Raquel Murillo decides to accept her friend Monica's proposal to move to Madrid. The reason? Alberto, her ex-husband, used to beat her. Life change in perspective for this very talented psychologist. New apartment, new friends... She wasn't expecting love at first sight, far from it!
Never again — 7.2k
After being cooped up in the house for ages, the professor arranges for them all to go to a museum. However, their simple day out doesn't go as planned and descends to all kinds of chaos. The only good to come out of it that the professor gets a certain cops phone number.
Remembrance — 36k
After her husband strikes her one time too many, Raquel packs up her bags and drives off with her daughter, leaving only the divorce papers in her wake. Her destination is a small town of Villanieve in Northern Spain where she intends to spend the holiday season and hopefully return knowing what the hell to do next.
But fate won't grant her the peaceful and boring Christmas she so desperately wishes for. The only neighbor to the small and remote cottage she rented ends up being a convicted criminal on probation, and not just any convicted criminal; it is the very man she arrested 8 years ago for the biggest bank robbery in the history of Spain.
In any other case, encountering such a bitter adversary would have a difficult time fazing a hardened cop like Raquel - but Sergio Marquina is different.
He also happens to be the love of her life.
The Shell I Left Behind — 75k
Tired of her life in Madrid with the torment of her ex haunting her, Raquel decides to move to a small island for a change of pace. However, her plan for a new life doesn't go as expected with her new neighbour, Sergio along with his many kids, bringing romance and emotional turmoil to the tranquil life she'd wanted. Secrets are exposed and the cracks shown- love may not be enough to guarantee a fairytale ending.
Palermo’s an addict, what if I cut him off from his stash?
no no, that won’t work, Tokyo and Rio have to be stupid in this scene so they’re worthless right now in terms of plot advancement
Ooo what if I take Helsinki’s leg like in Midnight Mass?!
I think we should make Palermo gayer, what do you think?
Is there a word for that in Siberian? Omg, is there no word for that in English?
Wait, I can’t write “Denver says” and “Denver does” and then use the the name “Denver” for a third time in a row. Let’s just call him “Dani” here
Right so that’s a storm, a car crash, and a ghost in that order— is that too much in one chapter? Nah, let’s take this all the way to the bank. In fact, let’s combine the first two chapters into one so we can start the second off with a different scene
but there's a moon above it's shining // la casa de papel // palsinki // rating: T
Disoriented, Martín runs through the now destructed hallways, trying and failing to not stumble over the rubble. His sight still hasn't improved much, he can identify hardly anything that's further than two meters in front of him, and his ears are ringing from all the shooting. All the shots that were fired, the hand grenades, the blood, the dead bodies... That wasn't the plan, nothing of this was supposed to happen. He feels his breathing quicken, his lungs aching with the effort to get any air into them, and then stop working entirely when he finally reaches the room they made into their makeshift hospital.
There is a person in a red overall lying on a bed, motionless. Lifeless.
Read more below the cut or on Ao3
Martín scrambles to the bed, legs almost giving in. “No, no, no,” he lets out as he finds Helsinki with closed eyes, his fingers already pressing into the skin of Helsinki's throat, trying to find a pulse. After a few, horribly endless seconds, he does. With a sigh of relief, he takes the rest of Helsinki's body in, finds his injured leg now patched up. The bleeding seems to have stopped, and that's good, it's good. They just need to keep him stable for a few more hours, then they're getting out of here, or maybe they get the police to send in a doctor. Two of the hostages are hurt, they need to-
“Palermo?” Helsinki's voice is almost inaudible, and for the split of a second Martín thinks he imagined it.
“Yes, it's me, I'm here.” He finds Helsinki with still halfway closed eyes and a dopey expression on his face. “You really had me worried back there,” Martín mumbles and places his hands on Helsinki's cheek, finds his skin warm and alive.
“Takes more to kill me,” Helsinki grumbles.
“Yes, it does.” Thank God it does.
“What happened?” he's speaking quietly as if hurts him despite the opioids Stockholm surely gave him, “Where is the military?”
“They're all dead.” As soon as they got through the door, they checked the other rooms, only found burned and torn apart bodies. He'll never forget that smell.
“Good,” Helsinki states, and Martín hopes he'll just stop there, won't ask a question he isn't ready to answer. But of course Helsinki does, “Where are the others? Did everyone make it?”
Martín considers lying, remembers Helsinki's tears when Nairobi died, the pain on his face, and he needs all his strength to get out of here, the truth will only bring him down.
“Palermo?” There is no point in lying, Martín realizes when he hears the anxiety in Helsinki's voice, anxiety and acceptance for whatever horrors he'll be confronted with.
