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stevie-petey · 1 year ago

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episode nine: the beginning

“No, I understand.” Steve smiles and then points to the wall of comics behind you. “So, if we’re going to be friends, I gotta ask about your Spider-Man obsession.” “Oh, now that’s just too personal. This is like, day three of our friendship. At least ask what my favorite color is, first.” Steve laughs again and nods. “Alright, fair. What is your favorite color, then?” And this is the beginning of your friendship with Steve Harrington.

summary: BONUS EPISODE TIME ! steve becomes bookstrorindary's favorite loyal costumer, jonathan buys you a bug for christmas, you freak out your poor coworker alex, and suddenly steve is really hot and you're feeling so many feelings (bad ! it's all bad !).

rating: general, some swearing

warnings: swearing, angst ending (sorry gang), fem!reader and use of y/n

words: 6.5k

before you swing in: surprise ! bonus chapter that takes place between seasons 1 and 2. basically, as the title says, it's the beginning of everything between steve and reader. this is where everything starts to take shape, their beginning dynamic, and ultimately the horrible timing of it all. life is hard, steve is hot, and reader just wants to heal her physical and metaphorical wounds. enjoy !

November 15th, 1983

When Steve Harrington walks into Bookstrordinary your first day back, you think your lingering concussion from the monster is causing you to hallucinate.

You had been struggling to reshelf some books, your crutches being a burden and hard to balance with as you stack, when the bell above the front door alerted you of someone’s arrival.

“Welcome to Bookstrordinary, how can I help you–” You place the last back in the shelf and turn around, not expecting who you see. “Steve?”

He smiles at you and shoves his hands in his bomber jacket. “Hey, Y/N.”

“What are you doing here?”

“You can’t figure out my nickname if we don’t hang out, right? So,” He shrugs, as if this is just another Monday for him. “I’m here.”

You stare at him for a moment, unsure what exactly to do. While you hadn’t been lying when you told Steve that you guys could be friends, you hadn’t expected him to jump at the opportunity so quickly. His eyebrow is still healing from his fight with Jonathan in the alley and you’re stuck with crutches for the next two weeks.

Wounds are still healing. You figured Steve would take some time to collect himself, but it appears that he simply doesn’t care, or maybe it doesn’t matter to him.

“How did you know I even worked here?” You ask the boy, now making your way over to the front counter where he stands.

Steve chuckles. “You really can’t give me credit for anything, can you? I pay attention, Y/N. I can be observant.”

“It’s not like that,” you’re quick to correct, scared that Steve will think you see him as some mean jock. “I just… I’m not used to people paying attention to me, I guess.”

You pause and make a face, not liking the way that sounds. “That sounded incredibly gross and cheesy, huh?”

“No, I understand.” Steve smiles and then points to the wall of comics behind you. “So, if we’re going to be friends, I gotta ask about your Spider-Man obsession.”

“Oh, now that’s just too personal. This is like, day three of our friendship. At least ask what my favorite color is, first.”

Steve laughs again and nods. “Alright, fair. What is your favorite color, then?”

And this is the beginning of your friendship with Steve Harrington.

He spends almost two hours the first day at your job, asking you questions about yourself, your favorite food and color and animal, which genre of books you prefer, anything and everything he can think of to get to know you better, Steve asks it.

At first you’re unnerved by his onslaught of questions, but slowly you find yourself opening up to him and enjoying having Steve with you. He makes your last few hours of work bearable and fun. Before you know it, you begin asking him your own questions. You learn that he loves banana bread, secretly enjoys helping his mom around the house, and that blue is his favorite color.

When your coworker Alex walks in to take over the next shift and finds you leaning against the counter talking to Steve, he almost spits out the milkshake he had been drinking. “S–Steve Harrington?”

Steve tenses for a second and, before your very eyes, he morphs into his King Steve persona effortlessly. You’re not sure what exactly he changes about himself, but he becomes more closed off, guarded, with an air of authority that frightens you a little. “Hey, kid. Do I know you?”

Alex shakes his head, too stunned to speak.

“That’s my coworker, Alex.” You take pity on the poor kid. He’s only a year younger than you, but you suppose that a junior like Steve, someone well known and admired throughout the school, can be intimidating.

“Nice to meet ya, buddy. I’m assuming that Y/N here is off the clock now?”

“Y–yes.” Alex squeaks out.

The bell above the door rings again, this time announcing Jonathan’s arrival.

He walks in, distracted with some groceries in his arms, so when he finally looks up and sees you, Steve, and Alex all standing in a circle staring at him, he freezes. “Well, this is an interesting sight.”

Steve ducks his head, his King persona quickly fading away. “Hey, Jonathan.”

“Steve,” Jonathan responds cooly, looking between you and him as if trying to figure out a complex math equation.

Great.

You clear your throat and step away from Steve, heading to the back of the store to collect your things and clock out. “Just give me a minute or two to grab my things, then I’ll be all set to leave, Jonathan.”

He nods at you, still staring at Steve like he’s some foreign creature, and you quickly hobble away to avoid any interaction between them. You’re not sure why having the two of them in the same room as you feels so wrong, but your head still aches from its concussion and your ribs are so bruised that breathing still hurts, so you really don’t have the time to figure any of it out.

While you’re gone, Steve and Jonathan continue to stare each other down.

“Picking Y/N up?” Steve guesses, eyeing the keys in Jonathan’s hand and the groceries in the other.

“Yeah, kinda something I’ve always done.”

“Right.”

Jonathan readjusts his grip on one of the grocery bags, having nothing better to do as he waits for you. Alex busies himself with rearranging some books at the counter, clearly equally as uncomfortable as the two teens are.

Steve lets a whistle out and awkwardly stuffs his hands into his pockets. Jonathan watches him in curiosity. The scab on his eyebrow has almost healed over, but Jonathan still gets a kick of pride seeing it. He’d done that. He’d marred King Steve’s handsome face.

“Are you, like… Y/N’s friend now?” Asks Jonathan, the question heavy on his mind. He trusts your judgment of people, he knows you can read people better than anyone else, but having Steve around you makes him uneasy. The guy had been a grade A dick to you and him for years, especially his bullshit friends Carol and Tommy.

“We made a compromise,” Steve says, a hint of humor in his voice.

Jonathan frowns. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Well–”

“Okay, let’s go!” You walk back in, fearful of whatever conversation you’ve interrupted.

