#uh oh looks like someone isn't as unaffected as she made herself out to be | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

peterthepark · 5 years ago

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He Isn’t You

Steve Harrington x Reader

Summary: An unexpected reunion with an ex-lover kindles bitter memories. Regrets and what-ifs are exchanged, but only this time, the feelings remain one-sided.

A/N: This is a continuation of this request! I recommend you read it before this installment for more understanding. Either way, thank you for reading! ;)

It had been a year since Steve had last seen you. He kept track, knowing the exact number of weeks and days that he had lost you. He lost you. His heart stops everytime he glances at the locket by his dresser: a gold heart embellished with complex yet beautiful designs, accompanied with a small picture of you and him that fit perfectly within the necklace.

The window is covered with ice, yet he can still see the delicate snowflakes falling to the ground. Steve forces himself to stand from his bed - the bed where you left him, the bed where he broke you, the bed where he fucked everything up. With a shaky sigh, he adjusts the collar of his sweater, putting on a tight smile in the mirror before he walks out of his room.

Christmas.

Steve hates it. Only because he knows that it’s your favorite holiday, with the stupid evergreen trees and once-a-year decorations. He shuts off the radio in his car, grumbling at the first few notes of the familiar song.

The driveway is packed with cars when he arrives. He tucks the gift under his arm as he approaches the front door, raising a finger to the doorbell. From outside, he can hear the joyous cheers and singing of people. The wide, paneled door opens slowly, and he’s ushered in by an excited Mrs. Wheeler. He respectfully kisses her on the cheek, laughing when she remarks how handsome he looks tonight.

He finds Nancy immediately through the crowd of people, socializing with a few relatives. She turns around to smile and wave at him, before she begins excusing herself from the conversation to greet him.

“Hey, I’m so glad you could come.” She presses a chaste kiss to his lips, and he winces at the familiar taste of strawberry-flavored lipgloss.

No.

Too much like you.

He recovers instantly, chuckling weakly when Nancy pulls him into a loving embrace. "Well, you know I'd never miss a good party, especially if you're there."

The words leave a sour aftertaste in his mouth. He wishes he hadn't said them in the first place.

She smiles widely at the comment, tugging on his arm to introduce him to a couple of her guests. He swiftly sets his gift down by the Christmas tree, before following Nancy into the backyard with slumped shoulders. He nods at familiar faces, acknowledging them with a weak handshake or a short embrace.

"Steve, this is Dean." She gestures to the taller boy, with slicked-back hair, who reaches out to shake Steve's hand with a kind voice.

"Nice to meet you, Steve." He glances around the yard for a moment, turning around to grab the hand of the girl behind him. "And this is my gorgeous girlfriend, Y/N."

It couldn't be.

You tuck yourself under Dean's arm, brightly smiling up at him before your eyes fall on Steve, who stood before you. He watches your eyes widen in shock, red lips parting as a shaky breath escapes from your chest.

"Hi." He blinks at you, hands fidgeting at his sides with uncertainty.

"Hello, Steve."

Nancy reaches for his hand, intertwining her slender fingers with his. "You guys know each other?" She raises her eyebrows at you with question.

Steve never told her. And so, Nancy never knew that you and Steve had ever been together.

"Not really," You reply. "I knew Steve from a class we had in school, but other than that, we've never talked."

Hurt, he glances down at his shoes, sucking in a deep breath as if you had punched him in the gut.

Dean touches your shoulder, leaning down to kiss your cheek before he excuses himself inside the house. It isn't long before Mrs. Wheeler calls Nancy inside to help her with the food, leaving only you and Steve, as well as a few unknown guests outside.

"You look different."

You meet his gaze with narrowed eyes. Your breaths are even, and it seems as if Steve's presence has left you completely unaffected.

He can't help but notice your bold, red lipstick - cherry lipgloss nowhere to be seen. Your black dress rests above the knee, and Steve tries to remember when was the last time he had seen you in clothing as short as that. You don't break eye contact, occasionally shifting your head to the side to move wisps of hair from your face.

"Thank you."

You don't seem to blush at his compliment.

He would have had you blushing by now.

"So," Steve leans lightly against the pole of the canopy, crossing his arms against his itchy sweater. "Uh, what are you doing here?"

You chuckle quietly at the question. Steve feels a pang in his chest at the angelic sound, causing a smile to form on his face. "Well, Dean happened to be a family friend of the Wheelers. He invited me to this Christmas party since we'd only be in town for a few more weeks and so, here I am."

"Oh, you don't live in Hawkins anymore?" You shake your head, sipping on the glass of apple cider in your hand.

