#also just imagine if you will robin and the gang arriving the next afternoon all aware of what likely went down

[becca-alexa]

Baby, It's Cold

Steve Harrington x Fem!Reader

Summary: You’re snowed in with no heat, so you suggest sharing body heat to keep from freezing - but how far will things go between you and Steve?

Word Count: 6.3K

Content Warnings: p in v sex, general smut, cursing, consensual touching

Author’s Note: feedback appreciated!! i don't have much experience writing stuff like this, and i figured practice makes perfect 💗

    It was a miracle Robin had managed to snag the cabin - who in their right mind would ever rent out an entire villa in the woods to a bunch of twenty-somethings? It was unheard of, or so she claimed, because none of them could get her to shut up about how well she'd haggled for the place, how she'd bartered with the owner over coffee and used her mile-a-minute voice to confuse them into signing off on them staying the weekend.

    The place was far, far outside of Hawkins, an urgently-welcome retreat for all of you after what had proved to be the most difficult year of your lives. Nancy, Robin, Jonathan, Argyle, Eddie, you and Steve - you'd all made plans to meet up and drive over together; Eddie had given his van a well-needed tune up specifically for this trip, so that it could handle everyone and everything in one go. But, as was quickly - annoyingly - becoming the norm with your group, your plans fell through… sort of.

    "What do you mean, you're stuck in Indy?" Steve tried to keep his voice down as he balanced the payphone receiver against his ear, hands shoved into the pockets of his jean jacket as he braced himself against the cold. "Robbie, we've been planning this trip for weeks-"

    "I know, I know!" Robin hurriedly replied; you tried not to giggle too loudly as Steve rolled his eyes. "But Nancy had this thing she needed to pick up, and Eddie had offered to drive us, then Jonathan and Argyle wanted to tag along-"

    "What, so you didn't think to tell me about your little day trip?" Steve dragged a hand through his styled hair, shifted from one leg to the other, slapping a hand against his thigh in exasperation. Can you believe her?, he mouthed to you, biting back a grin when you shook your head.

    "Just go with [Y/N]!" Robin insisted - and in retrospect, you'd realize she'd insisted a bit too intently, but you weren't thinking of that now.

    What you were thinking of was how in Heaven's name were going to survive the entire three-hour drive up to the cabin, alone with Steve Harrington.

    Your best friend, your bat-wielding protector, the sole object of your desires - Hell, he was the only crush you'd ever had, and even after so many years, your affections for the man still ran as deep as ever.

    "Robin says they'll meet us at the cabin tomorrow." Steve asked, holding the phone away from his face as he turned toward you, head falling to the side, hair bouncing over his face. "That okay with you?"

    "T-That's fine." You reply with a nod, staring at the lock that had fallen over his forehead, and you prayed he hadn't picked up on how your voice had cracked.

    "You owe us, Robbie." Steve replied gruffly, but you knew there was no bite to his words. "Seriously this time."

    "Sure, sure! Whatever!" Robin hurriedly replied; from where you were standing, you could barely make out what sounded like Argyle… shouting at someone? "Drive safe!"

    "Rob-" The line went dead, loudly buzzing in his ear; Steve groaned as he all but slammed the receiver against the payphone, his brows furrowing as he began to lose himself in his thoughts. You took a step toward him, bridging the gap that'd been left between you; your fingers were soft as they brushed over his skin, trailing over the soft hair covering his forearm, pulling him out of his own head.

    "Steve, it'll be fine." Your voice was quiet, and you hoped it'd calm him down - the last thing you needed was Steve driving up a rugged, unfamiliar mountain upset. "We'll try calling again when we get there, okay?"

    He nodded, blinking at the warm smile you gave him - your smiles were always warm, always gentle, but every time he'd be graced with it, he'd remind himself not to get too excited.

    You smiled at everyone like that, he'd convinced himself, desperate to believe it were true, that the look of pure sunshine on your face wasn't just for him - because how could it be?

    It was, but that's another story.

    You walked to his car, your pace picking up to a jog as the bitter cold sunk through your clothes. Steve beat you to it, holding the door open for you.

    "Ever the gentleman, huh?" You teased, climbing into the seat and pulling the heavy thing shut behind you.

    Had you hesitated just for a moment longer, you'd have caught how Steve burned at your words, how he'd licked his dry lips nervously as his mind froze up, hands trembling as they fisted at his sides.

    You weren't the only one with a lingering crush.

    Taking a steeling breath, he walked over to the driver's side, hands cupped over his mouth as he shut the door, working desperately to stave off the chill biting at his fingertips.

    "Ready?" The car roared to life beneath his hands, the sound a welcome comfort ahead of your long journey; you cranked the heating up to the highest setting. Again, you smiled at him, fuzzy and soft; he smiled in return, and he pulled the car out of the gas station parking lot and onto the main road.

    You'd been driving for hours.

    "You find it yet?" asked Steve, glancing at you for what felt like the millionth time as you scanned the map creased and wrinkled atop your lap, your brows furrowed in concentration as you traced your finger over one of many wiggling lines.

    "There should be a road up ahead on the left…" You mumbled in reply, flipping the map upside down, this way and that. Should you have brought a compass? "Maybe the right…? No, wait, definitely the left."

    "You sure?" Steve asked hesitantly - he'd driven through more open country roads and empty spatterings of woods than he could remember; in the dark, he couldn't even tell he was driving uphill.

    "You don't trust my cartography skills, Harrington?" Your lifted your brow, your tongue sticking out of the corner of your pressed lips. "Take the next left, then it should be at the end of the road."

    "I trust you, but this baby's only got so much gas." You laughed at him, clear and pleasant, his smile widening at the sound of it. "Here?"

    "Yeah, turn here."

    The car jumped as it crossed off the main road and onto the dirt, leading up the side of whatever mountain you were on; Steve's hand flew out to hold you down before he could think to stop himself, and you clung to him as the jolting continued on, both of you only relaxing when the cabin finally came into view.

    And, boy, was it a view.

    "Robin got us this?" You exclaimed, gaping at the expansive cabin before you, eyes sparkling as Steve turned the interior light on. "This is amazing!"

    "It's a cabin." Steve shrugged, and your head snapped to look at him - he sounded… unimpressed? "What? I think it's nice." You rolled your eyes at him and climbed out of the car; he followed closely behind, insisting he carry your bag, ignoring your protests against it altogether.

    As though the outside of the cabin wasn't impressive enough, the inside was lavish enough that even Steve was taken by surprise. Two floors, six bedrooms, wall-to-wall log paneling, a massive fireplace across the main living room stocked to overflow with cut firewood.

    "'S it still just nice?"

    "It's really nice."

    The both of you explored the space, running from room to room, gawking at the luxurious kitchen and the equally-massive wraparound deck leading out from it. And, having taken in your fill, the two of you begin making dinner - rather, Steve was making dinner and you were relegated to chopping and slicing duty, the conversation between you lighthearted and teasing.

    Midway through your simple stir-fry dinner, seated in the kitchen, you were the first to notice the change in the weather.

    "Steve," You nudged him, and he gave you a questioning look, stopping mid-chew to look at whatever you were pointing at. "It's snowing!"

    "Huh." His brows furrow, his gaze dropping to nothing. "The weather report didn't mention snow."

    "It shouldn't be too bad, right?" You tried to reassure him - and yourself, too - as you followed his train of thought. "They'll make it by tomorrow, for sure."

    "Yeah, for sure…" Steve didn't sound too convinced, but you didn't push the conversation further. Seeing as how he'd made dinner, you volunteered to do the dishes. And, ever the good friend, he'd kept you company, even drying off and putting away whatever you'd finished washing.

    "Steve, I said I was doing the dishes…" You huffed, pulling the damp towel slung over his shoulder and giving his chest a light-hearted swat.

    "What, I'm not allowed to help?" He danced around you, snatching back the towel, and you swiveled around to reach him; he lifted the towel far above your head, well out of your reach, laughing as you tried to jump for it.

    "Steve Harrington, give that back!"

    "Just let me-"

    Stricken mid-sentence, the lights flickered.

    You froze - you both did, Steve's arm an instant vice as he held you against his chest. Neither of you spoke, neither breathed as you listened for the tell-tale sounds of danger, of an unholy nightmare resurrected. You buried your face into the solid safety of his chest, clinging to his shirt as his eyes scanned the room. Several painful, heavy minutes passed before you slowly began to feel him relax, his hold on you loosening ever so slightly.

    "Let me go check the power…" he mumbled, his reluctance palpable as he left you alone, all but running down the hallway to where he'd remembered seeing a breaker box. Throwing it open, he flicked through every switch, yet the cabin remained shrouded in darkness.

    Shutting the panel door, and rounding the corner back into the kitchen, he narrowly missed being hit across the eye by the empty vase you'd commandeered as a weapon.

    "Whoa! Watch the face!" He jumped back, falling out of your swinging range. "The power's out. Snow must've knocked down a line or something." He explained, voice assured, and you sagged in relief at his words, hands visibly shaking as you set the vase back atop the counter. Without missing a beat, Steve stepped toward you, taking your hands in his own, enveloping them, his touch silently pleading you to look at him.

    "Hey," His voice was buttery-soft, gentle in a way he only ever used with you. "There's nothing here. It's just us."

    You shake your head, swallowing dryly, your head falling to your chest as you steadied the erratic beating of your heart. "Y-Yeah, you're right."

    Steve nodded, calling forth every fiber of his being to let you go, to lose the warmth he'd found in your touch. Together, you'd made the most of things - you remembered seeing a box of candles in one of the closets, a pack of matches tucked away between them all, and in no time at all, the living room was bathed in the flickering, golden glow of over a dozen flames. You sat atop the supple leather couch, a blanket wrapped around your shoulders as you watched Steve light the logs in the fireplace.

    You were cold, your hands tucked against you, the tips of your toes already feeling numb - and from the way Steve rubbed at his arms, he'd felt it, too.