Jonathan watches as Steve immediately turns to you, as if drawn in by your mere presence, and he starts to wonder exactly what the boy’s intentions are with you. All you did was walk into the room, and yet Steve is hanging onto your every word.

He doesn't blame him, god he doesn't. It’s you. You could command a room with just your smile alone, but Jonathan isn’t used to sharing that with others.

Especially not with people like Steve.

“Will you be working tomorrow?” Steve asks you, a twinkle in his eye.

You nod at him. “Mhm, I work every day after school. On weekends I’m usually home doing homework or keeping that one in check.”

You point at Jonathan, who laughs. “Guilty.”

“Then I’ll see you at the same time tomorrow?” Steve doesn’t even look over at Jonathan, which he rolls his eyes at.

“See ya then.” You smile wide at Steve and for some reason Jonathan really wants to throw the bag of eggs he’s holding.

This was not what he had been expecting when he told you earlier he’d be picking you up after getting his mom some groceries.

And had someone told Jonathan that the rest of sophomore year would go on like this, he probably would’ve thrown the bag of eggs at Steve then.

–

True to his word, Steve comes by and visits you almost every day leading up to winter break. He becomes a regular, hanging around the counter talking to you about anything and everything. The first few days you had been a bit nervous that your boss, Mrs. Waters, would have a problem with him, but she quickly dispelled your concerns.

“Oh, that handsome young man? He can stay as long as he likes. I think he’s the reason we’ve been getting so many young customers recently.”

You look around and realize that, yeah, there is in fact a new group of freshmen girls who have started stopping by and browsing the romance section. You’ve noticed the way they stop and stare at Steve while he talks to you, whispering and giggling to themselves.

Steve pays them no mind, always too busy talking about basketball or his latest issue with Nancy.

That’s been the one downside to all of this, really.

You’re happy the two of you are friends, but between Jonathan’s moaning about the girl and now Steve’s worrying that he’ll never be good enough, you’re kinda sick of talking about Nancy Wheeler.

Which is a shame, you actually quite admire the girl.

“And today she looked at me in the hallway and I think she even smiled–”

“Steve,” you interrupt him, a headache forming. “Like I’ve told you a million times now, she needs some time. It’s only been a few weeks, I think she’s still recovering from what happened at Jonathan’s. She also lost Barb, you can’t forget that.”

You don’t tell Steve about the whole Jonathan and Nancy situation, partly because it isn’t your place, and partly because you’re not sure if it will do more harm than good.

The boy nods, looking crestfallen. “Yeah, you’re right. I just… I want to get this right, ya know?”

“I know, and you will. Just… let her come to you, but also show that you’re still there for her. Does that make sense?”

“Yes. Got it. Stay at a distance, but in a smooth way.”

You snort. “Not how I would’ve phrased that, but sure.”

You go back to counting the change in your register, beginning the early stages of closing up for the night. Jonathan will be here in about twenty minutes, you’ve come to learn that if you distract Steve when he’s here, then there’s fewer awkward interactions.

You’re hoping that once Nancy figures out which boy she wants that you can then all be friends, but until then you’re stuck with being an uncomfortable middleman who just wants to drive home with you best friend in peace after spending a lovely evening with your new and endearing friend.

Speaking of your new and endearing friend, Steve begins to tap his fingers against the countertop, fidgeting around. Amongst the many things you’ve learned about Steve these last few weeks, you’ve also learned that he absolutely hates silence and standing still.

“Okay,” you place your hand over his fingers, stopping his tapping. “I’m going to start closing, how about I give you a list of the books and comics I need to bring home with me? It’ll make closing go by faster.”

Steve perks up, happy to be given something to do. “Alright, I can do that. What are they for, though?”

“Most of the comics will be for the boys; it'll be their Christmas gifts. The rest, the books mostly, will be for myself. I like to add them to my bookshelf at home.”

“No way,” Steve’s eyes light up and he leans in close, a teasing smile on his face. “Am I about to get a look into Y/N Henderson’s mind?”

You shoo him off your counter, grabbing your crutches to start restocking books for tomorrow. Steve follows close behind, carefully watching your steps to make sure you don’t fall. “I wouldn’t be too happy, I doubt you’d be able to figure out which comics are for me and which are for the kids. As for the books… well, guess I’ll have to make you sign a contract stating our friendship is legally binding. Can’t embarrass myself.”

“I’d gladly sign it,” Steve says, without even hesitating.

You stumble a bit and he’s quick to steady you. Steve does that sometimes, says things that make you feel like you feel hazy and warm. Too warm. You’re not used to his candidness yet; Steve doesn’t hide how he’s feeling, he’s an open book.

You’re not sure if his open vulnerability is a good thing, but you’re slowly starting to find it nice. Pleasant, almost.

“Anyways,” you shake your head, trying to clear your mind and ignore whatever cologne Steve is wearing that makes your head spin. “The list is in my backpack by the counter. Grab it and start hunting, soldier.”

Steve salutes you and does as he’s told. In no time he’s wandering the bookstore, humming to himself as he skims the many shelves and aisles to find everything you need. You busy yourself with your own job, arranging a new shipment of books so that Alex has a calm opening shift the next morning.

The freshmen girls have long since left, leaving you and Steve alone. Mrs. Waters is somewhere in her office, probably seeing if there’s any way to hire Steve, and it’s nice being alone with him. The two of you work silently side by side, he diligently works on his task and you can’t help but sneak a few glances when he’s not looking.

Steve Harrington has always been attractive, you can’t deny that, but learning this gentler and nerdier side of him has only increased his attractiveness tenfold. Pair him with Nancy and it’s no wonder the two of them were such a hit at school. They make a beautiful pair, something you almost envy.

Just as you’ve finished stacking the last of the new shipment, the bell rings in the store. You look up, seeing Jonathan, and feel yourself smile. He looks more tired today, though you suppose it’s because he’s basically become the kids’ chauffeur now that he’s no longer working. He claims that he doesn’t mind, but you know he secretly wishes you were there to help.

“Rough day, bee?”

He nods, walking over to you and places his head against your shoulder, letting out a dramatic groan. “Dustin insisted I drive them to the quarry to reenact Will’s body being retrieved. It was morbid, and yet… Kinda funny.”

