You make me Bloom

Authors Note: UUhhhhhh I'm not entirely sure how to write stuff, especially with the tumbr format so forgive any problems. This is part 1 of 2 for a fic about an OC of @soulkhunscompass (Calan) and my own OC (Tchort). A bit of background- 1) The scene is set with the pirate ship that they're on being attacked by Angels (the bad guys). 2) They're lovers in this fic, because I said so. 3) Also we love them dearly <3. That's all!! I hope you enjoy-

“GET DOWN” A woman’s voice screamed before being cut off by the sharp, metallic sound of a blade meeting another blade. Echoes of gunfire and swords meeting cutlass surrounded the action that had fallen upon the Angelus Reprobri. It was a mighty ship, large on the outside and even bigger on the inside. However, it made for an easy target in times of crisis. It was also an even easier target for the branch of angels that had descended upon the ship as the crew was leaving port. An explosion sounded off the side of the boat, ringing the ears of everyone who was within a twenty foot radius. Someone was firing the cannons. In the middle of the ship was a pair, scrambling for cover as a barrel was sent into splinters to the left of their position. The larger, a demon from the pits of Hell, lifted his arm to cover the shorter man. The other was a blonde with a staff held firm in his hand.

“Calan- you need to stay here.” Chips of wood bounced off of the demon’s skin, and he turned his head to stare at the blonde. His own black locks were thrown around with every sound that reverberated across the deck. 

“That will be the last thing I do. Stop babying me, I can help.” Calan’s attention was completely focused on an angel that was chasing down some other member of the crew. 

“I’m not babying you!” The larger man moved his forearms out into a half shrug and gestured to the mage. “There’s no storm, you physically can’t help as much as I think you want to-”

“Oh shut up Tchort, and let the kid work.” A new voice echoed and the staff in Calan’s hand upturned slightly, and moved just enough to make it known that the staff was the one scolding the oaf.

Tchort pursed his lips and looked up over the row of cover to examine the battlefield. There were at least 40 angels, all assorted in stature and abilities. Half of them could be seen on the deck, another 10 or 15 seemed to be trying to get down into the space under the hull. The remaining angels were high in the air, observing the chaos below. They ranged at different heights in the sky, putting themselves above the other fighters that were taking control of the ship. The Captain, a fallen angel named Blakely, was nowhere to be seen. In the distance across the ship, Tchort could just barely make out the giant of a woman. An elf, one of the first mates. At least there was some form of control being had in this chaos.

“The First Mate has this under control, Calan listen to me and just fucking hide.” Tchort ducked back behind cover and looked to his side to where Calan had once been. Now, the man was gone. With a gargle that was a mix between a shout and a groan, the demon pushed himself to his feet while breaking into a slight run. He stumbled as he finally scrambled to his feet, and he looked around the ship like a panicked mother looking for a lost child. 

Suddenly, there was an eruption of lightning that hit the deck. It sent sparks and electricity across the ship in a violet wave, stunning at least a dozen angels as well as dropping one of the angels that had previously been in the sky. The winged celestial bounced off the railing on the port side and spun in a limp fashion into the water below with a splash. As for the rest of the angels on the ship, they froze with slight horror at the feeling of being hit with the after effects of a lightning strike. Halfway across the ship stood the blonde mage atop a collection of barrels with his back to the demon. The end of the staff sparked with a quick crack of purple and white light, and a glow pulsed through the man’s veins. It was noticeable even from where Tchort stood. Calan turned his head slightly to look to the left, his irises violent in their purple color. His chest fell as he exhaled sharply. The exhilaration from letting his ability go wild seemed to rattle around his insides. Tchort could have sworn that with the exhale came a trace of smoke slipping through the grin of the blonde.

