #lee minho fic #lee know #lee minho #lee minho fanfiction #stray kids imagines #stray kids ff #lee know x reader #lee minho x reader #Spotify

52 notes · View notes

sizhui · 5 months

Text

I am so autistic about my books if I don't take them out and rearrange them once a week its over for me 🙂‍↕️ listed under the cut for the like minded

Mo Xiang Tong Xiu: The Scum Villain's Self-Saving System (1-4), Grandmaster of Demonic Cultivation (1-5), Heaven Official's Blessing (1-8) [Legally buying MXTX's entire opus may just be the worst thing I have ever done, and I ran Stardoll scams of young children when I was in middle school]

Rou Bao Bu Chi Rou: Remnants of Filth (1-2), The Husky & His White Cat Shizun (1)

Meng Xi Shi: Thousand Autumns (1)

Gothic & Lolita Bible, volume 45

CLAMP: Cardcaptor Sakura (Collector's edition), volume 3

Min Jin Lee: Pachinko

Charlotte Brontë: Jane Eyre

Nakahara Chuuya: Collected Poems (Translated and edited by Paul Mackintosh and Maki Sugiyama)

Franz Kafka: The Metamorphosis (and other stories) (translated by Cristopher Moncrieff)

Pat Barker: The Silence of the Girls

R. F. Kuang: Babel

Masashi Kishimoto: Naruto (volumes 22 & 24)

Yoshihiro Togashi: Hunter x Hunter (volumes 8, 14 & 36)

The Diary of Lady Murasaki (Translated by Richard Bowring)

Silvia Moreno-Garcia: Mexican Gothic

Milivoj Solar: Literary Theory

Sophocles: Tragedies (volume 1, edited by David Greene and Richmond Lattimore)

Liu Cixin: Death's End, The Three-body Problem (translated by Ken Liu)

Veljko Gortan, Oton Gorski & Pavao Pauš: The Latin Grammar

Masashi Kishimoto & Shin Towada: Sasuke's Story [Sunrise]

Osamu Dazai: No Longer Human (translated by Donald Keene)

Johann Wolfgang von Goethe: Faust (1-2)

The Penguin Book of the Prose Poem

Oyinkan Braithwaite: My Sister, the Serial Killer

Toni Morrison: Love

Joan Anim-Addo, Deirdre Osborne & Kadija Sesay: This is the Canon: Decolonize Your Bookshelves in 50 Books

Ovid: The Metamorphoses

Zen Cho: Black Water Sister

Judy I. Lin: A Magic Steeped in Poison

Sue Lynn Tan: Daughter of the Moon Goddess, Heart of the Sun Warrior

Xiran Jay Zhao: Iron Widow

Kazuo Ishiguro: Klara and the Sun

Toni Adeyemi: Children of Blood and Bone

N. K. Jemisin: The Fifth Season

12 notes · View notes

timmymyluv · 2 years

Text

act five.

of the let others wage war-you, happy child, marry.

future tsar/tsesarevich!timothee chalamet x princess!reader x romanov prince!louis partridge

series masterlist

act i

act ii

act iii

act iv

main masterlist

Summary: In foreign land, you travel with your family to England to celebrate your sister Alexandra's marriage to the Prince of Wales. Facing the daunting reality of growing up, and losing your family spread across the continent as your royal profile rises, you learn power comes at a price.

Notes: and finally I'm writing again! I hit a little writing rut and was afraid this would be a filler chapter but every chapter is important and drives the story forward. I hope you enjoy it and please comment & send lots of love and feedback. Thanks!

“—it seemed as if she could dream her life away in such luxury of pensiveness, in which she made her present all in all, from not daring to think of the past, or wishing to contemplate the future.”

― Elizabeth Gaskell, North & South

Crowds cheered as they assembled in droves by the dock, a cloudy, gloomy early September day as your family embarked on the royal yacht the English sent on their behalf called the Victoria and Albert. Hearing your national anthem sung so proudly, you watched Alexandra tear up, moved by the patriotism of her people, and the anguish and grief of leaving her home country for her marriage.

As the boat left the coast, you all waved to your people before you began your hour long journey across the Baltic Sea, then crossing into the English Channel to make your way to your sister’s new motherland.

Feeling her frail, boney hands in yours, you clutch her tight towards yourself, an affirming, comforting squeeze to appease her nerves to the best of her ability. A gentle smile towards her, and she cannot help but mirror your expression, at ease knowing you were there for her.

Falling asleep in her arms, the flickering moonlight peaking through the blinds until you had arrived at Kent in broad daylight. The sun had risen, much earlier than it usually did in Copenhagen or even as far as Aarhus, and the crowds that gathered easily outnumbered the Danes back home. No wonder they said the sun never set in the British Empire, for in every corner of the Earth, touched their influence.

The weeks leading up to the toned down matrimonial service in St. George’s Chapel, cramped and paltry rather than the palatial Westminster Abbey out of the queen’s desire to remain in mourning for her late husband the Prince, and keep it an intimate, brief affair with only a minimal guest list and the most important individuals present only.

Whenever you were not busy socializing with the guests as part of the bride’s side of the family, ceremonial teas, brunches, dinners, fundraisers, rehearsals, dress fittings, you would drown yourself in your ink and parchment.

While your fiance explored Italy, Greece, before making his way to France to join his mother, you wrote to him daily, reaffirming the love you had for him even from a distance, worryingly asking if he still felt the same even after time apart, which he was glad to silence and quiet with his sweet, honeyed promises.

"You tell me that I hold the happiness of a certain person in my hands", she wrote to Timothee. "If that is true, then his happiness is assured forever… this person loves me tenderly, and I love him in return, and that will be my happiness… you can be certain that I love you more than I ever can say"

Setting aside your quilt and roll of parchment by your bedside, you tuck into bed, feeling your warm sheets against your feet and blow the candle before you fall into the sweet embrace of slumber and nightly rest.

…

Blurry visions that you struggle to make sight off plague your peripheral vision. Arrived in haste with tired feet, you are drawn into a crowded, drawy bedroom in an unknown location, surrounded by pitiful murmurings, and ravaged sobbing.

The hastily yet pompously dressed congregations parts for you to make through, the dim light shining down of what appears to be your dear Timothee in his bed, heavily weakened in his pale complexion, teary eyes, and swollen phalanges, looking dreamlike and angelic in his off-white cream blouse stained with sweat and droplets of blood from his throat and nose.

Beside him stood his mother, looking frailer than ever, barely hanging on in her angular, emaciated form, tight fingers gripping on her son so taut as if he was to fade away right in front of her.