“I…” you’re speechless, in complete disbelief. “Those boys are horrible, I love their freakish little brains.”

“What’d they do now?” Steve appears, a giant stack of comics and books in his arms. “Hey, Jonathan.”

“Steve,”

You gently remove Jonathan from your shoulder and face Steve. “They reenacted Will’s dead body being found in the quarry. A typical Friday afternoon, really.”

Steve’s jaw drops, equally as speechless as you were, and you and Jonathan laugh at him. “They sound insane.”

“If we’re going to be friends, you really gotta get used to the boys.” You tell him with a shrug.

Jonathan walks over to the counter and grabs your backpack, then goes to Steve and holds it open, motioning for him to place all the comics and books in there. “She’s right, you know.”

Steve lets a chuckle out, a hint of nervousness mixed in with delight as he drops your stuff in the bag. “I know, she’s always right. That’s what scares me.”

You blush and leave the boys on their own to go inform Mrs. Waters that you’re closing up. You hear them start whispering to each other as you leave, and you make a mental note to badger Jonathan about it on the drive home. While you’re relieved they seem to be getting along tonight, you absolutely cannot have them forming an alliance against you. They’d lose, of course, but still.

–

Winter break comes and you spend the first half of it with your family and the Byers. Your mom has slowly started letting you out the house again. When you came home with a sprained ankle, crutches, and bruised ribs, she’d almost fainted. You were promptly placed under house arrest, only allowed out for work and school, but you didn’t mind.

It takes some pleading, you manage to convince her to allow you to bike to the Byers’ on Christmas to deliver your treats for them. When she agreed, you were giddy, finally having some time to yourself.

Though it’s snowing, you enjoy the beautiful serenity of it all. The layer of white, untouched and pristine, falling around the pine trees like a blanket tucking you in after a long day, makes you smile.

It’s always so lovely seeing Will and Joyce and you wish you could stay longer, but your mom had been firm when she told you to be back within the hour, so you deliver the cookies and bid your farewells before Jonathan drives you home.

After your conversation, making him promise that things will always remain the same between you two, the car ride is silent once more. You’re okay with this, finding that you’ve come to miss your comfortable silences with Jonathan. They’ve become few and far between ever since Will’s reappearance. You’ve both been busy attending to him and the boys, trying to make everything as normal as possible again.

When Jonathan pulls into your driveway, you unbuckle your seatbelt and lean over to kiss his cheek, but he stops you. “Hold on, I figured we’d do our gift exchange early this year.”

You gasp. “Did you plan this?”

For years now, you and Jonathan have given each other your gifts the day after Christmas so that it’s just the two of you, no one else, experiencing the moment. You love the tradition, it’s become your favorite part of Christmas.

“Maybe,” he laughs, wrapping around his seat to get to the back. He pulls out a small box that’s so poorly wrapped, you know he did it all by himself. “Here, open it.”

“But your gift is inside, I didn’t–”

“Shush and open the gift, damnit.”

“How sweet,” you tease, but eagerly begin tearing at the wrapping paper. Jonathan has always given you the most obscure and wonderful gifts, every year he somehow manages to surprise you. You tear off the last piece of wrapping paper and open the small box, gasping when you see what’s inside. “Jonathan… you didn’t.”

Inside the box is a beautiful silver necklace. The chain itself is simple, it’s the pendant attached to it that takes your breath away.

Dangling from the necklace is a bee, no bigger than a centimeter or so.

There’s small diamonds in its wings and the necklace itself is minimal, something you’d only notice if you were paying attention, and it’s the most precious gift you’ve ever been given. You touch it delicately, the metal cool against your fingertips.

Jonathan gives you a boyish smile. “Figured we could match.”

“What–” He raises his right hand and for the first time you notice a ring on his index finger. You gasp again and snatch his hand, bringing it closer to your face so you can get a better look. The ring has a thick silver band, and there, in its center, is a ladybug as small as your bee. The ladybug is all silver, its wings integrated through the ring’s band. “Jonathan…”

“Do you like it? I found the jewelry at a garage sale this summer. Came as a pair,” Jonathan wraps the hand you’re inspecting around your own. “Almost like fate knew I’d find it for us, ya know? Bug and bee, you and me.”

You have so many things you want to say, but the words are stuck in your throat and all you want to do is grab Jonathan and pull him in and never, ever let him go. “You’ve had the jewelry for months?”

“Hardest secret I’ve had to keep from you, honestly.”

You laugh and cry and kiss Jonathan’s cheek a million times. “Thank you, thank you, thank you.”

Things are finally starting to feel alright again. Here the two of you are, parked in your driveway in Jonathan’s rundown car, off in your own little world for the first time in months. It’s just the two of you, no one else, with only the falling snow as your company.

You couldn’t be happier. You feel complete again, whole, with Jonathan’s pinky promise from earlier as your oath.

“I feel bad,” you say as Jonathan walks you to your door. “For Christmas all I got you were cassettes. Had I known you were being sentimental this year I would’ve given you a lock of my hair or something.”

Jonathan laughs, and the sound doesn’t hurt you as much as it used to.

–

Working the day after Christmas has always been your favorite shift. No one ever comes in, it’s always just been you, your books, and your comics for five blissful hours.

Somehow, you should’ve known that Steve would stop by anyways.

You’re admiring your new necklace in a mirror when he walks in, all bundled up due to the flurry of snow that’s encasing Hawkins.

“How do you always manage to know when I’ll be working?” You ask him in lieu of a greeting.

Steve unzips his coat and hangs it up. “A magician never reveals his secrets, Y/N.”

“Boring, I say they should.”

“Well,” he walks over with both hands behind his back, hiding something, which you raise your eyebrows at. “Instead of my secrets, can we compromise on revealing a gift instead?”

You gape at him. “Please tell me you didn’t.”

“Oh, I did.”

“Steve! I didn’t even get you anything, I hate being empty handed! This is literally my worst nightmare–”

Steve places the box on the counter with a devilish smile on his face. “Just shush and open it, Y/N.”

“But–”

“Open it.”

You sigh, very much against this entire thing, but curiosity gets the better of you. Steve has only been your friend for barely a month now, what could he have possibly gotten you? The wrapping is well done, vastly neater than Jonathan’s had been, which you comment on.

Steve blushes. “My mom sorta helped me wrap it.”