    "Should we… uh…" You tried to ask, your own embarrassment shriveling your words before you could get them out, hands shaking as you tugged anxiously at your fingers. "I-I mean, it's cold, and the fireplace-"

    You gave him an exasperated look, but Steve - bless his athletic soul - wasn't following.

    You groaned, dragging your hands through your hair as you blurted out, "We should sleep here."

    "On the floor?"

    "Yes, Steven, on the floor." You couldn't help but roll your eyes at his shock. "We can take a couple blankets and make a bed. It'll be warmer here than in the bedrooms."

    Steve turned away from you, staring into the cackling fire. To you, he was considering what you'd said, his expression pensive, almost blank - to him, he was failing to quell his boiling panic at the thought of having to sleep with you… beside you? Whatever - either way, you would be much too close to him and he was not prepared. There were only so many rooms - and therefore only so many blankets - in the cabin, so he knew you wouldn't be able to make two separate beds.

    He had to sleep with you.

    "I-I mean, you're right…"

    You gave him a confused look. "...But?"

    Steve took a deep breath, turning back toward you, and he swore you could see the way his heart pounded in his throat. "No, nothing." He stood up, brushed off his jeans, tried for his best smile - which came through as more of a lopsided grin, but that's beside the point. "Let's get those blankets, huh?"

    Between the two of you, you were proud of the bed you'd made, cozy under the pile of blankets and pillows; splitting for a minute, you both readied for bed, changing into your pajamas, brushing your teeth in the kitchen - Steve sensed your lingering unease at being in there, so he stood closer to you than he normally would, his hand finding the small of your back as the two of you walked back to the living room.

    "Which side do you want?" You asked him, suddenly feeling shy at seeing him in nothing but a pair of loose sweatpants and an old Hawkins Phys-Ed shirt - and, unbeknownst to you, your clothes were having the same effect on him, your oversized shirt reaching your knees like an old nightgown.

    "Doesn't matter." He pulled at the drawstring of his pants, suddenly intent on looking everywhere but at you. "I'll sleep like a rock, anyway."

    You snorted a laugh and crawled into your side of the bed. "Yeah, and you'll keep me up all night with your snoring."

    "I do not snore!" Steve exclaimed, and you laughed even harder at him, obviously having touched a sore spot. "I don't!"

    "Whatever helps you sleep at night, Steve." He gave you a withering look, and you collapsed in a fit of giggles - nervous giggles, but he didn't need to know that. He shook his head at you as he crawled in under the blankets, close to you yet still keeping a respectable distance.

    "Candles stay on?" He knew what your answer would be, but he asked anyway, his chest tight as you nodded.

    "Unless it bothers you-"

    "Doesn't bother me, sweetheart." He froze, his breath catching - he'd overstepped. Called you the wrong thing, gotten too comfortable. He waited for you to shake your head, to roll your eyes at him and turn around.

    But, nothing came.

    Steve watched, hands itching from the ferocity of his fraying nerves as you nodded, quieter than usual, curling up on your side as you continued to face him. He laid on his side, toward you, hands bunching the blanket up to his face as he tried to relax - not that he'd be getting much sleep around you, but he could pretend, for your sake.

    Minutes pass, the soft sputtering of the candles a soft harmony to the loud, almost rhythmic cackling of the fireplace. Even in the muted light, you notice Steve trembling beneath the blankets.

    He was cold.

    "Steve?" you whispered, moving closer to him, the sudden drop in temperature making your stomach flip. "Steve, are you okay?"

    "Hm…?" His eyes are slow to open, his voice much more tired than it had been mere moments ago; he'd curled up tighter - you just barely felt how his knees were tucked up to his chest. "What?"

    "You're shivering." You continued to inch closer, your body all but touching his, and for the life of him, he couldn't remember how to move. "Why didn't you say anything?"

    "I was fine before…" he grumbled, shaking his head, his jaw clenched to keep you from hearing his chattering teeth. "'M fine, just go back to sleep."

    You gave him a hard-pressed look, gaze narrowed at the top of his lowered head; before you could convince yourself to do otherwise, you began to fumble about beneath the blankets. Steve cracked an eye open to watch, only to catch you flinging your shirt somewhere off to the side.

    He swallowed audibly, his mind racing - and crashing - as he felt your arms envelope him, your chest pressed to his with only the thin barrier of his shirt between you.

    "[Y/N], w-what are you-"

    "Body heat." Your answer came quickly, much to his surprise, your hands leaving smoldering trails as you rubbed them over his back. "You need to stay warm, Steve."

    He nodded, two thoughts about you dominating his mind:

You were much more selfless than you gave yourself credit for.

You weren't wearing much of anything under that shirt.

    He tried to think of something to do, something to say, but the unfiltered heat radiating off of your skin was too enticing, too overwhelming. He tried getting closer to you, chasing your warmth, but something felt off; something was holding him back.

    In a flash, he'd tossed his shirt aside, the aged fabric landing somewhere near yours.

    "Steve-"

    "Body heat, right?" God, he hoped he didn't sound too breathless. "We can keep each other warm."

    You weren't about to fight that logic, were you?

    He shuffled closer to you, arms settling loosely around your waist, the frigid feeling of his hands trailing over your bare skin sending a shiver through you. Between you, you'd moved your hands up - almost as a buffer, ridiculous as that seemed. But, now you were in a new predicament - your fingers wove through the matte of hair on his chest; you could feel each curl, each wisp as he breathed, your touch both featherlight and branding. His head fell to your shoulder, and his arms tightened over so slightly around you.

    "How are you so hot…?" Steve asked; his head shot up, and you were given an excellent view of the blush spreading up his neck as he quickly amended, "Warm, I mean. Shit, I- You're really warm. N-Not that you're not hot-"

    You giggled, the movement brushing your chest against his, pulling out a gasp from somewhere deep within him that he'd just barely managed to catch. "You're not half-bad yourself, Harrington." Feeling you relax, he tried to do the same, leaning further into you, the scent of your citrus shampoo lulling him into a pleasant sort of halfway-sleep.

    "Uh… H-Hey, Steve…?" He could hear your voice, distant and somewhat muffled, and he grinned against the comfort of your shoulder. "Steve, are you awake?"

    "Yeah…?" He peeled open his eyes, pulled away enough to look at you, confused for only a moment as he tried to follow the way your gaze flicked to the space between you - and when he did, he stopped breathing, his stomach dropping to his half-thawed toes as he sprang away from you, his scalding face clear in the candlelight, hands pressed tightly between his legs.

    "Shit! I- Goddamnit, [Y/N], I didn't… I swear, I wasn't-"

    You watched on, stunned silent as Steve worked himself into a whole-hearted frenzy, shaking as he desperately tried to explain away why he'd gotten hard sleeping with you.

    "Was that… is it my fault?" You couldn't help yourself - here you were, sharing a bed with the man of your dreams, who'd gotten painfully aroused with you in his arms. Your words were barely above a whisper as you continued, "Are you like that because of me?"

    Part of you wished you'd disappear, another thinking of what you had within arm's reach that could be used to tear your own tongue out because who in their right mind asks something like that? You stared at him, lip worried between your teeth, eyes catching the light like a million stars in the night; Steve realized he was at an impasse - you both were.

    It was now or never.

    "Yeah, I… I am."

    Nothing could have prepared you for his answer; you felt as though the floor had collapsed beneath you, turned to quicksand and swallowed you into its grainy depths.

    "Steve-"

    "I like you, [Y/N]."

    You couldn't help the gasp that tumbled past your lips, nor could you quell the sudden flood of tears swelling in your eyes. His words flew around in your head, dominated your thoughts, demanded every ounce of your attention.

    I like you.

    I like you.

    I like you.

    "[Y/N], don't… don't cry- Shit, I didn't…" He'd moved back to you the instant he'd caught the first tear, his arms wrapping back around you - he'd kept his hips turned away from you, the angle awkward, but you didn't notice. "C'mon, baby, I'm sorry-"

    You shook your head, your breathing hiccupped, stuttered as you wiped at your dripping face. To his surprise, you'd laughed, the sound as wet and sodden as it was bubbling.

    "Steve, I'm not… I'm not upset." You tried to tell him, reassure him, meeting his concerned gaze through glossy lashes.

    "But, you're crying-"

    You took his hand in both of yours, held it between your bodies like a tether between souls; he could feel your pulse through your palm, quick and solid and strong.

    "[Y/N]-"

    "I like you, too, Steve."

    He barely believed what he'd heard - you liked him? You'd reciprocated his feelings? The crush he'd been achingly, lovingly nursing since high school was… mutual?

    "Y-You… You do?" He hated how insecure he sounds, how hesitant and uncertain he was; you gave him another blinding smile, dropping your hands as you pressed your bare chest to his.

    "I do." You thank the Heavens above that your voice hadn't wavered - he heard you clear as day, the fluttering he'd feel whenever he was near you now a full-on avalanche of jittery emotion. "I… uh… I have for a while now."

    "Really?"

    You nodded, hiding your face into a lump of bunched-up blanket.

    "How long have you…?"

    "You first." You insisted, your stomach in knots at his shy smile.

    "Since freshman year, at least." Steve replied smoothly, his confidence returning in drips and splashes - it was better than nothing, he'd conceded. "Never thought you'd give me a chance, though."

    "God, I've liked you since, like, fourth grade…" You'd groaned into the blanket, goosebumps running over your body as you caught his soft exhale.

    "Seriously?" He couldn't believe it - you'd been hiding your feelings for him for almost a decade?

    How had he not noticed?

    You'd pulled your head up from the blanket pile just enough to look at him, and you both collapsed into a fit of nervous, giddy laughter, the little space left between your bodies shrinking away. Steve was the first to settle down, staring into the depths of your eyes with the look of a man drowning in his love; he brushed a lock of hair behind your ear as your legs tangled together, his rough and pleasantly scratchy against yours, and he waited for you to quiet down before asking, 

    "Is this alright?"

