somebody told me (fratboy!steve harrington x fem!reader)
summary: steve has made it very clear that he doesn’t want you. but he doesn’t want anyone else to have you either.
uses she/her pronouns and female anatomy.
i want your things in my room (part one)
the library
record store
tags: angst, mean!steve, so much tension, yeah the football player is tim riggins in my mind and so what?! i literally wrote this months ago, enjoy <3
"heaven ain't close in a place like this"
— somebody told me, the killers
may 1st, 2009
“What the fuck are you doing here?”
It came hissed in the doorway between the second floor fraternity steps and the sticky wood paneled wall. Steve hovered above you, breath sour with beer and a new bottle dripping condensation through the hand dangling at his side. His eyes were slanted and directed down at your eyes watching him in surprise.
30 seconds ago, he cornered you against the wall after your swift trip to the bathroom. You caught eyes with him across the kitchen nearly an hour ago, and it took all this time of carefully scanning your movements when you weren’t looking for Steve to get you away from the junior you came with.
“What are you talking about?” you laughed. “It’s a party.”
“I didn’t invite you.”
You swallowed, trying not to let your good-natured grin drop. You were well aware that Steve didn’t invite you.
After he practically ran from your bedroom two weeks ago, things went radio silent between you and Steve. You texted, he didn’t answer. You called once, thought about leaving a voicemail, and spent a whole weekend crying when you realized: he didn’t want you. Someone who wants you doesn’t flee your room the way he did that night.
You were perfectly content wallowing in your idiocy for ever thinking Steve Harrington could have a special spot for you in his tiny, shriveled heart—until said junior you were attending tonight’s party with saw you at the dining hall.
You were studying late into the evening, sitting all alone at a table near the fireplace with your books sprawled out and your picked-at dinner in scraps. He came staggering in with a band of other men, all sweaty and half-dressed from practice. He was a linebacker on the football team, and he looked damn good easing into the chair across from you and making it squeak.
His name was Tim and he had a handsome smile, and a slow way of talking in this Texan drawl that had you blushing. For the ten minutes he sat and talked to you and asked you what you were so focused on, you forgot all about Steve.
You texted for a week, grabbed a few lunches and coffees together, and now here you were. At a frat party, invited not by Steve—but Tim.
“I know that,” you told Steve, pulling your arms up to fold them over your chest. Steve’s eyes flashed down to your breasts cupped under a black lace bra peeking through a red shirt.
“I came with Tim.”
Steve screwed up his nose, pulling back a little. “Tim? Tim who?”
Huffing, you pushed yourself off the wall and pressed Steve back by the shoulder. “Tim, Steve. Now, excuse me, but I’m gonna go find him—“
“No, hey.”
Steve snatched you by the elbow, causing you to fumble on the carpeting and narrowly miss someone heading up the steps. You gasped, stumbling into Steve still against the wall.
“Steve, what the hell?”
“‘m not done talkin’ to you.”
You glared at him, wrenching your arm away with force. “I don’t care.”
You rushed down the steps before he could speak again, head suddenly swollen with confusion, heart pounding hard in your chest. He hadn’t touched you in weeks. Hadn’t spoken to you, looked at you, so much as acknowledged you since the last time he was inside you.
All it took to get his attention was to finally attempt to move on? It was bullshit. It made your cheeks flame and your mouth line with sweetness that made your stomach coil. It wasn’t fair.
“Hey.” That soft Texan drawl called to you.
You raised your head from where you were glaring at the floor, softening when they found Tim’s green gaze. He grinned at you, still holding your red plastic cup from earlier. You retrieved it from him and allowed yourself to tuck into his side under the weight of his arm.
“You okay?”
“Yeah,” you told him. “Long bathroom line.”
Steve stepped into the fluorescents of the kitchen, weaving his way through bodies with wide, squared shoulders. He tossed a quick glance your way and shook his head as he made his way through the room. And what pissed you off most was the fact that he thought he had the right. The right to be upset, the right to think anything of you.
“Baby, you look so pretty in that lil’ top,” Tim said, tipping his chin down to you with a lopsided grin. He was a few beers in and loopy.
You grinned. “Do I?”
“Mhm. Real pretty—come gimme a kiss.”
You perked up on your toes to meet his mouth. His lips were always warm and soft and soaked in beer. Lord, college boys drank a lot. If you closed your eyes and forgot where you were, sometimes he even tasted like Steve.
But Tim always called you baby, and Tim always called you back. He walked you to class with your books in his arms and a hand on your waist, opened the door for you, and helped you into his truck when he took you for coffee.