"I actually got a full-ride scholarship to Michigan University.”

"Wow! That's... that's great, Y/N. I'm so happy for you." He chuckles. "But uh, Dean... how long have you two been...?”

Together.

He wants to say it, but he can’t bring himself to.

Your body relaxes at mention of his name, breaking Steve when he sees the admiration on your face when you look into the house.

“Almost a year. We met during orientation and ended up having the same major, which is pretty nice.”

Steve lets the smile on his face falter, before disappearing completely. Pushing himself off the pole, he buries his hands in his pockets, subtly approaching you with slow steps.

"Are you happy?"

The mood shifts immediately.

Time comes to a halt, as cliche as it sounds, and Steve can only place his attention on you.

"I'm the happiest woman alive." You admit, placing the empty wine glass on the table beside Steve. He abruptly reaches for your hand, enveloping it with his cold one. Your eyesight follows the motion, and you hurriedly try to pull away from him with a huff. "Steve..."

"Y/N, you don't know how much I miss you." He lowers his voice to a hushed whisper.

"Steve, I'm with someone." You don't hesitate to look him in the eye, furrowing your brows with frustration. "Please, leave me be."

"I know what love is. You told me - told me that I don't know what love is. But I do, Y/N." You manage to escape from his grip, keeping your distance from him with nervous eyes. "I love you."

"But I love Dean."

He has to look over his shoulder to stop himself from crying out, fingers pinching at the bridge of his nose. Steve whimpers softly, body trembling as he attempts to hold back his tears.

"God, I love you, Y/N. Give me a chance." He pleads with a quivering lip.

You shake your head dismissively. "I'm sorry. But I don't love you anymore, Steve.”

You gasp when Steve wraps his arms around you, burying his head into your neck. Your perfume overwhelms him, sending him into a struggling battle with his brain and heart.

"You're my everything. Please. Please."

With gentle hands, you pry Steve away from your body, and he aches for your touch. It’s not lustful, nor does it carry any sexual meaning - he simply needs to feel you.

Your eyes are sympathetic. And it makes Steve wish that you were angry instead, because he experiences even more pain with your peacefulness.

Were you at peace because he wasn't a part of your life anymore?

"Steve, it's been a year.” He sighs with audible relief when your hand cups his cheek. It's forgiving, yet it fucking kills him. "I'm not the same girl that I was when we were together."

"I don't care. Same or not, different or new, you're still Y/N. I'll - I'll stick around forever.” He leans further into your touch, ignoring your reluctance. “Let me stay with you.”

"You're with Nancy. You love her. This is what you wanted." Your hand suddenly falls from his face, resting against your thigh. “And this is what you get. You need to live with your own decisions.”

“What is it about Dean that makes you want to stay? He... I know you don’t want to break his heart, but I can do better than him. I would do so much better for you.” He pauses, swallowing the lump in his throat. “Why does he make you happy, Y/N?”

“Because he isn’t you.”

A sob racks through his body, and Steve has to grip onto the pole to stay upright.

Your words stab at his ribs, tearing at his flesh as he screws his eyes shut.

He exhales deeply. “I wish I knew what I had because I lost you.”

“You made me happier the minute that you let go.” You hesitantly reach for his hand, regretting it the minute that he tightens his hold on it. “You can love me all you want, Steve, but I want you to know that I have moved on. And I’m not coming back to you, ever.”

“I know.” He nods with understanding, averting his eyes from you.

“Okay.”

“Could I get one last hug?”

He stares at you. His eyes are rimmed with red, tears staining his flushed cheeks. Regret was written all over his features, and you didn’t fail to recognize the heartbreak within him.

“I can’t give you that. I’m sorry.”

The patio door slides open, voices filling the emptied yard as Nancy and Dean stride over to you both. Steve harshly wipes at his face with the back of his sleeves, regaining his composure as his girlfriend comes to stand by his side. You block out their conversation when Dean reaches down to kiss your forehead, before feeding you a small piece of cheesecake with a bubbly grin. You exchange laughter when he misses your mouth, dabbing at the corners of your painted lips with a napkin.

“Do you wanna go inside? It’s real cold out here, love.” He suggests, and you nod at the suggestion. You thank him for the sweet gesture, smiling when his hand comes to rest on the small of your back.

Before you step into the house, you gaze behind you, meeting the intense stare of the chestnut-haired boy with a lingering smile of your own. His eyelashes glisten with drying tears, and he tunes out the sweet nothings of Nancy.

You give him a curt nod, entangling your fingers with Dean.

“Merry Christmas, Steve.”