Across from Timothee on the bed that stood in the centre of the bedroom was his younger brother, the Grand Duke Alexander, tall and muscular as he crouched down and wept into his brother’s shoulder with no restraint.

Hearing you approach with hesitant footsteps, both mother and son look up at you with mirroring images of dismal grief and wracked desperation. In his blissful serenity, intoxicated by the morphine and painkillers prescribed hopelessly by his throng of doctors that gathered from all over Europe, Timothee manages a faint, yet reassured beam.

“How beautiful is she my Dagmar, right Mother?” He croaks, and as if on cue, his mother bursts into screeched wailing into her son’s arms.

Feeling your own tears brim, you shake your head profusely, in denial that he was slipping from your grasp, that life was to leave him.

“We have done all that we could, Your Royal Highness. We had mistaken his symptoms of fatigue, back pain and sensitivity to light for rheumatism but it was not so. He is suffering with cerebro-spinal meningitis, and we had taken too long to discover it that it has spread up to His Imperial Highness’ brain and spine. We are truly sorry, Your Royal Highness.” The jittery, trembling voice of the grey-haired, eccentrically mustached doctor only felt like daggers that went through your heart.

Taking your hand into his, as unsteady and frigid as it was to your sweltering own in the height of the summer heat, Timothee gathers all of his strength to join your palms into his brother Alexander’s much larger hands, settling it adamantly against his chest, skeletal and bony from the weight he had lost in rapid succession.

“Pug, Sasha- when I am to pass, you must fulfill not only my responsibility to Russia, as Tsar- but to my Dagmar. You must take her hand when I am no longer on this Earth. You must-promise me.” He whispers before he is interrupted by a gruesome cough, his phlegm laced with nasty infected mucous and porous blood.

Sasha defiantly refuses incipiently, begging implorably and insisting that his episode of illness will pass, that he will live to walk down the aisle to make you his wife, and rule Imperial Russia as Tsar, but his hope dimmed by the second.

As Timothee makes his last breath, a single tear flows down his cheeks, and you are overwhelmed with grief that weighs on your chest and entire being. Embracing him so securely your knuckles turned white and your chest pressed firmly against him as you vociferously wail above the similar sounds of the flock that huddled around you.

His mother Maria Alexandrovna and the silhouette of who appears to be his father the Tsar Alexander II, whom you have barely met and only recognized from portraits and sparse carte-de-visites, clamber to clumsily pull you off from his lifeless form, overcome with their own grief.

The seconds become hours, then days, to weeks and months that fade into one that time becomes incomprehensible. Falling in and out of sleep as you are in a daze that cannot be broken, rotting and melting into your bedsheets, refusing to wear anything but black, clothes fitting too loosely as you become so slim, so frail in your mourning that everyone in the royal circle worried about you. If only you could wake up from such bereavement, such melancholy-

You abruptly sit up from your bed, drenched in sweat and salty tears that trickled down into your collarbones and chest. Your laced chemise clung to your skin as you had dramatically pushed away your jacquard duvet in your restless dream.

Hearing your heartbeat thump so loudly against your ribcage that you can hear it vibrate against your eardrums, you wipe away the tears and perspiration that smothered you in such a dreadful, compelling dream that was all of your fears coming to the surface.

Calming and soothing yourself as you wrapped your arms around your knees, reminding yourself that it was only a dream, only your subconscious that has been overwhelmed and exhausted from the events that had been preoccupying you in a foreign country that gave you an insight on the future that could await you.

Striding away covertly into the quiet, yet well furnished kitchen in the cottage your family was to remain in before your return to Copenhagen, Dagmar reaches shakily for a glass bottle of water and pours into a small glass for herself.

Gulping, pouring the cool water down your parched throat gives you slight but much needed relief from your state of desperation and skittishness. Pondering in the darkness with nothing but a miniature lighted candle in hand, you bite away trivial tears before you pour another glass for yourself.

You do your best to return back to slumber in your mattress, but it is never to the same depth and comfort as before your dream. You fear you will never sleep the same again, if your dreams could become so severe, so ghastly that it will spill into your waking life.

…

Queen Victoria requests for your presence after an early supper and horseback riding race down the track in Balmoral Castle.

You winced as you falteringly trodded towards her office accompanied by a trusted Scottish companion of hers who had been personally sent for your company and speak with her alone.

Ruffling your unruly curls that had been flying freely as you rid your stallion and beat the Queen’s second son Prince Alfred, the Duke of Edinburgh closely, before being scolded by one of the senior officials present for your lack of protocol due to your dearth of a riding hat that proper ladies, and more especially, royal princesses were supposed to adorn.

“Her Royal Highness Princess Dagmar of Denmark, Your Majesty.” The royal herald announces your arrival as you stand rigidly by the gold engraved cream door, fiddling with the smooth cloth of your hoop skirt anxiously.

“Let her in, and shut the door. I would like to speak to her alone.” As her quiet yet profoundly dignified voice echoes in the room, her thrush of servants and maids leave the room promptly, before the door is shut emphatically behind you.

“Come my dear, you stand there as if I would bite you.” Queen Victoria jests, as you stare at her with round, frightened eyes before you curtsey hastily and make your way across her oak desk.

“Your Majesty, it is an honour to be in your presence and to be requested for a private audience with our dear Queen. to what do I owe the pleasure?” Looking up from your feet, you glance politely before you speak in a rehearsed tone, your hands folded closely in front of you.

A glimmer passes by the elderly Queen’s ostensibly expressionless round, plump face, her silver and grey hair sticking through her signature onyx hued velvet fascinator pinned to the top of her head. You gulp nervously as if you were scolded as a child once more.

“It has come to my attention that my second son, Alfred, has claimed you as an object of his fancy. He finds you very pleasing, pretty and fascinating enough that he would very much desire to request for your hand in marriage. I am not opposed to such a match, as much as I do not fondly look forward to another Danish match in our family. However, it would work fabulously well in which you could live in a household close to your sister.” She challenges you almost pointedly, and you balance in your head how to manage not to offend such a demanding, prideful yet protective matron figure.

“I am warmly grateful that Her Majesty believes me to be as equally worthy a marriage prospect into the House of Saxe-Coburg-Gotha as my dear sister Alexandra, but I regret to inform you that I am already bethrothed to the Tsesarevich Timothee of Russia, Your Majesty.” You reply as a matter-of-factly.

Staring at you with a knowing smirk, as if you had passed the test she had set up so dramatically for you to possibly falter, but impressed with your wit in the abridged bantering she had with you.

“I am aware of those events, and I am sure Alred is no fool to be unaware either, but you must answer me honestly. If the Tsesarevich had not asked for your hand in marriage, would you have considered his?”