    His hands were at your hips, his thumbs running over the thin elastic band of your underwear. So elated were you, you'd almost forgotten about his… situation.

    Almost.

    Calming yourself, you shifted, slowly pressed your body to his - your hips firm against him - as you nodded, cheeks pink as his rock-hard length throbbed against your stomach.

    "[Y/N]?"

    "Steve, I…" You couldn't bring yourself to ask for what you'd wanted - but, God, did you want to. Lord knows you did. Your head fell to his chest with a quiet groan of frustration, but he understood all the same.

    "[Y/N], look at me."

    You lost yourself in the endless depths of his eyes, your only thought to keep breathing as he reached for your hand.

    "If you don't want to, tell me to stop."

    He watched every flicker of emotion on your face, every expression, every feeling play out in vivid detail; he brought your hand - so small in his own - to the throbbing between his legs, his eyes fluttering shut as you wrapped your fingers around him, holding him through the soft material of his sweatpants.

    "God, Steve…" You whispered, giving him an experimental squeeze, your body sweltering with heat as he moaned - it was quiet, just barely louder than an exhale, but you'd heard it all the same.

    You had done that to him, brought him to this, and you ached for more.

    "Take it off." Your tongue poked out to swipe at your lips; he swallowed at the movement, every nerve in his body alight, aflame at the feeling of your hand around him. "Please."

    He didn't need to be asked twice.

    In a single movement, Steve pulled off his pants, chucking them somewhere across the room; you gasped as you realized he wasn't wearing anything underneath, naked as the day he was born.

    You looked at him, he nodded, and your hand was on him again.

    God, Steve thought, his head pressed to your shoulder, breathing heavy as you began to stroke him, it's never been this good before. All you'd done was touch him, and he could already feel himself begin to unravel, his stomach coiling with his building release.

    You stared down between you in open-mouthed awe, feeling the weight of him in your hand; he actually keened when you'd brought your other hand to cup him, pushing his hips into your grip, chasing more of your touch - of you.

    "B-Baby…" He barely recognized his own voice from how weak he sounded, his hand shaking as he wrapped it over yours, stilling your movements. "Baby, please, I… I can't-"

    Your hands flew off of him, raised up to your chest, a pang of fear seizing your chest at the thought of having hurt him. Were you moving too fast, your grip too tight? "Steve, I-"

    "No! No, sweetheart, it's… It's not you, I swear." He pulled you close, buried his nose in your hair, his voice quiet with embarrassment as he continued, "If you keep doing that, this'll all be over way too fast."

    You giggled at him, your smile broad and beaming as he moved away to look at you, going stiff in more ways than one as you brought his hand to your chest; he could feel the thrumming of your pulse beneath the softness, keeping pace with his own.

    What, like you hadn't heard about his boobies monologue from Robin?

    You felt his fingers twitch against you, desperate to squeeze, but he held himself back, restrained himself.

    "I won't break, y'know."

    God, you were going to kill him, he swore, shaking his head, a nervous grin stretching across his lips - and it was then that he paused, his hand stilling over you as the shameful realization dawned upon him.

    He hadn't even kissed you yet.

    Where's your game, Harrington?

    He'd gone shy on you again, you noted, feeling how his breathing turned slow and deep. "Steve?" You brought your face closer to his, hands at his jaw, thumbs caressing his cheeks as you urged him to look at you. "Steve, do you-"

    "Can I kiss you?"

    Your silence stretched out for what, to him, felt like hours. Had he pushed you too far, assumed too much? Was kissing too personal for you? His first instinct was to backtrack, to make amends, and he hurriedly mumbled, "I-I mean, it's fine if you don't-"

    "Do it, Steve."

    Your words were clear, demanding in a way that made him shiver in anticipation. Slowly, carefully, he trailed his hands over the softness of your waist, pulling you flush against him, his length trapped between your thighs.

    "You want me to kiss you?" He needed to hear it from you, needed you to say it, to know you wanted this just as much as he did.

    "Please."

    Of all the times you'd imagined kissing Steve, of daydreaming about what he'd feel like, nothing could compare to the real thing; you melted against him with a sigh, arms settling around his neck as you pulled him impossibly closer, every pore on your body screaming for this moment to go on, for him to kiss you like this forever.

    And for Steve, kissing you was a miracle - he'd long since resigned himself to wanting you from afar, to watching you from the sidelines, content with the way things were. He didn't think he'd ever gather enough courage to confess his feelings to you, terrified of losing one of the closest friends he's ever had. But, now?

    Now that he's tasted you, he's insatiable.

    He was the one to deepen the kiss, to lean into you, press his body against you, throbbing between your thighs and hissing as his sensitive head caught on the fabric of your underwear. You pulled his hands back to your chest, his tongue tracing over your lip as you pulled off the lacy thing and tossed it aside.

    Your kiss had started saccharine, gentle, coy, but it had devolved into something carnal, primal, fueled on by years of pining and longing and want.

    "[Y/N], can I…? Can- touch you?" Steve panted, his words beginning to fail him, his hair already damp with sweat as it fell over his eyes. You pull one of his hands away from your chest, biting back a moan at the feeling of his calloused palm dragging over your nipple; you guided him between your legs, your breathing labored, eyes clenched shut.

    When he touched you, you screamed.

    Painstakingly, sobbingly slowly, he worked you open, his pride growing tenfold as he felt how wet you were, how slick his fingers were quickly becoming as they moved over you - and all because of him. He brushed his fingers lightly over your clit, his touch barely a touch at all, yet it drove you nearly to the brink of insanity.

    "S-Steve…!" you cried, screamed, no longer caring about the volume of your voice as you ground your hips against his hand, fingers clawing at his back. "Mmm…! Fuck, Steve…!"

    "Talk to me, sweetheart. How's it feelin'?" The closeness of his voice, of his lips pressed to your ear did absolutely nothing to veer you away from the edge of ecstasy you were barreling toward. You could feel him circle a finger around your dripping entrance, teasing you, your body writhing atop the blankets.

    "S… Steve, please…!" You shook in his arms, your face buried against his chest as you begged him for more - and when he finally pressed his finger into you, you both moaned.

    You were so hot, so tight, around his finger, sucking him in, your velvety walls pulsing against him - he could feel his cock weep as he imagined what it'd feel like to be inside of you.

    "Hmm…! A-Ah- Shit, Steve, I…!" Your head began to swim, your breathing rough as he worked you, one hand holding you by the hip while the other thrust into you, his thumb pressing down on your throbbing clit all the while.

    "Where you at, baby?" he panted, his focus breaking away from the sinful squelching coming from between your parted legs.

    "'M close, Steve… Fuck, I- I'm so close…!" You threw your head back, your body arching off the floor as Steve's kept his pace steady, looking very much satisfied with himself as you fell apart in his hands; with a final, trembling moan, you collapsed, panting for air as the sweet thrill of aftershocks shot through you; absentmindedly, you could feel him slide in behind you, holding you against his chest, hands moving idly over your sex-warmed skin.

    Still, even in the rose-colored haze of your mind, you knew you wanted more.

    "[Y/N]?" Steve watched as you turned around in his arms, pulling him into a sloppy, wet kiss. It didn't take much for him to turn to putty in your hands, and he offered no resistance as you nudged him onto his back, legs straddling his hips. "Fuck, baby, I…" he breathed, eyes wide as his gaze moved over you in reverence - bathed in the candlelight, flushed from the bliss he'd given you, he swore you never looked so beautiful.

    You moved your dripping core over his cock hesitantly - unlike Steve, you had no prior experience to draw from. Did it feel good when you pressed down on him? When you sped up? Slowed down? You stared at where your bodies connected, not realizing Steve's eyes had clenched shut, sweat beading down his brow as he tried to keep himself from losing it.

    "Sweetheart, please, I…" Steve moaned, his hands leaving you to drag through his hair. "You're killin' me-"

    "Yeah?" you panted, pushing more of your weight down onto him, your heart soaring at the litany of curses that fell from his lips - and even a few that weren't in English. "How's it feel, pretty boy?"

    At the name, you felt him jump against you, and you swore on your mother's life you'd never seen him flush so red.

    It was as though the very room had gone still, the snow outside ceasing to fall, your breath catching as you lifted yourself off of him; holding him in your hand, you lined him up with your entrance, your eyes shut as you tried to calm your nerves, but you paused at the feeling of hands running over your sides, gentle and soft against you.

    Steve looked up at you, cheeks bursting with color as he held you steady, an unspoken question clear in his eyes.

    Do you want it?

    You nodded, your lips breaking into a smile as you kissed him - and all at once, you pushed yourself down, crying out at the feeling of him stretching you, filling you.

    He was big, and you were loath to admit that the rumors you'd heard about him all throughout high school were true - he deserved to be called "King Steve".

    You fell against him, shaking at the sudden intrusion as his hands soothed over your back, your waist, your thighs, your face, guiding you down onto him, whispering praises into your ear.

    "You're doin' so well, baby. You're so good to me, taking me like that… Fuck-!"

    You were struggling to breathe, face pressed against the crook of his neck as you waited for the pain to melt away - and Steve waited with you, peppering your face in kisses, his hands smoothing over your hair.

    "Do you want to stop?" he asked, his voice softer than silk, his concern washing away the lingering traces of your discomfort. You shook your head, biting your lip as you pulled away from him, wiping at the moisture clinging to the corners of your eyes.

    Steve felt his stomach drop. "[Y/N]-"

    "I'm okay." you reassured him, your voice all but gone, eyes fluttering shut as you settled back against his hips - he'd buried himself completely into you, the feeling of you enveloping him almost too much. He waited for you, for your sign that it was alright to move - because once he started, he wasn't sure he'd be able to stop.