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bitchfitch · 4 years ago

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babylon artfight resource

as you can tell i play it Very fast and loose with this boy, just get the color pallet right and your good.

an excerpt from one of the things ive written with him:

Why isn't he looking? The man there in the very back of this dingy little tavern with his nose in that massive old book. Nobody ever ignores him when he plays, so how is this man Not Looking?

Babylon sings a little louder, bows his violin while forcing a bit more of his natural charm in along side every note. This rest of this little inn was looking, smiling dazedly as they danced and sang along to songs they didnt know they knew, songs they would forget as soon as he stopped playing. It wasn't often he let himself do this, playing in front of people who weren't guarded against him, but he needed the coin, and this town needed someone to come steal away their troubles for just one night.

But why isn't That one paying him any attention? Even when Babylon wasn't trying to charm people, his music still stole wills easier than he took wallets. It was something innate about him that did it. Nobody without some form of protection could resist him.

And yet, even now as his own feet begin to hurt and his voice grew strained, that man hadn't looked at him once. He's not deaf, Babylon saw him turn in response to the waiter talking to him. He doesn't seem to be protected in anyway, usually when his magic brushed against countercharms it felt like dragging his nails down a chalk board, but he felt nothing of the sorts from the man. He just seemed completely and wholly unaffected.

That was… Interesting.

He let the final note taper off as he came to a stand still. The tavern goers clapped, the applause tapering off as they blinked their momentary confusion out of their heads. Some might realize they had been charmed, most don't, and no one caused a fuss about it tonight, that he could be greatful for.

If Babylon was a wise man, he would take his earnings and leave, return to his home in the attic of a different tavern. The glorious one that sat in the center of their bustling capital, that wasnt at all like this one here in the very back of a town litteraly called Dead End.

But he wasnt a wise man, he was a curious one with a stranger to try and figure out.

Babylon decided he didn't quite feel like being tactful, and slid into the booth seat across from the stranger. Before he was even fully settled the man spoke without looking up from his book.

"Your playing was beautiful," He had a strangeness to his voice, his tone was flat and it didn't sound quite right coming from his mouth, too deep, too… Something that Babylon couldn't name,

"Thank you," Babylon smiled, nobody ever remembered what he sounded like after he had finished playing. Which was a shame, he'd spent so long cultivatimg his skills that it always felt like such a waste when he could play as horribly as he wanted to and still have everyone who heard bending to his will. But he was still proud of everything he'd worked to learn, "To be honest I kinda thought you weren't enjoying the performance," He cocked his head, "I'm curious whats in that book that kept your attention,"

The man was quiet for a moment, he was so still, his eyes didn't move in his skull and his skin had a sickly yellow tint to it. Definitely not anything he was trying to be, Babylon concluded. He shouldn't fimd comfort in the fact that he wasnt the only one trying to hide a monstrous face behind that of a half elf's, though he felt he was definitely doing a better job at it.

Finally the man spoke, "I liked it a lot," he said simply, "I didn't want to stare, so I kept my head down,"

something pinged in the back of Babylon's mind. Oh, the man was Lying, he wanted to stare. Of all the boons he got out of his wretched deal, this one was always the most useful, "Is that so? I don't mind being stared at if I'm being honest, I actually like it quite a bit. I don't think I could be a performer otherwise,"

"People do not like it when I look directly at them. The bar keep said it was creepy," The man said truthfully, still apparently giving his full attention to the book in front if him,

"I want you to look at me," Babylon started, if his music couldn't charm this stranger maybe something a little more direct could? and if it couldn't… well the very thought of that made his heart race. "You're… Interesting and I think I want to figure you out," he purred, flirting always worked for him, hopefully it would work here,

The man finally looked up and imeaditly Babylon understood why people didn't like him looking at them. His eyes were just wrong, too still and slightly glazed, not wet enough, and the iris was a strange greenish silver. But, it didn't feel like the stranger was looking at him, more like he had already been looking. How hadn't Babylon noticed that before? How long has this stranger been focused on him, and how was he faking not being focused on him so perfectly?

"Oh, you really should keep your chin up more," Babylon started, "Its a shame to hide such a handsome face," he said, it was true, the stranger was handsome if you didn't count his stranger features, a strong jaw and sharp cheek bones with a nose that had a cute crookedness to it, thick lips that weren't quite red enough to look alive, and long stringy black hair that had a pretty wave to it,

Something loud crashed outside, like a tree falling over behind the tavern. The sound sent everyone besides the stranger jumping half out of their skins as he closed his book and hurriedly stuffed it in his jacket, "I think I need to go,"

Babylon wasn't fully back to himself yet, loud noises always sent him on guard, when he reached a hand out to snag the stranger by the sleeve, "Sorry, sir," he apologized, "Was I coming on too strong? Come on. sit back down and give me another shot" he tried to smirk but that feeling of being watched only grew, like he truly, Finally, had the entirety of the stranger's attention, whatever that might mean.