You pause, deep in thought as you weighed your probabilities. Alfred was not anything close to a looker, sharing the same hooded, heavy blue Saxe-Coburg saucers that looked almost forlorn, permanently sleepy. He had been kind and slightly teasing in the faint encounter you had with him in the tracks, but not enough to judge his character accurately.

“I would always take the time in getting to know and familiarize myself with his character before I would accept any proposals of matrimony, Your Majesty. I will speak genuinely in that I do not believe in a love in first sight, especially for a minor Princess of my standing, where marriage can make or break my future. His Royal Highness is a great man who will do many great things, but I believe that I am not fated to be his lifelong companion and he will meet his match in due time. I adore and cherish my sister entirely, fully, more than myself but I do not wish to live under her shadow either, your Majesty.”

“You prideful, insolent girl! I had always known you were more intelligent, more spirited than your sister, but never to this degree.” You gulped nervously as her voice raised in pitch, leaving you aghast how such a petite woman could control the room with so little on her part.

“I admire your strength, little Dagmar. You will need that vitality, that backbone if you are to survive in the chaos that is Imperial Russia and all that is Saint Petersburg. You remind me of myself in my youth, that drive, that determination to break out of the family that had coddled and sheltered you. I pity, no- I fear the man who is to marry you, dear. You are a woman that cannot be tamed, cannot be controlled.” Queen Victoria smiles beratingly with a slight chuckle at you, shaking her head and you cannot help but mirror her grin.

…

151 notes · View notes

eddieslittleslutmuffin · 2 years

Text

✿Hi! I hope you enjoy this fic! Please remember to reblog, like, and leave a nice comment. Follow me, and maybe you’ll see more nice stuff, idk I can’t tell you what to do. But I’d appreciate it! More stuff pinned to my page! Kay bye!

pairing: professor!joesph quinn x black!oc student

warnings: 18+ oral (f)receiving and (m)receiving, public sex, dub con, age gap ( Joe is 26, and oc is 22).

a/n: um, listen…i seen this picture, and I had to like duh lmao. It took me an extremely long time to finish this, literally a month. it wasn’t supposed to be this long but here we are…enjoy :)

wc: 2k

Teacher’s Pet

“Seriously, it’s fall time, how can you be sad at a time of year like this. Everything is so beautiful, and colorful, brighten up Ally.” I walked through the never ending halls of the Arts, and Science building at NYU, we weaved our way through the sea of bodies.

“I need the sun Devina, I’m not like you, and the fall time is cold. I hate the cold. This, my friend, is just where our personalities split…accept it.” Ally pulled the lecture room door open, most students were scattered everywhere, but mainly the first four rows were filled with girls. Professor Joseph Quinn is quite popular amongst the females. Music History is an elective for most of us, which means the only reason we’re here…is because of him.

“Ally you’re good at science, what dna strand made Quinn so damn attractive?” I whisper to her as we take our seats, she giggled throwing her stuff down into the empty chair next to her. Her eyes give him a once over, studying his face.

“Girl, I wish I knew the answer to that. I mean look at him, wearing that gold chain like a slut.” I nearly choke on my water from her words, I’m too damn goofy to be friends with someone like Alyssa.

“I didn’t know the death of Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart could be so funny Ms. Jones.” He scolded me, his chocolate eyes holding me in place, I always felt like he’s looking right into my soul with those eyes of his.

“It could be funny, I mean what kind of name is Wolfgang. What a mislead that must have been from the guys that jumped him.” I tried to joke, Ally sighs from beside me, an indication that I should have not said anything at all. My mouth has a habit of going against the instructions of my brain.

“Except he died from a fever.” Professor Quinn corrected me, some of the girls in the front row whispered, and giggled at me. I rolled my eyes, if only those cows knew the truth they’d be pissed.

“It was a joke, Professor.” I mumbled, I pulled my lip between my teeth as I fiddled with my pen. His eyebrow lifted upward, and he shot me a playful warning glare.

“I suggest you work on gathering better source material love.” My eyes widened, Professors Quinn's eyes flickered for a moment, and I think I was the only one that noticed that facial expression. I shrunk back in my seat, some of the other girls looked at me with grim expressions.

“No wonder you’ve been making A’s…perhaps it’s you who's the slut DJ.” Ally smirked at me knowingly, but I decided to ignore her as I kept writing my notes.

“Alright you all, don't forget it’s a quiz on everything from chapter 13, so make sure you study up.” He nodded his head to all the students bidding them a goodbye, then making his way to his desk. Taking his glasses off he throws them on the desk, and rubs the bridge of his nose.

“Ms. Jones, may I see you for a moment.” I pause my movements causing Ally to bump right into the back of me, I lean backwards to make room for her to slide past me.

“Me and Ms. Jones, we got a thing going on.” She sings quietly, as she passes me.

After the very last student leaves the class, I make way down the steps to the front of the room, I press my lips together to keep myself from smiling. Joe; however, held nother back, and I always admired him for his confidence in our ability to keep our relationship private. Though dating a teacher doesn't go against any legal rules, it just…not professional I guess. Which if you as me is total bullshit, I pull my weight in my classes, I never needed to go through such lengths for a passing grade. Even if I did sleep my way to the academic top, we pay enough money to go here, someones gotta give, or receive for that matter.

“Yes Professor?” I walked up to him, keeping a distance between us. I'm more than sure no one is here, but I couldn’t help but tease him.

“Falling asleep in class, and now making jokes like it's comedy hour? Come on now babe, that’s not like you.” He grabbed my hands, pulling me into him, and placing my palms around his neck. My fingers play with his hazelnut curls, he likes it when my nails scrape his scalp.

“Oh so blame it on me when you've been the one keeping me up twice this week.” I pouted, Joseph threw his head back in a small fit of laughter. His smile lights up his whole face, and I couldn't help but giggle as well.

“Did you like that, when I choked you, when I hit it from the back. Tell the truth, you can't lie darling.” Joseph's voice dropped, and his head tilted towards me. His hands crawled under my blouse, and his nails dragged down my bare skin giving me goosebumps. My areolas prickled, and my nipples hardened. He watches me closely taking pleasure in my fight to suppress the moan on the tip of my tongue, Joseph loves to watch me struggle. Sometimes he makes me beg for it, when we first met I never peg him for the type to be so sexually dark.

“No, we shouldn’t Joey, someone could walk in on us.” I tried to plea with him, I wanted to, my pussy was already slick, but I’d rather not be the poster child for public sex.

