#Rust payday

[glassrooibos]

Hello I am opening some FUN HEADSHOT COMMISSIONS!! £5 for a headshot in a funky fun style like these :0)

Shoot me a message if you’re interested 👢💥

***UPDATE!!***

I'm going to close these for a now, but thank you so much for everyone who got in touch!!! I'll be reaching out to you soon!!

[reinapantera]

It's PayDay for me "Howdy!! Mate"

🥰😇

Cause we look Good 👍 😏

[rm14hitman]

Cop : You're receiving a ticket for having 3 persons on one motorcycle

Hoxton : Bloody hell...

Rust : Wait, 3 ?

Cop : Yeah ?

Sydney : HOLY SHIT HOUSTON FELL OFF !!!

Hoxton, under his breath : Wanker...

[jacket-enjoyer-69]

Dumb thought. NSFW Payday content.

Hoxton standing on a chair while being steadied by Wolf and screwing in a light bulb.

Bodhi and Dragan:

Rust:

Duke, Sokol and Houston:

Jimmy:

Jacket to Sokol "By Accident":

[what-yadoking-likes]

What the heisters do on Boxing Day:

Clover: begins shopping for Christmas Day the following year in the online sales. She meticulously tracks her purchases, money spent AND 'saved' (i.e. money off) on a comprehensive and colour-coded spreadsheet.

John Wick: walks the dog. Plays fetch with the dog. Goes on a jog with the dog. Gives the dog a bath. Naps on the sofa with the dog.

Rust: he attends one of those biker runs where they collect gifts and distribute them to needy children throughout the capitol.

Hoxton: nurses his very sore throat after carolling and karaoke-ing various Christmas Classics the night before (and the night before that, and the night before before that-).

Duke: reads various Christmas-themed stories or poems aloud. In previous years he read A Christmas Carol (Charles Dickens).

Dallas: avoiding eye contact with/answering his phone to Vlad, because he always gets sent on those wacky Xmas heists for the Ukrainian and he has had it, nope, not this year, not this time - "Dallas speaking, who is i-" "MY FRIEND!!!"

[cedar-eats-poetry]

why does Rust tell me to go fuck myself nine times in a row and then offers me snack pudding like we're office buddies??

[starr-finn]

Hi!! Could you write some headcanons rust x reader, and maybe someone else from the main 4?

Thanks,ly

Alright! So I'll just write general romance HCs, I left out rust for this because I don't write for him in the romantic way, it's a personal choice, I do have father/kid relationship HCs up on my account! I'll definitely write something else for him soon tho! So wrote for the main 4, and Bain, hope that's ok! sorry this took so long, I got really burnt out ;-;

Random relationship HC's for the main 4, and Bain

Author's note:

Dallas

Dallas is a bit protective, whether or not you're a heister, He's ready to fight for you, with absolutely no regard for his own life

Dallas plays with your hair a lot, he usually does it to keep his hands busy

Dallas really enjoys giving and receiving forehead kisses

Spoils the absolute shit outta you, just because he can

doesn't get jealous often, when he does it's more because of the person not leaving you alone

a workaholic, you have to drag him away from work for anything

Has never forgotten your anniversary, married or not

always goes all out on dates, his reasoning is 'Why not? it's for the love of my life'

a total sweetheart most days

uses pet names like 'Darling' 'Love' and 'Dear'

Chains

fuck i have no clue what to do for chains, like at all

actually never leaves your side, he's like one of those clingy puppy dogs that follow you everywhere

spoils you a lot as well

rambles to anyone that will listen about you

has taken many MANY bullets for you

doesn't like fancy dates, so he often takes you out for walks with you

doesn't even really remember your real name, mainly because he never calls you anything other than nicknames

however, he never forgets your birthday or anniversary

tells a lot of dumb jokes and always laughs at yours

Calls you 'Babe' 'Baby' and 'Honey' a lot

Wolf

Wolf is like chains in terms of following you around, he will follow you to the ends of the earth

he holds your hand everywhere you guys go, he doesn't really like not holding your hand

He gets more violent and aggressive if you get hurt

He likes cuddles, he's like a massive snuggly guard dog

He gets jealous easy

He speaks in swedish around you a lot, mainly because he's absolutely smitten and talks to himself about how much he loves you

teaches you swedish

you guys both adopt a dog together after you guys move in together

Forgets dates easy, not because he wants to but because he has so much going on in his psychotic brain

calls you stuff like älskling (Darling) sötnos (Sweetie) and min kärlek (my love)

