(this stunning gif is by @oscar-isaac from this post!)
STRUCK BY THE MOON | stamping books and stealing looks.
chapter summary: your favorite customer shows up to your bookstore way before opening time, not for books, however, today he was determined to ask you a very important question.
what i listened to while writing: “a man without love” by engelbert humperdinck
note: this chapter wasn’t very eventful, but it provides a lot of context ab y/n’s past vs life now and establishes the friendship-not-friendship between her and steven🫶 i hope you enjoy!
this is a series of blurbs, but since i’ll be writing spontaneously, you can send me a request of plot lines you’ll like to see as the story goes on and i’ll write it! also, to make writing easier for me, layla was never married to marc in this fic, they were just good friends!
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Growing up in the Red Room, you had spent most of your days being conditioned, beaten, and trained to become the Black Widow Program’s most lethal spy and formidable assassin. You grew up knowing you were nothing more than a living weapon, as were all the other girls you grew up with and went on missions with.
Your childhood was chaotic and hostile to say the least. Born and bred into the program, you underwent severe and extensive psychological conditioning to make you a fierce warrior for General Dreykov. Back in the day, you were even one of Dreykov’s most valued assassins. You were stealthy, and your kill count was much higher than most girls your age in the program.
You never had any birthdays, never had the chance to attend real school, develop hobbies (that weren’t stealth and fighting related, of course), or make any friends during your childhood. The way you saw it, the way Dreykov had manipulated to see it, the girls in the program were merely your competition in becoming his most lethal Widow.
At the time, you didn’t know how horrible the program was. You were born into the group, after all. It’s all you knew. And on your 13th birthday, Dreykov concocted a serum that would ensure you’d never know anything else. The serum allowed Dreykov to control your mind and memories, essentially brainwashing you to do whatever he commanded you to. You spent 16 years of your life this way, and you don’t even remember what you were forced to do during them.
When the Red Room was finally defeated and destroyed, you were saved. Although you were safe from the abuse and trauma that the Red Room gave you, you were worried about being sent out into the world alone. There were so many people and opportunities to explore, and you didn’t even know who you were.
You were like a ghost.
Or a shadow, more like it. Other than your early childhood, you had no memories of your past and no clue of what to do with your future.
And now, just a little over half a decade later, you’d figured it all out. Your record was squeaky clean, you’d started discovering what you liked and who you were, no one knew of your Widow past. You were free at last.
Your morning started just the same as every other day.
You rose from your bed groggily at seven in the morning, trudged through the tiny space of your loft to the kitchen, and greeted your cat Irina as you made your daily cup of green tea.
It was a relaxing morning. It was soothing to feel so still, and although you could hear the busy streets of London below, you felt at peace. After several years of chaos, hostility, and pain, you had finally grown to find the tranquility you’d been yearning for.
You owned a little bookstore just below your living space, called The Lonely Ghost. The store was your little pride and joy. Even in the Red Room, you’d always enjoyed reading. Back then your reading material was limited, so to be able to own a store filled with books you would’ve loved to read as a child felt like.. a full circle moment.
After getting ready, all you had to do was take the stairs that led you to the bookstore. It was convenient, and it brought you extreme comfort being so close.
Sipping on your green tea with Irina meowing and following behind you, you switched on the warm toned lights and made your way towards the front counter, where you resided most of the time. Around your counter and strung all around the walls of the store were soft string lights that you’ve collected over time. The shop was tiny, and it certainly didn’t compare to large chain stores that were littered all over London, but it was your little masterpiece. It felt like home.
Three little pitter pattered knocks rasped against the front doors, startling you and Irina, who jumped in fear. “It’s okay, Малыш (baby), you’re alright.” You soothed your pet, crouching down to run your hands soothingly through her soft white fur. When she’d calmed down, you peeked up from the counter and looked out by the door, your lips stretching into a small grin at the sight of your favorite customer waving at you from the window.
Steven Grant. Steven had been a loyal customer of yours for a few months now, coming in almost every two days to buy new books on Ancient Egypt and always fill you in on the previous books he’d bought.
