summary : a cut on your thigh is one thing, but when blood starts to stain the oceans water, jj and the pogues know its another
Goodnight, Pogues ▽༶
summary: the carefree, confident and kind kook turned Pogue has an encounter with Rafe on the beach, leading to a few shots being fired.
No One Can See the Moon Clearly if the Sun Does Not Set ▽
summary: a late night binge in John B’s van can cause the sun to rise and set, and the world to spin from salt. a girl in an eating disorder has a conversation with a boy who promises to help.
The Only Thing I Don't Want to Burn ▽
summary: in which a boy tells a girl that he is real and the things that haunt her, no matter how realistic, aren't
Smoking Cigarettes On the Porch ✧ ▽ ༶
summary: written to the lyrics of If We Were Vampires, by Jason Isbell, this story tells of the tale of the reader, stricken with cancer of the heart, and how she and JJ realize she isn’t a vampire...
Oops Series Masterlist ✧ ▽ ༶
summary of series: mistakes aren’t Ottoline Windrich’s forte. In fact, she would tell you that she actively tries to stay away from them. How fitting it is then, that she makes a split second decision to board the boat with Sarah and John B the day of the tropical depression. All she can say is, “oops.”
summary; when she’s thrown into a fight with a terrible monster that threatens her new town, Cordelia Silva must run like hell to make it out alive... and maybe find her heart in the mix.
chapter summary; it's always snowing when the romance begins...
warnings; this story may be unsuitable for some audiences. Sexual content, anxiety, self harm, depression, abandonment, violence, blood, death, and cigarettes.
stranger things series masterlist ; calpurnia’s questionable writings
There was something about Hawkins in the winter that Cordelia liked. The snow falling in small, fluffy waves, the way the sun peeked out from behind buildings to warm up the concrete, the way the rusted metal at the junkyard froze over, a thick layer of frost coating the mirrors and the windshield.
Cordelia sat in the front seat of her car, a 1972 Uston Martin. It was a deep red, and dust clouded its sides. She tapped her fingers on the steering wheel, humming to one of her favorite John Lennon tracks that played softly on the radio.
“Does my hair look terrible?” Max, who was sitting next to her in the passenger seat, asked. She was looking beautiful, with a pretty dress on and shoes that Cordelia had lent her.
“It looks perfect.”
“My mom made it so tight that it would be hard to mess up, I guess.” Max shrugged, and Cordelia smiled at the young girl. They were sitting outside in the parking lot of Hawkins Middle School. It was dark outside, the night air frigid cold, fogging up the windows of her car. Cordelia reached over and turned up the heat. She was always cold these days.
“Well, you’d better go, Max. Lucas is here,” she nodded toward the entrance of the building, where the boy was pulling open the doors of the Middle School.
For the last month and a half, Cordelia had been driving Max to and from school and shuttling her around Hawkins. Ever since that night where she'd threatened Billy, Max had been avoiding her older brother at all costs — and Cordelia was happy to help. She connected with Max on this level that neither of them really understood.
“Hey, Cordelia?” Max asked, her hand laying on the door handle, “thanks for everything.”
“Hey, Max?” Cordelia responded, “always.”
Max reached over the console and gave Cordelia a side hug before exiting the car. As she walked into the school, she recognized another vehicle that had pulled in.
Steve’s BMW. Maroon like her own car. And there he was inside of it, his red sweater and his fluffy hair. Cordelia could make out Dustin next to him in the front seat, and a smile started to form on her face.
Every weekend Steve had been meeting her in the junkard, Saturday, Sunday. Breakfast, lunch, dinner. They’d sit in the Greyhound and talk, mostly about sports. Turns out Steve Harrington was the biggest fan of volleyball that she’d ever met. Now, she watched as he patted Dustin on the head.
She’d known it for a while that she’d liked him. When he’d hugged her in the tunnel and he was so warm and comforting and there, that was when it had first started. But Steve had just gotten broken up with by Nancy, and she assumed there was no way he’d feel any romantic attraction to her.
She started her car as Dustin left Steve’s, and pulled up so that their driver's side windows were facing each other.
As Steve saw Cordelia, his face brightened. She was wearing a light green sweater, the material thick, with flowers embroidered on the sleeve cuffs. Gray wide leg jeans adorned her legs, and her hair was clipped back in her signature style.
“Hey, Cory,” he said, flashing her a smile. She turned her ignition off and let her hand fall out of her rolled down window.
“Hey, Harrington.” She responded.
They paused, both of them searching for words, “those dipshits better have a good night.” She told him, and he laughed.
“Yes, they better. You drove Max?”
“Yeah,” she said, then added, “I’m not letting her get in a car with Billy.”
“Smart move. I don’t want to know what he’s done.” Steve shook his head before continuing, “do you want to go to the junkyard?”
She glanced down at the watch on her wrist, “yes. Can I drop my car off at my house?” Her heart beat.
He nodded, opening his arms. “I'll follow you, Madame.”
Soon enough, Cordelia was sitting in the front of Steve’s BMW, her head leaning against the leather seats.
She’d been in his car enough times that she missed the smell when she wasn’t inside of it. Bergamot, eucalyptus. Her favorite scents. His too.
“Did you have school dances in St. Paul?” Steve asked, turning down the heat as the car warmed up. He kept his eyes on the road, but every once in a while would glance to the passenger seat to see what Cordelia was doing. To see her face.
She breathed out a laugh, nodding, “many. I never attended.”
“Really? I always went.”
“Cause you knew you’d be the talk of the night,” she reached over and ruffled his hair, and he gave her a grin.
“Why’d you never go?” he pulled onto the long dirt road that made its way to the junkyard.
“My mom would have made a big deal of it, you know? Protective, jealous.” She paused before saying, “look at her now. I never see her.”
Steve reached over and set his fingers against her arm. He was so warm, and Cordelia shivered from the feel of it.
“It’s not a big deal,” she shrugged it off, returning to her quiet self.
After they’d made their way down the long, ambling dirt road, they arrived at the junkyard. Steve turned off the ignition and Cordelia rubbed her hands together, channeling their warmth. “This might have been a stupid idea,” Steve observed the snow falling from the heavens.
“That’s exactly why we’re here.” She gave him her signature grin — where the right side of her mouth lifted up so he could spot her sharp canine teeth, and her eyes gleamed.
She threw herself out of the car and started to sprint to the Greyhound. Entering it, she sat down on the leather seats. Steve and her had arranged the place to suit them — the benches pushed against the walls facing one another, and a new rug had been transported from Cordelia’s basement. It was homey enough.
Soon enough, breathing loudly, Steve crashed through the front door of the Greyhound and sat down on the leather seat next to her. He was wearing a ring on his left pointer finger, and it was silver. She touched him and pulled the hand closer, inspecting the silver adornment. A small moon was carved on the brim of it, and a diamond shaped like a dog tooth crested the top.
“Nice,” she whispered to him, as if talking would disturb the peace around them.
“Thanks. I’ve had it since I was really little, I honestly forgot who gave it to me. Dustin, that little shit, went through my room and found it.”
“I’m glad he did,” Cordelia noted, still holding Steve’s hand in her fingertips.
His eyes washed over her skin, taking in the moles and freckles showcased on her wrist, and the dimple against the side of her mouth. He trailed his sight back down to the burn mark adorning her pointer finger and thumb.
“Cory,” he started, pausing before continuing. “What happened here?” He held his fingers to the burn, not touching it.
He’d seen the signs of sadness, of pain. The way that Cordelia never went home for more then four or five hours, the way that she ignored people and lived in her own world. The way that she didn’t talk about herself, the way she flinched when people raised their voices.
She shook her head, pulling her hand away from his, though he held tight to her, “it's just a burn, Steve.” She didn’t meet his gaze.
“Cory…”
“I… I don’t know how to explain this… When we left Minnesota, there was something in the air. This feeling of pain, of hurt I guess. I bought a container of matches and was lighting a cigarette when it burned me…”
He examined her face, and she looked like she was physically hurt at that moment. Her eyes closed as she took a deep breath, “I just started burning myself… The pain on my fingers just brought me away from the pain in… in here. I used to run to make the thoughts go away… but I don’t now.” she pointed with her free hand to her chest.
He gave her a look filled with hurt, though she still didn’t open her eyes. When she finally did, and saw his face, Cordelia shook her head, “Steve I haven’t done it in a long time. I’ve been working on healing my leg, which, by the way, is going just fine thank you very much.” Her joke didn’t make him laugh, as they normally did.
“Cory, promise me one thing,” he said, and she leaned back against the leather seat, her head propped up against the side of the bus. “Promise me that if you are ever hurting like that again you’ll tell me.”
Cordelia nodded, and yet Steve still shook his head, “please say it, Cory.”
She looked up at the ceiling of the greyhound, watching the snow fall through the hatch and onto the ground of the bus. “I promise, Steve.”
He gave her a tight grin, still holding her hand. “Why’d you stop running? You beat everyone in the tunnels and you didn’t even try.”
She closed her eyes again, picturing States the year prior. States before the world fell away at her feet.
Gazing at her, Steve wanted to pull the negative thoughts from her beautiful mind.
Cordelia frowned, “it reminds me of him…” She whispered, and for the first time in a while she didn’t want to pick up the match at that sign of pain in her chest. She wanted to pull Steve in.
Steve knew she was talking about her father from the tone of voice. He knew she didn’t share much about herself with anyone at school — even the volleyball girls she played with on the Hawkins team didn’t have a clue about what Cordelia’s home life was like. That fact that she was talking to Steve about it was a sign that she really trusted him.
Wanting to change the subject, Cordelia did just that, “what happened with Nancy, Steve?”
He rubbed his face and sighed, grinning slightly, “she told me she didn’t love me. I thought that might be a good place to end it…”
“Steve…” she said, her eyes watching his face deeply. “I’m sorry.”
“Oh god, don’t be.” He said. “She’s not the one for me.” It took effort to say that, Cordelia knew.
“Who is? Who’s the one for Steve ‘the hair’ Harrington?” She teased, ruffling his scalp and the luscious locks resting on it.
He stared at her, his eyes dazed and low and set against hers. It was such an intense, dreamy gaze, so dizzying against her face. He reached to the baby hairs against the side of her right cheekbone, tucking it into place behind her ears.
Steve’s face was so close to her own now that she could feel his warm breath against her lips, so hot on the cold December night.
“Let me kiss you, Cordelia…” He rasped, and she smiled, leaning in as an answer.
His lips were soft and warm against her own. She could feel his body heat sinking into her flesh as he cupped the side of her face, his palms against her hair. She let out a noise as his left hand fell down her body, sliding against her waist to hoist her onto him.
Their lips left one anothers only to take short, necessary breaths, and then they were attached again. Soon enough, she made the move to his neck, kissing deeply against his flesh, the red sweater rubbing on her left cheek. Steve let out a moan, his grip tightening on her waist as she nipped on his neck, her canine teeth sharp against his skin.