“Follow me, there’s something I want to show you.” Joseph pulled me by the arm off towards the back of the stage, we walked for quite a while before we came to stop in front of a backstage room. He dangled a set of keys in my face, his lips falling back into a shit eating grin. This man is too slick, and just when I think I have him figured out, he surprises me with more.

“Let’s just say, some of the theater kids owe me a favor, let’s take a look shall we?” He grinned, and before I could protest he’s already turning to unlock the door. It was dark at first, except for a few makeup tables that still had its lights on.

“And God said let there be light.” Joseph flipped on a switch, I’ve never been a performer, but I’ve always dreamed of what the backstage rooms would look like during show time.

“Now where we’re we? Kissing?” He gets right to the point pressing those soft lips of his right onto mine. His mouth sucks my bottom lip into him, we both moan into each other as I easily melt into him.

“It’s your favorite flavor, cinnamon sugar. You like how I taste baby?” I whisper, his hands roughly pulling up my skirt and digging his fingers into my panties from the back. Tightly he grips both my ass cheeks pulling them apart so wide I could feel my pussy lips spread.

“Those aren’t the only lips I like to suck on Princess, you always taste amazing. When you came in today with this short skirt on, I couldn’t wait till class was over so I could eat you immediately.” He purred, I loved how forward he was with me, it’s like I never knew what was going to come out of that mouth of his.

“Please say you’re going to eat me from the back, Joey.” I begged, he sucked more of the gloss off my lips, then he pushed me towards one of the makeup tables.

“Since you asked so nicely.” He pushed my skirt up further past my hips, ripped the crotch of my thin tights open, and pushed my panties to the side. I threw my head back as he spit on me, my back arching inward, and my ass poking out more for him. He uses his fingers to coat me in his saliva, and makes sure to pay extra attention to my throbbing clit.

“Fuck yes, it feels so good baby.” I tried to moan quietly, but when Joe spread my cheeks it became difficult to contain myself. He put his whole face between my thighs, and ass. His hand roughly smacking me, his big hands gripping my cheeks tightly causing a stinging sensation that shoots right to my core

“Mmm, look at that pretty pussy, taste so fucking good.” He sucked my clit into his mouth, and continued to hold me there between his lips.

“Shit, you gone , make my pussy come baby. Fuck don’t stop, please.” I spread my legs out wider, my hips rock back and forth on his face. My hand reached back to grab onto his head, my fingers intertwined with his mess of curly hair as I grip onto them tightly.

A hot sensation moves through the pit of my stomach, a shiver rips up my spine, and clinches tightly around his two fingers he inserted deeply inside me. You could hear Joseph's muffled breathing, sloppy wet sucking, and my moans all mixed together. After pulling on my clit a few more times making it jump, and throb pleasurably. I came in his mouth, it wasn’t as long, or as intense of an orgasam as he usually gives me, but that’s the whole point of a quickie right?

“Delicious as always babe, now let’s see if you can make me come as fast.” He poked his tongue out at me, I chewed on my bottom lip as I watched him slowly unfasten his belt, and zipper.

“A little faster Joey.” I crossed my arms impatiently, he paused his movements, his eyes slowly moving up my body to my face.

“Is that, is that an attitude I hear? Because we can pack it up right now.” The corner of his mouth slightly turned upward, of course he found this funny. Instead of making a fuss, let out a huff, and get down to my knees.

“That’s a good girl, now sit quietly for Daddy.” His hand reached out to firmly grab into my chin tilting my head back, I looked up at him through my long lashes, and opened my mouth as wide as I could.

Now listen, someone with a mouth as small as mine shouldn’t be trying to suck a dick as…girthy as my Joey. However, momma ain’t raise no bitch, so I put both my hands around his shaft. I pushed him back as far back into my throat as possible, my mouth completely full, and I’m already gagging before the hip thrust.

“Oh we’re a trooper today huh love? You look so fucking good with my cock stuffed in your mouth, fuck Devina.” He pulled out of my mouth a little, I took that split sex to relax, because this is where the real shit began. He placed one hand on the top of my forhead careful to not mess up my hair, though he didn’t give not one fuck about my make up. His other hand held onto the bottom of my chin as he gripped into my whole jaw to hold me in place. He tilted his head back, tongue poked out, and eyebrow curled upwards as if he’s trying to capture the right angle for a photo.

“Hold on tight Princess.” Joseph pulled back further, and then pushed all the way back into my throat. The gagging never stopped, I’m so glad I’ve only had coffee, but I will be deathly hungry after this.

He has probably only been going at it for two minutes, but it felt like fifteen to be honest. My jaw was killing me, spit continuously spills from my mouth, down my throat, and onto my chest.

“You like that baby, you like being stuffed with my fat cock just like the greedy whore you are.” He grunted, our eye contact never broke, I know I shouldn’t have, but I couldn’t help the smile that grew onto my face.

“Fuck you’re enjoying this, such a greedy little slut. Hahah! I love this shit oh I do.” Joseph threw his head back, mouth popped open, and a wild look in his cocoa brown eyes. He was so close, I could feel the way his dick twitched, and jumped in my mouth begging for release. But I had other plans, I wanted to milk him for everything he was worth. One hand I grabbed onto his balls, and gently squeezed them, his hips bucked forward unexpectedly.

“Shit.” He cursed, his bottom lip pulled between his teeth, and a death grip from hell on my head. My nails grazed him from the base of his shaft to the bottom of his stomach, and back down to his balls. I wrapped my hand firmly around the base of him, and he finally decided to let me have control. I moved into a squatting position, with one hand I massaged him in a back and forth motion. My other hand rested on my thigh to help me with balance, I bobbed my head in a circular motion. All the spit that accumulated in my mouth now dripped down him, and into the floor.

My hand works on his shaft, while I suck on his tip at the same time, and when I look up to check on him…he is finished. He leaned back in the brick wall behind him, his eyes closed, and his cheeks a cherry red.

I took him at the back of my throat again, my mouth making gawking sounds. My hand squeezed his balls again, this time I grabbed him at a firmer hold.

“Devina please…” His begging only encouraged me further, this was the one true power I held over him, and I took pleasure in it. After a few more strokes his hips flexed forward, and his hands wrapped around my neck making sure I didn't move. Even after his deliciously creamy milk squirted into my mouth, and even when I swallowed…I continued to suckle on him.

“Jesus, fucking hell.” He moaned heavily, I bet his toes are curling in his shoes. If I were him, I’d be a puddle, but I guess technically he was already. His breathing is uneven, his nostrils are flared, and his back has fallen back against the wall. Fatality

“Well this has been eventful, what are we having for dinner Joey?” I stand up to adjust my clothes, I watch him slowly collect himself.