He, however, never showed up this early. It was 7:15, and you weren’t even opening until 8. With a grin still plastered on your face, you walked over to unlock the doors for the curly haired man, who looked disheveled yet energetic as ever. Especially for this early in the morning.
“Good morning, bookworm.” he greeted you, his brown eyes swirling with wonder as his eyes panned from you to around the store, as if he were seeing it for the first time. Technically he’d never seen it in the morning, he usually stopped by after his shifts at the museum and that was far into the evening. “I’m sorry for showing up so early. I just thought I’d pop by before I head to work.”
“Don’t you worry about it Steven,” you spoke softly, glancing down at the tote bag he brought with him every time. “Go ahead. I don’t think we have anything new, though. I’m pretty sure you’ve read almost all of our books on Ancient Egypt.”
Steven brushed it off with a wave of his hand, “Nonsense. And even if I have, maybe that means I should start reading about someplace else. Or perhaps explore a new genre?” Steven’s kind smile and optimistic tone was incredibly infectious, his presence giving you more energy than the green tea had.
“If so, I’m here to help… And recommend a couple books if you want me to.” you offered, watching Steven look down at his feet—where Irina was rubbing her head against his calf—bashfully.
As Steven ventured off behind the shelves of your little store, you remained at the front with Irina, continuing with your morning routine. If it had been anyone else knocking against your door 45 minutes before opening time you would’ve sent them off, but Steven had a certain energy that made you so fond of him.
In the few months of him being your customer, you’d learned how curious, positive, and caring Steven was. He was intelligent and humble, a dangerous combination. You weren’t necessarily friends, however, because you never hung out or spoke outside of when Steven would come in looking for new books to read at night. Steven came in frequently, but even then, some nights the only conversations between you both were small talk and nervous stares.
You enjoyed his company though, and since he was so busy with work and exhausted from his nights spent staying awake—which he had told you one night by accident—you never asked to hang out.
You pet Irina absentmindedly as you sat back on a stool you had hidden behind the counter for moments like these. When there was no need to be checking on customers, sorting out new books, or cleaning. Just stamping new books with a small version of your logo and sipping tea under the soft fairy lights.
Your eyes shifted to stare across the room at Steven, who stood with his back facing you as he rummaged through the shelf filled with history books. He moved somewhat slowly as he shuffled through the spines of different books. He searched with much less vigor than usual, giving you the sense that he was his mind was someplace else, more invested in something unrelated to the titles in front of him.
You’d always been good at reading people. Not only did you have a natural talent for it, but you were trained to study mannerisms and expressions, it was all a part of being a spy.
You watched him think something over in his head for a few more seconds before his head whipped around quickly, his eyes darting to you immediately. You looked down at the book on the counter beneath you and tried to make yourself look busy, a small blush rising to your cheeks at the thought of Steven noticing you had been staring at him.
“Uh—Y/N!” he called, raising his voice to make sure you heard him from across the store. His voice echoed and bounced against the walls, however, making him sound much louder than he’d intended. It even startled him, making him flinch a little and calm his voice. “I—Uh, I—“
“Do you need help?” you questioned, placing Irina on the floor and beginning to rise from the stool.
Steven quickly held out his hands, waving them out to stop you from moving. “No, no!” he yelled in the spur of the moment, fear of bothering you more than he assumed he already was, “That’s not what I needed.”
Your face that once expressed concern now contorted into a look of confusion, your eyebrows knit together and your lip jutting out slightly as you tilted your head at him and sat back on your stool.
He sped walk out of the row of bookshelves and towards the front desk, returning with no books in his hands or bag. Although you were in the middle of sending him a questioning stare, you couldn’t help but make a mental note of the way he was walking, taking small yet brisk steps like a duck. You wanted to laugh, but Steven already seemed quite conflicted.
“I—I didn’t come here to get a new book.” Steven admitted nervously, now standing directly in front of you, fidgeting with his fingers that rested on the counter.
“Oh.” you frowned slightly, “did you want coffee? Tea? I don’t see any other purpose of coming to the shop if you weren’t getting anything.” you chuckled breathily.