“You would be a good vampire,” he whispered in her ear, and she let out a chuckle, breathing in the scent on his sweater.
She pulled her head back up to his lips, sinking into the softness of them. Steve’s right hand was again on her hair, cupping her face, and his left was cozy around her waist.
“Steve,” she breathed against his lips, and he groaned in response, pulling her back in for another kiss.
“Steve is this a good idea?” She repeated, her face so next to his that when he gazed at her, Cordelia’s eyes blurred into one brown orb.
“I fell in love with you when you held open your arms and defended the kids from the demo-dogs. Right here in this bus. I know it sounds insane,” he said, “we’ve only known each other, well not even two months… but I’ve never felt something like this for a person.”
She nodded, still straddling him, and smiled, “I just don’t want you to leave, Steve… I don’t want this to be a hookup and then you aren’t in it for the long run.”
“I’m in for all the miles, Cory.” Steve told her, and he met his forehead to her own, their noses touching. “The first time I saw you, I’d just come into a volleyball game this past fall. You were in the front row, you know, and the other team had the serve. You stayed in front left, and then got the ball set to you and you just nailed the other team. It was such a beautiful hit… I’ve never seen so much power from someone. I didn’t expect it from you — the mysterious girl who’d moved and hadn’t said a word to anyone.”
She grinned, “you were probably looking at my ass.”
“What do you mean, what ass?” He teased, and she laughed, then gasped when he felt his hands on the flesh they’d been talking about.
“No I wasn’t looking at your very nice ass, Cory. I was like entranced or some shit by you. By your fucking power.”
She leaned into him again, this time the kiss was rough, greedy.
Cordelia felt something cold attach to her thumb, the one with the burn mark decorating the flesh. She saw Steve’s ring surrounding her finger, the diamond sparkling against the soft darkness of the Greyhound.
“Goodness gracious, Steve Harrington. You are going to be the death of me.”
the next season of Cordelia's story will be out soon, called Six Feet Under. This will be accessible under my main stranger things story masterlist, linked at the top of this fic!
summary; when she’s thrown into a fight with a terrible monster that threatens her new town, Cordelia Silva must run like hell to make it out alive... and maybe find her heart in the mix.
chapter summary; Cordelia and Steve have an encounter with a redheaded menace while babysitting.
warnings; this story may be unsuitable for some audiences. Sexual content, anxiety, self harm, depression, abandonment, violence, blood, death, and cigarettes.
stranger things series masterlist ; calpurnia’s questionable writings
“You’ve opened this gate before, right?” Joyce pointed down at the letters spelled out on the table, looking to the girl.
“Yes,” Eleven said.
“Do you think that if we got you back there, that you could close it?”
The answer of Eleven looking off into space, and her brief nod, was enough to make Cordelia feel some remote sensation of happiness. Standing against the wall, Steve next to her, she made eye contact with him. A gleam in his eyes made her understand that this could be the solution to their problem.
From what had been explained to Cordelia, the gate determined everything. If she could close it, the rest of the monsters would die. And she’d go back to the junkyard, undisturbed. Alone. That place was where it seemed she best fit in. During the off season, when she wasn’t running or playing volleyball. When she didn’t have anyone wanting to know where she was, what she was doing. When she wanted to light the matches and watch them burn.
She looked up to see Steve staring at her. He had an expression she couldn’t read upon his face, and Cordelia turned away. Something in the midst of trying to understand her. She nestled into the corduroy of her jacket, flexing her right leg — her bad leg — to see how it felt.
“Its not like it was before,” Hopper was saying to the group, crowded around the kitchen table. “It’s grown. A lot. And I mean, that’s considering that we can get in there. The place is crawling with those dogs.”
“Demo-dogs,” Dustin interrupted.
Sighing, Hopper looked at Dustin, “I'm sorry, what?”
“I said, uh,” Dustin spoke, “demo-dogs. Like demogorgon and dogs. You put them together, it sounds pretty badass—”
“How is this important right now?” Hopper questioned, annoyance in his voice.
“It’s not, I’m sorry.” Dustin said.
Glancing up, Eleven spoke, “I can do it.”
Hopper shook his head, “You're not hearing me.”
“I’m hearing you, I can do it.” Eleven reiterated.
“Even if El can, there is still another problem,” Mike added. “If the brain dies, the body dies.”
“I thought that was the whole point,” Max pointed out.
“It is,” Mike said, “but if we’re really right about this. I mean, if El closes the gate and kills the Mind Flayers army..”
“Will’s a part of that army,” Lucas told the group.
“Closing the gate will kill him, then.” Cordelia said, startling Nancy who stood in front of her.
“Yes,” Mike responded.
Cordelia watched Joyce. Her face was a mix of emotions. She couldn’t imagine having to lose a son in this way. Joyce moved into the bedroom, where Will lay.
“He likes it cold,” Joyce mumbled.
“What?” Said Hopper.
“It's what Will kept saying to me,” Joyce’s face had realization all over it, “he likes it cold.”
She walked to the window and pulled it shut. “We keep giving it what it wants.”
“If this is a virus, and Will’s the host, then…” Nancy said, trailing off.
“Then we need to make the host uninhabitable,” Jonathan finished.
Nancy continued, “so if he likes it cold.”
“We need to burn it out of him,” Joyce said.
“We have to do it somewhere he doesn't know this time.” Mike put in, voice loud.
“Yeah,” Dustin agreed. “Somewhere far away.”
Outside, Cordelia stood again with Steve and Nancy. They removed pieces of trash from a large pile that Hopper had created when he’d cleared out the shed. In her hands lay a saw, large and rusted. She slammed it down in another pile. This would break under pressure — not a good weapon.
Steve held up a radiator and tossed it to the side, “you should go with him.”
Nancy stared up at Steve, misunderstanding painting her face, “what?”
“With Jonathon,” Steve said.
“No,” she said, and Cordelia could see her cheeks flush against the pale beam of her flashlight. “I’m not just going to leave Mike.”
“No one’s leaving anyone,” Steve told her, getting up to stand side by side with Nancy across the trash pile. “I may be a pretty shitty boyfriend… but turns out I’m actually a pretty damn good babysitter.”
Cordelia watched as Nancy absorbed the words. If Cordelia Silva was good at one thing, it was observing. Nancy looked up at Steve with big eyes, glassy eyes, as he held out a radiator to her.
“Steve.” She said. Cordelia made the decision to leave, walking back to the house. This was not her business. She didn’t want to know about Steve and Nancy. She didn’t need to. She didn’t care.
“It’s okay, Nance.” Steve told her, watching Cordelia move away and back into the Byer’s home. “It’s okay.”
Nancy waited for the porch door to slam shut. “So Cordelia.” She said, changing the subject.
Steve stopped moving the trash around. “Yes?”
“What’s with Cordelia, why is she here?” Nancy asked, kneeling to the ground.
“She was in the junkyard and helped fight off the demo-dogs.” Steve told Nancy, who nodded, still staring at Steve.
“No,” he shook his head, understanding her eyes. “No, we just met. She’s beautiful, yes, but I don’t know her at all.” He reiterated.
“So there is nothing happening? I saw you two leave the bathroom, Steve. The look that you gave her.”
“The demo-dog got her leg, I was bandaging her up. Nothing is going on. We met four fucking hours ago!” Steve thrust his hands in the air. It wasn’t possible to like someone after four hours together. Even if they had been life or death ones.
“Okay, Steve.” Nancy said, her voice making her words an obvious lie. “It just looked like you’d known her for a thousand years.”
He didn’t say anything to that, instead rummaging through the pile again.
Cordelia stood on the front porch ten minutes later, watching as Jonathon, Nancy, Will, Hopper, Eleven and Joyce sped away in two different vehicles. Max was in front of her, and Cordelia could hear Mike sniffling.
She straightened her jacket and turned to open the door as Steve waited for the kids to enter the Byer’s house. The air was cold and the November night was clear, stars straying through the sky above them. In St. Paul, there were too many lights and Cordelia couldn’t see the stars. Here there were so many above her that Cordelia thought it was overwhelming.
In the kitchen, Dustin emptied the fridge’s contents out on the ground. The items lay around haphazardly, and Cordelia grabbed a glass of water as Steve shoved the dead creature in the fridge.
She turned around as Steve rubbed the top of Dustin’s hat, panting slightly. “That was too gooey to be good.” He said.
In the living room, Cordelia heard Lucas speak, “Mike, would you just stop already!”
“You weren’t in there, okay, Lucas.” Mike responded, tone thin and angry. “That lab is swarming with hundreds of those dogs.”
“Demo-dogs!” Dustin shouted from his spot in the kitchen, and Cordelia followed the projection of his voice into the living room.
Ignoring Dustin, Lucas continued, “the chief will take care of her.”
Max rolled her blue eyes, “like she needs protection.”
Walking in, Steve opened his arms to the group, “listen dude, a coach calls a play in the game, bottom line, you execute it. All right?”
“Steve’s correct.” Cordelia added. “We are not the starting team.”
“Okay first of all,” Mike said, “this isn’t some stupid sports game.”
“You watch professional volleyball and see who's saying that.” Cordelia spoke under her breath.
“Yes,” Steve turned to Cordelia, stammering slightly, “right… So my point is…” Steve paused, looking for the words. “Right, yeah, we're on the bench, so, uh, there is nothing we can do.”
“That’s not entirely true,” Dustin said. “I mean, these demo-dogs, they have a hive mind. When they ran away from the bus, they were called away.”
Cordeila gave Steve a pouty look, joking, “I thought me and Stevie scared them away.” Steve stared at her large brown eyes and his heart did something he did not want it to do.
“No,” Dustin shook his head, curls flopping, “no they were called away.”
“So, if we get their attention…” Lucas said.
“Maybe we can draw them from the lab.” Max added, a look dawning on her freckled face.
“And clear a path to the gate,” Mike finished.
“Yeah, and then we all die.” Steve stated, hands crossed over his chest.
“That’s one point of view,” Dustin noted.
Cordelia smirked slightly, the right side of her mouth lifting upward, “yes, the most positive one.”
“No, that’s not a point of view, man, that’s a fact.” Steve said.
Pushing through Cordelia and Steve, Mike gasped, “I got it!”
He led the group to the fridge, pointing at a drawing near the bottom. Scribbled out in large, unruly lines was an image of a tunnel.
“This is where the chief dug his hole. This is our way into the tunnel, so…” Mike got up again, moving with quick steps back into the living room.
“Here, right here, this is like a hub,” he motioned his hands at a group of the same style of drawing, the tunnels depicted again. “So you got all the tunnels feeding in here.” The boy kneeled down, and with some pain Cordelia followed suit. “So maybe if we light this on fire…”
“Oh yeah?” Steve asked rhetorically, pointing down, “that’s a no.”