    You accustomed yourself to the feeling of him inside of you, thick and hard and throbbing. "S-Steve…" you moaned, your hands steadying yourself against his chest. "You can… You can move-"

    And you fell over when he snapped up into you, breaking out into fits of bright, sparkling laughter.

    "[Y/N]!" Steve couldn't help but laugh, too, feeling your walls squeezing around him. "Baby, you alright?"

    You nodded, still smiling as you threw your arms over your heated face.

    "Keep going, Steve…" you sighed, peeking at him from between your fingers - and his heart swelled, leaning over to kiss you stupid as his hips pounded into you, one of his hands moving down to your clit, rubbing you in time with his thrusts.

    He wasn't going to last - he knew he wasn't - but he'd be damned if you didn't finish before him.

    Your mouth fell open with a wanton moan, hands fisting the blankets at your sides as he gripped your hips roughly enough to bruise, his pace already beginning to falter. He kissed you everywhere he could reach, covering you in his love, his breathing coming out in grunts as he felt himself nearing his end.

    "Baby, I- I'm so fucking close-"

    "Steve, I- Ahh…! I can't…! Steve, please, I'm…!"

    And you reached your peaks together, screaming as you throbbed around him, as he painted you with his release, your bodies sticky as you collapsed onto the blankets, chests heaving for air as you floated back down from the Heavens.

    He was the first to speak. "You still with me?" Steve asked, still winded as he rolled onto his side, his hand moving up to roll a lock of your hair between his fingers - you still smelled like citrus, like sunshine and light.

    But now you smelled like him, too.

    You turned your head to look at him, eyes lidded, your grin blissfully lopsided as you kissed him - gently, sweetly, relishing the feeling of his chapped lips, of the warmth of his breath over your face. "I'm still with you, Steve."

    "Yeah?"

    "Always."

    He pulled you into his arms, his face pressed to your neck; you nudged yourself against him, exhaustion settling over you both like the falling snow.

    Before you'd drifted away, you heard his voice, quiet and meek as he whispered, "I love you."

    Your hands moved over his chest, and you kissed him one final time before falling into oblivion, your sigh of, "I love you, too." barely slipping past your parted lips, Steve chasing after you.

#becca.fic #steve harrington #steve harrington fic #steve harrington x fem!reader #steve x fem!reader #steve harrington smut #steve harrington x reader #steve x reader #stranger things smut #if any of you read my encanto fic you would know how disastrous my last attempt at writing smut was so i figured practice makes perfect #and i swear i'm still writing Ride the Lightning i just needed to get this off my chest #feedback appreciated <3 #also just imagine if you will robin and the gang arriving the next afternoon all aware of what likely went down #and when they find you two AWFULLY close they all know their little plan succeeded #the group has been trying to get the two of you together for years and figured this would be the best chance

[bucklesomeswashswan]

At the Beginning (2/11)

 Once Upon a December sequel Thank you to everyone who read and liked or commented on last chapter! It was lovely to get back into this story and have people respond to it! Sorry for the wait for this chapter. The holidays got in the way!

Captain Swan Steampunk Anastasia AU Summary: Emma might have thought her troubles were over after she defeated Gold, the leader of the Industrialists. But not everything is as it seems and Misthaven is in danger. Mysterious new faces and gangs lurk in the shadows as Misthaven struggles to find its footing in the power vacuum left behind when the Industrialists fell. Time is running out to regain control and alliances form and crumble as the betrayals come from those closer and closer to Emma. Will she be able to have the life she always wanted with her family and Killian or will the secrets from the past tear apart everything she thought she knew? Rated M AO3 Chapter 1  Start over with Once Upon a December [AO3]

Chapter 2: Life is a Road

Everything began moving quickly after Emma agreed to return to Misthaven. All night the guards worked to pack up the townhouse and prepare for their journey. As the sun rose, shining over the roofs of Glowerhaven the next morning, the final arrangements were being made. Trunks of elegant clothes and all manner of things from her new life as a member of the royal family were stacked in the entrance hall. Everything she might have come to think of as bits of her new home were wiped clean. Packed away and set to follow them by train later when they were safely settled in Misthaven.

Emma had barely slept, tossing and turning. It seemed like she hadn’t even had a moment to breathe. In the last few weeks she’d escaped out of Misthaven, reunited with her family and defeated Gold, and then raced off to find Killian. She had thought things were about to settle down. Glowerhaven had seemed safe, a place for them to repair broken relationships. A place to rest and recover. Now they were leaving again before she felt healed at all.

Maybe her life was never meant to be stationary and quiet. Maybe things would always feel like they were slipping through her fingers, like she was never able to grasp and hold on to what she wanted. The thought sent a small tendril of cold dread down her spine. The emotion causing her magic, now always just beneath the surface, to flare within her once again. It quickened her breaths and made her hands shake.

She took a shaking breath to try to steady herself. Not now, she thought closing her eyes in concentration. The last thing she needed was to send a blast of magic through the house.

She imagined that power within her like a flickering flame or glowing light within her. She took a deep breath to steady herself and work at suppressing that energy, packing it away like everything else. Slowly, agonizingly slowly, the twisting in her gut eased and her magic settled.

“You ready, Your Highness?” one of their guards asked surprising her, Clemens, she thought his name was. Another in a sea of new faces she hadn’t gotten to know yet.

“Yes,” she said when she was sure it was true. The word still came out a bit rough. She reached down to finish buttoning her coat, but Clemens didn’t seem to notice her hesitation and he gave a small nod and led the way out to the courtyard where everyone was saddling their horses.

She refused to closely examine why her magic seemed to be acting up lately. She just had to keep it under control a little longer until she could find a real solution. As long as she didn’t push herself she would be fine.

She approached the large bay gelding waiting for her. He eyed her uneasily with his wide brown eyes, and she gave him a reassuring pat on his neck before swinging up into the saddle. She could stay in control, she had to.

It was a six day ride to Misthaven and their route would take them through the mountains at the northern border. They were hoping by taking the harder road they could avoid any unwanted encounters. Emma wasn’t upset, in fact, she had always loved the stories of the mountains, the trolls and mysterious dangers that lingered there.

She glanced over to where Killian was waiting for her. He gave her a warm smile and she nudged her horse forward.

“You’ve gotten better at that,” he said.

“Better at what?” she asked. Fear flooded her at the thought that he might have seen her magic flare up. Even now the feeling was still crackling just under her skin. She wondered if he could read it on her as he had often been able to read her emotions and fears with just a look.

“Riding,” he said with a nod to her horse. She relaxed a little, not even Killian seemed to have noticed she was her losing her grip on her power.

“I learned as a girl,” she told him. “I guess that’s all coming back to me now too.”

The mention of her past and memories made him grow serious.

“This plan feels wrong,” he said softly enough that only she would hear.

They had risked so much to escape, was it a betrayal of everything they had sacrificed to return now? And more than that, now that she had seen some of the world beyond the borders of Misthaven she wasn’t sure wanted to return to its cold streets and desperate people. Was it worth going back to a broken country when there were so many beautiful places they could stay instead? But now she had an obligation to those people, as their princess. Again, the weight of her new life pressed on her.

“Going back doesn’t erase everything that’s happened,” she told him.

“I should hope not,” he said shooting her a smirk. She knew that smirk, that light in his eyes. She’d seen it before when he’d kissed down her skin, the stubble on his jaw scratching at her.

She shook her head biting back a smile. If they hadn’t been on horses she would have found a reason to steal him away to a dark corner. The thought sent a warmth through her, desire curling within her.

Already she missed the serenity of the coast they had left behind. The sunlight sparkling off the crashing waves and the gentle breeze in through the windows of the little cottage they had found to stay in. The sight of Killian early in the morning tangled in the sheets. Lazy afternoons strolling through the village. Cool night air and moonlight on her skin as their bodies moved together matching the rhythm of the waves on the beach under the endless stars. Those days had been free and unhurried. But then the note from her father had arrived urging her to return and she hadn’t hesitated to go back to Glowerhaven. Now she wondered again if that had been a mistake.

The guards at the front of the group urged their horses forward setting a brisk pace. Emma nudged her horse and eased into the rhythm, trusting her muscles to know what to do. The hooves of their party echoed on the cobblestones. A few faces appeared in the windows they passed, watching the procession of guards, lords and ladies in fine fabrics and furs, and lastly groups of refugees as they galloped out of Glowerhaven’s sleepy streets toward the mountains in the distance. Hardly a fearsome conquering army, but still there was a hopeful light in the faces around her, she only prayed it wasn’t a fool’s hope.

It was past midday when they reached the foot of the northern mountains, the road starting to rise and wind up into the ravines and curve around the peaks. Emma was already starting to feel her legs aching, she could only imagine how uncomfortable this saddle would feel in a few days.

They stopped along a trickling spring to give the horses rest and water. Emma looked out at the snow-covered peaks around them and shuddered at the heavy stillness in the air, the ancient feeling of the pines lining the path.

“It’s beautiful isn’t it?” Ruby said coming to stand beside her.

Emma nodded. “I think I came here as a little girl. To the mountains I mean. It all looks almost familiar. I know my family went north sometimes in the summer. I wonder if we ever took this road.”

Ruby gave her a considering look.

“Your parents are right over there,” she said nodding up the path. “You could be with them, asking them about it, sharing it together.”

Emma’s eyes cut over to her father. He was helping her mother adjust her saddle.

“I know, I should,” Emma said slowly but she made no move to leave. Why did the thought fill her with nerves? They were her family, they were supposed to be a safe haven and love her unconditionally. But there were also so many expectations on her. When she was with them she was inescapably the Princess and at times that was suffocating.

Ruby caught her eye with an understanding expression. “There’s plenty of time, Emma,” she said gently.

Emma twisted the ring she wore around her finger, a silver band with a green emerald. It had been her mother’s and it had let her back to her parents after years apart. She wished now for a little of the conviction she had felt when she first put on the ring.