Something warm settles in your stomach at the idea of Steve’s mom helping him wrap his gift for you. “Tell her that I admire her tasteful wrapping skills.”

Steve chuckles and tells you he will, but he’s too focused on watching you slowly unwrap the gift. Inside is a rectangular box, thin but sturdy, and you look up at your friend curiously. “What’s this?”

“Open it and see.” Steve says, giving you a duh look.

You roll your eyes at him but lift the box’s lid and almost scream when you see what’s inside.

Steve anxiously studies your reaction, seeing the way your eyes widen comically and you throw your hands over your mouth to stifle a scream. You’re practically jumping up and down in your excitement to hold the framed poster up, and he feels relief wash over him. You seem to love the gift, he finally did something right.

“How the fuck did you get this?” You exclaim, studying the incredible details on the poster. It’s the cover of the very first edition of Spider-Man, Amazing Fantasy #15. You eyes scan over it and notice scrawled handwriting next to Spider-Man’s leg. “No, oh my god.”

“Notice anything special about it?” Steve leans against the counter with his arms crossed, a pleased smile on his face.

“It’s signed? By Stan fucking Lee?”

“Yup.”

You run out from behind the counter and engulf Steve in your arms. He’s stiff against you, having not expected such a reaction, but you don’t care. You bury your face in his chest and squeeze him, trying your best to exude your immense gratitude. “Thank you,”

Steve slowly relaxes into the embrace and wraps his arms around you, gently patting your back. “My dad knows a guy… Thought you’d like it.”

“I love it, Steve.” You whisper, your words muffled by his sweater.

You’re still wrapped in his arms, standing toe to toe with him, and you’re so happy it almost hurts. Steve’s arms are warm and strong and you feel him hesitantly rest his cheek atop of your head. He brings you in closer, secures his hold on you a little tighter, and you can smell that stupidly expensive and addicting cologne of his.

Steve is internally freaking out. Not only is he hugging you right now, but he’s surrounded by you. Your hair is against his cheek, your soft perfume overtakes his senses, and the sweater you’re wearing has Steve believing that everything about you is just warm and comforting and lovely. He wants to pull you in deeper, pull you into him, even.

He’s never been hugged like this before, so openly and with such sincerity.

He doesn’t want this moment to end, honestly.

Then your boss comes through the front door. “Well, hello there, children.”

You don’t necessarily pull away from Steve, letting an arm linger around him so that you can face your boss. “Hello, Mrs. Waters. We were just wrapping up, then we’ll be out of your hair.”

She waves you off, winking, and scurries over to her office. “Oh, don’t mind me! Carry on!”

You and Steve laugh, no ounce of tension between you. He seems carefree as always, and you have to refrain from pulling him into another hug. You look up at him, still toe to toe, so your head almost butts against his chin. “I sort the books, you stack?”

He smiles down at you. “Deal.”

–

Winter becomes spring and somehow you manage to finish sophomore year without any further problems. Jonathan remains by your side, Steve continues to visit you at work, and you even strike up a tentative friendship with Nancy.

It was hard at first, especially after she got back together with Steve, but Jonathan seemed to do well at burying down his feelings and insisted that the four of you could make things work, so you do.

Nancy is a joy to be around when you forget about the fact that Jonathan is hopelessly in love with her. She’s incredibly intelligent, cunning, and a great chemistry partner. Following the events of Will, you and her discover that by studying together, Kaminsky’s exams aren’t too difficult.

You often study together in the library while Jonathan sits across the table doing his own work. Slowly, Steve begins to join in as well. He usually spends your study sessions cracking jokes and bugging Jonathan, but after a while even he breaks down Jonathan’s stoic demeanor and strikes up their own hesitant relationship.

It’s not perfect, there’s still some underlying tension between you, Nancy, and Jonathan, but it’s enough.

Plus, it’s useful having Steve around whenever Jonathan and Nancy slip off into their own world. It’s become inevitable, something you’ve come to accept, but at least you can turn to Steve now and roll your eyes together.

It’s really nice, actually.

He eases the sting of losing Jonathan, even if he doesn’t realize it. Makes everything more bearable.

Summer comes and you don’t see Nancy as often, but Steve makes sure to visit your job whenever possible.

One day he comes in looking nervous and doesn’t do his usual greeting. He doesn’t wave, doesn’t flash you his signature smile, he just walks straight towards the counter with a frightened look on his face. “I need your help.”

You put the book you’d been reading down and immediately feel dread overwhelming you. Something is happening again, all those contracts you had to sign by Hawkins Lab are coming back to bite you in the ass. Will is in danger again. “Is everything okay?”

He must see the terrified look in your eyes and he quickly reassures you. “Oh, no it’s nothing serious, I just… I need your help with something.”

“Holy fuck,” you let out a breath, feeling your heartbeat start to return to normal. “Dude, after the whole monster fiasco, can we use some discretion when it comes to asking for help?”

“Right, sorry.”

“It’s fine… So, what’s up?”

Steve looks around the store to ensure no one is listening, which you find a bit odd, but whatever. He leans in close and whispers, “I need your help finding a gift for Nancy.”

“A gift?”

“Yeah. It’ll be six months with her soon and I just, I don’t know. I want to be a good boyfriend and get her something she’ll like. But I don’t know what she’d like, I’m the worst gift giver ever.”

You frown. “That’s not true. The poster you got me is hanging in my room as we speak.”

“Thanks, Y/N. But Nancy is different, she’s… She’s still really shaken up about Barb and I want to make it up to her. Cheer her up, ya know?” Steve fiddles with his sunglasses, you’ve never seen him so closed off and guarded before.

“Okay, well. What did you have in mind?”

“Something she’ll love.” Steve thinks for a moment. “A diamond necklace, maybe?”

“Okay, woah.” You put your hand up to slow down Steve’s frantic ideas. “I know you mean well, but Nancy is like. Pretty well off. She can afford her own diamond necklace, but besides that, she’s not a very materialistic girl. She wouldn’t like a necklace.”

Steve sighs. “You’re right. That’s um, actually why I’m here.”

“Oh?” You’re intrigued now.

“Nance has been going on and on about this news article that came out recently. Something about politics, or maybe the weather?” You stare at Steve, urging him to get to the point. “Sorry, doesn’t matter. Okay, basically I know she likes journalism. And you work at a bookstore, so…”

“You want to get her some books on journalism?” You ask, your heart clenching. Here’s this guy, Steve fucking Harrington, who is gorgeous and kind and shyly asking you for book advice for a girl he so dearly loves.