“The mind flayer would call away his army,” Dustin ignored Steve, who stood in the background, eyes wide.
“They’d all come to stop us,” Lucas realized, excitement riddling his voice.
“Then we circle back to the exit,” Mike said.
“Hey!” Steve told the group, “guys!”
“By the time they realize we’re gone,” Mike continues, eyes big and round.
Max nodded, understanding, “El would be at the gate.”
“Hey, hey, hey!” Steve yelled, “this is not happening!” He clapped his hands to prove his point.
“But—” One of the kids argued.
“No,no,no,no. No buts. We promised,” he motioned back and forth between him and Cordelia, his hands exaggerated, “we’d keep you shitheads safe, and that’s exactly what we plan on doing. We’re staying here on the bench, and we’re waiting on the starting team to do their job. Does everybody understand that?” Steve reiterated sternly.
Mike immediately voiced his anger, “this isn’t some stupid sports game!”
“I said, does everybody understand that?” Steve motioned to the kids, one by one, driving the point in by waving his hands, “I need a yes.”
Outside, interrupting their conversation, a vehicle revved. Cordelia sprang up, feeling her pocket for the gear shift, which was heavy, pulling the material off of her strong shoulders.
Before Steve or Cordelia could stop the kids, Max and Lucas were at the window, peering outside to the driveway. “It’s my brother,” Max said, and Cordelia immediately looked to Steve.
“He can’t know I’m here,” Max’s voice was quickly turning frantic, “he’ll kill me. He’ll kill us.” There was no jolly tone in her voice, only deep and serious truth.
Dragging his gaze away from Cordelia’s eyes, Steve looked worried. The car outside revved loudly two times, and before Billy could do it again, Cordelia and Steve made a beeline toward the door. Their steps in sync.
The tires squeaked outside, and Cordelia could tell he’d turned the car off through the window of the door, the headlights disappearing and painting darkness around them in their absence.
Steve stepped outside of the door, opening it wide so Cordelia could join him under the porch.
And there Billy was, a cigarette lit in his mouth. Though Cordelia often pretended to smoke, there was something so ugly about someone actually doing it. Actually tainting their lungs. But she supposed Billy was just as tainted already, no need for the cigarette.
His voice was dreamy and rough, addressing the two teenagers on the porch, standing side by side. “Am I dreaming or is that you Harrington? And Cordelia Silva. What a surprise!”
Steve stared directly at Billy, not missing a beat, “yeah it’s us, don’t cream your pants.”
Cordelia bit down on her tongue to hide the laugh that almost escaped. Steve Harrington, the boy not so good with comebacks, had one for the papers.
Billy’s car door slammed shut and he pulled off his jean jacket, exposing a red shirt halfway unbuttoned. The cigarette was loose in his mouth as Billy smirked, watching with ugly eyes as Steve stepped off the porch, nearing Billy.
“What are you doing here, amigo?” Billy asked, the smile still on his face. He walked toward Steve.
“I could ask you the same thing… amigo.”
“Looking for my stepsister. A little birdie told me she was here,” Billy said.
“Huh, that’s weird.” Cordelia responded loudly, still standing on the porch.
“Yeah. We don’t know her.” Steve added, watching as Billy shook his head.
Billy waved his hands up, “small, redhead, bit of a bitch.”
“Doesn’t ring a bell,” Cordelia told him, moving down the porch steps. She could see the anger growing slowly in Billy’s pupils.
“Sorry.” Said Steve.
Sighing dramatically, Billy shook his head, “you know, I don’t know, this… this whole situation, you know Harrington. It’s giving me the heebie-jeebies.”
“Oh yeah?” Steve responded, “why’s that?”
Taking the cigarette out of his mouth, Billy explained, “my thirteen year old sister goes missing all day. And then I find her with you and Silva in a stranger's house, and you both lie to me about it.”
Chuckling, Steve looked away, exasperated, “man, were you dropped too much as a child or what?” Billy ran his tongue along his teeth, smoke billowing from his mouth. “I don’t know what you don’t understand about what I just said.”
“We don’t know your stepsister.” Cordelia insisted. “She’s not here.”
“Most you’ve ever said in your life, Silva,” Billy said, then looked to Steve. “It’s always the quiet ones, ain’t it.” He ran his eyes over her body, pausing to stare at her chest and then down at her leg, where the bloodied jeans were dark against the night.
“What’s going on here, Silva? Got a little too feisty, huh?” Billy pointed with his cigarette to the bottom of her pants, to the blood. He pushed Steve’s shoulder playfully, “good job, Harrington.”
She glared at him roughly, “your sister isn’t here, buddy.”
“It’s about time you left,” Steve added, stepping back slightly after Billy touched him.
“Then who’s that,” the redheads eyes made their way to the window, where Cordelia saw Max peering out of the broken glass, along with Mike, Dustin, and Lucas.
“Ah, shit, listen,” Steve said, turning back to Billy, and as soon as he did, the redhead pushed Steve to the ground roughly. Corelia balled her fists up, ready to attack if Billy did anything more.
“I told you to plant your feet,” leaning over Steve, Cordelia watched ash from Billy’s cigarette land in Steve’s hair. Then, Billy kicked Steve right in the stomach, leaving him groaning on the ground. He stepped over Steve and made a break for the door.
Cordelia spun on him, racing to block the doorway. She was quick, that was something about her. “Not so fast, Hargove.” She told him, and he eyed her up and down.
“You know, Harrington didn’t choose a bad one,” he said, a twinkle in his eye.
Before he could say anything else, she slapped his face, her skin hitting his cheeks loudly. He looked dazed for a moment before rage boiled on his face and he shoved her back against the door, tossing her to the side.
Cordelia heard the door open and opened her eyes to see Steve getting up. Once he saw her against the porch, hunched over, he sprinted to Cordelia.
“Are you okay?” He asked quickly, hearing yelling coming from the house.
“Are you?” She asked, and before he could stop himself he was holding a hand out for her, pulling her up.
“Yes,” he told her. She was stronger then he’d assumed, and he saw an odd burn mark against the side of her thumb, like someone had melted the skin on her fingers like wax.
She nodded, and heard a shout coming from inside, and she rushed in front of him, pulling the door open and letting Steve enter.
She moved to the kitchen, where she could see Lucas being cornered by Billy, who was red with anger. “You are so dead, Sinclair. So dead!”
“No,” Cordelia said, pulling her fists out of her pockets. “You are.” Her fist contacted the side of his face as he turned, and she could tell Steve was beside her. She could feel his flesh under her knuckles as she beat upon his face, and then nose. Billy bent over with the force of one of Cordelia’s punches, laughing hysterically.
She felt a hand brush her shoulder, and Steve had pushed her back, standing like a shield in front of Cordelia.
“Looks like you’ve got some fire in you after all!” He shouted, a playful tone on his face. “I bet that’s what Steve likes the most about you.” He gave them a shit-eating grin.
Steve’s voice was dark and husky, “get out.” He pushed Billy away with two fingers.
Before she knew it, Billy’s arms were flying through the air at Steve. She pulled him down and he ducked, missing the punch. The two tripped over themselves and further into the kitchen, punches landing on Billy, who was driven against the countertop. Then, the redhead pulled a plate from the sink and dropped it onto Steve’s head, laughing as the ceramic shattered against his skull..
He followed Steve from the kitchen and the kids moved too, into the living room. Billy grabbed Steve’s shoulders and held him up, “no one tells me what to do!” He grunted loudly. Then, with one swift movement of his head, Steve’s own was hit and he landed down on the ground, sliding against the drawings of the tunnels and against the couch. Cordelia gave the kids a look signaling to stay where they were, and silently she approached Billy’s back. Rage boiled inside her.
Punches fell like hail from Billy’s palms as he beat upon Steve, who lay on the floor, unconscious. Blood gushed from his nose and mouth, and Cordelia didn’t have time to think about what she was doing.
She reached and forcefully pulled Billy’s shoulders back, causing the redhead to lose his balance. He reached and tried to punch the air as he was flung onto his back. Cordelia quickly sat on his stomach, her strong legs pinning him down. He had to be double her weight, but the surprise gave her an extra couple of seconds. She held her hands against his neck, leaning down so that her elbows pushed his arms to the floor. She could almost taste his breath on her tongue, their faces were so close together. Her fingers tightened on his throat.
Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Max approach. Just as the redhead came into view, there was something jabbing out of Billy’s neck. He looked dazed, and Max pulled Cordelia upright.
Billy stood slowly and stared at Cordelia, then Max. He reached into his neck, pulling a green tipped syringe out of his flesh. The needle was small, and delicate, and fearing he’d use it as a weapon, Cordelia held her arms out in front of the younger girl.
“The hell is this.” He said, glancing up and down at the syringe and then his sister. He moved several paces forward. “You little shit, what did you do?”
Then, he landed backwards, falling onto the carpeted floorboards with a loud thud. Out cold.
“Shit,” Mike said.
Max’s mouth was open as Billy started to laugh, and then Cordelia saw Steve. He was passed out on the ground, his eyes closed and face starting to swell. She moved gracefully over Billy’s body and kneeled next to Steve.
“Steve?” She asked, watching his chest rise and fall. “Goddamn it.” She whispered, closing her eyes. She was alone now.
“Stay away from my friends, Billy!” Max growled at her brother several feet away, as Cordelia felt for Steve’s pulse, checking for irregularities.
Cordelia turned around and rose as the hellish-bat hit the ground in between Billy’s legs, all the doing of Max. She pulled it out, the floorboards splintering. “Say you understand! Say it! Say it!” She screamed at her stepbrother.
He lolled his head to the side, “I understand.”
“What?” Max asked.
“I understand,” Billy mumbled again, this time slightly clearer and louder then the last.
Max dropped the bat and retreated back to where Lucas stood. Looking down at Billy, Cordelia took in a breath when she saw the keys imprinted in his jeans pocket. She leaned down, and shook them in her fingers.
“I’m done with this,” Cordelia said, meaning the creatures and the fighting.“Let’s get the hell out of here and finish those bastards off.”
series summary; when she’s thrown into a fight with a terrible monster that threatens her new town, Cordelia Silva must run like hell to make it out alive... and maybe find her heart in the mix.
chapter summary; Cordelia catches a ride to the Byer's house, where plans are being made. Steve and Cordelia share a moment in the bathroom.
warnings; this story may be unsuitable for some audiences. Sexual content, anxiety, depression, self harm, abandonment, violence, blood, death, and cigarettes.
hounds and cigarettes masterlist ; calpurnia's questionable writings
That was when the yelling started. Steve’s voice, Nancy’s, especially Dustin’s were loud against her ear drums.
Cordelia moved quickly through the group, their eyes on her back as she looked at the lab. “The power’s back.” She informed them, turning around again.