Hoxton

Teases you a lot, just for fun

Really enjoys biting at your neck and shoulders

holds your hands a lot too

doesn't follow you around a lot, but he likes knowing where you are

will kill any cop that touches you with no hesitation

Goes WAYYY out on dates, he thinks it's important to have big dates, often you guys go out to eat at a fancy restaurant and then go do something fun

spoils you a lot, like a lot

likes cuddles, but they always end up in something more

likes telling corny jokes, laughs harder when you groan at them

Calls you 'My love' 'Darling' and 'cutie'

Bain

Bain is always talking to you, he really, really loves talking to you

since your most likely a heister, He's super protective

almost cries when you get hurt, It makes him sad

has an entire notebook full of stuff he loves about you, just in case

Dates usually consist of a movie and take out, he doesn't like going outside

makes tea for the two of you every night before bed

takes care of you when your hurt or sick

probably one of the best at remembering things

really likes when you braid or play with his hair

Calls you 'Baby' 'Honey' and 'Lovely'

[pd3thoughts]

If Rust comes back then things are gonna get awkward real fast

The gang looking back and forth between them: 😅

[pigeonrocks]

WOAH!!!!!! me actually having a mini art dump to post? craaazy

[guinevereslancelot]

so proud of myself for putting a big part of my last paycheck in my savings like an adult but now im gonna spend all my savings like an idiot 😵‍💫

[crispy-bonnie]

I hit you with the wombo combo my guy

- Platonic headcanons for Rust and Duke???

- UH, YES PLEASE?????

- So Reader is like, young, like 20-something

- And they're very nice/friendly, and fluffy :>

- They get along well with everyone, including Rust/Duke

- And it's pretty clear Reader thinks of him as a father figure (though they would never say it)

- As in, Duke/Rust are sort of aware of it

- And at one point, the gang are watching a movie very late at night, and Reader falls asleep first

- (You know, if this was a sleepover, Reader would be having brain surgery now)

- Okay anyway, Rust/Duke pick them up and put them to sleep (that sounds threatening)

- Rust/Duke is like 'Goodnight'

- And reader is like 'Gn dad ¦]'

- IDK I JUST NEED A FATHER FIGURE (FROM A GAME) PLEASE

cries in fatherless too also this is my first time writing rust so it’s probably gonna be shitty lol

Fatherly HCs - RUST + DUKE

Rust

Is quite confused on how you saw him of all people to be a father figure but he rolls with it anyway

At first he’s not one to do much? You’d usually be the one initiating and leading conversations with him

But at some point he ends up warming up to you. Specifically the point where you started expressing your interest in his bike/biker fashion

If you’re up for it, he’ll take you on joyrides with him and pass by all the scenic routes of D.C.

Teaches you all the little things about bikes and how to take care of them

At some point, Rust even teaches you how to ride one!

If you get the hang of riding it, he’ll force his bike repairman to make a bike tailored just for you [favorite color, seat material, even special decorations]

If you don’t, he’ll opt to get you a leather jacket instead with your name and a symbol representing you on it

The two of you don’t talk too much aside from joyrides and other bike riding shit. If you happen to bump into each other in the morning then you’d probably have a chat over some coffee

Now if someone were to hurt you, physically or emotionally, you’ll probably find the perp’s corpse mangled and ran over

He’d just casually say he took care of some personal business

Despite the lack of conversation between you two, he cares for you deeply.

If you do something like fall asleep on the couch or somewhere uncomfy, he’ll carry you to somewhere comfortable and drape a blanket over you like fjwbfhwbdb

He’s pretty chill with you calling him ‘dad’ or ‘pops’. It makes him feel like he’s got something to live for…aside from his bike

Overall, he’s a sweet and chill guy. He won’t say it verbally, but he loves ya /p

Duke

Like Rust, he also finds it confusing because like- he thinks of himself as anything but fit to be a father figure because he's so caught up in all this ancient history shit lmao

He doesn't necessarily warm up to the role, but he also doesn't reject it either. He kinda just accepts it

You and Duke like to have random and long talks about artifacts that he managed to get his hands on or spot somewhere in a museum