Somehow you envy Nancy Wheeler even more than you already do. She really does have it all, and you can’t even begrudge her for it. She’s genuinely a nice person, it’d be easier to hate her if she was horrible, but she isn’t.

Typical.

“Is that dumb? Actually, you know what, now that I’m saying it out loud it sounds stupid–”

You grab Steve’s hand, interrupting him. “Hey, no. It’s actually a really sweet idea. I think… I think she’ll really love it.”

Steve looks relieved and you can’t help but pity him. He’s trying so hard to be better for Nancy, to be all she wants him to be, and yet just yesterday you had to break up a weird staring contest between Nancy and Jonathan when you’d been at her place picking up Will and Dustin.

Your heart aches for this boy, so in love with a girl you’re afraid may love your best friend.

You guide Steve over to the journalistic section of Bookstrordinary and tell him some of your personal favorites. It’s not your favorite genre, but you’re familiar enough with it to give Steve a good starting point, which he’s immensely grateful for.

“You’re a lifesaver, Y/N.”

“What can I say? It’s a talent of mine.”

Steve starts to search through the books and you leave him alone to get back to work. It’s a slow day today, the mid July heat seemingly keeping everyone at home, so you spend most of your time watching Steve. He meticulously goes through each and every book, spending almost three hours reading their synopses over and over again to ensure that he finds Nancy the best book.

Occasionally he mumbles to himself, shaking his head when a book doesn’t fit quite right with what he has in mind, or exclaiming with glee when he finds the perfect one. Slowly he accumulates his own little pile of books before he brings them over to you.

He places the stack on your counter with a proud smile on his face. “I’ll take these, please.”

You whistle at the pile. “Think it’ll be enough?”

“Do you think I need more?” Steve asks, fear in his voice.

“I’m kidding, Steve. This is more than enough; it’s perfect.”

You start ringing the books up and Steve leans against the counter, back into his usual stance at your job. The price racks up quickly, but you’re sure it’s no problem for someone like Steve. In total he’s selected six books for Nancy, and with each book you scan you feel more tugging at your heart.

He deserves better, but he wouldn’t listen to you if you told him.

“Thanks again, by the way.” Steve breaks the silence.

“For what?”

“For helping me. You’ve always been so patient with me, well–I don’t know. It’s nice.” Steve rubs the back of his neck, sheepish.

You find yourself blushing as well, his words making you uneasy as always. “It’s nothing, Steve. We’re friends, what else am I supposed to do?”

“Well, I’ve never really had any friends before. I’m still new to this.” He confesses, looking away.

Again your heart aches for the boy. Here King Steve is, admitting to you that he’s never really had any friends before. You can’t imagine what that must be like, being so loved by a crowd of admirers yet isolated because of it.

You think about Tommy Hagan, Carol Perkins, and the various people who seemed to flow in and out of Steve’s inner circle of friends. The numerous girls he never stayed with for long, the boys who only used him for his popularity, you never considered how exhausting that all must’ve been. Surrounded by all, yet loved by none.

Hell, even with Nancy, Steve has confessed to you that he feels like he’s too much for her sometimes.

“You’re a great friend, Steve.” You reassure him, trying to keep your voice level. You know that any hint of pity will only make him feel lesser than, but you really wish you could make him believe you. Steve Harrington has somehow become your favorite person to be around. “I promise, you’re a natural when it comes to friendship.”

Steve smiles. “You think so?”

“I know so. In fact,” you finish ringing Steve up and deduct your employee discount from his total, dropping the price significantly. “I just gave you my employee discount because that’s what friends do and I know you’ll do the same for me one day. That is, if you ever get a job.”

He puts his hands in the air. “Hey, the way I see it: why get a job when I don’t need one?”

“Such wise words from a rich kid.”

“What if the rich kid offered to buy you dinner to repay you?” Steve’s tone is teasing, but there’s openness in his eyes that makes you freeze. He wants you to say yes, he’s almost pleading with you to accept his offer with those big brown eyes that make you want to scream.

You want to say yes, to accept his offer and go out to dinner with him and laugh and tease each other’s food choices and feel like the only two people to exist in Hawkins, but you can’t.

Steve is looking at you with a softness in his eyes that catches in the July afternoon light, and you see the shift. It’s subtle, but it’s there. He’s looking at you as if he’d do whatever you asked, without any hesitation, because he cares about you in a way that no one quite has before.

Sure, you’ve noticed it before through his actions, but seeing the deep fondness behind his eyes is something entirely different. You feel this flutter within your chest and you feel heat rise to your cheeks. He’s looking at you as if you’re holding the goddamn sun, and you can’t do it.

You can’t tell Steve yes.

He’s Nancy’s. So is Jonathan.

You can’t develop feelings for yet another guy that Nancy Wheeler has claimed for herself.

You don’t love Steve, but you know how easily you could fall for him. With him, everything is easier. Your laughs feel freer, your heart a little lighter. With Steve, it feels like you’re coming home after being away for so long. First uncertain of what you’ve left behind, but then so full of love once you’re embraced with open arms as if no time has passed.

It would be so easy falling in love with Steve.

That’s why you tell him no.

“I can’t.” You finally say. It takes everything within you to get the words out, as if your body is physically unable to break Steve Harrington’s heart. But you have to.

Steve’s smile drops. “Oh, alright.”

You wrap up the last of the books for Nancy, take the cash from Steve, and then inform him that you have a lot of work to do before closing. “You should leave.”

“Already?” He looks so hurt and you want to just kiss his cheek, whisper how lovely he is.

But he’s too lovely. Too selfless towards you. Too kind and charismatic and easygoing.

He’s too much for you, but not in the way that plagues him with fear of rejection.

He’s too much for you because of how easily you could embrace him entirely, how willing you are to make room for him even if you already know there’s plenty of space for him regardless.

“Yeah,” you busy yourself with a meaningless pile of books. “Just go home, give Nancy those books.”

The words burn your tongue almost as much as your tears burn your eyes.

But you remind yourself of Jonathan, of how much it hurts to hear him say Nancy’s name like a prayer. How Steve describes her as if she’s the moon and he’s a lowly astronomer tasked with studying her.