She and Jonathon had the same idea together. If the power was back, the gate would work, and they could all get into the lab. She sprinted as well as she could with a hurt leg and slammed down on the open button in the entrance booth.
Jonathon appeared behind her, watching as she pressed the button repeatedly.
“Here, let me try.” Dustin, that know it all, was telling her. She felt hands on her shoulders.
“Hang on, different people pressing it isn’t going to make it work.” She told the younger boy, but he still shoved her out of the way.
“Let me try, Cordelia!” Dustin’s voice echoed in the small, rectangular booth.
“Son of a bitch, you know what-” Dustin yelled at the button, and Cordelia rolled her eyes. Steve watched her move outside the booth and closer to the gate. She wrapped her hands on the cold metal, tucking the gear shift haphazardly into the pocket of her jacket. Just as she made the move to climb it, Cordelia heard a ding and the gate started to slide open. Pulling herself back quickly, she joined the group again, Dustin’s voice a constant reminder that she did not open the gate herself, and that he did.
“Guys?” Max was saying as headlights appeared on the road in front of her.
“Look out!” Steve’s touch was on her shoulder again as he pulled her out of the road. There were two cars, and the horn was loud and disturbing as the first car drove by. The second was the sheriff.
The window rolled down, and the man in the driver's seat motioned to Steve. “Let’s go.”
“Come on, hurry! Get in, get in.” Steve’s voice was quick and nervous. He joined the officer in the front and Cordelia piled with the kids in the back, propping up her leg against the opposite side of the truck bed.
It was a short ride to this house. Cordelia had no clue where she was, but she thought that if the sheriff was there maybe it wasn’t illegal, and that was a start. The kids climbed out of the truck and Steve held the door open for her, watching as she maneuvered lightly on the injured leg.
Inside the house, the officer was talking on the phone. The kid who was named Will lay on the couch, sleeping or unconscious, Cordelia did not know which. She leaned against the arch of the wall between the kitchen and the living room, her head against the wood frame.
“I don’t know how many people are left alive!” Hopper exclaimed. Cordelia’s deep brown eyes followed Steve as he walked by her, gaze landing on the girl before staring back at the drawings covering the walls. Then he moved to the kitchen, searching through the drawers.
“I am the police! I’m Chief Jim Hopper!” The officer yelled again. Cordelia closed her eyes. She was tired. She wanted to light a cigarette and pretend to have a smoke. She wanted to go back to the junkyard and light matches and watch them burn.
Steve rifled through the kitchen cabinets, coming up finally with a white box, a red cross on the top.
He walked back to Cordelia, who blinked slowly. “For your leg,” he told her. “Here, follow me.” He held out his hand to Cordelia, who took it, pulling herself off the wall. She let go and followed him through the house, to the bathroom.
“Sit down on the counter.” He directed, closing the door. She leaned her back against the mirror and pulled her bad right leg onto the toilet.
To her left, Steve ran a washcloth through steaming water in the sink, then turned and sat down on the side of the tub.
“Can I roll it up, please?” Steve asked, motioning to her jeans. Cordelia nodded, and winced slightly as he pulled the thick denim up her legs. Her legs were thin enough that the fabric collected below her knee.
“Holy shit,” he said, gazing at the wound. It was deep, but not enough to where she would need stitches. Just long and full of brown, dried blood. Several marks from each of the claws adorned the longest wound. “I can’t believe you were walking on this all that time.”
“I was so pumped on adrenaline that it didn’t hurt for a while.” She told him as he folded the washcloth, pouring alcohol onto the cotton. “And focused on not being a carcass on the ground.”
He smiled and moved his shoulders, peering at her face. “This is going to hurt,” he warned. She nodded, closing her eyes.
She could feel the warmth of the cloth before the pain washed over her. Steve sure had drenched the fabric in alcohol. She ground her teeth against each other, squeezing the underside of the countertop as he efficiently cleaned her wound. It took several minutes, and he had to grab another washcloth that he’d prepared alongside the other, but eventually the burning subsided and the towels were in the bathtub.
“Good job, I would be screaming if I were you,” Steve joked, and was rewarded with a smile. Her hands were still rigid against the countertop, and he patted them lightly, trying to show comfort.
She opened her eyes at his touch, and glanced down at the wound. It was ugly, and would leave a deep scar. A small trickle of blood was falling down the sliced skin from where Steve had disturbed the scabbing.
“Shit,” he grabbed a chunk of toilet paper and pressed it against the injury. Cordelia sucked in a deep breath, her head hitting the mirror behind her.
“I’m sorry this hurts,” Steve apologized, repositioning the toilet paper to soak up more blood.
“I’ve had worse,” she told him, her sharp canine teeth dramatic from his position below her.
“When? I doubt you get attacked by interdimensional creatures every weekend.” Steve wanted to distract her.
“I got sliced down the ribcage by a track spike once,” she laughed, and Steve smiled slightly. “This kid just dragged the shoe across my stomach. It was deep. I got so many stitches.”
Steve had never heard Cordelia talk that much, which was a shame. He thought she had a beautiful voice, rough and hoarse and sexy.
“That’s physcopathic.” He observed, pulling the paper off of her wound and grabbing the first aid kit. He applied a cool coat of antibiotic on her wound before grabbing the wrappings. “You are all crazy from Minnesota.”
She chuckled, and then she pulled a deep accent out of her voice — a Minnesota one. “Yeppers, you're sure right there!”
He laughed deeply, and began to wrap her wound.
“Why’d you move here?” He asked her, pulling the wide fabric around her leg. “If you got hit by a track spike you must have been from the big leagues.”
Her happy gaze drifted away in the blink of an eye. “My mom is from here.” Steve wondered what happened to her father, but didn’t press. It wasn’t something that he needed to know.
He finished binding her and then slowly pulled her jeans back down. The blood was so thick on the denim that it crinkled against his fingers. “I don’t want to know what diseases were on that creature. You should probably go to the hospital for this later, I’m not the best doctor.”
“You did a great job,” she complemented. “You seem like you’re an expert.”
“I’ve gotten in my share of bad situations.” Steve responded, getting up from the tub.
Cordelia pushed herself up as well, standing there in front of him. There was only an inch or two of separation between their chests, and even less between their faces as they stood in the small bathroom.
“You are nothing like I expected, Cordelia Silva.” She gave a small smile and tucked a few baby hairs behind her ears.
As he opened the door, she lifted her hands and set them on his shoulders. They were so warm and strong compared to her chilled hands. “Thanks again, Steve.”
He nodded and gave her a grin, “anytime.”
As they exited the bathroom the sound of the kids talking was loud against their ears. Tunnels, viruses, all things that Cordelia did not really want to learn about if she didn’t have to. She walked better than before, and Steve leaned against the kitchen counter, watching as she made her way back to the arched doorway, resting her body on the wall.
“The tunnels, the monsters, the Upside Down, everything.” Mike was saying quickly.
“Whoa, slow down, slow down,” Steve’s hands moved as he spoke, motioning up and down in the air.
“Okay, so, the shadow monsters inside everything,” Mike explained, voice calmer. “And if the vines feel something like pain, so does Will.”
Lucas piped up, “and so does Dart.”
Mike agreed, “yeah, it's like what Mr Clarke taught us — the hive mind.”
“Hive mind?” Steve shook his head, confused.
“A collective consciousness. It’s a super organism.” Dustin said.
Mike picked up a piece of paper from the table, pointing at it wildly. Cordelia could make out the drawing from her position by the door, watching with deep brown eyes. “And this is the thing that controls everything. It's the brain.”
“Like the mind flayer,” Dustin said, sharing a knowing look with Mike.
“What?” Max and Steve wondered at the same time, and Cordelia shared a puzzled look with the auburn haired girl.
Lucas snapped his fingers. Suddenly the boys went racing off, leaving just Max, Steve, and Cordelia in the kitchen. They returned a few minutes later, a large book in their hands. They slammed it down on the table, and opened it directly to an information page.
“The mind flayer,” Dustin spoke quietly, as if entranced by the creature on the page.
“What the hell is that?” Hopper asked, moving behind the kids. Cordelia shifted slightly to regain her view of the table.
“It’s a monster from an unknown dimension. It's so ancient that it doesn't even know its true home.” Blank looks came from the rest of the crowd prompting Dustin to continue. “Okay it enslaves races from other dimensions by taking over their brains using its highly developed psionic powers.”
Cordelia watched as Hopper shook his head, “Oh my God. None of this is real. It’s a kids game,” he said.
“No,” Dustin responded, defensive, “it's a manual. And it's not for kids. And unless you know something that we don’t, this is the best metaphor—”
“Analogy,” Lucas interrupted.
“Analogy? That's what you are worried about?” Dustin’s voice was exasperated. “Fine, an analogy for understanding whatever the hell this is.”
“Okay, so this mind flamer thing,” Nancy spoke up. Cordelia hadn’t even noticed her walk in.
“Flayer. Mind flayer,” Dustin corrected.
Sighing, Nancy kept on, “what does it want?”
“To conquer us basically. It believes it's the master race.” Dustin explained.
“Like the Germans?” Steve said, confident in his words.
Cordelia shook her head, smirking.
“Uh, the Nazis?” Dustin said.
Pausing for a moment, Steve nodded. “Uh, yeah, yeah, yeah. The Nazis.”
“Uh…” Dustin searched for his words. “Yeah, if the Nazis were from another dimension, totally. It views other races, like us, as inferior to itself.”
“It wants to spread,” Mike added, “take over other dimensions.”
“We are talking about the destruction of our world as we know it.” Lucas told them.
“That’s great, that’s great. That’s really great. Jesus!” Steve turned, walking away. He watched Cordelia from the corner of his eye, her eyes closed. He wondered how overwhelming this must all be for her.
Nancy continued, not wasting time. “Okay, so if this thing is like a brain that's controlling everything, then if we kill it…”
“We kill everything it controls,” Cordelia spoke, eyes still shut.
Silence paused as the group took her in. Nancy hadn’t noticed her presence. “Yes,” Dustin said quickly. “We win.”
“Theoretically,” Lucas said.
“Great. So how do you kill this thing. Shoot it with fireballs or something?”
Giggling, Dustin corrected him, “no, no, no fire— no fireballs. Uh, you summon an undead army, uh, because… because zombies you know, they don’t have brains, and the mind flayer, it… it likes brains.”
“Well, I’ll go and round up a crew of them.” Cordelia joked, motioning out the door.
“It's just a game, it's a game.” Dustin said, unconfident.
Hopper rolled his head back, unhappy. “What the hell are we doing here?”
Dustin shot right back, “I thought we were waiting for your military backup.”
“We are!” Hopper shouted.
“Even if they come, how are they going to stop this?” Mike yelled. “You can’t just shoot this with guns!”
“You don’t know that! We don’t know anything!” Hopper told the boy.
