You have something on your back [1/?]
Title: You have something on your back (or the story of the winged jerk) [1/?]
Pairing: Hyukchul (Heechul/Eunhyuk)
Raiting: PG-13 in this chapter
Summary: In a world were witches, ghosts and all sort of weird stuff is routine, having wings is not out of the ordinary, right? Wrong. Poor Heechul. AU!
Warnings: Wings, violence, bad language, dubious lifestyles, poor attempts at humor and smart dialog.
He always learned lessons the hard way; being bad at following orders, he soon discovered that the pragmatic approach helped him to learn better than the random advice of people he didn’t respect (that being pretty much everyone who attempted to give him advice).
Not angering a person more powerful than you was a lesson he never cared to learn until he woke up with a splinting pain on every part of his body and in an unknown place after insulting someone that he deducted was a real witch (in the literal and figurative definition of the term), just three seconds ago.
It felt like it was three seconds ago, at least.
It was dark, the stars were shining and the full moon was bright over his head. He wondered if the witch sent him to a werewolf place to be eaten or if she had been nice enough to only hurt him who knows how and then leave him who knows where to let him die alone and lost forever.
After a few minutes, he noticed that drowning in self pity wouldn’t take him anywhere (mainly because there wasn’t anyone that could listen to him). He opted for looking at his surroundings to see if he could recognize the place.
It was an old building, reduced to basically his foundations and some ceiling that held itself he didn’t want to know how, the dust and sand (sand?) piled on everything around, (even himself, he noticed with some disgust), the structure looked safe enough to not collapse on his head, so he decided to take some time to recover and then explore.
Trying to get up was terribly hard.
The pain on the muscles of his legs was terrible.
There was also the little detail that something strange and heavy was clinging on his back making him lose balance every time he tried to stand up normally, he touched the source of his discomfort, hoping that it wasn’t some sort of huge disgusting thing attached to his back (or a bomb, he wasn’t sure on what kind of torture did witches got hard on lately) and his hands found something soft and fluffy and with the distinctive shape of feathers. The surprise made him fall on his ass.
He traced the pattern of feathers with his hand until they reached his back, the he tried to yank the damn thing out of his body, hoping, kind of stupidly he would admit later, that it was some kind if gigantic eagle or something similar attached to his back.
It was a bad idea, he thought after the excruciating pain let him process anything besides curses and screams.
He had wings.
White, fluffy wings that were firmly attached to his back like some sort of really, really painful extra limbs that weren’t supposed to be there, based on the way his body complained over the extra weight he had to carry now.
As if the wings understood what he thought, they were suddenly much lighter, and the only thing that reminded him that they were actually there was the slight discomfort on his back.
He had to experiment more; he stood up again noticing that with some readjusting he could stand normally again, the wings almost touched the floor and he decided he wanted to see them in their full glory (because they were his, they had to be glorious even as a curse), as the thought crossed his mind the wings expanded to their full length.
He was a freak.
A gorgeous freak, but a freak nonetheless.
After a few a minutes of essay and error, he could finally say that he had control over the wings; it was actually easy, as a part of him they worked the way he wanted them to without much thought.
He just had to remember not to flail his arms like an idiot every time he wanted the wings to move.
Now, if he could get the grasp of flying he could get his ass out of there.
Sadly as the thought crossed his mind something hard and heavy hit his head and as sleep claimed him (a concussion, he corrected, not sleep, a violent concussion that left him unconscious and probably dead) he heard an annoyed voice close to him.
“Well done, Eunhyuk, you just killed a fucking angel.”
A/N: You would think I was smarter than failing at typing the title four consecutive times. Obviously I'm not.
Pairing: Hyukchul (Heechul/Eunhyuk)
Raiting: PG-13 in this chapter
Summary: In a world were witches, ghosts and all sort of weird stuff is routine, having wings is not out of the ordinary, right? Wrong. Poor Heechul. AU!
Warnings: Wings, violence, bad language, dubious lifestyles, poor attempts at humor and smart dialog.
He always learned lessons the hard way; being bad at following orders, he soon discovered that the pragmatic approach helped him to learn better than the random advice of people he didn’t respect (that being pretty much everyone who attempted to give him advice).
Not angering a person more powerful than you was a lesson he never cared to learn until he woke up with a splinting pain on every part of his body and in an unknown place after insulting someone that he deducted was a real witch (in the literal and figurative definition of the term), just three seconds ago.
It felt like it was three seconds ago, at least.
It was dark, the stars were shining and the full moon was bright over his head. He wondered if the witch sent him to a werewolf place to be eaten or if she had been nice enough to only hurt him who knows how and then leave him who knows where to let him die alone and lost forever.
After a few minutes, he noticed that drowning in self pity wouldn’t take him anywhere (mainly because there wasn’t anyone that could listen to him). He opted for looking at his surroundings to see if he could recognize the place.
It was an old building, reduced to basically his foundations and some ceiling that held itself he didn’t want to know how, the dust and sand (sand?) piled on everything around, (even himself, he noticed with some disgust), the structure looked safe enough to not collapse on his head, so he decided to take some time to recover and then explore.
Trying to get up was terribly hard.
The pain on the muscles of his legs was terrible.
There was also the little detail that something strange and heavy was clinging on his back making him lose balance every time he tried to stand up normally, he touched the source of his discomfort, hoping that it wasn’t some sort of huge disgusting thing attached to his back (or a bomb, he wasn’t sure on what kind of torture did witches got hard on lately) and his hands found something soft and fluffy and with the distinctive shape of feathers. The surprise made him fall on his ass.
He traced the pattern of feathers with his hand until they reached his back, the he tried to yank the damn thing out of his body, hoping, kind of stupidly he would admit later, that it was some kind if gigantic eagle or something similar attached to his back.
It was a bad idea, he thought after the excruciating pain let him process anything besides curses and screams.
He had wings.
White, fluffy wings that were firmly attached to his back like some sort of really, really painful extra limbs that weren’t supposed to be there, based on the way his body complained over the extra weight he had to carry now.
As if the wings understood what he thought, they were suddenly much lighter, and the only thing that reminded him that they were actually there was the slight discomfort on his back.
He had to experiment more; he stood up again noticing that with some readjusting he could stand normally again, the wings almost touched the floor and he decided he wanted to see them in their full glory (because they were his, they had to be glorious even as a curse), as the thought crossed his mind the wings expanded to their full length.
He was a freak.
A gorgeous freak, but a freak nonetheless.
After a few a minutes of essay and error, he could finally say that he had control over the wings; it was actually easy, as a part of him they worked the way he wanted them to without much thought.
He just had to remember not to flail his arms like an idiot every time he wanted the wings to move.
Now, if he could get the grasp of flying he could get his ass out of there.
Sadly as the thought crossed his mind something hard and heavy hit his head and as sleep claimed him (a concussion, he corrected, not sleep, a violent concussion that left him unconscious and probably dead) he heard an annoyed voice close to him.
“Well done, Eunhyuk, you just killed a fucking angel.”
A/N: You would think I was smarter than failing at typing the title four consecutive times. Obviously I'm not.