You can’t keep putting yourself through this hurt.

It isn’t fair to yourself, and for once you need to be selfish.

Steve leaves, mumbling a soft goodbye, and you vow then and there to push him away. You’ve gotten too used to his company; you came too close to falling in love with yet another person who couldn’t possibly ever love you back.

So you limit your interactions with Steve.

You’re dismissive when he comes to your job the next day, then the next, and the next. He seems hurt at first, asking you if he’s done anything wrong, why you’re icing him out, but eventually after a few weeks he seems to let it go.

You’re thankful for that. For his ability to read you and understand that there’s something more, you just can’t tell him.

July turns to August and Steve stops coming by Bookstrordinary.

You go back to only spending time with the boys or Jonathan, rarely ever Nancy. You don’t see much of Steve, and sometimes it feels like last November never happened. Like he never came into your life and flipped it completely upside down. The only reminder that it had been real is the poster that hangs on your wall, taunting you for your cowardice.

Jonathan notices your change in demeanor, missing Steve more than you thought you would, but you make up some lie and change the topic. You know it’s for the better. It has to be for the better. And yet it feels like you’ve just lost something incredible. Something that could’ve been everything, an almost that you’ll never quite understand.

But you refuse to fall in love with Steve Harrington.

⌑ series masterlist

⌑ if youd like to buy me a coffee ☕︎

⌑ thank you for reading ! feel free to like, comment, reblog, or send in an ask so we can chat <3

#steve harrington x henderson!reader #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x you #stranger things #steve harrington fanfic #stranger things rewrite #slowburn #angst #wdtai #m's writing #steve just wants love #n reader just wants to feel normal and okay again #ugh #wrong time for my babys

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trensu · 10 months ago

Text

Guess who's baaaaack! It's me, I'm back to writing. My laptop when kaput back in May and I've only recently gotten a replacement. In celebration of this, here's more of stasis in darkness. Enjoy :)

“Hello. I’ve wanted to meet you for years,” the god said.

“Years? But, why would you want–? I’m–I’m no one, Lord.”

“Don’t say that.”

The god’s voice hadn’t gotten louder, yet his words carried a force that made the room tremble. The air became heavy with it. Wayne’s breathing grew haggard under the pressure of the words. Steve tossed out any idea of false privacy and crossed the room in a few steps to kneel at the other side of the bed. He took Wayne’s free hand to anchor him. Wayne didn’t so much as twitch in his direction but his knuckles went white as he gripped Steve’s hand.

“You gave me your spoils and your stories every night. I felt your love in every word you spoke to me. You’re the reason I’ve been able to exist this long. Wayne Munson, you are the most important person in the world to me."

Wayne let out a wordless cry. The hand in Steve's shook. Steve viscerally remembered how it felt to have the god’s attention like that for the first time. He also remembered how guilty the god sounded after he realized the effect he had on mortals. With a slight grimace, Steve discreetly nabbed the Lord of Night's attention.

"I think that was a little too much," Steve suggested cautiously in a low tone barely audible over Wayne's sobs. "Maybe dial it back a little?"

The Lord of Night nodded abashedly. When he spoke again, the pressure in his speech noticeably lessened though the love in his words remained.

“So, you see, I needed to meet you in person. To thank you.”

The last part made Wayne weep louder. The grip he had on Steve’s hand increased in strength, and Steve was sort of relieved Wayne was an old man because even this frail, his hands were pretty damn strong. If he’d been any younger, Steve would’ve had bruises for sure. The god waited patiently as Wayne collected himself.

“My Lord, y-you–” Wayne gasped as his crying subsided. “I don’t deserve–”

“Wayne, you crazy old man, are you going to argue with your god?” the Lord of Night said in the same teasing tone he used with Steve all those nights in his pilgrimage. Wayne’s eyes widened.

“N-No! I’d never–!”

The god laughed, playful and bright as a star. Wayne halted his protests to stare in awe again.

“You know, I usually encourage a bit of dissent but this time, I’m putting my foot down. You do deserve this, okay?”

Wayne nodded dazedly. He still watched the god with soft, warm eyes. His hand twitched in Steve’s as if he wanted to reach up to touch the god. Steve loosened his grip to allow it but Wayne didn’t follow through with the motion.

“...you remind me of someone,” Wayne whispered. The Lord of Night tilted his head curiously.

“Do I?” he asked. At Wayne’s nod, he added, “I hope it’s someone good. I know what people say about me these days, and let me tell you, it’s not super flattering. King of Darkness this and monster herder that, blah, blah, mean and scary, blah.”

“I know better than to pay any mind to hearsay,” Wayne replied. "I’ve found that most people are fools, my Lord."

The Lord of Night laughed again. Wayne looked delighted.

The rest of the night continued along the same line. The Lord of Night listened eagerly to Wayne’s every word as he reminisced about past heists and recalled fond childhood memories. Steve kept to himself, for the most part, letting the Lord of Night and his last believer bask in each other’s presence. Wayne stayed awake as long as he could but finally fell asleep as dawn approached. The Lord of Night began to fade as the first rays of the morning peeked through the bedroom window.

“Watch over him for me, please?” the Lord of Night asked Steve. “I’ll be back tonight.”

“Of course, Lord,” Steve replied.

The sun broke past the horizon and the Lord of Night vanished. Steve took the stone from the bedside table. He wrapped it up carefully in cloth before returning it to his satchel. That level of care probably wasn’t necessary considering it was solid stone but it was the only thing they knew would keep the god tethered to this plane so far from his last shrine. Steve was charged with carrying his god's tether and he would not let him down by being careless with it.

It was also the only thing he had been given that belonged to his god. Typically, a holy warrior would be granted a symbol of their faith by a temple priest once a god had accepted the holy warrior’s offered service. Most of the time it would be a simple pendant or bracelet with a god’s sigil; a mass produced thing any follower could obtain, the only difference being that a holy warrior’s token would carry a particular blessing from the high priest. A holy warrior would carry that as a sign of their commitment until they’ve earned a more prestigious item to replace it during their years of service.

Steve’s journey so far has been as atypical as it could get. Most warriors traveled to their god's grandest temple. They recited that god's specific prayer for a holy warrior's offering, witnessed by a high priest who would then reveal whether the offering was accepted. Steve's god had no official prayers of any sort, much less temples or clergy. Steve's god couldn't really remember his own symbol aside from a vague outline of it; not nearly enough for it to be inscribed on even the simplest of tokens.