Noise on the ship had gone eerily quiet at that moment, but kicked back up as everyone seemed to remember where they were and what was currently going on. Angels on the deck who had been chasing pointless mice-like members of the crew now turned their attention onto the man who stood on the barrels. Calan seemed to be moving the staff once more for another attack, but not before a few angels would reach him. Suddenly, Tchort’s left side was wracked with a firm smack. A sword blade bounced off and clattered to the deck as an angel stumbled back behind the raven haired man. They didn’t seem to realize what trouble their sneak attack would get them into. With a roar of pure adrenaline, Tchort crouched and pivoted to throw a fist in the face of the angel that was behind him. Instead of bashing in the celestial’s skull, however, the demon opened his balled fist and grabbed the entirety of the angel’s head in a firm grip. Tchort was a giant in comparison to his assailant.

The angel was near 5 feet in height, and built like a stick. They were small. They were throwable. Their posture visibly recoiled as the demon dug his nails into the winged being’s hairline. They screamed and lifted their hands to claw at the forearm of the monster, and were met with resistance. It took effort to make the next move, but Tchort was irritated. Calan was his, there was no doubt about that. His mage, his blonde, his angel. Calan was everything to Tchort, and the devil himself would stop at nothing to keep his ray of purity and perfection safe. So why was it so hard for the blonde to listen to Tchort and hide during the attack? Rage bubbled in the large chest of the horned man, and it coursed through his veins. With a fluid motion, he pivoted once more to face back toward Calan’s position. His arm stiffened and lowered, dragging the angel with it. A cry for help sounded and the celestial’s wings puffed up and flexed as if they were trying to fly away. Tchort didn’t give them the chance. Like a piston, the arm of the demon turned and rotated, the tenseness switching out for a coil of nothing but muscle. With what could have been a snap of his wrist, he threw the angel in the direction of Calan. The celestial screamed and tried to flap as they were thrown, but it only caused their inevitable crash to hurt that much more. 

Behind the mage, two different angels approached. One reached toward the back of Calan’s leg, but never got the opportunity to touch. A crash sounded as the angel that Tchort had thrown connected with the pair, causing all three angels to tangle in a mess of wings and limbs. 

The blonde turned to look behind himself after letting off another blast. An eruption of lightning struck the ship in front of Calan but he now faced away from it, finding a new interest in the mangle of angels that piled up behind the barrels he was using as a stage. His eyes rose to meet Tchort’s as the demon approached in a half panicked jog.

“Where did you go?” The mage asked with a smile that was laced with pride. He seemed to be enjoying himself. All that came from the demon’s lips was an appalled sputter.

“Where did I go? You ran off-” 

“I was missing the fun-”

“You almost got ambushed.”

“...But I didn’t.” 

“Because I helped!!” The demon threw his hands into an exaggerated shrug and his fingertips split to make way for claws of bone. They were sharp and deadly when used correctly. 

“Good! Now do it more-” Calan laughed with not a care in the world, but something in his eyes made Tchort think that the care-free attitude would come at a price later down the line if they didn’t wrap up this fight sooner rather than later. The demon exhaled through his nose and turned to face the side that the mage couldn’t see. If Calan wouldn’t listen to him; then he would just have to make the blonde untouchable. Electricity pulsed once again and static was sent up the demon’s spine as a blast exploded from the end of the staff that Calan was waving. Tchort could have sworn he heard the staff say something to the mage, but he busied himself with KOing another winged assailant that came from the left instead of thinking too much. Feathers flew as the body dropped, bouncing on the wooden planks with a muted creak. The demon leaned over and grabbed the angel by the feet, grunting loudly as he threw them off the side of the ship. He waited for the splash before grabbing one of the three angels he took out before and doing the same to them. 

Getting them off the ship and into the water would waterlog their wings and make them unable to follow the crew- so long as the ship kept moving. As he turned back to grab another one of the angels, he was met with a wall of two more. ‘How many of these fuckers were there?’ They seemed to be endless. Though the only real reason was that they had given up trying to get below deck and were now focused on stilling the crew. The demon balled his fists and adjusted his feet to bounce lightly. He didn’t know much about fist to fist combat, but he knew that he hit like an absolute train. Hitting hard was about all that the crew could do here. None of them had the tools to really do any real damage to their attackers. 