He'll be like holding back tears [/pos] if you manage to recite some history facts to him

You'd be ranting on about it to Sydney and Duke in the background would be like "I'm so proud of that kiddo" while trying not to cry lmao

Takes you to the museum often so that you two can check out some cool artifacts, maybe even steal some later during a heist. He also often offers to get you ice cream afterwards so that the two of you can discuss what you saw without disturbing the peace in the museum

He won't express his affection physically nor verbally, but rather through a more protecitve demeanor

If anyone gets a scratch on you, whether it be a teammate, civilian, or cop, he'll be downing whisky and absolutely torching them with dragon's breath rounds

Duke would def be one of those proud father figures tbh. Again, not verbal or physical about it, but it shows.

[hoxooster]

For the lovely person--who wishes to remain anonymous--that asked me to do this by saying, “Because obvious is obvious.”

I hope that I managed to capture what you pictured in your head!

[hoxooster]

From what I know and feel of their vibes:

Bain - We haven't seen any proof of him doing it, and I'm kind of torn on it. 'Cause that could be a potential security risk for him, depending on how he gets the nail polish and what kind he uses being turned into some way of tracking him. But, I can also see him sitting at his computer, painting his nails blue to pass the time while something compiles on his desktop or the guys are stealthing a heist. I dunno. Your Mileage May Vary.

Dallas - He wouldn't and never has. If anyone pestered him about painting his nails for him, he would complain and leave the Safe House with the excuse of 'needing to buy more cigarettes'. Even if he bought a pack just that morning.

Chains - He doesn't paint his nails, but he wouldn't be bothered if someone asked to paint them for him. He'd just remove it later if he needed to go on a heist or something like that. He probably wouldn't care which color they gave him, but he'd ask for purple if they gave him a choice.

Wolf - He was a dad in his old life, so he wouldn't care if someone painted his nails. Otherwise, he doesn't go out of his way for it. Another 'doesn't care what color' kind of guy, and I don't think he'd ask for a specific one, unless he wanted it to match something of his for some reason. Like, if he wanted his nails to match his 40K army he was running at the time. (After much thinking on it, I think he would field Tyranids and Genestealers as his main [either Pauper Princes or Rusted Claw], Khorne Daemons with corrupted Astra Militarum as his secondary, and Necron Flayed Ones as his third. Fight me.)

Hoxton - Dude's from the British Punk scene, so he definitely paints his nails whenever he's not on a heist. Lots of blacks and reds. I bet you $20USD that he freehanded the anarchy symbol on his thumbs more than once. The one on his right thumb always looks better, southpaw that he is.

Houston - YMMV again, but I don't think he does. Houston is very particular and works with his hands a lot--especially when it comes to the van. He's probably washing his hands constantly. Also, since some of his behaviors come off as Autistic Spectrum tics, he probably doesn't like the feel of nail polish on his nails. I, personally, despise the feel of nail polish. My fingers feel like they're suffocating under thick mud, and so I reflexively scrape it off to get rid of the feeling. He might do the same.

John Wick - Unless he did it while he was with the Ruska Roma family for any plays or ballet they made him do, he doesn't and he won't let anyone paint his nails for him. If anyone would ask to do it for him, he'd just give them that mildly annoyed glare that he has, say "No," and walk away.

Dragan - Playful as he is, he wouldn't--either on his own or if someone offered. Dude's still too wrapped up in being an enforcer for the Butcher and a gym rat in his off-hours. He's got no time for it, and it's 'just not his thing.'

Jacket - He probably wouldn't do it on his own, but he would sit there while someone else did it (so long as it is Sydney or Wolf painting them). His recorder would be peppy in its responses, even though his facial expression wouldn't change from his usual dead-eyed stare during the process. But, overall, I think he would be happy with some bright, neon colors on his nails.

Sokol - He wouldn't do it on his own, and he'd be insulted by someone else offering to do it. But, eventually, he'd thaw to it and the curiosity would get to him until he'd finally ask if someone would paint his nails for him. YMMV on whether or not he would like it or figure out that it's not his thing, but at least he'd move past a minor part of a learned stigma after the experience.

Jiro - He wouldn't. He's an old-time yakuza, so that would be a no-go with him.