“After all that? Whatever you want babe, holy shit. Where did you learn that?” Joseph fixed himself, and picked up my jacked, helping me into it.

“I’ve been a freak Joey, I just like to keep my tricks in a bag.” I giggled, he grabbed my hand, and led me out of the backstage room. There was a janitorial crew cleaning up through the auditorium, we weren’t too worried when they saw us. There were four older people sweating through the aisles and such. They just nodded to us as we existed.

“You’re doing that again tonight by the way.” Joseph jokes, his shades down over his eyes, and squeezed my hip lightly.

“Does this mean I get an A on my next quiz?” I asked innocently, Joesph just looked at me, and exhaled. If he think I’m not getting that A he’s sadly mistaken…

#joseph quinn fanfiction #Joesph Quinn one shot #one shot #Professor!joequinn #black!oc #joseph quinn #teacher x student

61 notes · View notes

imoonblaze · 1 year

Text

Characters and OCs that would appear in TheMelodyOfaStory AU

TheMelodyofaStory AU (CrossMelody-Storie) and OCs belong to @imoonblaze

Hello again everyone! again another post! I know it's not the best time but I wanted to show this list of the characters that will appear in my AU TheMelodyOfaStory.

At the moment it is only the current list of what I have but the number of different characters that will appear, including some of my OCs, may continue to increase. The most probable thing is that later and with time I will also publish the list of the ships that I have made, who will be the main protagonists of the Au, important characters and villains or antagonists

so….

Characters that would appear within the AU:

-Dodi and Dan (Olocoons) -Joris Jurge and, Adamai (Wakfu) -Francoeur (A monster in Paris) -Zatz (Maya and the three) -Ryu (dragon avatar only, his age changes in the au, Belle 2021) -Betrayus (Pmatga) -Spark (Spark: a Space Tail) -Squigly (Skullgirls) -Fluttershy (My Little Pony) -Kaos, Wolfgang, Cynder and Buckshot (Skylanders) -Rema (Running Man Animation) -King Kazma (Summer Wars) -Garzo (Friends: Mononoke Shima no naki) -King Trollex and Synth (Trollstopia) -Retsuko and shikabane (Agrettsuko) -Bloody Bunny and Dark Rabbit (Bloody Bunny) -Huggy Wuggy and Bunzo Bunny (Poppy PlayTime) -Balan (Balan Wonderworld) -GulusGammamon and Angoramon(Digimon Ghost Game) -Montomery Gator and Glamrock Freddy (Fnaf: Security Breach) -Bendy (Bendy and the ink machine) -Cuphead (Cuphead) -Aster. Bunnymund (Rise of the Guardians) -Alebrije (Las Leyendas) -Shoebill and Serval (Kemono Friends) -Cosmo (Sonic X) -Zozo and Ollie (Lost Ollie) -bumblebee -Eda, Lilith and Collector (The owl house) -Tohru and Kanna (Kobayashi-san Chi no maid dragon) -Migo (Smallfoot) -Glandale and Wammawink (Centauria) -Rodney Copperbotton (Robots 2005) -Ralph and Leo (Rottman) -flippy, fliqpy (Happy tree friends) -Kedamono (Popee the performer) -Barley Lightfoot (Onward) -Sun wukong and Macaque (Lego monkie kid) -Cherry Moth Slayer (Toram Online) -Hearts and Umasou (You are Umasou!) -Palontras and Itward (Fran Bow) -Chappie (Chappie) -Sohone and Mune (Mune the guardian of the moon) -Smurfette (the smurfs) -Ash (Sing!) -Diane Foxington (The Bad Guys) -Faputa and Nanachi (Made in Abyss) -Manolo (The book of life)

OCs within the AU:

-Livlia and Yukiko (Olocoons) -Nama-Nama (Keroro Gunso) -Plumerenti and Aimarouge (Wakfu/Dofus) -Maimara (Maya and the three) -Crystal (Spark: a Space tail) -Titania (Skylanders) -Yina (Running Man Animation) -Nictexa (The Book of Life) -Mei (Bloody Bunny) -Peachy Cuddly (Poppy Playtime) -Diance and Radian (Balan Wonderworld) -Gardiennemon (Digimon Ghost Game) -Xareni (Las Leyendas) -Rosalia (Sonic X) -Rini (Lost Ollie) -Maiko (Robots 2005) -Fanny (Happy Tree Friends) -Jashii (Gremlins) -Rini (Lost Ollie) -Loricor (Wakfu) -Saori (summer wars) -Edilaine (a monster in paris)

#TheMelodyOfaStoryAU #CrossMelody-StoriesAU #AU

13 notes · View notes

here4theheartbreak · 1 year

Text

Leader of the Pack (ChanxChangbin) Ch.1

Relationships: Bang Chan x Seo Changbin Genre: Dead Dove DNE | smut | angst w/ a happy ending | werewolf au Rating: Explicit Chapter Word Count: ~4.2k | Chapter 1 out of 14 Tags (not all tags apply to all chapters; these are full fic tags): Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, Smut, Friends to Lovers, Werewolf AU, Angst w/ a happy ending, Fluff, Werewolf Bang Chan, Idolverse, Minor Violnce, Side Pairing Felix/Minho, Bickering, Bottom Changbin, Top Chan, Pseudo-Beast (Werewolf Form, Sentient Wolf, see A/N), Knots,

Summary: Secrets are hard to keep from those we love. This was a fact that Chan knew all too well. He loved his members and he shared every piece of himself with them - except the biggest, and most vital. Chan was cursed.

Square: Seo Changbin (SKZ) (inspired by Wolfgang - Stray Kids) @kpopwritingbingo A/N: Fic will be updated Mondays as schedule allows; Please note that fic will include smut while member is in wolf form; he is still sentient and able to communicate, albeit non-verbally - but his overall shape is that of an animal; fic is a Dead Dove Fic, please do not proceed if not comfortable with this.

Read on AO3! | Read on Asian Fanfics

“Where is he? Did you find him?” Jisung’s voice had taken on a sharp, strained quality.

“We’re still looking… We really should consider calling the police.” Their manager hung his head, and Chan’s heart clenched. He knew how the elder man was feeling.

“He wouldn’t have wandered far. This is Changbin we’re talking about, he’d never go far, he’s scared of his own shadow,” Seungmin tried, but the silence hung heavy and thick with fear and sadness after his words.

They were out in the middle of nowhere, surrounded by forest for miles. The intention had been to film a vacation variety show - something fun for fans and for the members, a relaxing period before buckling down to start work on a new album.