“Tokyo got shot, she used her grenades to take the bastards with her,” that's at least what Martín gathered from the intercom, but whatever happened, she's dead now, “I'm sorry.”
Helsinki nods stoically, and a single tear slips from his eye. Martín wipes it away with his thumb, places his other hand on Helsinki's shoulder, wishes he could climb onto the small bed without hurting him any further. “She didn't deserve to die like that.”
“No she didn't,” Martín agrees and feels the lump in his throat. He liked her, even though he would've been damned to ever let her know that. Despite her often annoying character, Tokyo was an admirable woman with the way she never let anyone give her any shit, with how she stood up for herself and everyone who was close to her. She was a wildcard, yes, but strong and loyal till the end.
They stay silent for a moment, both of them lost in their own memories of yet another fallen comrade. Back then, they never gave it too much of a thought, one of them dying, instead Andrés and him planned what they would do with the gold once they'd victoriously left the Bank. They felt invincible, and that attitude got Andrés killed two years ago and will now probably get Martín killed as well. What fools they were, what fool Martín still is.
“We gonna begin the extraction,” he mumbles, “We need to get out of here before they send another unit in. They already started transporting the gold, we should be ready in two hours.”
“You gonna keep them out for two hours?”
“Sergio brought us some time, we should be safe for that long. I'm gonna try to get a doctor in, let a few hostages free so that he can take care of your leg and give you a blood transfusion, stabilize you for the move.”
“No,” Helsinki says with a shake of his head, “There's no need. Concentrate on getting the others out.”
“What are you talking about?” Martín lifts his hand from where it still cradled Helsinki's cheek. He has never touched him like that before, so many nights, so many times they fucked, so many words spent on telling Helsinki and himself it was all meaningless. So much wasted time.
“I can't walk, I can't stand. You're not getting me out of here.” Helsinki says it in a flat tone, as if he's talking about an object, not about his own life that he'll either lose or spent inside a prison cell if they'd leave him behind. There's no regret, not even reluctant acceptance, instead he states it like a simple fact.
“No.” Martín doesn't want to have this talk, he doesn't want to be here, he wants Helsinki to stand next to him, he wants to be back in the monastery where he was happy for the last few months, he wants to go back. A fool, he's such a fool.
“Palermo,” Helsinki sighs and closes his eyes. He must be so exhausted it's a wonder he even woke up in the first place, but he can't fall asleep, not now.
“No, we're not even talking about that, you hear me.” With more force than intended, he takes Helsinki's face between his hands and shakes his head, makes his eyes flutter open again. “I promised you, I'll get you out of here, and I'm not breaking it.”
“I could still walk then,” Helsinki argues.
“It doesn't matter. You don't need your legs, I'll carry you.” And he will, he'll carry Helsinki back to the monastery all by himself if he needs to. A part of him is scared by the thought, another is merely confused he didn't see it any sooner.
“You're too weak to carry me,” Helsinki says, and even though Martín can't be sure, since the mighty beard it conceals his lips, he's pretty sure Helsinki is smiling ever so slightly.
“Watch me, I dare you.”
“You'll need to get as many of out as you can. You need to focus on them,” Helsinki still insists.
“No one is getting left behind-”
“Palermo-”
“No, I'm not letting you behind,” he almost shouts it, “Fuck, you can't leave me, okay. Don't leave me, please don't leave me.” Now it's him who's crying, so sudden that he's himself surprised by the tears. They're falling from his face onto Helsinki's, wetting the just dried skin once again. He's terrified to walk out of here alone, of going back to his empty house full of ghost, to a life that's nothing more than regrets and pain.
“Martín,” Helsinki mumbles and lifts a shaking hand to place it in Martín's neck, stroking the skin there, pulling him down until their foreheads are pressed together. They're breathing the same air, so close that it doesn't take much for Martín to fully lean in and place a kiss on Helsinki's lips. So many nights and they've never kissed. He's a fool, a fool, a fool.
“I'm not getting out of here without you,” he whispers, their lips still grazing, “You're stuck with me.” Another kiss, and another. They're tired and broken, so it's not much more than lips moving against lips, but it's good, so good. “I'm gonna take you to Palermo and to Buenos Aires, we gonna live in the neighborhood with the best food and loudest parties and purest drugs. I'll take you to the most beautiful places, and I'm gonna fuck you at all of them. We'll watch the sunrise every day, and we'll be happy.”
Helsinki laughs at that, a low, rumbling sound that Martín wants to listen to for the rest of his life. “That sounds good.”
“Yes, it does,” Martín agrees and imagines it; him and Helsinki living together, traveling where they want to, staying where they want to, just them, getting to truly know each other. No more fake names, or heists, or boom boom ciao. They're going to tend their wounds, inside and out, are going to heal. Two crippled queers in their forties, starting anew. Nothing ever sounded better.