Bodhi - He's all sports and bravado-focused, so I don't think he would. But, I dunno. It depends on how easy going y'all think he is with the rest of the Crew, and whether or not y'all think he would agree to sit there and let someone else do it, so YMMV here as well.

Jimmy - He would if someone else painted his nails for him, and I honestly wouldn't be surprised if he 'woke up' in his clone to find his nails already done up in a rainbow of colors and lil' designs. 'Cause, his uninhabited, motionless clone would be the perfect subject to paint, after all.

Rust - He wouldn't. Ever. If anyone asked if they could paint his nails for him, he would sling A LOT of slurs and just tell them to 'shoot him instead.'

Scarface - He wouldn't. Male bravado once again, except his ego is a 'different kind of inflated' compared to the other guys. Depending on if he took any yayo, he might even pull a gun or a knife on whoever offered to do his nails.

Sangres - He's similar to Scarface in the machismo department, but in a Mexican ganger kind of way, instead of 'a kingpin with something to prove.' So, he wouldn't paint his nails on his own, no. But, he's also mostly easy going with the rest of the Crew, if a bit abrasive in his approach, meaning that he might let someone else do it for him, even if he just removes it right after. Then again, he might tell them to fuck off before they even finish asking. It just depends.

Duke - He wouldn't, as the chemicals in the nail polish could potentially damage any of the artifacts he messes with.

Gage - He would do it to throw off people, but he tends to pretend to be a homeless veteran, so he doesn't need to, normally. Otherwise, he doesn't do it for any personal reasons.

Vlad - He would let someone paint his nails, especially if it would confuse others. Also, the thought of beating someone who owed him money while his nails were painted pink with red and white hearts would be hilarious to him.

Locke - He wouldn't, and he'd say British-specific slurs in response to being asked. I can actually see Hoxton getting mad at him and stomping over in a huff just to fire back, even if he only managed to overhear part of the conversation from a different room. 'Talk shit, get hit,' as they say.

… out of all the payday gang male members, who do you think paints their nails and what colors?

Tbh, out of all of them, the colors blue, red, black, would probably frequent out of all of them ngl.

[what-yadoking-likes]

More Payday/Pokemon crossover thoughts:

Jimmy has a Ditto. This is a reference to Hardcore Henry (can you tell I haven't seen Hardcore Henry?). I'm tempted to give him one of the 'bear' Pokemon (think Ursaring, Beartic, Bewear), purely because I keep thinking of Cocaine Bear and Jimmy likes cocaine...

... is my analysis of Jimmy dumb? Am I diminishing him into a caricature of himself? Am I doing him a disservice?... Ahhh well, this list is just for funsies anyway.

I've said this before, but Dallas has a Braviary as a reference to his mask because MURICAAAAAA. An Audino for interesting setups and the potential for a Medic Bag reference.

Houston is the resident ghost, but somehow ghost-type Pokemon don't seem that Houston-coded to me. I could see him having something like a Decidueye for the sneaky aspect and the assassin/speedy boy aspect. Maybe a Meowth to help him out with those debts, dude.

Wolf has a Drilbur, BUT he never evolves it. Why? Because I fucking hate how Excadrill looks.

Hoxton has a Houndoom.

Rust has a Granbull who rides in its own little sidecar alongside Rust's bike.

[samthestrangerthingsfan]

Out of The Woods

pairing: Eddie Munson x Reader

summary: A look back into our reader's past, and a run-in with one, too.

chapter warnings: slow burn,mentions of grief, parental loss, motherhood, swearing, alcohol(ism), child neglect, childhood trauma. Maggie fluff to fix it all <3

a/n: EEP EEP EEP, i know i know its a slooooow burn but we truly are just getting started. Enjoy!

chapter two: Tell Me A Lie || series masterlist

SEPTEMBER 17th, 1982

Freezer-burnt Egos sit three high on the olive green plate in front of you.

“Great.” Syrup hasn’t been purchased in weeks, so you slather each one with a smear of grape jelly. All served up with a side of tap water.

One bite in, and the sound of shattering glass startles the appetite out it you.

“Dad?!” You shout in a panic.

The sight that greets you on the living room is one that’s become familiar in the few months since your mom’s passing. Your father, slumped over in his beat up recliner, a shattered vodka bottle on the floor next to him.

“Shit…” you’re frantic as you rush to grab the broom and dustpan. It’s become a routine, clean up dad’s mess so that he doesn’t hurt himself when he wakes for his night shift at the Plant.