Ruby leaned closer pulling a small silver flask from a pocket in her cloak. “What do you say?” she said with a grin. “It only gets colder the higher up we go.”

“You came prepared,” Emma laughed.

Ruby shrugged  uncorked the flask. “Just trying to be a better travel companion this time around,” she said passing the flask.

“Right, because a lack of alcohol was the only thing that went wrong on our last trip,” Emma said dryly taking a sip. She didn’t exactly want to remember the cold snowy nights, lurking blackguards, Gold’s sneering smile when he thought he won.

Ruby nodded. “Admit it though, it might have helped.” She took a large sip her head falling back as she swallowed.

“Mmm,” she hummed. “Say what you will about Glowerhaven, but they know how to distill whiskey.”

“Much better than Robin’s ale,” Emma said, the words out of her mouth before she fully thought through what she was saying.

Ruby’s smile faded turning wistful as her gaze fell to her fingers around the flask, her thumb rubbing over the engraving.

“Ruby, I-” Emma started.

“It’s true. That ale was awful,” Ruby said cutting her off. Emma could hear the finality in her tone, it was all she was going to say about Robin.

“We’ll find out what happened to him when we get back,” Emma told her.

Ruby took another drink. “Perhaps,” she said quietly. “Maybe knowing is worse.”

Emma tried to imagine how many times in the past Ruby had told herself that as she watched the people around her disappear under the rule of the Industrialists. For so many years, knowing what really happened to someone probably had been worse.

“I’m sorry,” Emma said not sure what else to say. Apologizing for everything that had happened, for Robin, and for careless comments.

“Don’t apologize,” Ruby said meeting her eyes. “Just promise to be better.”

Emma felt pinned to the spot. How she could make a promise she had no idea how to keep? Maybe being a princess was inescapable from now on, no matter what, no matter who she was with. The realization made her feel strangely cold and alone.

She barely noticed when they started riding again, lost in thought. Sure, she had been taught some of Misthaven’s history, and she had met a few important people who supported her parents. But she still had no real idea what it meant to rule a kingdom. She wondered if there was a way to know if you were ready, if you were even capable of following that path.

They made camp for the night beside a small lake tucked in the low point between three peaks. The dark water in the lake lapped quietly against the stoney shore. Groups of tents were set up around fires that hissed and sent golden orange sparks floating into the star filled sky. Emma could see her breath in the black night air.

Stew was heated up and passed around the camp. Emma waved off a bowl, her stomach still feeling unsettled.

“You have to eat,” Killian said noticing. “It’s too cold here to skip meals.”

She looked over at him and down to the brown stew in his bowl, chucks of potatoes and meat. She must have grimaced because Killian didn’t push it further but he passed her his roll.

She sat beside him and picked at the roll pulling off tiny pieces, worrying them between her fingers and eating small bites. She was mostly doing it to placate him.

“You okay?” he asked her softly.

She nodded and he was right, the bread seemed to be helping. Already she felt a bit better, her appetite coming back a little. “It’s been a long day,” she told him.

He pulled her closer against him his arms circling her. She relaxed, leaning back feeling the warmth of him all around her. The fire was slowly burning out in front of them. Others began to settle into their tents for the night.

“Look up, Emma,” Killian whispered into her ear reaching up to point at the glowing sky above the mountains.

Waving ribbons of bright colors, greens and violet, danced above them. Northern lights. Emma stared, mesmerized. She had never seen it in person before. There was something almost sad about their beauty, otherworldly.

“I read a story when I was younger,” Emma told him. “It was about the northern lights and how they came to be. The story said there was a painter who loved a woman. A woman far above his station, a princess, forbidden. Their love doomed before it could start. She lived high in the towers of a grand palace, much too far from his humble studio to send a message or carry out an affair.”

Emma watched the lights as she spoke thinking of such a girl, isolated, set apart from someone who loved her.

“Well this artist was determined to show her the depth of his affection, and so he ventured out into the wilderness. He headed as far north as he could go. Trudging through deep snow, nearly dying from the cold. At the very top of the world, the most northern point, he found a sorceress. He told her his story and his desire, and she took pity on him. She took a shard of ice from the glacier at the end of the world and touched it to one of the brightest stars in the sky that night. She told him this would be a paintbrush for him unlike any other in the world. This brush would paint the sky, color it more beautifully than any sunset or sunrise. But it could only be used in the dark of night, on nights when the air was clear and cold like black ice. A night like tonight. So he took the brush and he used it each night, hoping she would see, that she would know it was for her. He poured so much love into the lights that the northerners called them the Aurora after the princess he loved.”

Killian held her a little tighter. “It’s a nice story.”

Emma turned to look at him, taking in his bemused expression. “What? You know a better story about the lights?”

He shrugged. “It’s not a story exactly, but I met a trader from the north once. When he spoke about the Northern Kingdom he mentioned the lights. He said they were echoes of the magic done by ancient northern sorcerers. That always made some sense to me. The north is a strange place, time is different here. Nights and days linger long past what they are in other parts of the world. The whole kingdom is a thin place where the past bleeds through in bright veins across the darkness.”

Emma looked away, She didn’t want to hear about the kind of magic that lingered long past when it was cast. She wondered if her magic had left scars on the world too. Would anyone years from now look at what she had done and find it beautiful?

“I think I’ll head in for the night,” she told him abruptly, shifting away. The thought of powerful magic made her stomach clench like a wave of nausea.

She moved to stand but Killian laced his fingers through hers holding her for a moment.

“Emma?” he asked. “Are you alright?”

She pulled away gently. “I just need rest,” she told him. There was something stirring in her, an uneasiness, a feeling like something was wrong.

He nodded and pushed a lock of her hair behind her ear. “Aye, goodnight, love.”

She met his gaze and saw the naked love within his eyes. She wondered how she had ever mistaken it for anything else. He seemed to find it so easy to express his affection, but even now she felt herself stumble. The words right on the tip of her tongue but she couldn’t get them out. What kind of person couldn’t say ‘I love you,’ especially after they had already said it? Especially when she felt it so completely?

Shame crawled up inside her, adding heat to the already unsteady feeling within her. She needed to be away from everyone, alone, maybe if she could get some sleep she’d feel better. She stood and turned away from him.

~*~

Killian stood at the edge of the lake and watched the colors slowly fade from the sky. The night quieting around him as his thoughts swirled turbulently. Emma was holding something back, withdrawing from him. Her careful mask was starting to crack under the strain of some fear or secret.

“I thought I was the only one who was having trouble sleeping,” a voice said.

He turned to see the Queen wrapped in a thick cloak coming to stand beside him. It was a sight that he still hadn’t gotten used to. How had his path led him here?

“It’s strange isn’t it?” she said at last.

“What’s that, Your Majesty?” he murmured.

“All of this,” she said. “How things have changed.”

Killian glanced over at her pensive expression. She sighed, almost as if she were relieved to finally have someone to talk to about this.

“Going back to Misthaven,” she clarified. “I’ve heard stories for years. The endless reports and the accounts of the horrors happening in my home. For so long it was so unthinkable that it became abstract. I let myself believe it was more fiction than fact, an exaggeration. But now I’m not sure if I’m ready for the full truth. How can I be ready to see something I love so changed? What if I’m a stranger in my home? I’m already a stranger to my daughter. After everything, how can I be ready for that final blow?”

Killian’s eyes traced the outline of the shadowed mountains against the stars as he listened. He let a silence stretch after she finished speaking.

“I was there,” he said at last. “I was there as everything crumbled after the revolt. So few made it out like you did. And when the borders closed the world beyond faded. It’s true, Misthaven will be different from how you remember it, so much of the good died and the ugly was allowed to fester. Those years after the revolt brought out the worst in everyone, myself included. I have seen things I don’t want to remember and I have done things I wish I could forget. I lost hope. Everyone who was left behind in Misthaven has a similar story: Emma, Ruby, and so many others. It leaves a mark, a wound that won’t heal all at once. I tried to run from it, but I was always haunted by the past.”

He saw her turn to look at him but he didn’t meet her gaze. It was his turn to say aloud things he had never told anyone.

“I met Emma the night of the revolt. I tried to save her, but I lost her. The guilt from that night, the things I did in the years after, were a weight that kept me trapped there for a long time. When I met Emma again, when she told me her name, it felt like the first time I’d been able to breathe in a decade. I had forged travel documents and emigration papers for dozens of people, but when we crossed the border, Emma beside me on the train, finally it felt like I had helped someone escape. I was wounded and bleeding but for the first time in a decade I felt like I was healing. That guilt had eased just the smallest amount. Each step away from Misthaven brought me back to life and I swore to myself I would never go back.”

He had meant it too. Finally out from under the shadow of the Industrialists, headed somewhere safer. It had been a shining second chance in a life that had provided so few.

“But here you are,” she said. “Going back.”

He blew out a breath. “Here I am,” he muttered.

Her hand landed on his arm, startling him. Her expression was kind and full of understanding.

“You really love her,” the Queen said.

The corner of his mouth pulled up the smallest amount. “I do. More than I ever meant to.”

“It’s good she has you.”

It wasn’t what he had been expecting to hear. “I’m probably not what you had in mind for Emma’s suitor.”

The Queen gave him a warm smile. “I wouldn’t say that,” she said thoughtfully. “There’s more to a good match than titles or riches. Remember, I married for love.”

He studied her expression but there was no duplicity or lie in her eyes.

“You understand her. She’s going to need that,” she told him.

He wasn’t sure how take that compliment, but he was saved from finding a response as she adjusted her cloak and took a step away.

“Good night, Killian,” she said. “Get some rest.”

“Good night, Your Majesty.”

He watched as she moved off over to the guard on duty. He heard the murmur of their quiet words before she disappeared into her tent. Killian knew he should do the same and at least attempt to sleep but he stayed frozen in the cold night air for a few minutes longer.