“I'm getting us out here.” And he will, there isn't an alternative.
“Okay,” Helsinki nods.
“Good.” Martín kisses him again, can't get enough now that he started it. But it's not for the last time, it's just one of countless kisses he'll cover every inch of Helsinki's body with once they're out of this godforsaken Bank.
He wipes the last traces of his outburst from his face and takes a deep breath, braving himself for what will come. “Rest,” he tells Helsinki and tries to put as much optimism in his voice and smile as he can gather, “I'll wake you when it's time to go.”
Helsinki already closed his eyes, yet he returns the smile and says, “I'll see you there.”
Warnings: swearing, implied smut (nothing graphic)
Word Count: 674
Request: anonymous: “Hi! Could I maybe get a Denver from La Casa de Papel fanfic with prompts 'Have you ever kissed anyone before' and 'You don’t know what you do to me do you?' ? Thank you so much <3”
-
“Have you ever kissed anyone before?” Denver asked, slowly coming towards you. His voice was rough and low, almost husky. You peeked at his lips and instinctively bit your own; a seemingly innocuous action that the brunette criminal noticed immediately.
Denver smirked. “Aren’t you going to answer me doll face?” Doll face. Why did that nickname make your knees buckle? You stumbled backwards, hitting the bathroom wall with a soft and gentle thud. He stopped inches away from you and hungrily sized you up, pupils dilated.
“You know, I’ve had my eye on you since we got here.” He whispered, raising his hand. The air hitched in your throat as he proceeded to curl the loose strand of your hair between his fingers, before placing it behind your ear. His thumb caressing your cheek in the process.
Truthfully, you were surprised by the seemingly gentle act.
He cupped your cheek. His eyes examining every inch of your face, as if he was taking a mental picture. “No matter what I try, I can't seem to get you out of my fucking head.” He muttered. “Fuck.”
Of course you were quite aware you caught the eye of the young criminal. Pretty much from day one, Denver seemed to pay more attention to you than the other hostages. The stolen glances. It didn't take you long to notice that for whatever reason you sparked his interest.
Your survival instinct kicked in. You decided to use the attention you grasped to your advantage. Fight or flight.
Starting off small, inconspicuously. Every time you caught him looking at you, you didn't avert your eyes. Instead you held his gaze and shot him a modest smile. Denver seemed to enjoy this act of non-verbal communication because next began the secret whispers when no-one else was around.
He’d sneak up behind you, and ask how you were feeling. Usually your answers were one worded as you were afraid someone would notice - good, tired, okay, scared. The brunette criminal never said anything back. He’d simply wait for your response and walk away. Until one afternoon when you told him you were feeling weak, he asked if you needed anything.
Soon, before you even realised and despite the dangerously evolving situation around you, you were opening yourself up to him.
Honestly, if anybody asked, you wouldn't be able to place when exactly the relationship turned into something more than conversation. It just happened. Out of the blue, and for whatever reason you weren’t complaining.
“You don’t know what you do to me, do you?” Denver asked, slowly licking his lips. His free hand gripped onto your waist as he pushed himself into you, completely closing any remaining space. A sudden rush of excitement raced through your entire body. That’s when you knew you were done for. That’s when you knew you couldn’t play this game any longer, he won. “Then why don’t you show me.” You whispered back, confidently locking your gaze with his.
It was the invitation Denver needed to hear. He bolted down, his mouth instantly cinching with yours like a magnet.
The kiss was passionate. Bursting with the built up tension the two of you created. Lost in the feverous moment, Denver doesn’t waste any time. He deepens the kiss. He’s sliding his tongue across yours, tugging your lower lip between his teeth, and sucking it gently.
Heart hammering louder inside your chest with every passing second. You can feel his large hands manoeuvre their way up and down your body, ruffling your clothes, increasing your already heavy arousal.
Both of you pull away breathless, however with no intention of stopping and not taking this any further. With a sly smirk gracing his features, the brunette criminal walked over to the door and locked it.
“Let’s have some real fun doll face.” Denver stated, turning back around to face you. The hungry look in his eyes was enough to make your stomach flip.
And in the space of a single heartbeat, his lips were on yours once again.
A/N: (Request): The title says it all so a smut warning is in place.
A = Aftercare
(what they’re like after sex?)
If you’ve done something intense, he’ll ask and make sure you’re okay. He showers you with kisses and gently caresses your skin. Denver will also always ask if you were satisfied - as if “no” would ever be an answer.