Shortly after they arrived, when most of the cameras were off and the staff was resting, changing places, or setting up the first event, Changbin stepped outside to take a walk. Chan had barely grunted at his departure, focused on writing down lyrics that were flowing freely in the peaceful environment.

But as the sun set, Chan realized that they were still short one member when they headed into the kitchen for dinner. Though his panic didn’t set in immediately, it did as he asked around, members and staff, and realized that nobody had seen Changbin leave besides him – and he hadn’t brought a cameraman with him. Calls to his cell went straight to voicemail, and the darkness dropped far more quickly than it should have, leaving the woods surrounding the retreat a dark, terrifying maze.

Chan rose slowly from the couch as the staff discussed a call to the police. It would take them nearly an hour to get to this remote location, and when someone was missing, Chan knew that every minute counted. He wouldn’t risk the staff by shouting at them to go back out – not when he knew what the woods could contain. Plus, this was partly his fault. He could have offered to walk with Changbin, reminded him to bring a staff member, a camera man, his phone – anything. Maybe then they’d be washing dishes together or fighting over who had to share a bed, instead of the group looking terrified or near tears, and Changbin missing in the cold woods.

Moving slowly, but not enough to cause attention, Chan slipped into the bathroom and shut the door with a quiet click. He looked at his haggard reflection in the mirror, hating the glint of amber that appeared, far too eager. A deep, steadying breath. He couldn’t lose his head tonight. He had to find Changbin and then… What? It wasn’t like he could rush in and help him home. And running back to the building would risk Changbin moving again. He didn’t know what to do – but he had to do something. Even if it was just following after, making sure he was safe until morning, he couldn’t sit around while one of his closest friends was missing, possibly hurt. He couldn’t bear the thought of not seeing Changbin again, especially not without telling him the truth, that his endearing friendship had shifted to something more over the years.

A pang cut through Chan’s stomach – fear and loneliness combined. He shook his head and began to look through the cupboards, searching for something to carry. Finding nothing, he swore softly. He’d have to make do without.

He pushed open the window above the toilet, moving carefully to be silent as he stepped up and hoisted himself out of the window. He paused with half his torso out of the window, making sure none of the staff were lingering before wiggling the rest of his body out. He landed rather ungracefully on the ground, relieved his members weren’t around to tease him about it for the rest of his life.

Chan crouched low, using the building and fences around the property to keep himself hidden from sight as he made his way to the forest. Once under the cover of the treeline, Chan stripped his clothes off. The chill of the night bit into him, drawing goosebumps all over his body. His stomach twisted once more in worry for Changbin, who had been wearing a rather light t-shirt and running pants when he left; not nearly enough to keep him warm. He tucked his clothes into a dip in a nearby tree, burying them with leaves so they wouldn’t be found easily. He stepped deeper into the forest, closing his eyes as he let the rays of the moon wash over his skin. The leaves crunched softly under his feet.

The animal inside him reared up, arching his spine painfully as he doubled forward, wincing. It had been too long since he’d let him out. Chan covered his mouth, stifling a scream as his body changed, bones elongating and shrinking, skin thickening in spots, hair growing rapidly, warming his agonized body. His newly sharp teeth poked his tongue, drawing blood that smelled mouthwateringly tangy and coppery to his heightened nose. Other scents flooded his nose, overwhelming him as his brain adjusted to the new senses. He dropped flat to the ground, shuddering as his body seemed to click together. He groaned, the noise coming out a low woof that scattered a few animals in the nearby trees.

Rising up, Chan shook the leaves and dirt from his body. He blinked a few times, adjusting to the world’s new look. Shades of green and yellow, slightly dulled, but the world was as bright again, allowing him to see the trees clearly. Scents still flooded in, and he took a deep breath and sneezed, overwhelmed once more. Flowers, dirt, rot, a variety of trees and animals. He could smell each of his members and the staff, the rice they’d barely touched, the oil and grease of the cars they’d arrived in. Chan darted forward, chasing a small rodent out of hiding with a snap of strong jaws.

It was easy to get lost in this body. Those who didn’t keep their minds were the reason that humans had such nightmare tales about his kind. Sure, some were true – he could only shift into this form at night, and the full moon was the one night a month when he needed to shift. But he could change at will on other nights, like this one, so long as there was some light from the moon, the source of power. He’d been born into this life, his parents both wolves – father from birth and mother bitten. The inherent ability made it easier to keep his humanity when in this form, his wolf more like a friendly companion than a beast fighting for control.

Chan shook his head, sighing as he stepped deeper into the woods. Even this isolated, it was dangerous to be in this form. Wolves weren’t common in this country; the primary reason his parents had moved him to Australia after his birth. It was safer for him to grow up there, learn to change, learn to control himself. They’d hated the idea of him living here, surrounded by concrete and humans who would kill him, or worse, if they found out. But he’d kept his secret for years. Nobody knew what he was, what he could do. Hiding it from his group was agony – he wanted so badly to share that part of himself – but even trusting them as he did, the risk was too great.

But the threat Changbin was in tonight outweighed all of that. He’d never be able to track his friend in human form – his senses were dulled and that body was too easily broken. Chan raised his head, listening for any human sound from the woods, and scenting the air for the familiar scent of Changbin’s cologne, always strong enough to smell distinctly even in his other form. He trotted forward, winding around toward spots that seemed like paths that Changbin might wander through. Why would he walk through the stupid woods anyways? There were no walking trails here, this area was isolated on purpose. Chan growled in annoyance. When he got his paws on that man he was going to chew him out.

The wind changed, and an acrid, bitter scent filled Chan’s nose. His ears flattened, fur bristling immediately. That wasn’t a regular wolf scent. In all his years in Korea, he’d never found another wolf like him in the city parks, where he usually hid out during his monthly changes. He’d never even smelled the remnants of one… Until now. Despite every nerve in his wolf’s body telling him to turn around, walk away, don’t wander into another’s territory – he pressed forward, lowering his nose to the ground to try and pick up Changbin’s scent through the strong marking of the other.

Finally. Chan yipped in glee when he caught what he’d been looking for, the sweet, flowery cologne Changbin had been wearing today, mixed with the musty, comforting odor of his natural pheromones. Chan’s stomach flipped. Though he couldn’t smell this in his other form, he knew he reacted to it still, the scent of the one he liked – the one he wanted. He moved at a quicker trot, chasing after the scent trail. He kept his ears up, listening for a human noise, or the noise of the other wolf in the area. It wasn’t a full moon – so maybe he wasn’t out – but risking it could mean a fight he didn’t want.