And Steve? Steve acted like you didn’t exist if his dick wasn’t inside you.
Your tongue was just slipping past Tim’s teeth when you were torn apart by force. Tim stumbled aside, knocking you as he went and catching you quickly with a hand on your waist. Both your heads turned sharply toward the assailant.
Steve stood near the island where Tim had previously been, holding a bottle of beer and a look of nonchalance. His eyes glided from Tim’s look of surprise to your absolute glare.
“Sorry about that,” Steve said coolly. “Wasn’t watching where I was going.”
Tim resumed his spot beside you, and your body felt like it was vibrating against his. Every part of you was burning—and you couldn’t tell from what. Anger? Humiliation? Arousal? Maybe all three. You swallowed with difficulty and let Tim pull you in again. But your eyes never left Steve’s.
And his never widened from their slits. The ball of muscle near his jaw bone knotted when he clenched his teeth and it didn’t move.
“You okay, baby?” Tim’s attention was on you, and you looked away from Steve to smile at your date.
“Yeah. Yeah, I’m fine.”
The footballer had an easier lightness to him. Breezy, taking things with a grain of salt. He didn’t bother fighting Steve for his ‘mistake.’ He didn’t scold him for knocking you. He only smiled at you with a pair of pretty dimples and kissed the top of your head, arm bending around your shoulders.
“Wanna get outta here?”
Because he’d be going home with you. And it only took Tim a few moments to deduce that it was that fact alone that would drive Steve crazy. Even if you couldn’t.
You nodded, hand rubbing over his chest. You spared one more glance toward Steve, who had stepped away toward the other side of the kitchen with slow, slithering steps. He took a swig of his beer and clenched his teeth on the swallow.
“Yeah, let’s go.”
Tim held your hand on the way out, guiding you down the front steps and toward the street. Your arms swung over the pavement, and you almost felt compelled to check if Steve was watching. What the hell was wrong with you?
“So what was that?”
You peered up from the pavement to Tim’s green eyes. “What?”
He cocked his head back at the brightly-lit house dimming behind you. The music faded the further you went. He was still wearing that dimpled grin.
“Back there, with that guy.”
You inhaled, looking back toward your feet. It only took a few moments to decide that you didn’t want to lie.
“We…used to hookup. But it’s completely over, I swear.” You skirted to a stop, gathering Tim’s other hand and meeting his eye again. “He’s just being a dick about it.”
He snorted. “I sort of got that when he came from across the room to ram into me.”
A giggle burst from your mouth, but it drooped into a frown. “I’m sorry.”
Tim frowned, brows creasing. “For what? You don’t got nothin’ t’ be sorry for, pretty girl.”
The warmth pulsing in your chest you could certainly make sense of now. “Okay.”
He grinned again, dropping one of your hands to squeeze your chin affectionately. “Okay. Come on.”
You walked the rest of the way to your apartment with his heavy arm over your shoulders again. And Steve watched from the front seat of his car, knowing exactly where he was going as he peeled away from the curb.
✶ ✶
“Alright, goodnight, little lady.”
“Goodnight, Tim.”
Your voices were punctuated by the slam of a door. Quick footsteps followed, a rhythmic succession ascending the staircase. Over the creaky board on the other side of the door, then—
“What the fuck?”
It burst open to a streak of lamplight in your bedroom and one Steve Harrington shadowing it at the foot of your bed. He had your university football teddy bear in his hands. It was a gift from Tim and it had his number on the bear’s soft yellow t-shirt.
Steve leapt to his feet. “What are you doing?”
You couldn’t seem to close your mouth. It hung open as you watched Steve raise his brows and jerk his chin expectantly. He tossed his arms out on either side.
“Huh?”
You came to your senses with a hard blink. “What am I doing? What the hell are you doing? How did you get in here?”
“Same way I always get in,” he quipped.
Heat touched your cheeks as you stepped into the room and gently clamped the door shut. You snatched the teddy bear from his hand and placed it back on your desk silently. Your purse fell to the floor where you were standing.
“You didn’t answer me. What the fuck are you doing?”
“Is this about the party or Tim?” You kicked your shoes off one by one, keeping your back to Steve and his stupidly pretty face.
You had such a soft spot for pretty boys, it seemed.
“You know what? Both.”
“Okay,” you sighed, pulling the first layer of your outfit off. Steve’s eyes scanned the lace of your tank top as red fabric made its way toward the hamper. “Tim and I are seeing each other. Tim wanted to go to the party, which happened to be at your frat—alas, there we were.”