B = Body Part
(their favourite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)
Denver likes his hands; more importantly how he can use them to make you squirm. On you, he loves your legs. He’s a leg man. He likes run his hands up your legs every chance he gets, touching and squeezing your thighs.
C = Cum
(anything to do with cum basically)
He’s extremely fond of coming on your breasts or thighs yet nothing beats exploding deep inside of you.
D = Dirty Secret
(pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)
The rush and adrenaline he gets when fucking you somewhere the two of you can get caught is indescribable - and at the Bank of Spain getting caught is always a possibility.
E = Experience
(how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)
He definitely knows what he’s doing, not to mention he’s quick to pick up on what you’re into and what makes you scream his name.
F = Favourite Position
(this goes without saying)
While doggy-style is hot, and easily in the top three of positions he enjoys, he likes to modify it a bit. There is something about doing it laying down with your stomach pressed to the cold floor and him laying on top of you that just gets him going. He loves how deep he can get inside you in this angle, how he can groan in your ear and kiss down the back of your neck.
G = Goofy
(are they more serious in the moment, or are they humorous, etc.)
Definitely more serious. He’s not opposed to occasional playfulness however usually he finds that humour during sex can completely kill his mood.
H = Hair
(how well groomed are they, does the carpet match the drapes, etc.)
He’s not one to care about his appearance down there, it’s not like he has the time to groom. The same stance applies to your grooming decisions - obviously he would prefer you clean shaven but at the same time it really makes no difference in his eyes.
I = Intimacy
(how are they during the moment, romantic aspect…)
Denver likes to feel as close to you as humanely possible. He loves to caress your skin, smell your hair. Often he finds himself whispering sweet-nothings in your ear.
J = Jack Off
(masturbation headcanon)
He’s no stranger to self-pleasure, after all it’s only natural. Imagining you on top of him often does the trick, his hands exploring your body as you ride him. Not that he has the time now and when he does he’d much rather just fuck you.
K = Kink
(one or more of their kinks)
The list of kinks this man has is a long one. Light bondage, orgasm control, daddy kink, spanking, sensation play, voyeurism, etc.
L = Location
(favourite places to do the do)
Honestly, location doesn't matter to him. He’ll gladly take you anywhere and everywhere.
M = Motivation
(what turns them on, gets them going)
The way his name rolls of your tongue, the way you wink at him when you’re among other people, the way you bite your bottom lip, the way you run your fingers through your hair.
N = NO
(something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)
Anything that could result in seriously hurting you, both physically and mentally/emotionally. He’s also not into sharing, so threesomes are off the table.
O = Oral
(preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc,)
Preference is definitely giving, and you were definitely pleasantly surprised at just how skilled he is at that. He also enjoys it when you ride his face; legs shaking as you're moaning his name.
P = Pace
(are they fast and rough? Slow and sensual? etc.)
It usually depends on how much time you have. However most often, Denver will just pound you like a jack hammer. His strong thrusts have your eyes rolling back always without fail.
Q = Quickie
(their opinions on quickies rather than proper sex, how often, etc.)
Big fan of quickies. Obviously he would prefer to get you alone properly and enjoy you without interruptions but that’s not always plausible, and since literally anything gets him going a quickie in the bathroom is a lot more fun.
R = Risk
(are they game to experiment, do they take risks, etc.)
As long as you’re comfortable he’s keen to explore and try anything. Sometimes the two of you will randomly get inspired by something and rush off together quietly.
S = Stamina
(how many rounds can they go for, how long do they last…)
Denver can last quite a while if he wants to. He can also go for two or three rounds, depending on how rough and intense the previous time was.
T = Toy
(do they own toys? Do they use them? On a partner or themselves?)
He doesn't own any but is definitely up for acquiring some in the future and using them on you. Anything to make you squirm.
U = Unfair
(how much they like to tease)
He is a huge tease, but to be fair so are you. You both know extremely well what gets the other person bothered, and often use that knowledge to your advantage.
V = Volume
(how loud they are, what sounds they make)
He’s not the loudest partner, a few groans and grunts here and there but nothing extra or extreme. He much prefers focusing on your moans, shaky breaths and screams of pleasure.
W = Wild Card
(random headcanon for the character)
Although he’s the dominant one in your relationship, Denver adores when you assert power and take charge from time to time.
X = X-Ray
(let’s see what’s going on in those pants)
Let’s just say there are no complaints about what he's packing. He’s a good size for you, and most importantly he knows what he’s doing with it.
Y = Yearning
(how high is their sex drive?)
High would be an understatement. The slightest smallest thing can get him aroused and thinking of you.
Z = ZZZ
(… how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)
Very rarely would sleep even be an option after sex. And on the odd occasion that it is; Denver would make sure you were resting before he’d even consider closing his eyes.