While it may be routine, it’s certainly not normal. No fourteen year old should be shopping for groceries, and doing laundry and writing checks to the electric company with a letter begging for them to give her a little more time with the lights on.

Every payday, you’d wait for Dad to pass out in his chair, and you’d take most of the cash from his wallet. It was just enough to get yourself food for the week and pay what you could. If he noticed the missing money, he never said anything, but you assumed he did notice that debt collectors had stopped calling so much.

“Bye, Dad.” You whispered. No response—then again, there never was.

The bag of glass was thrown into the trash on your walk to the garage. Hopping on your rusted out silver bike, you started the 2 mile ride to Hawkins High.

In truth, this has become the only slice of peace in your day. You could shut your damn brain off and just breathe. Not worry about the inevitable chaos that waited for you at home.

It was Friday, which means a meeting with the school counselor to see how you were doing since your mom died. June was…it was a time you’ve tried to block out. To suppress any memories or feeling from that awful day.

“Did you hear me, hon?” Ms. Kelly’s soft voice pulled you from your dissociation.

“What? Oh, mhm.”

She looked at you softly, tilting her head as a sign she absolutely did not believe you.

“Listen,” she pulls the file off her desk and turns it for you to see. “Your grades…they’re not at all reflective of your abilities. Your teachers think you’re brilliant, but the lack of effort on homework and tests is something of a concern.”

The pain of holding back tears began to prickle your throat. “I know, I’m—I’m trying. I’m studying as much as I can—“

“You’ve got such a bright future, just work a bit harder, hm?” Her smile was one of reassurance and confidence.

It’s not Mrs. Kelly’s fault. She didn’t know about what was happening at home, so she certainly didn’t know the impact of her advice.

“Work harder,” you whisper, venom coating your tongue. “Got it.”

The smile on your face is only there to keep the tears at bay. She excuses you to get back to next period, and you practically sprint from her office.

Where your legs take you, you’re not exactly sure. But the room is empty and dark and at this point you’ll take any refuge you can get.

So you sit and sob, heaving breaths and crying into your palm to muffle any sounds. How long you were there you have no idea, but it was long enough to hear the bell for end of the school day.

The door to the room opened, pouring in light from the hallway.

“Shit…you okay?”

His voice was so gentle and unsure. Backlit as the door closed, the shadow of his silhouette almost made him look like an angel.

Long shaggy hair, denim and chains and leather.

An angel--dressed like a devil.

You attempted to stand quickly, muttering a half-hearted apology, but you stumbled. Luckily for you, the stranger caught your elbow and waist.

“Whoa, hey just—here, sit for a sec, okay?” He guided you to the table across from where you’d sat, and ushered you towards one of the chairs.

“You’re not hurt are you?” His voice was so soft; a kindness you hadn’t heard in a long, long time.

You shook your head, “No, no. I’m fine.”

He laughed softly, “You sure about that?”

The tears in your eyes put holes in his chest.

“I’m Eddie,” he sat next to you on the table, “Who might you be?”

You whispered your name, and he smiled, then whispered it right back.

Eddie was gentle with you. He sat in silence for a few minutes, waiting for your breathing to return to normal.

What you didn’t know was how he watched you. The way he recognized the pain in your eyes—a kind of sadness that only people who’ve experienced it can understand.

He knew a bad home life when he saw one, and It made him angry.

Angry that someone could look in your eyes and hurt you. That people could see how broken you were and take advantage of it. Worst of all? He was angry there was no one there to protect you.

As far as he was concerned, that changes today.

Eddie cleared his throat, and your eyes found him again. “Look at us,” he nudged your shoulder. “strangers a couple minutes ago, now we’re acquaintances. Who knows? Before we leave we might even be friends.”

A genuine and true laugh escaped you. It’d been so long since you’d heard your own laugh, the sound alone was foreign.

Though for Eddie, it was a sound that made his heart beat faster and face turn rosey, even under the gross fluorescent bulbs.

“I’d like to be your friend, I think.” You smile. Crinkles formed by his umber eyes as he mirrored your grin.

Your hand juts out, extended to him for the taking. “You’re not a serial killer, right?”

His warm grip finds yours, “Not to your knowledge.”

There’s a pain in your cheeks from smiling so hard. “That’s reassuring.”

