Snowbaz one shots!

Out of the flames

The blaze roared like a dragon's breath, crackling and hissing as it devoured the old building. Smoke billowed thick and black, turning the night sky into a murky abyss. Black Apple's crumbling shell was bathed in a fiery orange glow, the heat of it searing Simon's skin even from a distance. But the heat didn't matter. Nothing mattered, except the boy trapped inside.

Baz.

Simon's wings beat against the smoky air, their leathery span cutting through the darkness as he soared toward the inferno. His heart was hammering, panic gnawing at his insides. He could barely see through the haze, but he knew Baz was in there. He had seen him go in, that stupid look of determination on his face—the look that meant Baz was about to do something reckless, something noble, something that would get him killed if Simon didn't get to him first.

Simon's boots hit the ground with a thud as he landed. The roar of the fire was deafening, a wall of sound that drowned out his thoughts. He didn't hesitate. He barreled through the splintering door, coughing as the smoke choked his lungs. The inside of the building was an inferno, beams collapsing and sending sparks flying. The air was thick with heat and ash, stinging his eyes.

"Baz!" he shouted, his voice hoarse.

No response. Simon's panic turned icy. He forced himself forward, muscles straining against the oppressive heat. He had to find him. He couldn't lose Baz—not here, not now, not like this.

And then, through the flickering chaos, he saw him. Baz was crumpled on the ground, pale and still, his usually sharp suit singed and torn. He looked like a fallen angel, surrounded by the dancing flames. For a heart-stopping moment, Simon thought he was too late. But then he saw Baz's chest rise, just a faint flutter of breath.

Simon's heart lurched with relief. He lunged forward, scooping Baz up into his arms, ignoring the searing heat that radiated from the floorboards beneath his feet. Baz was lighter than he remembered, almost fragile, his head lolling against Simon's shoulder.

"Come on, Baz," Simon muttered through clenched teeth. "Stay with me."

The fire closed in, flames licking at his heels as Simon sprinted for the exit. His wings flared out behind him, a shield against the scorching heat. The air was thick and acrid, making his eyes water, but he kept going. Every step was agony, the weight of Baz and the crush of the smoke slowing him down. But he would carry Baz through hell if he had to.

Finally, they burst through what remained of the doorway, tumbling out into the cool night air. The sudden rush of oxygen sent the fire behind them roaring higher, but Simon didn't look back. He staggered a few feet away from the building, collapsing onto the grass with Baz still clutched in his arms.

For a moment, everything was still. Simon could barely breathe, his chest heaving as he gulped down lungfuls of clean air. But Baz—Baz was far too still, his usually vibrant eyes closed, soot smeared across his pale cheeks.

"No," Simon whispered, panic clawing at his throat. "Baz, come on. Open your eyes."

He pressed his ear to Baz's chest, listening desperately for a heartbeat. There it was—faint, but steady. Relief washed over him so intensely it nearly knocked him over. He could feel Baz's breath, shallow but there, against his cheek.

"Thank Merlin," Simon breathed, his voice shaky.

Slowly, Baz's eyes fluttered open, their usual silver glint dulled by exhaustion. He blinked up at Simon, confused, disoriented, and then something like annoyance flickered across his face.

"You... idiot," Baz croaked, his voice barely more than a whisper. "Could have... left me."

Simon's laugh was half a sob. "Yeah, right. Like I'd ever do that."

Baz tried to roll his eyes, but it came off more like a pained grimace. "Thought... you finally... grew some sense."

"Not when it comes to you," Simon replied, his voice cracking. He tightened his grip on Baz, as if afraid that if he let go, Baz might slip away. "You're not allowed to leave, okay? Not now, not ever."

Baz's eyes softened, the corners of his lips twitching into the ghost of a smile. "Terrible... negotiator," he muttered, and then his eyes drifted shut again, but this time, Simon could tell he was just resting.

Simon let out a shaky breath and pressed his forehead against Baz's. The night air was cool against his overheated skin, and he could feel the faint rise and fall of Baz's chest beneath his hands. For now, that was enough.

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I know I've used this prompt before but I just LOVE writing Simon saving(or trying to save) Baz from burning places. It's so dramatic!

-Zeph 0~0