Changbin’s scent shifted subtly as Chan followed it, the sharp smell of sweat cutting through the flowers; he must have been moving fast – maybe jogging? It turned sharply, surprising Chan, and a bitter odor sliced through the comforting ones – fear. Chan stopped, sniffing. He whined softly, Changbin was scared of something. Had he realized he was lost here? Chan looked back; he wasn’t that far from the entrance of the woods, surely he would have been able to find his way even at dusk. No – something had spooked him.

He focused, trying to smell anything else over the cloying burn of Changbin’s fear. Still following the trail, he moved forward, deeper into the woods. The trees tightened, and Chan could smell Changbin on the trunks where he must have rubbed against some – he was likely running. The scent increased enough that Chan looked around, sure he’d see his friend hiding behind a tree, but instead spotted a lump of fabric on the ground. He went to it, pawing it for a moment until he realized what it was – Changbin’s beanie. It was covered in leaves; was likely tugged off by a low hanging branch. Chan whined again. He sniffed around the beanie, desperate to figure out what was scaring his friend so badly. The scent of the other wolf grew in intensity as he searched, and Chan felt his bowels turning to water, fear cutting through both his mind and the one of his wolf… Changbin was being chased – by one of his kind.

Chan sped up to a fast trot, and then to a run, desperation overriding his sense of calm logic. He needed to find Changbin, he needed to save him, he needed to protect his pack.

Changbin’s scent trail freshened, and so did that of the other wolf. He could hear them now – Changbin was speaking, crying, and the wolf was growling and snarling. Chan saw red, fury bubbling up and erupting from his throat in a snarl of his own. He dashed forward, bursting through a bundle of bushes into a small clearing.

Changbin was above his head, clinging desperately to a tree trunk as he balanced a branch that looked near close to cracking with his weight. The other wolf was dancing beneath him, snapping his jaws and enjoying the taunt of his prey. Chan startled him; he jumped back, teeth bared and ears flat.

“You don’t belong here, pup.” The voice was so loud in his head that Chan nearly yelped. Though he had routinely used his connection with wolves in Australia, he hadn’t for so long that it took him a second to remember how to respond.

“That’s my packmate you’re threatening. Back off and we’ll leave.”

The other wolf snapped his jaws, bristling for a fight. He wasn’t much bigger than Chan’s wolf, but he had more muscle and was obviously older, the leader of a pack, most likely. His fur was a rich, deep black.

“That’s a human.”

“And my pack is human. I don’t want to fight you – he didn’t mean to wander here.”

Chan stepped forward cautiously, forcing his expression to relax. “We’re in the retreat outside the woods. I didn’t know there was a pack here.”

“Sounds like your fault then. You’re barely past puppy – you’re no leader.”

Chan bristled at that, snarling. “My pack is a human one. This is the last time I’ll offer, let him down and we’ll leave peacefully.”

Instead of responding, the wolf lunged, snapping his jaws in Chan’s face. Chan flinched, but kept his paws planted, snarling back. He swiped a paw at the wolf, knocking him in the muzzle.

“You don’t scare me, old man. Don’t start something with me.”

The other wolf turned, biting at Chan’s paw. Chan darted to the side, the wolf inside him easily pushing Chan’s control to the side. He let him without fighting. This wasn’t a fight for a human mind to control.

The woods were filled with the sound of snarling and snapping jaws, yelps when one wolf or the other caught flesh. Chan could hear Changbin shouting distantly, but his focus was too limited to pick up any of his distinct words, and he couldn’t risk checking on him. He trusted him to stay out of the way of the fight, but hoped he wouldn’t try to scramble down the tree and take off into the woods, finding him again was not a prospect that sounded fun.

The other wolf yelped when Chan’s teeth dug deeply into his neck. He tasted copper and squeezed harder, snarling as he did. The wolf jerked away, stumbling for a moment. Chan bristled, ready for another attack. The scent of their blood hung heavy in the air, but the adrenaline prevented Chan from being able to tell who was doing worse.

The wolf barked sharply. “This isn’t over, runt.” The words were haggard and breathless.

Chan stood upright as the black wolf darted into the trees, the sound of his departure echoing as he rushed off. He looked up at Changbin, who was still gripping the tree trunk desperately. The branch he was balanced on was nearly broken in two, and Chan knew he was going to fall if he didn’t slide down. He stepped forward, trying to look as gentle as he could manage. He sat a few feet from the tree and looked at Changbin, barking once.

Changbin screamed, trying to press himself more against the tree. The branch wobbled and Chan barked again, lowering himself to the ground in concern. He sprinted into the nearby bushes, stilling his body. His wolf fought against the change; it wasn’t even close to daybreak, and shifting more than once was exhausting on all levels, but he needed to communicate with Changbin, and quickly, before the other wolf came back. He hit the ground when his body gave in, forcing his bones into the proper positions with agonizing precision, shedding the excess fur and realigning his face into a human shape. Tears sprang to his eyes as he curled up on the ground, praying it would be over fast enough.

When he opened his eyes and saw his own human shaped body, he scrambled back to his feet and burst back through the bush, crying out at the sharp sticks scraping his bare skin.

“Changbin, it’s gonna break!” He cried. Changbin’s eyes bulged. He screamed loud enough to make Chan wince. The branch cracked once more, and Changbin dropped.

Chan rushed forward, trying to catch him. The two landed in a tangle of limbs, pain crippling Chan and stealing his breath as Changbin elbowed his crotch. He scrambled off Chan and pressed his back to the tree, eyes still wide as he grabbed for something to defend himself.

Chan forced himself to his knees, gasping for air. He waved his hands, trying to calm his panicked friend.

“It’s me!” He cried desperately. “Changbin, it’s me, please!”

“You—You were that thing!” Changbin screamed. Chan looked up, flinching as Changbin brandished a stick at him. The fear in his face was obvious, and it sent an ache through Chan’s entire body.

“I came to help you,” he tried, “find you. Please—I’m not gonna hurt you, Changbin, it’s me.” He pressed a hand to his chest, holding his other out and up in surrender. “I know you’re scared, and I know you’re confused. But we have to go now. I didn’t kill that other wolf, and he will be back. Probably with more. I can’t fight off a whole pack. You need to come with me. We need to get back to the house.”

When Changbin didn’t move, Chan sighed softly. “Please. I’ll explain everything, but we have to move.”

He reached for his arm, only to have Changbin smack his hand away with the stick. “Don’t touch me!” He yelped.

Chan leaned back. “I won’t. I’m gonna go back into those bushes. I have to change back, otherwise I won’t be able to find our way home. Okay? Please don’t run. I promise, I won’t hurt you. I’d never hurt you, Bin.”