"No- Uh, Good bye," the stranger said, pulling away without a hint of elaboration as he set a fast pace to the back door of the tavern. Not running, or walking, more lumbering and shuffling. Like maybe he wasn't quite used to have legs under his considerable size, tall and broad shouldered with a deep barrel chest and thick arms and legs.

Babylon watched him go, tapping his nails on the old wood of the table as he did. He'd have to meet that guy again someday. He'd never found someone completely immune to him before. People were always at least tempted to follow along with what he asked, but the stranger, the one with the dead eyes and the desire to look at him, he seemed so unaffected. Or at least he wasn't charmed in the slightest by him.

Babylon tried to suppress the fluttering feeling in his chest. This was it. his first chance at maybe being able to befriend someone who wasn't being coerced into liking him.

---

The next time he decided he would venture into that little no name tavern, Babylon chose to wear a different face. That wasn't unusual, it was safer for him if no one could ever recognize him. What was unusual was the amount of effort he had had to put into making this one. He wanted to make sure that stranger wouldn't look away from the moment he entered. Normally that wouldn't be hard for him, he had a nack for guessing what others found beautiful, but the stranger was a complete mystery. No inkling of what he may like came drifting to the surface.

Still, Babylon tried and tried until he found something right. Small and dainty like how he'd gone last time hadn't been enough to catch his eye, so maybe tall, with a good amount of muscle. Babylon thought about the men who worked the docks down by the lake, they could be a good example for this. He'd borrow the sandy blond waves of one of them too while he was at it, and the wide puppy dog brown eyes of that little cleric that had started following him and his sisters. A beard came next, a few shades darker than his hair and just long enough to round out his jaw.

He looked in his pocket mirror, this face was handsome, the black stretch fabric he favored for his clothing clung to the broad chest and strong thighs in a way even an eunuch would appreciate. He was good at making handsome faces for others to enjoy, but this one didn't sit right. It wasn't what he needed it to be. Maybe…

He let his curves soften and his chest grow, let the beard dissipate until he looked like the former faces sister, still strong and broad, but feminine and beautiful instead of handsome.

He sighed, this was worse. It wasnt farther from what the stranger would want, but he didn't know What about it was wrong. It wasn't the femininity, that he felt certain of.

He fwumped back onto his mattress with a heavy sigh as he let his disguise drop. He hadn't been able to get that stranger out of his head in the entire three weeks since he saw him. This was the first free afternoon he had had in that entire time, and here he was wasting it by not being able to guess at what that stranger would like.

It was frustrating.

It was infuriating.

but most of all it was invigorating. He Didn't have a little window into this stranger's head like he did with everyone else. He was just as lost as any other man trying to catch the eye of a stranger at the bar.

The trap door that lead up into this shared room was shoved open with a loud clang as Tamm, one of his two sisters, pulled herself up without even bothering with the ladder. She huffed a greeting before pulling that cleric up after her. He yelped and stammered when she set him on the floor beside herself.

"Thought you were going out tonight Babs," Tamm said, she gave him a look that definitely meant she wanted some alone time with the cleric,

"I'll be out in a moment, just having a crisis," He huffed, he sat up and tried to ignore the hurt that always came when the cleric flinched everytime he saw him without a disguise. Babylon didn't think he was That ugly, certainly grotesque, but in a pretty way if he did say so himself,

"Go have a crisis somewhere else please," Tamm said, "I promised to teach nerd lord how to sword fight,"

"And you need to be alone in our room for that? I'm pretty good with a sword, maybe I could help teach him?" Babylon scrunched up his nose at her, he Knew what she really wanted to show him, he'd seen the way they'd been making eyes at each other, but he Really Really wished he didn't,

"Babs-" she started, but he waved a dismissive hand as he got up and grabbed his violin,

"Yeah Yeah, I'm going Tammsy. Make sure shorty wraps up, I'm not ready to be an uncle," He goaded before dropping through the trap door and into the hall below. The door slammed shut above him and he heard the latch lock shut, "Don't Eat Him!" Babylon shouted, and snickered when he heard her groan through the ancient wood.

He straightened out his clothes before taking on the face he'd tried out before, the more masculine one just because he didn't want to have to remember to respond to a different set of pronouns. It still wasn't perfect, but it would do.

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