He wondered if this was all futile. If it was a fool’s errand returning to Misthaven and expecting the King and Queen to retake control, expecting anything to change. Love and hope and everything else the royals professed to represent would never create meaningful change in a cruel world. Those things would never be more powerful than the darkness and greed within people.

It seemed to him to be a nearly impossible mission. And struggles for power meant violence and death that came down hardest on those who stood with the losing side. The royals had already lost once, and their supporters had been systematically murdered after the revolt. Was history about to repeat itself? After everything he had risked to get away he was walking willingly, knowingly, back into a trap that might well tear destroy them all.

The night felt suddenly colder and he ached for the feeling of Emma beside him. He needed to see her, feel her. He pushed aside the opening of their tent, the moonlight spilling in. He could see Emma inside wrapped in thick blankets nestled in the corner.

“Killian?” Emma mumbled sleepily.

“Shh,” he breathed kneeling beside her. “I’m here.”

She mumbled something else that he couldn’t make out. Killian felt a small smile tug at his lips. There was nothing he liked more than getting into bed with Emma, even if bed, in this case, meant just a few blankets on the hard ground.

Emma turned over reaching for him as he laid down and burrowed into his shoulder. He wrapped her in his arms.

“When we get back,” he whispered rubbing a thumb over her shoulder, “everything’s going to get really complicated.”

She murmured something in response gripping him just a little tighter.

The Queen had been right, everything was changing. This was all a massive gamble. He had learned years ago that you never gambled with something you couldn’t stand to lose, and now as he took stock of everything he knew there were some things he wasn’t willing to give up, no matter the cost.

~*~

Emma woke suddenly, gasping and sweating. The image of northern lights held in the back of her mind, the remnants of a dream, but in her dream it was rivers of fire across the sky.

Killian was still sleeping soundly beside her. For a moment she tried to let the rhythm of his breathing lull her back to sleep but she couldn’t relax. Her magic was stirring within her, a pull dragging her farther and farther from rest.

She sat up and closed her eyes as she concentrated on quieting the energy crackling within her. She tried to imagine forcing that power back into a hidden part of herself.

But this time she couldn’t push it back like she had before. With each moment she felt it strengthening, building like storm clouds. It rippled through her, lightning flickering across her skin, and she watched her palms begin to shine and glow.

“No,” she muttered curling her hands into fists, but the light shone through her clenched fingers. A warmth rose in her and she pushed her palms into the cool ground beside the blankets to try to relieve the burning under her skin.

But it didn’t calm her, instead she pulled away in horror to see that her hands had burned through the floor of the tent leaving two charred handprints. Her heart was pounding in her chest as she felt hot tears in her eyes. It felt as if she was catching fire, roaring to an inferno, unchecked, inescapable. She was going to explode. She glanced over at Killian sleeping, completely unaware of the danger he was in.

She lurched up onto her feet pushing off the blankets afraid she actually might light them aflame if she didn’t get away. She needed to distance herself from Killian and the others if she was going to protect them.

She ducked out of the tent and charged away from the camp, her bare feet pounded against the frozen ground, but she didn’t feel the cold. Her harsh breath tore from her throat leaving it burning. She pushed herself forward weaving deeper into the forest trying to outrun the wave she felt rising over her.

At last shaking and unable to stumble another step forward she fell to her knees, her arms tightly hugging her waist trying desperately to hold herself together.

Please, she pleaded over and over, please let it stop.  But it was choking her, choking her like desperate sobs. She pushed her hands into the hard ground and willed the force into the earth. She tried to bury it safely deep in the core of the mountains.

And then for once it obeyed, and she watched as if outside of her body as that terrible force escaped from her at last. She screamed as it tore from her, shredding her like hooks dragging along her flesh. Distantly she surrendered to the small voice that said this might kill her. In that moment she almost welcomed it.

The cold air expanded and groaned with the power she unleashed. She felt the earth shudder under her touch, the miles of stone beneath her struggling away from her. Everything around her bursting apart, knocked back by the shockwave. There was a rumble above her as snow shook from the mountains in an avalanche, knocking over trees.

She collapsed to the ground, struggling to catch her breath. Tears slipped down her cheeks as she realized there was nothing left within her to hold the magic back as it started to build again. All her energy and will to fight it sapped away. That small place she had been shoving her power into for weeks was now destroyed.

She only hoped the others would be safe as her magic shook the mountains, as it ripped her apart and destroyed her.

~*~

Killian woke as the ground shook beneath him. He startled into a sitting position scrambling to get his bearings. Something was attacking them, some force of nature.

He turned to where Emma had been sleeping beside him, but the space was empty.

“Emma?” he said, glancing around the small tent. “Emma!”

He pushed off the blankets moving to grab his boots when he noticed something dark on the tent floor. He paused moving closer.

A muddy handprint on the canvas. No, not muddy, burned. He slowly laid his hand over the impression.

“Emma,” he murmured, knowing it was hers. She was in trouble.

He grabbed his jacket as he ran from the tent. Already others were moving around the camp looking for the source of the tremor. A few of the guards were pointing at a nearby peak where a white cloud rose into the sky, the sign of an avalanche.

“Emma!” He called again into the commotion anxiously searching for her.

He saw the King emerge from his tent and catch sight of Killian and he seemed to understand at once. “Where is she?” he asked.

Killian shook his head. “I don’t know.”

A force blew through the camp pushing him back a step like a strong wind. He recognized it at once. Emma.

Killian gestured urgently for the King. “Follow me.”

They took off running into the trees toward the sound of screeching birds taking flight. They had only made it a few hundred feet when they came to a clearing recently cleared by some kind of brush fire. Smoke and ash still stirring among the debris.

He took a few steps over the felled trees. His boot crunched through one of the fallen boughs, the wood giving way and crumbling to ash. Some of the smaller saplings were still smoldering as far as he could see. Soot and ash kicked up with each of his steps. This destruction was unlike anything he had seen before, as if thousands of trees had been hit by lightning at the same time, or the air had suddenly caught fire and charred everything it touched.

“Emma!” the King called just ahead of him rushing forward.

Killian followed him toward a figure crouched on the ground. She was curled up, seeming so small, her clothes clean and startlingly white against the dirt and ash around her. Her fingers were threaded tightly in her hair pulling at her scalp. She looked like a madwoman in a penny dreadful, swaying and shaking, her nails tearing at herself. His heart nearly broke at the sight.

Her head lifted at their footsteps just enough for her eyes to find her father and slide to him. There was so much fear in her gaze.

A part of him had known it had to have been her magic that did this and still it was impossible.

“Stay back!” she said, the words ground out like gravel. She coughed trying to clear her throat. “I don’t think it’s over,” she whimpered.

The sound of her bald fear and the self-hatred in her tone drove Killian forward. Her father reached out to grab his arm shaking his head.

Killian looked him in the eye before gently shrugging him off.

He walked forward steadily careful not to startle her. He knelt in front of her and gently reached out to touch the spot where her nightgown had fallen to expose her bare shoulder.

“Emma, you’re safe,” he said not flinching as she shivered beneath his touch, her skin burning even in the cold morning air. He suddenly remembered the feel of his mother’s forehead burning with fever.

“I can’t control it,” she whispered. “You need to stay away from me.”

Stay away, Killian, you’ll catch it too. He shook off the memory.

“I’m not going anywhere,” he told her focusing on green eyes not grey-blue. Emma needed him here in the present.

Emma shook her head. Her eyes begging him to leave. He gripped her tighter holding them both in this moment with one goal, settle her magic.

“I can’t control it,” she said again. And this time it wasn’t a warning, it was a broken confession, a secret she had tried to hide from them all.

He wondered how long this had been building inside of her. How long she had silently battled it alone. How he could have been so blind not to see the cause of her uneasiness the past few days.

“You should have woken me,” he told her gently.

She shook her head. “I didn’t want to hurt you.”

He leaned down just a fraction and waited until she met his eyes. “I’ve seen the power inside of you,” he told her softly. “I’m not afraid.”

“I am,” she whispered.

He could feel tingling like static on her skin as she trembled beneath his touch. That power that had ignited every tree for half a mile was still raging within her.

“Look at me, Emma,” he murmured. “You can do this.”

“I can’t,” she whispered again and again.

He could feel electricity in the air around him now, making his hair stand on end. She was rapidly losing control again. The King was backing away from them his eyes wide.

“Emma, you can fight it,” he said firmly, but tears were slipping down her cheeks. He knew she was giving up.

“Go,” she pleaded.

He shook his head, holding her gaze and reached up to cup her cheek in his hand. Her eyes begged him to abandon her, but he was staying with her, together, to whatever end.

He felt the exact moment her power broke free. The force knocked him back tearing her from his grasp. He hit the ground hard enough to push all the air from his lungs, his head hitting with enough force to make the world fade to black.

When he blinked his eyes open Emma beside him again her hands fluttering over him.

“Are you alright?” he asked her a little disoriented, his vision just a little too bright.

She nodded. She seemed calmer now, that frenetic energy of her magic settled, sated. The air around them felt still.

“Is it over?” he asked her.

She nodded again not meeting his eyes. “I think so.”

“Okay,” he said with more confidence than he felt. He took a quick assessment of his limbs and senses, everything seemed to be intact if shaken. He gave her a reassuring smile before cautiously getting to his feet. His legs felt a bit like rubber beneath him but kept him upright. He reached out to pull her up beside him. In truth she was probably steadying him as much as he was helping her.

“David? Emma?” The Queen called entering the clearing and staring at the snapped and burnt trees. “What happened?”

Emma dropped her gaze, staring at the ground as if afraid to see the judgement or fear in her mother’s eyes.

“Magic,” Killian answered wrapping his jacket around Emma. She gave him a tentative smile in thanks.

“How?” the Queen asked. “Were there others? Trolls?” Her eyes darted around looking for other threats.