“We know it's already killed everybody in that lab.”
“And we know the monsters are going to molt again.” Lucas added.
“And we know it's only a matter of time before those tunnels reach this town.”
From behind her, a voice startled Cordelia. “They’re right.” The woman said. Joyce, if she was correct. Will and Jonathon’s mother.
“We have to kill it.” She stood blankly, her scrubs dirty. Hopper made his way towards her. “I want to kill it.” Emotion clouded her voice.
“Me too.” Hopper agreed.
“I-” Joyce said.
“Me too, Joyce, okay? But how do we do that? We don’t exactly know what we’re dealing with here.” Hopper said.
Mike piped up from behind the two, “no, but he does.” The Wheeler boy strolled through the living room to his friend who lay unmoving on the sofa. “If anyone knows how to destroy this thing, its Will. He’s connected to it. He’ll know its weakness.”
“I thought we couldn’t trust him anymore,” Max added. “That he’s a spy for the mind flayer now.”
“Yes.” Mike said, pausing.
Realization dawned on Cordelia. “But he can’t spy if he doesn’t know where he is.”
Outside, in the shed, Cordelia stood with Nancy and Steve. A roll of tape was flying through the air from her left hand to the right, waiting for the boy to ask for it. He leaned against the wall, smoothing out a tarp across the boarded wood.
Cordelia could sense something in the air between Nancy and Steve, and stood back slightly. It wasn’t her business.
Nancy was watching Cordelia out of the corner of her eye, examining her leg and the blood on her jeans.. “Hey,” her voice caught both of them by surprise. “What you both did, um, helping the kids… That was.. Really cool.”
“Yeah,'' Steve looked away, and Cordelia gave Nancy a small smile. “The little shits are real trouble, you know?”
Nancy nodded, and Cordelia hummed in agreement.
“Believe me, I know.”
She handed Steve a few pieces of tape, ripping them easily.
Soon enough, the space was transformed into an unrecognizable room. There was no way that Will could know where he was. There was no way that monster could know where he was.
Cordelia leaned onto her wall next to Nancy, watching Steve as he practiced his bat swings.
“And he hits a home run!” Cordelia said, leaving Steve to smile and Nancy to roll her eyes, a smirk on her face.
Suddenly, the lights started to blink. On and off, so fast that it wasn’t just a spur of bad electricity. Steve stopped batting immediately , following Cordelia and Nancy as they stood under the light. Cordelia kept walking to the window, gazing out into the backyard and to the shed, where she could hear screaming coming from. The boy Will was awake. The monster was awake too.
Rushing inside, Hopper grabbed a pen and paper and sat down at the table, writing as Dustin chattered.
“What happened?”
Everyone crowded around the police chief, “I think he’s talking, just not with words.”
Cordelia understood. “Morse code,” she said, and the police chief nodded, finishing writing.
Cordelia stared at the symbols, putting the letters to the dots and dashes. “H-E-R-E.” She said.
“Will’s still in there. He’s talking to us.”
Over the next hour, Cordelia translated each of the morse code letters that Will sent the group. She sat at the kitchen table, the kids crowded around her, watching as she wrote out the letters.
C-L-O-S-E G-A-T-E.
Steve to the right, Nancy to her left, the crew read the words out loud.
Then suddenly, the phone rang loudly. “Shit,” Dustin said, getting up and answering it before slamming it back down on the wall. The phone paused for a moment before it started to ring again, and next to Steve, Cordelia clutched the gear shift in her left hand, on alert.
Nancy pulled the phone off of the wall, while Max asked the question circulating through all their minds. “Do you think he heard that?”
“It’s just a phone. It could be anywhere. Right?” Steve said.
Then, a loud growl sounded in the distance. “That’s not good.” Dustin said, pointing out the obvious.
Hopper appeared behind them, two guns in both his hands. “Hey! Hey, get away from the windows.” He yelled at the kids, who were leaned over the sofa, watching the world outside.
“Do you know how to use this?” Hopper asked Jonathon, holding the gun out in front of him.
“What?” Jonathon said, confused.
“Can you use this!” Hopper’s voice was filled with agitation.
Stepping forward, Nancy spoke, “I can.” She said.
Cordelia let herself smile. Nancy Wheeler, Mrs Perfect, could use a gun. Hopper threw it to her, and Nancy caught it.
With the gear shift in her hand, and Steve to her left, Cordelia let out a breath.
The screeching noise continued, loud and almost overwhelming.
“What are they doing?” Nancy whispered, gun pointed at the window. Outside, the bushes moved in the way that Cordelia knew was not the wind. The creatures were outside. Then came a terrible snarl, so loud that she couldn’t hear her own thoughts.
The monsters screamed and growled. And then suddenly it stopped, the noises stopped. And seconds later a creature came flying through the glass window, landing in a heap on the ground.
The group slowly maneuvered closer to the creature, all the weapons pointed at the lifeless body.
“Holy shit,” Dustin said.
“Is it dead?” Wondered Max seconds later.
Hopper moved the creature with the toe of his boot, and it flopped the way he pushed it. The animal was dead.
Then, a knock sounded at the door, and the lock turned in its place. The second lock fell down, and then the door opened. And a girl was standing there, blood trickling down her face. Cordelia felt Steve rustle behind her. The girl, she smiled, and that’s when Cordelia knew.
This was the girl she’d heard about only hours ago. This was the girl who could move things with her mind.
summary; when she’s thrown into a fight with a terrible monster that threatens her new town, Cordelia Silva must run like hell to make it out alive... and maybe find her heart in the mix.
warnings; this story may be unsuitable for some audiences. Sexual content, anxiety, depression, abandonment, violence, blood, death, and cigarettes.
hounds and cigarettes masterlist ; calpurnia’s questionable writings
The blood on her jeans was weighing down the denim as she walked. It was a slow, rusty stroll along the rails, and she was doing it directly alongside Steve Harrington.
“So you believe it? I didn’t until now.” The auburn-haired girl said, whom Cordelia learned was named Max. Billy’s sister, though she did not want to waste time thinking about him.
The long-legged girl shrugged. “I don’t think what I saw back there was something from this world.” She felt the long dragging pain in her leg again and thought back to the demo-dogs, and their vicious growls. The fact that they had no eyes. That wasn’t something from here and now.
She focused her gaze on the ground in front of her, listening to the boys talk as they walked along to her right. Steve was opposite her, and the teenagers were all sandwiched between them.
“You’re positive that was Dart?” The boy in the camo said. Lucas. Cordelia was terrible at names.
“Yes. He had that same exact yellow pattern on his butt.” Dustin told Lucus. His center of gravity was slightly off, Cordelia noted. He had more weight on his left foot than his right. She wondered how well he could run because of that.
Max had a puzzled look on her face. “He was tiny two days ago.”
“Well, he’s molted three times already,” Dustin explained.
“Malted?” Steve had a confused tone to his voice. Cordelia smirked.
“Molted,” Dustin said again. “Shed his skin to make room for growth like hornworms.”
“When’s he going to molt again?” Max asked.
“It's gotta be soon,” the boy responded. “And when he does, he’ll be fully grown, or close to it. And so will his friends.”
Steve moved his flashlight through the forest, the beam floating through green leaves. “Yeah, and he’s going to eat a lot more than just cats.”
Lucas stopped suddenly, his hand against Dustin’s shoulder. Cordelia felt that pain again in her leg, and she tripped slightly, moving down the embankment of the railway. Catching herself, she winced slightly as she returned to her stable position on the rail track. Steve watched, glancing down at her leg. The blood was still there, and he could see a new splotch against the burnt brown of the dried red liquid. She shouldn’t be walking with that. But she hadn’t said anything either. Steve did not understand how to act around Cordelia, which was something he never felt with girls. “Wait, a cat?” Lucas looked deeply at Dustin, as if not understanding what Steve had just said. “Dart ate a cat?”
“No, what, no.” Dustin responded a little too quickly to be telling the truth.
“What are you talking about. He ate Mews.” Steve said, not understanding that Dustin didn’t want Lucas to know.
“Mews, who’s Mews?” Max asked, staring up at Steve.
“It’s Dustin’s cat.” Steve said blankly.
“Steve!” Dustin yelled, embarrassed. Cordelia smirked again. This was something from a film.
“I knew it! You kept him!” Lucas shouted at Dustin, hitting him with his arm.
“No!” Dustin told his friend. “No. No.. I… no…I… He missed me, he wanted to come home.”
“You think that creature has feelings?” Cordelia asked, and the group turned and stared at her. She hadn’t talked a bit to the whole group since leaving the junkyard. At least if she wasn’t prompted.
“He loves me…” Dustin said shakily. “And I didn’t know he was a demogorgon, okay!”
“Oh, so now you admit it?” Lucas stared at Dustin, anger lacing his voice.
“Guys, who cares, we have to go.” Max told the two fighting boys.
“I care!” Lucas said quickly, hands in the air. “You put the whole party in jeopardy! You broke the rule of law!”
“So did you!” Dustin seethed, his voice loud. Cordelia stepped back. She was not a fan of yelling.
“”What?” Lucas asked, confused. Steve rolled his eyes, which caught on Cordelia, who was watching the two boys. She took another step back.
“You told a stranger the truth! Two strangers, in fact.” Dustin obviously pointed to Max and Cordelia. Shining his flashlight in the auburn-haired girl's eyes. Max pulled away, and then Dustin did the same to Cordelia, who slapped the flashlight out of Dustin’s hands. It landed on the ground of the railway.
Steve chuckled and Max stared at Cordelia, whose arms were crossed across her ribcage.
“A stranger!” Max was aghast, turning to Dustin and away from Cordelia.
“You wanted to tell her too!” Lucas shouted back at his friend, who bent over and picked up the flashlight.
Cordelia watched as Steve looked off to their right, watching the forest. She did the same, and then she heard it.
The boys yelling drowned out as she followed Steve as he turned, shining his flashlight through the wood. She was next to him now, eyes scanning the thick growth of the floor.
“Guys,” Steve walked further. The kids kept talking behind them. “Guys!” Steve turned around quickly, startling Cordelia.
The screeching noise continued, loud and buzzing like a ringing in her ears. With his bat behind his shoulder and her gear shift in her left hand, Steve and Cordelia seemed to have the same idea at the same time. They marched into the woods, step in step. Meeting eye contact, Steve shook his head lightly.
Cordelia could hear the crunching of the kids following, and Max’s words brushed the air, “no, no, no. Hey guys, why are you headed towards the sound! Hello?”
They hustled quickly through the forest, pace fast. Flashlights covered every inch of the ground and Cordelia watched her step. The pain in her leg was becoming worse. She knew she’d have to clean it up when she got back to her house.
Soon, the group reached an overlook of Hawkins. Down below her, fog drifted across the hillside and settled into the hollow of the town.