Steven laughed along with you, but it didn’t feel as genuine as yours. “Heh, you’re right, I suppose.” he ran a hand through his hair, scratching at his scalp lightly as he looked everywhere but your eyes.
“Everything okay, Steven?” you inquired, “You can return anytime you remember what you wanted.” Irina purred from the floor beside you, walking quietly out from behind the counter and towards Steven, you assumed.
“N-No, I know what I want actually.” he reaffirmed, nodding his head shortly, as if almost reassuring himself of something mentally or internally. He finally met your eyes, his soft brown ones meeting your expectant ones. You were now leaning against the counter, your head resting in the palm of your hand, held up by your arm.
He smiled embarrassedly, shoving his shaky hands into his pockets before speaking. “I was wondering, maybe, if it were possible—or if you’d be okay with it—if I could possibly, uh, if you think it’d be alright if—“
“Steven, Steven.” you stopped him, your voice calling his name effectively grabbing his attention and making him go quiet. “It’s okay, calm down. It’s just me, yeah?” you waited for him to nod, which he did shyly and unsure, “Now, what were you going to say?”
Steven took a deep breath and exhaled loudly, his breath sounding like a deep sigh, letting out all of his nerves and anxiety. “I was wondering if I could get your number, perhaps?”
“Oh, Steven.” you exhaled, leaning away from the counter and sitting up straight.
Steven took this as a bad sign and immediately recoiled into his nervous shell to apologize. “Oh, I’m sorry, I’m sorry. I said only if you’d be okay with it! I hope you don’t think I’m a total wanker now—“
“Steven.” you stopped him again. He shut his mouth, sweating now, as he watched you reach over to something under the counter. Your eyes never left his as you pull a notepad onto the counter. “I was going to say, “of course”. You automatically assumed the worst and started apologizing.”
Steven scratched the back of his head and sheepishly chuckled. “A little bit hasty of me, innit?” he commented, his accent strong as his nerves grew.
“Very much,” you told him honestly, absentmindedly responding as you wrote your number and your name on the paper. Steven tried to seem patient, looking around the room and down at Irina, who had already been looking up at him and purring. “But it’s alright. I just wish you would’ve asked me sooner.”
This made Steven perk up his head, “Really?” he inquired to you with hope in his voice, his surprise making you laugh wholeheartedly.
“Yeah, then I could text you when we have new books, you wouldn’t have to show up every two days and leave here empty handed. Or worse, with a book you aren’t even that interested in.” you confided, exaggeratedly shuddering at the idea you’d presented.
Unbeknownst to you however, Steven had visibly deflated at your words. “Oh, uh, yeah. Yeah, you’re right—about the books and all. Thanks, bookworm.”
“Don’t mention it.” You handed him the paper with a warm, friendly smile, watching Steven as he cautiously folded the paper—gently touching it as if he believed that if he wasn’t careful he’d ruin it—and stuffed it in his back pocket.
“I’ve got to get going, I’ve got work in twenty minutes.” Steven sighed. “Would it be okay if I texted you when my shift ends? If it isn’t bustling and busy here at the shop.” he jabbered, his words incoherent with the way they were all spilling from his mouth.
You reached across the counter and rested it on top his hand reassuringly. “Yes, Steven, I would love for you to message me. Text me anytime, yeah?“
“Y-Yeah. Yeah.” he repeated, “Of course. I’ll text you. Tonight. T-Thanks, bookworm.” he smiled down at your hand on top of his before slowly pulling away and taking steps backward, towards the exit.
“I’ll be waiting for your message, Steven with a V!” you called, smiling widely as he grinned. In the midst of his walk towards the exit, he tripped over his own calf, almost sending him to the floor. He recovered quickly, regaining balance and brushing his hands together before looking up to see if you’d seen.
You did. With an angry blush rising to his face and an embarrassed, sheepish smile rested on his lips, Steven left the store, leaving you and Irina alone.
You watched from the window to your right as he walked further and further away, only looking down at your cat when Steven had disappeared into the city. “What do you think, Irina?” you asked jokingly to your cat, who was now behind the counter again. You paused for a few moments before responding again, “Yeah. I think he’s a bit goofy too.”
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