Emma’s expression darkened, as if embarrassed she had caused an incident akin to a pack of trolls. In all honesty, Killian would have been only impressed and proud if he weren’t so worried about her.

“We need to get back to reassure the others,” the King said. “Emma?”

She nodded. “I’m okay,” she said.

Killian walked beside her helping her over the burning logs mindful of her bare feet.

The guards scurried about them when they returned. Killian saw their shocked faces and he heard the whispers that echoed behind them: sorceress, powerful, dangerous. He pulled Emma along a little quicker.

Killian shouldered open the door to their tent, finally sheltering them from the prying gazes of the camp. She sank onto the blankets her hands covering her face.

He watched her for a moment trying to read if she wanted to be alone, but she gave no indication she even knew he was there.

Slowly he sat beside her, his hand coming to rest on her knee.

She looked up at him, fresh tears in her eyes, her lip trembling. She was again that girl he had met thirteen years ago, the night of the revolt, exhausted and terrified by the magic she had unleashed.

He gathered her hands in his. “It wasn’t your fault,” he told her.

She looked away, her finger tracing over his mechanical hand. Her skin pale against the silver metal. He wondered if she was remembering the revolt too.

“Your hand is cold,” she murmured catching him off guard.

He frowned. “When the air is cold-”

She shook her head slightly, her thumb rubbing over the gears and plates. “The magic, it makes it feel like I’m burning, as if I’m melting from the inside out.” She gripped his fingers tighter. “When I hold your hand, I feel the cold, and it feels real. When I hold onto you I feel grounded. I don’t feel like I’ll lose myself.”

She raised his hand to her lips before holding it to her heart. He didn’t think he’d ever get used to the way it never bothered her. Something he kept hidden from most people and somehow she accepted all of him. Somehow she knew it was exactly what he needed.

He leaned forward his other hand on her neck and kissed her temple, determined to be what she needed too. She was watching him with an unreadable expression. He kissed the tears from her cheeks.

“Better?” he asked her softly.

“It’s like a buzzing feeling now, keeping me on edge.”

“Where?”

She lifted her free hand to the side of her neck, just beside the pulse point. He moved closer and she bent slightly to give him better access. He hesitated just before his lips touched her skin, the smell of morning dew and ash on her skin. She shivered at his breath and he pressed a kiss to the spot.

“Here,” she breathed pointing at the hollow above her collar bone.

When he leaned forward she moved, falling back onto the blankets and pulling him with her by their still interlocked hands. He braced himself over her, meeting her eyes for a second before bending down his teeth grazing her, nipping at the bone beneath the smooth skin.

“Yes,” she gasped. “That helps.”

He pulled back his eyes moving over her face. Her eyes were closed but she was breathing quickly, her heart pounding against him. He couldn’t comprehend the power that lived within her but he knew the desperation that came with feeling broken. The need to feel controlled, contained, to be reminded of your physical body when your mind felt lost.

He pushed their interlaced hands pushed up over her head holding her in place as he let more of his weight trap her beneath him.

He pulled back his mechanical hand letting it run slowly down her wrists, down the length of her arm. She shifted beneath him her head falling back, her eyes closing on a breathy exhale.

He leaned forward following his hand first with a gentle bite on her wrist, at the thin skin above her veins, then a gentle press of his lips. He moved to her elbow, her bicep, her shoulder. Each spot getting the same treatment, cold metal, the sharp sting of teeth, and the a soft kiss. Warring sensations, meant to spark her nerves. To help her relearn the borders of herself. The edge of pain and pleasure.

“Killian,” she pleaded as he unbuttoned her night gown. He silenced her with a cold finger to her lips. Her eyes burned into his with expectation. He pulled her bottom lip between his teeth and kissed her deeply.

He leaned down pressing her deeper into the blankets, pining her in place.

His knuckles traced down from the hollow of her throat to her navel. There were so many paths he meant to trace upon her until she felt whole again.

Killian woke some time later, the sun starting to climb higher in the sky. He glanced over at Emma sleeping soundly beside him, at peace for the first time since they left the coast.

He left her to rest and went to check on the rest of the camp. He could only imagine the rumors that must be running wild about what Emma had done.

The Queen was standing at the lake’s edge across the camp. She looked up as he made his way to her.

Her eyes moved from him to the tent where Emma was sleeping. “How is she?”

Killian glanced around for anyone who might overhear them. “She’s scared,” he said truthfully. “It rattled her.”

There was a pause before the Queen spoke. “Has her magic done anything like that before?”

“There were moments it seemed to burst from her almost subconsciously. It happened when she needed to protect people she cared about, but it was never unprovoked like this.”

He worried again what it could mean that her magic was growing and becoming more unpredictable.

“She had magic when she was a little girl,” the Queen said, her tone soft with memory. “She would make stars. That’s what we called it, ‘make stars’. These little lights that would dance and play around her. She’d giggle and they would all twinkle. It was beautiful.”

Killian smiled imagining it.

“I hate that it’s something harmful to her now,” she said and his smile faded. “She’s been through so much.”

“This is a delicate situation,” she continued quietly, glancing at the rest of the camp. “We can’t afford to lose travel time, but I don’t want to push Emma.”

The longer they waited the harder it would be to take control in Misthaven. The royal family couldn’t afford to show any weakness and Emma spontaneously flattening a mountainside was not exactly a show of control.

“We aren’t even halfway threre,” he said looking west at the numerous peaks between them and Misthaven.

“There is a way,” she said slowly, he got the sense she hadn’t suggested this to anyone else yet. “The old mining pass. It cuts through the south mountains.”

Killian frowned. “That’s controlled by the Industrialists.”

“The Industrialists are gone,” she reminded him.

“You can’t be sure of that. They have left the Capital but they may have lingered in places like the mining camps.”

“We don’t have many options.”

Something in her tone begged him for guidance, and he wasn’t sure when she had decided that he was someone she could confide in or trust in his council. She had groups of advisors who had served her for years.

“Emma nearly brought down a mountain this morning, are you sure want to be trapped within one if it happens again?”

Her expression darkened.

“Our only chance is to get back before it happens again. I believe her magic is tethered in Misthaven, it is where the power of my family has resided for centuries.”

Killian was no expert on magic but this felt more like a wish than a guarantee.

“We leave as soon as Emma is ready,” she said and walked away.

Killian pinched the bridge of his nose. This was what he had feared more than anything: losing his choices, getting backed into a corner by Kings and Queens pulling rank. Now instead knowingly walking into a bad situation he was being dragged into a worse one.

He ducked back into the tent. Emma was awake and slowly packing her things. She seemed distant.

“We’re not leaving until you’re ready,” he said. “You can rest longer-”

“I’m fine,” she said.

It was a lie. He didn’t call her on it.

There was determination in her movements. He knew she didn’t want to be a burden. While she gathered her things he took care of everything else and packing their tent. She knelt on the ground at the water’s edge and filled her canteen.

The other tents had been packed away. Horses saddled and readied.

“Come on,” he said when he couldn’t stall any longer. “Ride with me, just for a bit.”

Emma frowned. “You don’t need to baby me.”

He reached out a hand and pulled her up beside him. “Humor me, Emma,” he said with enough insistence that she didn’t argue.

She settled into the saddle just in front of him, pressed up against him. Close enough he could feel her trembling slightly. She was quiet, putting on a good show for everyone around them, but he knew she was still unsettled by what happened that morning.

They took a road winding south through the mountains. He kept a close eye on the others around them, the looks they gave him and Emma. Wary, unsure, but still awed. They all seemed to be waiting to see how everyone else was reacting before they passed final judgement. He made sure it was clear his loyalty to her was unshaken.

By afternoon the Iron Mountain rose up before them mist hanging around it. It stood out from the other mountains because of the metalwork that climbed the side of the mountain like a scar. All part of the mining operation that had supplied Misthaven, but it was the Industrialists who had taken full advantage of the mountain’s resources.

This was a mistake.

“It’s imposing, isn’t it?” Emma said softly.

He nudged his horse to a trot, moving up the column to where Ruby and the King and Queen were at the front. They stopped at the foot of the mountain beside wide tracks of the funicular rail cars. Gears and pulleys taller than he was sat silent in the great machine’s workings.

“We get this running and we can move people up to the tunnel pass,” the King said nodding to a few of the guards and others who began moving toward the controls.

Killian helped Emma down from the saddle.

“Are you sure about this?” she asked her parents. “We don’t know the last time this was used. It was built by the Industrialists.”

“Well, at least we know it’s well-built then,” one of the men scoffed.

Emma shivered beside him.

Killian looked up the side of the mountain to where the tracks disappeared into the mist. Another dead end. They were wasting time. He glanced at Emma who was looking at her hands.

The man extended a hand indicating the crank, turbine, and a collection of gauges and gears. “Here. The whole thing was built to run on coal steam. We restart the fire and the engine starts again.”

“How do you know that?” a guard asked him.

“I used to be mechanic,” he told them, before seeing their looks of distrust. “We had grain elevators and clocks before the Industrialists. They didn’t invent everything.

“This gear will hoist the car along the track and reset the counterweight. It will still take several minutes to reach the top of the track and we will need multiple trips to get everyone through.”

“A coal fire will take hours to get hot enough,” Ruby pointed out.

“I think I can do it,” Emma said slowly. All eyes turned to her. “The amulet, it used my magic to power their inventions. I can use magic to light the coal.”

“No, Emma,” Ruby said stepping between her and the car. “It’s too dangerous.”

“We’ve come this far, we can’t just turn around.”

“Emma,” Killian said pulling her aside. “You lost control only this morning. We don’t know how your magic works, or how to use it properly. What if it requires more power than you have to give?”

“We have to try,” she said.

He shook his head. “The whole point of this plan was to avoid you using magic again.”

“The whole point,” she said firmly, “is to get back to Misthaven. And this is the most direct road.”