Eddie jumped up, offering you his elbow. “Whaddya say, kid? Care to cause some chaos and debauchery with your new pal?”

It’d be easy to say no. To allow yourself to return to the shell you’ve built around yourself in order to protect your heart in a way no one else would.

But you didn’t hesitate. Linking arms with Eddie, his scent invaded you—nicotine and weed and…vanilla? Whatever the combination, you’re sure it was uniquely and perfectly him.

“Whatcha got in mind?”

Eddie could have said anything and you’re pretty sure you’d have agreed. “Oh, sweetheart. Just you wait.”

“Mama! Do we have any straw’bies?” Maggie asked from the kitchen.

The smell from the chemicals you’re cleaning the shower with make your head throb and the sweat on your brow itches you for the ten millionth time.

Deep breathes. Deep breathes.

“No, Mags. C’mon, get your shoes on. As soon as I’m done here we’re going to the store.” You throw the yellow gloves down into the sink, giving them a quick rinse.

The weekend has brought some seriously good progress. Friday you’d managed to get Maggie registered for school, and start cleaning out the house.

Boxes of old newspapers and tchotchkes your father had kept sat stagnant, collecting dust and taking up far too much space. None of it mattered to you, so you’d trashed it.

All of it.

Saturday was spent taking trips back and forth to the Goodwill, hoping and praying your little car would survive after all the driving she did. You’d bought a few cheap gallons of paint from Melvald’s, this house was your home now—Maggie’s home. It was time to wipe the slate clean and create a place the two of you could fill with love and laughter and memories

“Mom?” Maggie mumbled, mouth full of banana as she watches you slink into your jacket.

You grabbed your keys. “Yes, angel?”

“Can we get ice cream? Wouldn’t that be a fun way to ce-bre-late me going to big girl school tomorrow?”

I need to find a damn job.

You do some quick math, adding and subtracting based on what you had left in your savings, and what you’d set aside for bills.

You drop to your knees in front of your daughter, getting right down to her level to place a big kiss on her forehead. “Of course we can. Good idea, Maggie-moo.”

Her dimples were so deep from her big wide grin, you poked a finger in each of them.

“Moooom!” She laughed, swatting your hands away.

“Whaaaat? I just love you! Now c’mon, we gotta go get your asparagus.” You hold the door and Maggie jumps onto the porch.

“Ice cream!” She shouts, making a mad dash to the car.

You chuckle. “Right, right. Ice cream.”

The store is a mere 10 minutes drive from home. If you ask Maggie, she thinks 10 minutes is the perfect amount of time to throw an impromptu concert from the back seat—room for encore included.

The moment your hands grasp the shopping cart, Maggie’s arms are up. “Assuming the position, I see.” You smile proudly.

Scooping her up, you plop her right on her bottom into the cart. Maggie wiggled, gasping as the two of you strolled past the chip aisle. “Don’t forget! We have to get some snacks for school too!”

“Right,” you braked, and turned down it. “Let me guess, Doritos are the perfect school snack?”

Her eyes are wide, clearly overwhelmed at the selection the Pete’s Grocery has to offer. “Can we gets the cheese ones?”

“Sure thing, Sunshine.”

Shopping is entirely uneventful. It’s mainly you budgeting and planning on dinners for the week. Everything bought has to have more than one use or purpose, or you don’t get it. A few jars of pasta sauce, some spaghetti, a loaf of bread, peanut butter and jelly. Chicken, canned corn, strawberries and bananas and a few boxes of mac n cheese. No the shopping spree Maggie thinks it is, but you’ll make it work.

“Alright kiddo, now the piece de resistance…the ice cream section!” You use your best announcer voice as you scoop her from the cart, and let her roam free.

She squeals. “Mom! There’s so many kinds!”

You watch her, taking in how the littlest things in this life make her the happiest you’ve ever seen her. You’re so engrossed in your daughter, you almost don’t hear it. The familiar tone that had engrained itself in your memory, the sarcastic “Sure, Robin.” that had been a staple in his vocabulary since High School.

Any calm feeling you’d had vanished, stomach churning inside you. “Mags,” you called in a hushed tone. “Maggie! C’mon, baby, just choose—“

The voices were an aisle away, and moving closer to you.

Maggie was in her own world, running back and forth to different doors in careful deliberation.