One of the angels, a red head with a stupid haircut lunged to attack Tchort with a weapon that closely related a spear. It took a side step and a quick adjustment of his bones to divert the attack with a bone spike that protruded from the back of the demon’s wrist. The clang of metal hitting metal rang out again and Tchort took an opportunity to punch the red head right in the stomach after taking a step to get closer. They recoiled and the other angel, a man with a brown bob, made his own advance.

“You and this ship will be taken into custody. Give up now and we will spare a few lives for these traitors.” The man hissed out, and Tchort huffed.

“Yeah I don’t think so, buddy. This isn’t my ship, but I don’t plan on letting you do anything of the sort.” The demon moved forward and took a swing at the brunette, but the hit didn’t land. Now, the angel produced a sword that was previously hidden. The blade was dark, and glistened with an odd aura. With a frown, Tchort took a few steps back. For the first time in quite some time, his face twisted with seriousness. 

“Where did you get that?” His question came out in a low growl, and his eyes flickered from the blade to the Angel’s face. The celestial seemed pleased with the reaction, but didn’t say another word. As they continued their staredown, the demon was hit with another whack of the redheads staff from behind. Tchort turned slightly and reached out to grab the pole from their hands. He wrapped his claw around the staff and then felt a sharp pain split through his ribs on the opposite side. Tchort’s voice cried out in a deep rumble and he tore the spear from the red heads hands, hitting them across the head with it using nothing but brute strength. Their head gave a slight crack and their body fell to the ground. They weren’t dead at all, only sleeping. Now that they were out of the way, the demon had a second to look down at his ribs. He lifted his arm to reveal a gash that ran about six inches across his side and a good half centimeter deep. Dark crimson slowly drew a line down his skin from the corner of the wound. His pupils shrunk to be nearly pinpoint. 

“Hurts doesn’t it? I’m sure it will sting even worse when I’m done with you.” The angel’s voice was laced with venom and confidence. As if a switch had been flipped, Tchort lifted two fingers on his right hand to slightly smudge the blood coming from the wound. He was bleeding. The angel began to move to attack again, but the demon seemed more obsessed with the feeling of pain that was sending shocks through his nervous system. The brunette swung the blade again, this time aiming to embed it into Tchort’s right bicep, but he dodged and took only the tip of the blade through his shirt. As he circled the attack he moved his arm under the weapon and lifted it out of the way. It caught and he threw his hand out to the side, knocking the blade from the angel’s grip. It flew a few feet away and embedded itself in the wood of the ship as if it was the sword in stone. Tchort had yet to notice but it had made a smaller incision on his opposite forearm as it spun away. Now, he slipped his opposite hand along the chest of the celestial and took a grip of the cloth of his shirt, shoving him back against the railing of the ship’s edge. The demon’s breathing was heavy, and he brought the two bloodstained fingers to his tongue, licking a stripe off of them. His tongue stained red and the angel gripped at the wood behind himself. 

“Your ignorance and lack of skill is what got you killed. Remember that when you go crying back to your ‘God’.” With eyes focused on nothing but the blood that could be shed, Tchort took a firm step closer to the angel. His face was inches away, mere millimeters by the time that a scream broke him from whatever blood lust had been activated at the sight of his own blood. His frenzy was instantly stopped as the blood that was boiling ran cold. He turned just enough to glance behind himself at the location where Calan was. How long had it been since the last lightning strike? Why weren't there any loud explosions anymore? And why was it only now in this moment that Tchort realized that his hair wasn’t standing on end anymore from the electromagnetic field that had been created with every shock. The demon’s eyes pinned and focused to meet Calan’s.

Time moved twice as slowly as he witnessed the action of the celestials. A hand was wrapped around the blonde’s throat. A hand that wasn’t his own. And on his arm, and on one of his shoulders. Calan’s staff clattered to the ground as he was pulled back into a wave of feathers. His eyes were locked intently onto Tchort’s as if they were the only thing that he could cry out with. After making out the situation, there wasn’t a single thought that registered in the demon’s head. The angel he had been tormenting was no longer even a spark in his brain. Tchort watched as three separate angels grabbed onto Calan and tore him down from the barrels, throwing him onto the ground with a loud crack. 

That crack was one of the last things that Tchort heard before hell broke loose.