She didn’t give him a chance to argue. Headstrong as always, never cautious with her own safety.

Emma walked over to where the others stood around the wheel house. Then she reached out and laid her hands against the machine, her eyes closing in concentration.

For a moment nothing happened. Emma’s nails blanched white as she pressed harder against the steel. He took a step forward, about to stop her, stop all of this, but then the coal in the burner burst into flame, burning red hot all the way through. The machine let out a groan, an ancient dragon stirring to life.

Emma’s brows furrowed with effort. The needles on the gauges above her hands began to flutter, pressure building in the mechanism. Gears ground into motion small gears turning larger gears until at last the large pulleys and wheels for the cable car. Slowly the car lowered into place in front of them with shuddering thud.

“Holy shit,” the mechanic breathed. Emma’s eyes opened and she turned to look at him, her hands dropping from the machine.

The others looked a mix of impressed, and intrigued. A few smiles broke among the crowd.

“It will work now,” Emma told them. She looked tired, but confident.

“We’ll go with the first group,” the Queen said standing beside the King.

It was a show of solidarity and belief in Emma. Something he hadn’t seen from them often, something he knew Emma needed after this morning.

“I’ll stay here at the controls in case something goes wrong,” Emma said. “I’ll go up last.”

Ruby lowered her pack to the ground meaning to stay back.

“Come on,” the King said. “Let’s get the first group loaded. We get everyone up to the tunnels then we can bring gear and horses.”

They only filled the car half full for the first trip. The mechanic heaved a lever on the panel to the right and the car groaned into motion, rising slowly above the crowd. The gears clacking and the car grinding along the rails.

It wasn’t long before the car was lost in the mist. Everyone on the ground waited watching the wheels continue turning in the wheelhouse. Then it ground to a stop, and then after a few minutes it started again turning in the opposite direction. Returning down the slope.

There were many more enthusiastic volunteers for the second and third carloads. When there were only a few people left they sent up supplies and horses.

“No more stalling then, huh?” Ruby smirked when it was only the three of them and the mechanic left at the base.

The car settled back at the base. Emma brushed a hand down the control panel before turning and stepping into the car. Killian pulled the gated door shut. The car began to rise at once.

“Should have gone up before the horses,” the mechanic groaned his nose wrinkling at the lingering scent.

Emma gripped the shaking grated walls looking out as they rose among the mountains. Killian joined her, looking at the road they had taken stretch away from them. He looked out to the horizon imagining he could make out Glowerhaven and the sea that lay beyond.

Too soon the view was obscured by heavy mist. Killian turned back to the others inside the car. Ruby was leaning in the far corner picking at her nails. He knew she hated heights, though she’d never admit it.

At the top of the rails the car eased to a stop. He pulled open the door to reveal the wide tunnel beyond. It stretched into darkness like looking down the throat of a great beast waiting to swallow them whole.

The others were already starting down the tunnel, torches reflecting off the rough stone walls. The whole thing had an eerie feel, he was already anxious to be through to the other side.

Emma and Ruby walked with him at the rear of the group making sure no one fell behind. They walked for a few hours before making camp in the tunnel. He wasn’t sure he’d get any sleep here.

~*~

Emma was tired, bone deep tired, her muscles aching. But her mind raced and she knew she wouldn’t be able to sleep. Several fires burned in the small tunnel, sending flickering shadows over the groups of people resting and sleeping. Nearby a horse nickered, the faintest breeze touched her skin, she more sensed more than felt the change in the air.

Goosebumps rose on her arms, the hair standing on end, prickling at the back of her neck. She glanced around but no one else seemed alarmed.

Another horse stamped its foot and Emma sat up and turned toward the noise. Her eyes straining to look into the darkness back the way they had come.

“What is it?” Ruby asked her.

“Shhh.” She held up a hand. She couldn’t see anything beyond the circle of firelight, but she had the sense something was watching her.

Another small breeze brushed by her and this time she heard it. A soft scratching sound, like fingernails drumming on a surface. Or something skittering in the dark. Something was in the tunnel and getting closer.

She jumped up and grabbed the pistol from her pack raising it to point down the tunnel.

“What is that noise?” Ruby said softly grabbing her own weapon.

Killian reached into the fire with his metal hand and grabbed one of the small logs as a makeshift torch.

“Get the others up and moving,” he said to Ruby.

She turned and started shaking awake everyone around the other fires. Emma turned to Killian as he took a step past her, his torch lighting the dark tunnel, throwing sharp shadows on the walls. She matched his stride, staying just behind him her pistol raised.

The noise was louder now, a grinding clicking. Killian raised the torch higher trying to cast the light just a little further. Emma’s eyes followed the light up onto the ceiling of the tunnel and she gasped as the jagged surface shifted, moving with dozens of mechanical legs clicking above them.

“Above you!” Emma tried to warn Killian as something separated itself from the jumble, some kind of mechanical spider. It fell, its many legs reaching for Killian knocking him over. He hit the ground with a grunt, the torch rolling from his hand, and the spider righted itself its metal legs scrambling toward him.

Emma aimed and fired just as it reached Killian. The shot burying right into the center of its body. It spluttered, its circuits sparking. Killian kicked out knocking it back and it crumpled.

Their eyes met for a split second before three more of the spiders dropped from above them. Emma shot one as it fell, metal and sparks bursting apart before it hit the floor, like some horrible firework display. The other two rounded on Killian anr she couldn’t get a clear shot.

Killian picked up the torch again and swung hard connecting with the spider closest to him and slamming it into the tunnel wall. Emma kicked the other one and shot two bullets into it, her ears ringing from the echo off the hard rock around her.

“- some kind of security system,” Killian was saying but she wasn’t sure she was hearing the words right over the buzzing from her ears.

Then he was there grabbing her elbow and dragging her back. “-out of here, Emma,” he said fiercely.

She looked at him and saw more of those things coming toward them over his shoulder. She pointed the gun but he pushed her back from them.

“Run!” he yelled and that she heard perfectly.

She tried to turn and run but her boot caught on one of the legs of a spider they had destroyed and she stumbled. She hit the ground hard skinning her knee, the wound stinging and burning. Blood trickled down her leg. She could hear commotion down the tunnel where the others were, yells and running steps. If any of those things had gotten by them they might be attacking the others right now. She tightened her grip on her pistol and struggled to her feet.

Then Killian was there carrying the torch, his sword in hid other hand making a wide arch. He slashed at the spider closest to her the sword ringing out as it sliced at its legs. He was fire and steel as he whirled sending it flying back.

She fired her pistol hitting another of them, the next shot going wide and ricocheting off the wall. She aimed again but the gun clicked in her hand. She swore.

“Magic, Emma,” Killian called between his gritted teeth plunging the sword into the spider she had missed.

She looked down at her hands, but there was no glow from her palms, the fire quiet in her veins. Before when she had needed magic it had just come to her like a rush of adrenaline, powerful and instinctual. Now, after days of constantly pushing back that force, it seemed gone. Maybe her outburst in the woods had truly drained her.

“Now Emma!” he yelled and she could see he was losing ground to those things.

She closed her eyes grappling inside herself for that power, begging for it to come. At last she felt a buzz in her fingertips, a small flame in the nothingness. She concentrated on that balling her hands into fists and squeezing them hard trying to strengthen the building force. To physically press it from her fingers to her palms, to let it flow through her.

There was a sound of something hitting flesh and Killian hissed. She knew those things were going to overpower him if she didn’t act. She tried to master her fear, thinking of him and her need to protect him, protect herself and the others. Her heart slammed against her ribs and she felt that telltale sensation of heat and electricity pounding through her.

She opened her eyes seeing blue light sparking off her hands. She put all her energy into it and she threw out her hands willing that power from her. Light and energy burst from her careening down the tunnel in bolts and flashes like lightning.

Each time it hit one of the spiders they jolted and fell twitching to the ground. She watched until the magic faded out far down the tunnel. She sank to her knees shivering as a chill ran through her. It was like an icy sea rising up around her and she shuddered as it claimed her.

~*~

Killian stared as the ball of light magic flared down the tunnel destroying the machines coming after them. It faded into the distance like a shooting star falling over the horizon. Emma collapsed beside him.

He hurried to her side. She blinked up at him, and he left out a breath in relief, for a moment he thought she might pass out like she had on the train, or worse.

“I’m okay,” she muttered. How many times had she said that today? He rolled his eyes at her stubbornness.

He wrapped his arms around Emma and pulled her up. “Can you walk?” he asked her.

She nodded but she didn’t seem able to stand on her own. He pulled her trembling arm across his shoulder and helped her limp down the tunnel. There was no stirring of those mechanical monsters but still he kept a tight grip on his sword.

“What the hell were those things?” she said roughly, her voice weak like she had been screaming.

“Industrialist inventions. Always a joy to discover,” he huffed.

Again genius seemed to come at the cost of madness. Who released killing machines into a mine?

“I think I woke up more than I meant to when i started that fire at the cable car,” Emma said quietly.

He frowned at her words, remembering what she had said about the amulet. Gold had used her magic to make his machines more powerful, maybe using  her magic would have ramifications they didn’t yet understand.

He could feel the warmth of her through his heavy jacket. She had said her magic was a fire within her. Blazing around her, leaving a marked path in her wake, written like light across the sky, everywhere she went her power changing everything it touched. She had saved his life, and opened his cold heart. People were drawn to her, inspired by her, right now they marched back to her homeland with her, for her, because she had already done the impossible, nearly moved mountains, and toppled empires.

She worried she had woken more by lighting a fire, but she was the fire and many more would join her cause, drawn to her side, believing in her power. Embers catching fire.

As they moved toward the distant light of dawn at the end of the tunnel he felt as if he could suddenly see the path of her life clear as day, and he only hoped his never strayed.

#captain swan #cs ff #cs au #cs fanfic #cs crew #at the beginning #steampunk anastasia au #sequel #my writing