Regardless, Steve wouldn't trade his experience for anything. Most holy warriors toiled for years, even decades, before getting a chance to meet their god. Steve met his god nearly at the beginning though he hadn't known it at the time. He'd been able to see him and speak to him. Steve’s humble offering of servitude had been accepted directly by his god rather than by priestly proxy. So what if his god wasn't able to grant him a token for his pledge? His presence was a privilege Steve would take over any boon.

It was a sentiment Steve knew Wayne understood. Steve scooted his chair closer to the bed where the old man lay sleeping. He wrapped a hand around Wayne's wrist to track his weak pulse, and settled in for his vigil.

–

Steve woke Wayne a handful of times to make sure he drank some water or ate some of the vegetable soup Steve had thrown together using whatever he’d picked from the garden the day before. They chatted for a while; Wayne telling Steve about his life before age and sickness caught up to him. Eventually, Steve was able to coax him back to sleep when it became obvious his energy was fading.

At some point in the day, Wayne’s temperature began to rise. Nothing worrisome yet, but dread trickled into Steve’s veins regardless. The old man had been fighting whatever ailed him for a while now. If a fever overcame him, Steve doubted Wayne would survive it.

When the Lord of Night appeared alongside the fading sunset, he seemed as worried as Steve. Wayne sat in bed, propped up by pillows Steve had strategically placed. His eyes were rheumy but steady.

“You’ve seen the Door already, haven’t you?” the Lord of Night asked Wayne dejectedly.

Wayne’s gaze strayed from the god. He glanced at the corner opposite of the bedroom door. His hands shook as he tried to point that direction. Steve didn't see any door there. The god took Wayne's hand between his own, tangible to his last believer even as he appeared more translucent than the night before.

“It showed up earlier today,” Wayne whispered. The god nodded.

“You don’t have to answer yet, but soon. Once you go through the Door, you’ll be in Death's domain. No god is allowed to enter there besides him. I would have lost my chance to meet you if we’d been delayed any longer.”

“Good thing you have Ser Steve. He got you here real quick from what he told me,” Wayne said with a crooked smile.

“Has he been talking himself up?” the god asked amusedly. “Trying to impress the boss?”

“It’s my first quest,” Steve butted in with mild exasperation borne of embarrassment. He hadn’t expected Wayne to mention him at all during his communion with the Lord of Night. “I have to make a good impression.”

“To make up for the first impression, huh?” the Lord of Night teased.

Oh no, Steve thought when he caught Wayne’s curious look. He wanted to hide his face in his hands. That would be childish. Steve was a man so he was above that, unfortunately.

“Wayne,” the Lord of Night said with palpable mischief. “In exchange for all the stories you’ve given me these many years, what if I told you how I got my very first holy warrior?”

“I didn’t know better,” Steve groaned weakly in an effort to stop the story before it began in earnest. The Lord of Night made a shushing motion in his direction.

“It would be a privilege, Lord,” Wayne said with matching mischief.

“Settle in, my loyal follower, and listen closely,” the Lord of Night began with exuberance. “I call this tale The Trial of Nine Nights.”

The rest of the night, the god recounted Steve’s pilgrimage. The way he told it painted Steve as some sort of gallant hero. It was suspenseful and whimsical. It didn’t sound like Steve’s experience at all. Yet every word was true, told with a flair that Steve himself would never have imagined. Wayne had hung on his god’s every word, despite the sporadic interruptions caused by coughing fits.

“The way you tell stories…” Wayne said faintly between coughs as the story wound to an end. “You…really do remind me of…someone. My little starmaker*. He was…” His voice trailed off weakly as he tried to catch his breath again.

“Rest now. Tell me about him tonight, Wayne,” the Lord of Night commanded as he disappeared with the arrival of dawn.

Wayne’s temperature seemed to climb with the sun. Steve did what he could to help. He stripped the bed of blankets and draped cold, damp towels over Wayne’s brow. More than once Wayne had asked Steve to answer the door.

“Someone’s knocking,” Wayne insisted.

“I’ve checked already,” Steve lied. He hadn’t heard a single knock all day, much less one coming from the very door-less spot Wayne kept indicating. “No one’s there.”

Wayne drifted in and out of a restless slumber. Despite Steve’s efforts, the fever had not lowered by nightfall. The Lord of Night paced at the foot of Wayne’s bed with a caged restlessness. Wayne had yet to wake up.

“I don’t think he’s going to make it. Can you do anything for him?” Steve asked, hesitantly. “You came here to help him, didn’t you?”

“No,” the Lord of Night said shortly. “I can’t. I’m not a god of medicine. I’m not a healer.”

Each word was said with increasingly helpless frustration.

“I’m not strong enough to calm his dreams. I can’t ease his pain,” the Lord of Night said angrily. “At this rate, I won’t even be able to apologize to him.”

“Apologize for what?” Steve asked incredulously. Steve’s question went unheard. The Lord of Night tugged at his hood as if trying to hide his not-face. He gave up his pacing and slumped defeatedly on the chair beside Wayne’s bed.

“His family has sustained me for so long. He’s so devoted to me, and I keep failing him,” the god said, voice thick with shame. The brooding silence that followed was unlike the Lord of Night’s usual demeanor.

Steve wanted to protest the god’s claim. He was tempted to ask why the god believed he’d failed his last follower. Steve had seen people who’ve scorned and rejected their gods for a multitude of reasons. Wayne had not behaved like any of those people. Wayne had been so happy to see the god, Steve couldn’t imagine Wayne wanting an apology of any sort.

Before Steve could steel himself to ask, Wayne finally stirred awake.The Lord of Night straightened and drew the chair closer to his last follower. Steve situated himself near the corner Wayne had claimed to see a door. There wasn’t anything Steve could realistically achieve by placing himself between Wayne and the unseen door. When Death’s Door knocked, there was nothing a mortal being could do to keep it from opening. Regardless, Steve hoped he could provide some semblance of comfort by standing guard.

Wayne’s eyes were glassy. He lay limp and disoriented, making not a sound outside his labored breathing. Neither the Lord of Night nor Steve spoke. Steve didn’t want to startle the man nor bring his attention to the unseen door. After a few minutes, Wayne finally noticed his bedside companion.

