~~📷~~ She wasn't the first; and most likely won't be the last person to say something about his lack of sleep. Or at least give him a look that said he should just go to bed.
He couldn't help it--- the nightmares always kept him up. He'd fall asleep and wakr up again; screaming, crying -or both- into his pillow. He'd rather just stay wake then to experience more of those.
Yet, he didn't know what dumb thing he'd done this time for her to call him out---
Sink into me /
Die for me /
L༙྇i༙྇v༙྇i༙྇n༙྇g༙྇ D༙྇e༙྇a༙྇d༙྇ G༙྇i༙྇r༙྇l༙྇
#livesguarded is an Indie Headcanon based and Canon-Divergent fandomless
Heather Holloway originally of Stranger Things 3,
written primarily out of fandom as a horror muse;;
written by Victoria (she / her), 27. #AAPI
15 years of experience, 10 on tumblr
Mutuals Only. PRIVATE. Minors DNI
Do not follow unless I follow you on @havvkinsqueen
Unaffiliated with Stranger Things / STRPC
@livesguarded → “ no don’t move, it’s too cold outside the covers. ”
BILLY CHUCKLED SOFTLY AS he turned on his side toward Heather, an arm sliding around her waist so he could tug her back against his chest. ❝ I wasn't going anywhere, ❞ he said softly. ❝ Just readjusting because you're right. It's fucking cold in this room. ❞ He dropped a soft kiss onto her shoulder before nuzzling into her neck, breathing in the scent of her. It wasn't the first time he and Heather had slept together, but every time they did it became a little more emotionally complicated. At the beginning they'd started having sex as a release, a way to temporarily fill the hollowness in both of them. But now he wasn't sure that was still true.
❝ Hope you didn't plan on getting out of bed any time soon, ❞ he murmured against the spot just below her ear, fingertips tracing random patterns on the flat surface of her belly.
"No, you’re not dreaming. Yes, you came home with me and spent the night. No, we didn’t fuck. That answer all your questions? Coffee?” He wasn’t entirely sure of what had happened himself, but he had a fairly decent idea. Heather - he assumed - had taken more than she should have. If she hadn’t gone home with him she likely would have gone home with someone else, and while they weren’t friends per se... given the circumstances - he couldn’t let that happen. “For the record, you came willingly. Didn’t tell me to fuck off or mind my own business. Which should really drive home the state you were in.”
@livesguarded sent: “Happy Birthday, Loser.” Heather tossed Billy a gift bag with a regifted whoopie cushion, and a leather bracelet inside.
grabbing for the fork after deep thought how gross school food looks, he’s about to act on impulse. scoop a few peas up on it and then fling it at a victim, til heather spares someones hair by distracting him. the bag that gets thrown at him knocking the fork out of his hand, “shit.” clanging in the floor by his foot, looking down at it with instant irritation. it’s about to piss him off until he sees it’s HEATHER and there’s a bag on the table in front of him. got a feeling it’s going to be payback when it was just her birthday the other day which makes him kind of eager to see what it is after he places fork back down. ripping the bag open, no mercy on it–– turning it over and letting the contents fall out. THERE it is. his beloved prized possession. the pink whoopie cushion that he’s immediately putting his lips on to inflate. grabbing her arm and pulling her closer to release the whoopie in her ear, making an atrocious pftttttt sound. “you’re the loser.” an OBNOXIOUS ha - ha sounds from him, clapping hands together after he drops it. other peoples trays banging with his hard slaps to the table once clapping goes to smacking the table at the DUMB amusement it gives him. “oh. something else, huh?” realizing there’s ANOTHER piece he didn’t see to his birthday gift, almost missed it as he picks it up and turns it around to gauge that it’s actually... pretty cool. he digs it and it’s something he’d definitely wear. “thanks, heather.” sliding it onto his wrist without his watch, matches his black motley crue tee stuck to his chest. “now, be real. where’d you STEAL it?”
❝ okay, i’ve got the best ghost story, wanna hear? ❞
Max couldn’t help but arch an eyebrow, skeptical of the kinds of ghost stories that Heather could tell. “--I’ve lived through many ghost stories myself, i’m not sure you can do better.. -- but i’d like to see you try.” She said with a shrug. Arms moving to cross over her chest , as she waited for Heather to take the floor. “... Just don’t be offended, if I don’t think it’s the best -- the best is hard to beat.”
The reaction came as a sharp shrug, his arms slumping immediately afterward, rings clinking against the beer bottle between his fingers. Eddie stared at Heather with a deadpan expression before taking a swig from his drink. "I dunno. Where would you like me to begin with that answer? We'd only be here like our whole lives or something." Maybe that was a bit of an exaggeration, but it got the point across. Eddie Munson didn't earn the nickname freak for nothing, after all.
Max giggled the moment Heather picked up, which was very unlike her. "Heather!!!" She yelled in a sing song voice, the one word coming out a little slurred. "You're pretty, you know that? --Billy is lucky to have you in his life. I'm happy for him, but shhhh don't tell him that." The redhead was now attempting to whisper, trying to hold back her giggles. A moment later she became more serious than she intended. Maybe being drunk wasn't as fun as she thought it would be. "You think i'd be missed if I left Hawkins? Got out of town, tried to hide from Vecna? What if he's still coming after me? What if i'm not safe?" Max didn't normally talk about her fears, in fact she played them off like it was no big deal.
"Oh.. wait, I found the tequila, can you mix vodka and tequila?" She questioned, as if she wasn't just spilling her secret fears. "-- i'm gonna come over... do you think your dad will be okay with it?"
“You ever think of just, buying a new wardrobe, doing a new hairstyle, and just pretending to be someone else for awhile?” She asked, sitting in a hunched over manner on the bench of the trailer park close to the Munningham residence. Vic offered her pack of smokes to Heather.
“Just, fuck it, I’m just not gonna be me anymore. To see if anything changes, or if it’s all gonna be the same shit.”
"Okay, I know this is gonna sound insane, but I can like. . . I can read people's minds?" She felt insane even saying it but the truth was, she wanted to help. Whatever this thing was that'd taken over Heather and Billy, if it still had its tendrils in Heather's mind, maybe she could push it out? "Usually I just use it when I got a bad grade on somethin' or I get caught doin' somethin' I shouldn't but maybe I can. . . If it's still in there, maybe I can try to get it out?"