“The lab.” Lucas’s binoculars were settled on the large cluster of buildings in the distance. “They were going back home.”
As they walked down the hillside, Steve and Cordelia settled into the same step. She was limping slightly, Steve could tell. Her strides were long and he wondered if the rumors at school were correct. Was she a great runner? A state champion volleyball player?
“I appreciate what you did back there.” Steve told her, voice low. The kids walked several meters ahead, chatting amongst themselves.
“What?” She said, her eyes trained to the ground in front of her.
“You held yourself in front of the kids. You protected them. Thanks for doing that.”
“It was instinct,” she told Steve, her words easy against the air.
“Why were you out there in the junkyard?” Steve questioned, gaze still locked on the girl. She was beautiful, that was for sure. Dirty blonde hair and sculpted features, kind brown eyes. She was majestic, almost.
“I hang out there sometimes. Bad timing tonight I guess,” she joked, and he smiled slightly. Glancing down at his watch, he read the time, 11:39pm. What was she doing out there that late? It was weird that he himself wanted to know.
They approached the lab building. Cordelia was contemplating leaving — this was none of her business and her leg was hurt. But she realized if she was ever going to get her junkyard back she’d need to join the group and kill the creatures.
As they finally rounded the last corner and into the entrance of the lab, Cordelia locked eyes with none other than Nancy Wheeler, as well as a boy she did not know. “Steve?” Nancy and the boy said in unison.
“Nancy?” Steve responded.
“Jonathon?” Dustin said, and the two groups rushed together.
Nancy questioned loudly, worry in her tone,“what are you doing here?”
“What are you doing here?” Steve shot back quickly.
“Who is that with you?” Nancy motioned to Cordelia, who was staring down the eldest Wheeler child. Tucking a few baby hairs behind her ears, Cordelia waited for a proper introduction.
“That’s Cordelia,” Steve said, but was interrupted by Dustin.
“What are you doing here.” The boy spoke.
“We’re looking for Mike and Will.” Nancy told Dustin, still giving Cordelia an odd look. Cordelia connected the dots that Will and Mike were Jonathon and Nancy’s siblings.
“They aren’t in there, are they?” A worried tone infiltrated Dustin’s voice.
“We’re not sure.” Nancy glanced at the boy next to her.
“Why?” Jonathan asked, the bags under his eyes dark and defined.
In the distance, very loudly, the monsters shrieked. Out of some instinct, Cordelia tightened her grip on the gear shift, moving slightly closer to Steve. The loud growling and screaming continued, and the group could finally place where it was coming from.
The lab.
Hope you all enjoyed! I love this character and this story, and I have much more coming soon! - Calpurnia
the next installment of hounds and cigarettes will be out tonight ! thanks for everything! glad to get you guys up to date on the beginning of Cordelia and Steve's story!
summary; when she’s thrown into a fight with a terrible monster that threatens her new town, Cordelia Silva must run like hell to make it out alive... and maybe find her heart in the mix.
hounds and cigarettes masterlist
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summary; when she’s thrown into a fight with a terrible monster that threatens her new town, Cordelia Silva must run like hell to make it out alive... and maybe find her heart in the mix.
warnings; this story may be unsuitable for some audiences. Sexual content, anxiety, depression, abandonment, violence, blood, death, and cigarettes.
hounds and cigarettes masterlist ; calpurnia’s questionable writings
The body was warm against her front as she lay in the grimy entryway of the bus. Her fall into the Greyhound had been padded by a muscular person, who was holding her waist with one hand and her shoulder with the other.
“Shit! Shit!” One of the other people in the bus was screaming. This was all it took to pull Cordelia out of her haze and shove herself upright, standing in the Greyhound. The person she’d landed on was still laying on the floor, and now his gaze had turned to Cordelia.
What the fuck? She had time to think before the scratching and growling from outside disturbed her. Steve Harrington?
A boy younger than Cordelia snapped in front of Steve’s eyes and on a dime he pulled himself up and grabbed more metal to barricade the door. Cordelia pushed past another boy and started to help him, rusty metal cool against her fingertips.
“Are they rabid or something?” A girl was saying. God, what the fuck was Steve Harrington doing with a pack of middle schoolers?
As Steve propped the door, Cordelia shoved the kids behind her. She didn’t know the kids, but she couldn’t let them die. She had to figure out what the hell they were doing in her junkyard. And what these creatures were.
“They can’t get in! They can’t!” The boy in the camo headband and green jacket was yelling.
The monster growled loudly, and Steve pushed his feet against the door, propping it closed. The two boys, the girl, and Steve all shrieked at the same time. Cordelia felt her arm getting touched by a warm hand, and she realized she’d held her arms up to protect and fence in the kids behind her. Using herself as a shield.
The bus rattled and Cordelia fell to the floor of the Greyhound, the children toppling down behind her.
Just as she regained balance, one of the creatures broke through the metal, sending Steve flying backward. Unlike Cordelia, he landed upright, bat in hand, and was beating against the creature by the time she took another breath.
Were those nails on the bat? Cordelia didn’t want to know what hellish version of baseball was played with that.
She turned behind her, to the kids. Fear blossomed in their young faces, and they watched her with wide eyes. “Get to the back of the bus!” She told them, voice rough.
“Shit!” The boy in the hat screeched, and with one quick, prancing move, all the kids were corralled at the end of the Greyhound, far away from the door and the monsters.
Steve stopped beating the animal with his not-for-kids baseball bat, instead of looking at Cordelia, who was using her arms to guard the kids. She gripped the gear shift in her left hand, and the hem of her jeans was torn, red staining the denim. The creature screeched again, and he went back to beating it roughly.
The same boy in the hat now was holding up a walkie-talkie to his mouth, his voice frantic. He sat against a torn seat, his knuckles white against the metal of the machine. “Is anyone there? Mike, Will? God! Anyone!”
A banging noise echoed throughout the bus, and Cordelia turned her head upwards just in time to see an imprint on the metal wall of the bus. A body, fully formed against the Greyhound. A sculpture in the rusted steel.
“Shit!” The boy said again. The auburn-haired girl screamed, and Cordelia shoved the kids in the middle of the bus. Away from the newly sculpted wall. Steve was still by the door, his bat bloody.
The boy in the hat was still yelling loudly into the walkie-talkie, “we’re at the old junkyard, and we are going to die!”
Something clattered loudly, a noise that was so different from the banging and screaming and heavy breathing that silence sounded throughout the bus. Cordelia felt her heartbeat in her ears.
Steve grunted, laying on the ground. The clattering continued, and now they could trace its location. The roof of the Greyhound. Footprints appeared in the metal overhead like the hard steel was simply sand. The creature was walking over them.
That was when Cordelia saw it. The monster; slimy, gooey, sticky. Sort of like a bud for a mouth, no eyes. It growled menacingly. Disturbing the silence that followed, the auburn-haired girl let out a glass-shattering scream.
“Get out of the way!” Suddenly, that warm touch was on her arm again. That same touch that she’d fallen into. This touch pushed her and the kids to the side, putting Steve himself at the bottom of the ladder. Steve’s touch.
“Get out of the way! You want some? Come get this!” As Steve kept shouting at the animal, Cordelia moved next to him, their bodies side by side. She armed herself again with the gearshift.
The animal let out the most chilling growl yet, so deep it almost sounded like a car revving up. Steve lifted his bat up, and both he and Cordelia’s weapons pointed at the creature. Steve’s bat in his right hand, her gear shift in her left. Its teeth bared, mouth open, it roared, sending a foul-smelling wave of air onto Steve and Cordelia’s faces.
Then just as quickly as the creature appeared, it left. Bounding off the top of the Greyhound, a growl sounded in the distance as what seemed like a group of monsters shrieked into the air.
Silence wafted through the Greyhound in the creature's absence. Cordelia glanced down to see the camo boy holding the auburn-haired girl's hand.
A flash of pain shifted through her and she wobbled on her feet. The creature must have scratched her when he’d caught her jeans. She steadied herself on the ladder.
After several seconds, no words had come out into the stale air of the Greyhound. Steve glanced at Cordelia, whose light brown hair was clipped back with pins by her ears. Several strands of baby hairs floated upwards, and her slender, strong fingers tucked them behind her ears.
He had questions too, of course he did. What was she doing here? He knew her in the way that he knew most people — she was new, a loner, beautiful, and extremely mysterious. He knew her name, and that she was a junior at Hawkins. Cordelia Silva.
Steve moved away from the kids and Cordelia. Questions, all unanswered floated around his mind as he slowly opened the door of the Greyhound.
She had questions too, of course she did. What was he doing here? She knew him in the way of words thrown around hallways — he’d left his old group of ‘friends’, dated Nancy Wheeler, got his heart broken, was being outshined on the basketball court by Billy Hargrove, and was extremely handsome. (That last part was according to everyone else, obviously.) She knew his name, and that he was a senior at Hawkins. Steve Harrington.
She watched through deep brown eyes as he moved down the stairs of the bus, the door squeaking menacingly as he continued outside. “Jeez,” she heard him say after a large bang sounded. The kids watched as she flinched.
“Stay here,” Cordelia told the three teenagers behind her before she moved in large strides down the aisle and stairs. Her Reebok shoes crunched on the ground. Steve stood to her left, and they listened as the low growling slinked away, through the fog of the junkyard.
Cordelia climbed the stairs, motioning to the teenagers to come outside. Steve turned around as she and the kids appeared in the entryway of the Greyhound.
“What happened?” Camo boy asked.
“Don’t know,” the auburn-haired girl responded.
“Steve scared em’ off?” The boy in the hat wondered aloud.
“No,” Steve said immediately. Cordelia could feel how warm he was, standing several inches away in the foggy junkyard. “No way.” He slung his hellish bat over his shoulder. “They’re going somewhere.”
Cordelia heard the wind speed up in the trees far away, and then calm returned to the junkyard. Facing Steve, she finally asked one of her many questions, “Care to explain what the hell that was?”
the next installment of hounds and cigarettes will be out tomorrow morning! thanks for everything! glad to get you guys up to date on the beginning of Cordelia’s story :)
summary; when she’s thrown into a fight with a terrible monster that threatens her new town, Cordelia Silva must run like hell to make it out alive… and maybe find her heart in the mix.
summary; when she’s thrown into a fight with a terrible monster that threatens her new town, Cordelia Silva must run like hell to make it out alive… and maybe find her heart in the mix.
warnings; this story may be unsuitable for some audiences. Sexual content, anxiety, depression, abandonment, violence, blood, death, and cigarettes.
hounds and cigarettes masterlist ; calpurnia’s questionable writings
She lit the match on the side of the box, pulling the wood toward her. For fall, she reckoned, the weather was warm enough. She lay on the roof of the old cadillac, closing her eyes.
The junkyard was where she’d been hiding for four months, since she’d moved to Hawkin’s. It wasn’t an impressive place to relocate to from St. Paul, where there was something to do around every corner.