You could feel yourself start to tremble, calling her a bit louder this time. “Maggie-moo, please hurry—“

“Ho-ly shit.”

Of course Robin was the first to say something. She stood with her mouth agape, Steve perplexed next to her. When he’d followed her gaze, the two bags of chips he was holding fell to the floor.

He called your name like he was unsure. Questioning if the ghost in front of him was really his friend from all those years ago.

“Mommy! I founded the one I want!” Maggie screeched as she barreled toward you, clutching a box of Bomb Pops to her chest.

Your two old friends’ eyes went straight to your daughter.

Robin’s eyes were so wide, you thought they’d burst from her skull. “Mom?” She questioned.

Steve followed her up with, “No freakin’ way.”

Maggie chucked the pops in the cart, and stood by your side, your arms instinctively reaching for her. She must have followed your eyes, because soon, she too was in the middle of the staring contest the three of you had started.

She was quiet for a moment, studying them, and it wasn’t that long before she started giggling the tiniest bit. She covered her mouth, making herself laugh with whatever joke was rolling around in her little mind.

Maggie walked up to Steve as she laughed, and smiled her big toothy grin at him. “Hiya, Cheeseball!” She spoke through her giggles.

Robin’s laugh caught her so off guard she started coughing, and Steve was all smiles. “Excuse me? Who told you about my nickname?”

Maggie laughed, “My Mommy! She said your name is Steeb and you’re a real cheese ball!”

“Steve, Mags. Steve.” You were laughing, thankful for your daughter for saving you and for easing the tense moment you were seconds away from having to address.

“Nope, uh-uh. He’s Steeb now, from this day until his last.” She looked at you, get big smile taking up her face. Her eyes were soft, softer than they’d been moments ago. She looked back to Maggie, “And who’re you?”

Pride filled Maggie’s voice, “My name is Maggie and I’m six years old, but I’ll be seven soon! Mommy telled me birthday is Star Wars day.”

Robin’s brows pinched together, “Star Wars Day?”

“May the 4th.” You and Steve answered in unison.

The hazel-eyed boy looked at you, offering you a small smile.

Robin went back to talking to Maggie, asking her about Star Wars and her why she chose Bomb Pops. Steve walked over to stand next to you.

He plopped the chips in the top of your cart, and without any hesitation, pulled you in for a hug.

“God, I missed you.” He whispered into your hair.

You could feel the emotion squeezing your throat, “I missed you so much, Stevie.”

He held you a few more seconds, using Robin as a distraction. “Is…is she—“

You gripped him tighter, “Not here. Please not here, Steve.”

Steve Harrington was many things, but dumb wasn’t one of them. A bit of an airhead, and clueless sometimes, but not dumb. He’d seen it immediately, the resemblance between the two of you, and the one of Maggie and his other friend.

Steve let you go, looking over your face. “Does, um…does he know?”

With shame in your heart, you shook your head. “No, and I need to keep it the way.”

The for now went unsaid.

Steve nodded. “You haven’t ran into him yet then, I take it.”

“No,” you whispered. “I don’t even know what would happen if we did. Can’t think about it, not right now.”

Maggie approached the two of you, yanking Robin by her arm. “You were right, Mom! I do like this Robin lady.”

When the laughter died down, it was then Robin asked the question looming over the four of you.

“So, and pardon-my-french Little Miss M, but what the hell are you doing back in Hawkins?”

And with that, the floodgates opened.

You told them about what you’d been up to the last seven years, and what brought you back. Granted, you kept everything very Maggie-friendly—meaning most of your words were very PG friendly.

It was a weird feeling, admitting to all of the half-truths you told yourself, and how you had to push them out of your life. You wanted to tell them anything but the truth. To spare their feelings and the thought that you too could just as easily abandon the people who, at one point, were some of the most important people in your life.

"That's...that's heavy shit." Steve breathed.

You nodded, fully aware of the hanger-ticking-timebomb Maggie was becoming.

"We'll, uh...we'll catch up soon. Gotta get the grouch dinner."

"I am not a grouch." Maggie crossed her arms, and turned away.

"Of course you're not! You're just a girl who knows what she want." Robin high fived Maggie, and your heart melted.

You hugged them both one more time before loading Mags back in the cart, "Stop by anytime," You said with a smile. "You know where I live."