“You,” he croaked in a daze. “I know you.”

“Yeah, it’s me.” The somber tone went unnoticed by Wayne whose entire face brightened with an unexpected joy.

“Eddie,” Wayne said shakily.

“What?”

“Eddie, you’re here,” Wayne said with more love and joy than Steve had ever heard from another person. He felt a momentary flash of envy that someone could hold another so dear, before it hit him that Wayne was speaking to the Lord of Night. The god seemed as dumbstruck as Steve over it.

“Is…is that me?” the Lord of Night asked. The god sounded so young and lost. It reminded Steve of Dustin and his friends when they were small. It inspired all the same protective instincts.

“‘course it’s you, Eddie,” Wayne said fondly.

“Eddie,” the Lord of Night whispered. “Oh, it is. It is me. I’m here.”

The words rang through the air. The finality in them nearly deafened Steve. The words were a realization that shifted the entire cosmos. The air he breathed, the light he saw, the very world he perceived had changed fundamentally. It was a change so loud and obvious, Steve was certain every human left on earth and everyone beyond the Door knew it happened. Yet between one blink and the next, the world remained the same as it ever was. Everything that had been still was and would continue to be for as long as the stars burn.

Inexplicably, Steve experienced a bout of vertigo at the shift that had and hadn’t happened. He fought back a wave of nausea that accompanied it.

“Eddie,” Wayne rasped over the rattling of his weak lungs. No longer translucent, the god appeared solid and real in a way he hadn’t even at the shrine where Steve first encountered him. Wayne’s wrinkled hand reached out to gently cup the Lord of Night’s cheek.

"Hey, Uncle Wayne," the Lord of Night said with a new voice.

"My starmaker, I missed you. So much. But how're you here? You were gone, you di–"

"We didn't want you to be alone," Eddie, Lord of Night, responded thickly, leaning into the hand and covering it with his own. "We wanted to thank you for taking care of us all these years."

"Don’t,” Wayne wheezed, teary. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry, Eddie. You deserved so much more than your pa or me ever gave you."

"No! No, Uncle Wayne, don't apologize," he said earnestly. "You were perfect. You gave us a home when pa died. We were so little and you protected us. You loved us. That's all we ever wanted."

“Oh, Eddie,” Wayne said in a heartbroken rasp. “That damn door’s been knocking all day. Who'll take care of you when I'm gone, Eddie?"

"Don't you worry about that, Uncle Wayne. Steve's gonna look after me.”

“Are you sure?”

The Lord of Night took off his hood and turned back to look at Steve for the first time since he sat himself at Wayne’s side. All the air left Steve’s lungs in one fell swoop. His god had a face.

His god was beautiful.

The Lord of Night’s skin remained pale, providing a stark contrast to his large, dark brown eyes glittered with bittersweet joy and sorrow. His lips, full and a soft shade of pink, were pulled into a wide, mischievous grin that dimpled his cheeks. His dark eyebrows were almost hidden under wild curls. His hair draped over the slope of his shoulders and matched his eyes wonderfully.

Steve willed himself to stay steadfast and strong under the god’s gaze. The Lord of Night’s grin twisted a bit as if he wasn't entirely pleased by what he saw. The nausea from before came back because Steve knew what people looked like when he'd disappointed them. As usual, he had no idea what he'd done wrong.

“Yeah, I’m sure. He already promised,” Eddie, the Lord of Night, said. He turned back to Wayne and gently wiped the sweat off the old man's brow.

“Good,” Wayne said with a. “You need someone takin’ care of you, the way you get in trouble all the time.”

“We weren’t that bad,” Eddie said with a watery smile. After a pause, Eddie continued reluctantly. “Uncle Wayne, if you need to answer the Door, you can. I won’t be alone.”

“Yeah,” Wayne murmured. “I’m tired, Eddie.”

“You won’t be for long, I promise, just answer the Door.”

Wayne’s breathing slowed. His eyes drooped closed. Eddie clung to his hand until it went lax. A choked sound escaped him when Wayne’s breathing stopped. Steve instinctively stepped forward to comfort him but Eddie abruptly stood up, sending the chair clattering to the floor. He whirled around and stumbled towards the empty space Steve left behind.

“You better take care of him. Wayne is a good man, he’s earned–” Eddie said to…the wall? But stopped and reeled back. His mouth curved down in a scowl. Eddie’s eyes were dark and glowering as he stared at something there that Steve himself could not see.

“Oh, fuck you, I know I can’t do anything to you but–”

Eddie stopped again. He looked like he wanted to punch something. Or someone?

“I just want to know that he’ll be happy and saf–hey, asshole, I’m still talking you, don’t you dare– FUCK,” Eddie shouted at nothing. He panted in anger. Steve cleared his throat.

“My Lord?”

“I forgot how much of a dick he is. It’s not like I was asking for details! I don’t fucking care what’s past his stupid Door. It’s not a crime to want your family to, like, go somewhere good after. He could’ve just said yes or no!” Eddie ranted.

“My Lord, I don’t know what you’re talking about!”

“Oh,” Eddie paused. “Right. You wouldn’t. And you shouldn’t. Not yet. Not for a long time, hopefully.”

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*starmaker - so this is a reference to some lore i dropped in the previous scene during some edits I made after I had posted it on tumblr. basically, the legend explains why bedtime stories are a thing and that the lord of night creates a star for every story that impresses him. a really good book or author will get called a starmaker, though to the general population it's just a thing people say to denote greatness in stories without context of where the saying came from.

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and now we're all caught up with what i've written so far, wow! but don't worry, i still have plenty more to write, stay tuned.

#trensu tells stories #stranger things #steddie #steve harrington #wayne munson #eddie munson #stasis in darkness #in other news #during my time being laptop-less i got top surgery done!#and i'm finally all healed up so i can move around without pain and i have full range of motion again #now with a laptop and being free of post-surgery incumberance #i'm very excited to be writing again #i mean look! we finally got eddie's name back!! he's got a face!! steve is absolutely smitten even though he doesn't know it yet!!#listen he's convinced that this is a normal emotional reaction to a god okay? he's never done the religion thing before #he doesn't know any better!#anyway now that we got eddie's name back we're going to go off on adventures! we'll be meeting other gods it's gonna be fun i promise #but it's 1am now and i should probably go to bed so that'll have to wait for now

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