Chan rose slowly, making sure every movement was obvious to Changbin. He walked backwards, hands raised in surrender, until his back hit the bush. “Please, just… Cover your ears, or something just… Don’t run. I can’t help you if they come back.”

He turned and ducked into the trees, lowering himself to the ground. The second shift was easier – it always was, but it was still painful, and took him a moment to right himself when it had finished. He stepped slowly out of the bushes, relieved to see Changbin where he’d left him, the stick out like a sword.

He whined softly and lowered himself to his belly, crawling forward a few inches. Changbin made a small, distressed cry and swung at him. Chan flinched, ears going back, but didn’t bare his teeth. He whined softly and rolled onto his back, exposing his stomach. He knew Changbin didn’t have a pet, so he wasn’t sure he’d understand it as a sign of submission, but he hoped the message would still be there.

He rolled back onto his stomach and crawled forward again, keeping an eye on the stick in case Changbin swung again. He continued to whine softly, pleading with his friend as he inched closer to him.

Changbin tensed as the gap closed, two feet, then one. Chan reached one paw out as far as it would go, lightly brushing Changbin’s leg. Changbin screamed and scrambled away a few inches, freezing in a crouch. He kept the branch, but didn’t swing it.

Chan sat up and stared at Changbin, tilting his head and perking his ears in what he hoped was a cute, non-aggressive look. He looked at the stick then back at Changbin, woofing softly. The noise made Changbin jump, but he stayed still. He looked at the stick in his own hand and scowled.

“What, do you want me to throw it?” He asked, his voice shaking audibly.

Chan wagged his tail, barking softly again. Changbin swallowed hard. He tossed the stick lightly. It landed a few feet away and Chan leapt on it, grabbing it and trotting it back to Changbin with his tail raised. He dropped it in front of him and sat down, now within touching distance.

Changbin was still visibly tense, and Chan could smell the fear drifting off him like water. He grabbed the stick again and tossed it once more, and Chan retrieved it again. It was embarrassing, but he was willing to do anything to convince Changbin to follow him. This time when he dropped the stick, he moved a little closer to Changbin, lowering his head below Changbin’s eyeline. He saw Changbin’s hand move and closed his eyes, awaiting a strike. Relief flooded through him when he felt his hand land lightly on his head in a pat. Chan raised his head excitedly, wincing when Changbin fell backwards in surprise. He woofed softly in apology and turned, walking toward the edge of the clearing. He looked back at Changbin, waiting until he rose and began to follow him before moving forward.

The two made their way back through the woods. Chan kept a few paces in front of Changbin, not wanting to startle him, but glanced back every little bit to make sure he didn’t go too far ahead. His front leg was beginning to ache where the other wolf had gotten a good bite, but he struggled not to limp in front of Changbin.

They reached the spot where he’d found his beanie and Chan stopped, sniffing until he found it once more. He grabbed it lightly in his teeth and trotted back to Changbin, dropping it in front of him before turning and moving away again. He hated the fear still present on his friend, but knew it wouldn’t fade any time soon – no matter what form he was in. Revealing himself to Changbin had been risky, but he had had no other choice. He’d need to deal with the consequences as they came, after he got his friend to safety.

They reached the tree line in a relatively short amount of time. Chan hung back as Changbin went forward, looking for a safe place to shift. Changbin paused, looking at him. Chan backed into the trees, doing his best to hide behind a cluster of them as he shifted back, stifling the scream that threatened to come out. His wolf would be absolutely bursting during the full moon after this; he’d need to travel further out of the city to run. He stumbled upright to the tree where he’d hidden his clothing, feeling Changbin’s eyes on him.

“You’re hurt,” Changbin finally mumbled. Chan finished dressing before looking at the injury on his arm. It was obviously a bite, bleeding freely.

He nodded. “I am. It’s not so bad.”

“Looks bad.”

“The other guy will look worse tomorrow morning,” Chan said simply. He wrapped his arm in the bottom of his shirt, trying to hide the wince of pain.

“You…” Changbin drifted off. “You have blood on your face.”

“Oh!” Chan let go of his arm and grabbed the collar of his shirt, using the inside to scrub at his mouth. “Is it gone?” He asked.

Changbin grimaced. “Um… Mostly, here…” He reached his arm out as far as it would go, not stepping closer to Chan. Chan moved forward, catching Changbin’s flinch as he did. His thumb was warm against Chan’s cheek as he wiped the few spots of blood off, rubbing it on his jeans quickly.

“Better?” Chan asked again.

Changbin nodded, lowering his gaze.

“We should get back then, they were gonna call the cops when I snuck out so...”

Changbin looked at Chan then, his brows furrowed.

“I know you have a lot of questions,” Chan whispered. “I was being honest in the woods, I’ll answer anything, I’ll tell you everything you want to know. But right now we gotta get you into the house. Everyone is worried sick.”

“Do they know?” Changbin huffed. “What you are?”

Chan shook his head. “No. Nobody does. Nobody but my parents. And now you.”

Changbin nodded once. He turned and headed back toward the house.

The shouts started almost immediately after they stepped out of the tree line. Members and staff rushed up them, asking too many questions for Chan to keep up with. Exhaustion was setting in, and even walking in a straight line was becoming difficult.

“Did you fall? Your face…” Hyunjin touched a spot that stung sharply. He pulled his head back, blinking when it made his vision swim.

“What happened to your arm?” Felix cried. He uncovered it, gasping. Chan glanced down, brows raising in surprise at the thick, dark blood running from it. It seemed heavier than before.

“Dog,” Changbin said quickly. “That’s why I didn’t come back. I got chased by a huge dog, lost my way. My phone got busted when I tripped over a branch. I was up in a tree, trying to wait it out. Chan came up and chased it off with a stick, but it lunged at him, got him pretty good.”

“What the hell were you thinking?” Their manager snapped, his voice tense, giving Chan’s shoulders a shake. Chan stumbled, blinking. “I didn’t want to waste time waiting for the cops… I’m sorry, I should have said I was going,” he mumbled.

“He doesn’t look too good,” Seungmin said, his normally calm voice betraying his concern.

“Chan?”

Chan could hear others speaking, but their voices sounded far away, muffled by cotton. He took another step forward, his vision blurring. He tried to ask to sit, but his mouth wouldn’t cooperate. His legs gave out, body too heavy to support any longer. Arms wrapped around him from multiple sides as he went crumpled, his head hitting someone’s chest. The world went black, his thoughts rushing away in a silent breeze.

#stray kids fanfic #chan x changbin #werewolf au #skz bang chan #skz changbin #skz fic #stray kids fic #skz fanfic #binchan #skz binchan #mywriting

15 notes · View notes