The match in her hands was light and felt like a toothpick. Her father had often stacked toothpicks on top of one another for Cordelia in a castle at restaurants. This match was held by hands that hadn’t touched another person in months. Cordelia liked it that way.
She grabbed the box of cigarettes from the back pocket of her jeans, the denim thick under her hands. Pulling out a white cigarette, the tip orange, she held it against her lips and sucked in. The match fizzled in her hands, and she felt the burning sensation along the pads of her fingers. Right as the pain became intolerable, she dropped the match onto the ground. She didn’t like the cigarettes, she just wanted to burn the matches.
summary; when she’s thrown into a fight with a terrible monster that threatens her new town, Cordelia Silva must run like hell to make it out alive… and maybe find her heart in the mix.
warnings; this story may be unsuitable for some audiences. Sexual content, anxiety, depression, abandonment, violence, blood, death, and cigarettes.
summary; when she’s thrown into a fight with a terrible monster that threatens her new town, Cordelia Silva must run like hell to make it out alive… and maybe find her heart in the mix.
warnings; this story may be unsuitable for some audiences. Sexual content, anxiety, depression, abandonment, violence, blood, death, and cigarettes.
summary of series: mistakes aren’t Ottoline Windrich’s forte. In fact, she would tell you that she actively tries to stay away from them. How fitting it is then, that she makes a split second decision to board the boat with Sarah and John B the day of the tropical depression. All she can say is, “oops.
gif credit ∞ maequil
episodes;
1. Lonely Bird
summary of series part; arriving in Nassau, Ottoline finds herself facing her decision to join Sarah and John B.
summary of series ∞ mistakes aren’t Ottoline Windrich’s forte. In fact, she would tell you that she actively tries to stay away from them. How fitting it is then, that she makes a split second decision to board the boat with Sarah and John B the day of the tropical depression. All she can say is, “oops.”
summary of series part ∞ arriving in Nassau, Ottoline finds herself facing her decision to join Sarah and John B.
words ∞ 4k
trigger warnings ∞ knives, exhaustion, blood, bad puns, ( if there is anything else let me know ! )
gif credit; celebrities-imagines
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Ottoline stirred underneath against the hard metal of the ship. Her back sat against its side, and her fingers wrapped around the headboard of the bed next to her.
“Sarah?” John B’s voice was barely a whisper, but caught in the shallow space, it was like a scream.
“Hmm?” Sarah let out as though she was still half asleep.
“Do you want to get married?” John B said, and Ottoline could hear the chuckle in his deep voice. She let out out a sarcastic giggle and rolled her eyes.
“Don’t laugh, Olly. I’m seriously asking Sarah.”
“Thats exactly why I am laughing, JB.” Olly replied, licking her chapped lips and tasting the blood in her mouth. It all returned to her in that moment, where she was, how far she was from home.
Stop thinking about it. She repeated to herself for the hundredth time, and she knew inside that her mind would never comply. Stop. You’re here Olly. And its shitty and terrible and everything but you can’t get back.
“To answer your question, no. I don’t want to get married.” Sarah finally replied, leaving John B to exhale in fake anger.
“No?” He asked, confused. Olly held her fingers up to her mouth to stop herself from bursting into laughter.
“No.” Sarah replied evenly.
“Well how come?” Olly could hear John B move around the bed to get more comfortable, even from her spot a few feet away on the floor.
“It would take us the rest of the time to Nassau for us to get through the list.” Olly replied to the question that wasn’t hers.
“But the biggest reason is that you’ve got no prospects.” John B’s girlfriend answered.
“You don’t have any prospects either.” JB shot back.
“Ouch.” Sarah and Olly said at the same time.
“Well anymore,” John B continued.
“So its not about the money?” Sarah questioned, and John B’s reply didn’t come until several seconds too late.
“Let me answer for him here, Sarah. It was once about the money, and now its about you.” Olly faked gagging to her own words, even though her own mind was filled with the picture of JJ.
Stop thinking about home until you return.
“You are pretty good looking.” There was a grin in JB’s tone of voice.
“Stop.” Sarah smirked.
“I’m serious.” Olly could hear JB move again. “Come here.”
“I’m trying to sleep. ” Sarah whined, but then moved again, the bed creaking underneath their combined weight.
“You want to be a Pogue for life?” He asked.
“If I say yes, then you have to promise not to die. ” She replied, the words slipping off of her tongue easily.
“If he promises then for sure he’ll die.” Olly butted into the conversation.
They didn’t even talk when they’d gotten on the boat. She’d understood that the lovebirds would want to be together, and even though Olly and her parents sometimes called her selfish, she took one for the team and slept on the floor.
Her fingers dropped to the side of her carhartt shorts, the canvas material thick in her fingertips. She adjusted the quarter length sleeve on her shirt, the cotton soft and delicate. She remembered when she’d won this shirt at a beach volleyball conference, and she’d given JJ one that would fit him. He wore it often around her, and though she didn’t know it now, he was sleeping with it layed out next to him, as though it was her presence there instead of a shirt.
But of course, Olly was just a girl on a boat, miles away from her friends, the friends that contemplated the mystery of her every day, and miles away from everything she knew.
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Ottoline woke up from her uncomfortable sleep as the horn blasted on the boat two times above her, sending her eyes, the hazel and green orbs, flying open. She caught a look at the piece of the gold that rested easily in John B’s hands as he sat on the bed, Sarah next to him. She got up wearily, hearing someone coming down the stairs into the room they were all in.
“John B, Olly, someone’s coming,” Sarah alarmed, and John B shoved the gold into his pocket.
“Morning lovebirds,” the captain of the ship said, and then, motioning to Olly, “and well, lonely bird. Coming into port. Best not be on board if you don’t have a passport, if you know what I’m saying.”
“Yes, we hear you.” Olly spoke up, resting a hand on the bed to keep support on her tan legs, the aching from her sleeping spot soaking into the rest of her body.
“You guys can go on my bridge,” the captain said in his low rumble, motioning behind where Olly stood to a door.
“Through here?” John B asked, and the captain muttered a yes.
Already at the top of the staircase she’d been met with, she heard the captain urge on Sarah to climb the steps to the bridge faster. Olly’s fingers rested gingerly on her leg, ready to defend herself.
As John B and Sarah thanked the captain, Olly searched through the bridge they were all in, examining every object in case it was a weapon.
“Hey, captain, we really appreciate you.”
“Thank you,” Sarah added, and Olly joined in with her gratefulness too.
The captain ignored their words, “stay put, don’t come out.”
“You got it, thanks again, cap.” Olly gave one final look down the ladder to nod at the captain, who shut the door quickly.
Olly looked around, taking in the view of the Bahamas. For a girl that had never been out of the United States, even she was overjoyed. She picked out children playing on shore, and houses of the different colors of the rainbow. It looked like someone she could never be hurt.
“What!” John B said, leaning on the side of the bridge next to Olly, who gave him a smile as he held out his hand for a high five. She shook her head, and he lowered his hand, not bothering to ask why. Olly was never a big fan of touch, and he, Pope and JJ had found that out in their own separate ways over the years of their friendship. “I’ve never been to a foreign country before.”
Olly giggled, “me either.”
“Well, welcome to Nassau,” Sarah held out her arms as if showing them her land.
“Its fucking beautiful,” Olly chirped. “Dudes, look at those big ass houses over there.” Her finger, still taped from her last beach volleyball game, pointed toward a neighborhood of huge mansions directly on the water.
“Well, see that big ass house there?” Sarah’s hands wrapped around John B’s to point both of their fingers toward a large, looming home. “That's my family’s house.”
“Holy super Kook! I mean, maybe we could crash for a couple nights?”
Olly nodded her head quickly, “yes. I would kill for a shower right now.”
Sarah put a sarcastic tone on; “hey dad, I’m alive, by the way, and I’m also thinking about getting married. Can we crash?”
“Yeah, maybe search around the house for a couple things you might have left, like the gold you stole from us. But also, please let us get married.” John B added.
“Again with this marriage stuff. I’ve changed my mind, guys. I think I’ll officiate it for you.” Olly leaned into the glass to position herself to look at John B and Sarah.
“Great. I’ll call the caterer and let's get a venue booked.” John B slid an impish grin at one of his best friends.
“I’ll just have to get one of those fancy robes that they wear.”
“No! Stop messing around.” Sarah whined.
“God, Sarah. You gotta let us ruin your most special day?” Olly asked, a sideways look on her sculpted face.
“Yes, we can get married on our way home. Right now we are fugitives in a foreign country.” Sarah finished.
Olly and John B both sighed. “Yep.” She said.
“I get it.” John B let out a breath.
“We just have to be careful.”
“Yeah, yeah. I got it.”
“Sarah why are you looking at me!” Olly burst out.
“I’m looking at John B. You need to actually be careful here, okay?”
“Yes, John B, we need to be careful.” Olly agreed with the other blonde.
“Yes, I’ve got it.”
“Wait, wait, guys?” Olly’s monotone rose slightly, “the customs people are coming aboard the boat. I repeat, the customs people are coming aboard the boat!” She bolted down the door as Sarah and John B started discussing in frantic voices how they were supposed to get out.
“Fuck!” Olly tried to pull open the door but it was locked. Kicking her Vans covered toe at the wooden door, she found out it wasn’t going to budge. She sprinted back up the steps and found, just at the lock clicked in the doorway below her, the window smashed and John B ushering her outside.
“Hey! Stop!” One of the customs officers shouted, just as another yelled the same thing. Olly followed John B as he jumped from deck to the boardwalk, almost crashing into him as she glanced back at the boat.
She hauled herself over the rope fence and told John B in a shout, “follow me!” Not knowing where to go, Olly sprinted as fast as she could to the end of the boardwalk, Sarah and John B further back then she would have liked.
She let Sarah take the lead as the group ran down the streets, turning left when Sarah told them to. Olly glanced at John B as they ran, her lip curled down in a frown as he breathed heavily.
They took another left and Sarah pulled them all behind a shop’s building, Olly still holding her knife in her fist, her eyes open and tracing the horizon for any sign of someone chasing them.
She heard the captain shouting and then when that disappeared, she let out a breath.
Panting, Sarah turned to her friends as Olly shoved the knife back into her sock. “Okay, I think I know of a place we can hole up, okay?”
“Okay.”
“Follow me,” Sarah whispered, and Olly was right behind her a second later.
“Sarah, are you sure about this?” John B eyed the expensive hotel as they walked closer, Olly to his left and his girlfriend to his right.
“Its the safest place for us to be,” she responded.
Olly smirked, “ a five star hotel?”
“Just trust me you two.”
Entering the hotel, Olly almost drooled at the expensive furniture and the welcome drinks on platters by the doorway.
“Looks a little spendy, no?” John B, still questioning the decision, asked.
“Just act like you know what you are doing.” Sarah responded evenly.
Shrugging, Olly and John B agreed.
“And smile, and say hi to people.”
“So overall be a decent person.” Olly sarcastically asked, grabbing one of the welcome drinks in her dirt and oil greased hand.
“Yes, exactly.”
They veered around to what looked like the restaurant area, and Olly ran her fingers along the mahogany wood tables.
“Excuse me, excuse me. May I help you?” One of the waiters sped to catch up to the group, frantic worry crossing his easy to read gaze.
“Actually yes, do you have any bottled water?” Sarah looked perfect in this situation, and Olly walked over to where they were all standing, chugging the last of the lemonade and mango drink she’d nabbed. “Maybe Voss, Fiji, or-”
“No,” the waiter interrupted. Olly already found herself disliking him.
“No, no. Oh, here,” Sarah turned suddenly and grabbed two more welcome drinks from a new platter being brought out. “Thank you,” Sarah grinned. “I am so parched.”
“I am literally sandpaper over here,” John B added, and Sarah gave him an angry glance.
“I cannot wait to get out of these clothes,” Sarah added, sipping the welcome drink through a straw Olly knew Kie would not approve of. “Hey Olly, what time is our reservation?”
Sarah threw the pressure onto Olly before she could disagree, and Olly was left slurping what small amount of water she could get from the quickly melting ice in the bottom of her cup. “Our reservation? God its like forever ago when we made that. Let me think here, well, 4:30 if I remember right.” She improvised.
“Reservation?” The waiter questioned, lifting his eyebrows.
“Yes,” John B nodded at Olly thankfully.
“You have a reservation?” The waiter said again, as if he didn’t here it right the first time.
“Yes, we have a harbor-view king on the third floor with the twin bed in the corner, and we’ve been patrons of your hotel for years. And I will be very sure that the manager knows of your hospitality, Elliot, thank you.”
“Yes, thank you.” Olly set down her drink quickly and followed Sarah.
“You stay here?” John B goggled as they walked up a few flights of steps.
“Yes, well, not anymore.”
Before one of the cleaning maids could notice, Olly nicked her phone and the hotel administered one, handing the cell over to John B as they climbed more steps.
The steps lead to the roof of the hotel, and two folding lawn recliners told Olly that people came up here to watch the sunset all the time. She stared out across the ocean for a moment, noticing the waves crashing on the shore. Her heart panged for Pope and JJ in that moment, and she knew both of them would be freaking out to go and surf. Inside, she was freaking out to go and surf. But she’d seen the paper tacked up in town of her face, and above her name, Ottoline Windrich, was the words in red ink, WANTED. She knew if she went down to the beach, it might be her last time ever touching the ocean.
“Okay. You know what? You didn’t tell me you lived on a beach filled with rollers that just slide in each day.” John B faked offense in his voice.
“That's what she said.” Olly whispered just faintly enough for Sarah and John B to here, who both looked away, giggling to themselves.
“Yeah, we used to come here as kids when we were building the vacation house right over there.” John B’s blonde girlfriend pointed to where the mansion they’d seen earlier sat, its white wooden panels almost blinding Olly in the late day sun. Oh how she wished she’d taken JJ’s sunglasses before she’d left.
“I bet thats where the gold is,” he said, his voice excited.
“Promise me you won’t do anything stupid?”
“Sarah, you need to realize he does stupid shit all the time-” Olly was cut off abrubtly by her brunett friend.
“Yes, I do stupid stuff all the time without realizing it.”
“No.” Her voice was firm as she turned to both Olly and John B, “I know both of you are pining to go over there, but there is a gate, there is security, there are patrols! Its a death trap.”
“Okay,” John B didn’t sound like he fully understood what Sarah had said. But Olly knew that he did know, just didn’t care. “But just think about it, if I can get some money…”
“Real money? Not the stupid chunks of gold?” Olly questioned, flopping down onto the rooftop below her feet. Her black Vans tilted against the side of the roof as she pulled off her dark red five-panel hat, her hair dirty as she untied it from the bun it had been in for several days. It rested low on the cape of her neck, and ignoring the stiffness against her head, she ran her fingers through her brown-blonde hair.
John B was quick to defend, “no. Real money okay. I can get a lawyer. I clean clear me and Olly’s name. We can go home.”
Olly sighed and shook her head, not wanting to pop the bubble of his dreams. She was never as positive of a person as John B ever was.
“Look, the gold is only going to be there for a couple of days.” He kept going, “and after that its gone. It's gone forever. The world thinks we’re dead.” John B shrugged, staring into Sarah’s eyes. “It's perfect, we just go, hop over the gate, and steal some gold.”
“And get arrested and killed in the electric chair on the way. It's one of my most valuable bucket list wishes, actually. Go to the Bahamas, go to Nassau, stay in a nice hotel, get killed trying to steal gold that they know we want.” Olly held up her taped fingers, pulling off the white bandage slowly.
“No.” Sarah finally let her voice out. John B rolled back his head in exasperation, blocking Olly’s sunlight for a moment. She kicked him lightly and he glared and moved a little further away from her.
“John B, you and Olly are wanted.”
“They think Olly is dead.”
Sarah put on a harsher tone, “John B, you and Olly are wanted. It’s just way too dangerous.”
“I agree with Sarah, for once.” Olly slipped out. “I don’t want to get fried in the electric chair yet, JB.”
“Yeah.”
“Please promise me. Please, both of you promise me you won’t go over there?” Sarah pleaded, and Olly let out a breath.
“I promise,” John B answered, giving Sarah and weak smile.
“Fuck it, me too.” Olly joined in, hopping up to slap hands with both her friends. "Unless he does something dumb."
“Besides, we have got a super sweet crib.”
“It might just be a crib if they didn’t put the twin in there for me.” Olly caused her friends to giggle lightheartedly. As Sarah walked away from where they had been talking on the roof, John B sent Olly a sideways glance. She stared at him, and mouthed, if you do it, John B, you’ll break her heart.
He mouthed back, god, Ottoline, I won’t.
But she always knew when he was lying. Olly realized that Sarah needed to learn that skill, and quickly, if she wanted to stay married to John B.
A few minutes later, Olly lay splayed out on the roof of the hotel, holding the hotel administration phone, which suddenly died on her. She figured she’d just steal a cord from somewhere and keep this thing to herself until they got back to the obx. Well, if they ever got back to the obx.
John B’s phone dinged as he sat himself on the lawn recliner, staring down at the dark rectangle.
Olly got up quickly, realizing what he was doing, and sat next to him, causing John B to scoot over to give her room on the white chair.
“Where’d you get that?” Sarah questioned, sending a look at Olly that she couldn’t place.
“He just borrowed it.”
“For a minute,” John B added to Olly’s analysis.
“What are you doing?” Sarah followed.
“He’s sending a message from beyond the grave.” Olly made her voice shrill at the ends, holding her hand up and jumping at the last second as though she were a ghost.
The phone dinged, and she traced her eyes silently over what John B had sent, giving herself a smile.
He’d sneakily taken a photo of him and Sarah leaning against one another while Olly was still laying on the ground.
“They are going to have an aneurysm.”
WTF, is this you? A number Olly recognized as Kiara’s typed quickly, and John B quickly typed his own reply.
Is JJ there? He asked the group chat.
I’m here Bree. JJ’s number typed quickly.
Did you pimp my short board?
A few moments later, the same number typed back; Why isn’t Olly in the photo, bree? Is she okay?
Olly snatched the phone from John B’s fingers and sent a picture of herself, her red five-panel hat, the same one JJ had gotten for her, was back on her head. She gave the camera her signature lopsided smile, the one she only gave to her deepest friends.
I can’t believe the hat didn’t come off in the storm. Pope’s number typed.
Kiara added in, and now JJ is looking like a mad dog.
Laying super low in Nassau, Olly typed into the phone. Which means the cops will find us soon.
John B took the phone back, and typed in quickly, not missing a letter; can you clear our names? We want to come home
Olly took it back, tightening her grip on the black rectangle as she held back her emotion. Be in touch, k? P4L
Coming down from the roof, Olly followed John B and Sarah down the elevator, clutching the few dollars she had in her Carhartt short pocket. The phone that needed charging sat on top of it, and she prayed she could find a cord. She needed to talk to JJ to make sure he was taking care of Butcher, her gangly mutt. She also had a few words she needed to say in private to Pope and Kiara.
It had crossed her mind that JJ wouldn’t take the news of her and John B’s apparent death well. She’s worried about him while on the boat, wondering if he’d done anything stupid out of sheer anger and sadness. She needed to make sure he didn’t get himself hurt over her or his best friend.
“We gotta find some food,” Sarah said, looking out across the hallway of the open air hotel.
“Very true.”
“Yeah.”
Seeing the maid that they’d stolen the phones from, John B said a quick hi, her response being the same. Olly watched as he set the phone back on the cart. He glanced, as if asking if she was going to give the hotel one back, and she shook her head. He shrugged in response.
“Lets go.” Sarah broke the silence.
Running down the stairs, Olly heard a mic check on the bottom floor.
“Check one, check two, check, check.” Was followed by a guitar strumming, and Olly wished she could touch the instrument. “How does that sound, okay?”
“Go check it out?” The blonde girlfriend turned to her brunette boy and his close friend.
“Sure, sure.” The blonde friend nodded lightly. The blonde girlfriend chuckled at her words.
“Get some chairs over here man.” Another voice, the same one that did the mic check, said.
Following her friends through the hotel, Olly turned her head to see a table stacked with platters of freshly prepared food. Watching as Sarah turned and mouthed a spoonful of some casserole, Olly followed John B’s action and grabbed a large pan full of bread crumb topped mac and cheese. It was not a food that she’d expect to find in a foreign five star hotel, but it was one of her comfort meals, and so she thought it would do.
Leaning against the pole and shoving the mac and cheese down her throat, she watched as John B and Sarah, after hearing one of their favorite songs come on in the background, turned and held each others hands. She couldn’t hear what they were saying, so she closed her eyes and enjoyed the flavors pulling around her mouth.
The worries nagged her, filling her up like she was eating them. You will never get home. You will never see JJ or Pope or Butcher again. You will never touch the ocean again. You will never play volleyball again.
She imagined holding JJ’s hand instead of the spoon, and imagined pulling him against her thin lips. Pushing away the thought as she realized how painful it could be, she immersed herself back into the mac and cheese.
She looked up to see John B and Sarah, still holding fingertips together, turn and run towards a covered awning, dancing lightly. Olly smiled warmly, her heart throbbing. What she would do to dance with JJ right now.
When they finished, she joined others in clapping for the two lovebirds. Come on, lonely bird. She remembered the nickname the captain of the ship had called her. Lonely bird. How fitting.
∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞
ok. so how was that? I honestly don’t know. this is only part one of the first episode!