The mattress springs yipped when you bounced on the edge to pull a clean pair of socks on. You wanted to strip your jeans, too, but you didn’t want to give Steve any ideas. He was already standing there with his arms crossed and his biceps and chest all puffed and sculpted. He already had that handsome pink tinge to his cheeks: his beer blush.
“Well, it’s weird,” Steve stated.
You rolled your eyes, exhaling a snicker. “Okay, Steve. Can you leave now? I’m tired.”
Steve tapped his finger on his arm, watching you shift on the bed and feign exhaustion. He chewed his cheek for a minute before reaching for his hair.
“Well…you know I missed you, right, sweetheart?”
He dropped his hands and softened his eyes into that soft, puppy-dog pout. Your scoff was sharp and sliced through the room. Steve stepped toward the bed.
“Right.”
“No, really,” he urged, sinking into the mattress before you. “You know I was just made president, and I just got super busy, that’s all. I meant to call you.”
You tipped your head at him and stared directly into those faux-pleading hazels. "How come everything you say to me sounds like a line, Steve?"
Steve sat unblinking for a moment. Then his cheeks colored a rosy shade, and he covered it with a cruel scoff and another sweep of his hair.
"What? Come on, you-you know I like you."
You pushed off the bed, head shaking. That warmth was slowly but surely returning to your body in violent form. You pulled your hair off your neck and padded toward the window to open it. Your room already smelled too much like Steve.
"You like playing with me," you corrected, keeping your back to him even as the mattress shrieked with his freed weight.
"You know, you're such a bitch-"
You spun around, shoving him by the chest. Steve stumbled a step back, but the smirk on his face made you regret even touching him at all.
"Get out."
"Hell no," he bit, lunging back into place. He grabbed at your arm again. "You think Tim wants you either? You think he doesn't just like playing with you? You always gave it up so easy."
Tears bubbled in the edges of your eyes. A tingling burn settled in the bridge of your nose. You shoved at him again and angled your head away from him and his sneering scowl and beer breath.
"Fuck you, Steve."
“You’re trying to replace me? Hmm?” Steve cocked his head to meet your eye, and you wished you could will away the hot tear trickling down your cheek. “That’s fine, sweetheart. I’ve got ten of you in my pocket.”
He shoved your arm away with a scowl, and you sniffled as he headed toward the door. All the hot-headed, enraged words pulsing on your tongue shriveled and died—and they were replaced with a hurt and heartbreak that was so familiar it was almost comfortable.
Yet as he opened your bedroom door, you rubbed your arm where he had held you and sniffled.
“Stay away from me, Steve.”
Door in hand, Steve turned and scoffed at you. “No problem.”
✶ ✶
You spent the next hour crying between makeup wipes and playing your radio on low. Pulled a faded grey t-shirt from your pajama drawer and tried not to look at Steve’s face rumpled at the bottom on a white t-shirt. Why hadn’t you thrown it away? He was so hard to let go.
With the football bear cradled to your chest, you wiggled under the covers and reached for the lamp. Your phone buzzed consecutively on the nightstand, causing pause. The plastic clicked on its hinges as it flipped open, and the sheets rustled when you shot up in bed.
u up?
tim is a fckn l0ser
answer
i’m sorry
The first time he called, you didn’t answer. You watched the small square light up with his name, felt the plastic shake in your palm with the force of its ring.
answer
Another call. You pressed the green button, but waited.
“Hello? Hey-hello?” His faded voice brought you from your daze.
You pressed the phone to your ear. “Hello?”
“Jesus, do you not read your texts?”
“Wh-what…why are you calling me?” Disbelief colored every syllable from your mouth.
Steve huffed. “I just…how much do you really know about this Tim guy?”
You looked at the bear sitting on your lap against the sheets. “About as much as I know about you, Steve.”
The line buzzed with quiet for a while. You played with the hem of the teddy bear’s shirt and gnawed on your lip. An ache balled in your chest when the thought of him hanging up occurred to you.
“Fair,” he said quietly.
Sighing, you shimmied under the covers again and reclined back against the headboard.
“Why are you calling me, Steve?” This time it was softer. You couldn’t give in to him anymore, but you had to hear him out. He never called you like this.
He never acted like he cared until now.
“Just…don’t wanna see you get hurt.”
You scoffed, pressing your palm against your head. Despite the way your heart pulsed with excitement, and the way your nerves locked up at the thought—you knew Steve didn’t mean any of it. He was just jealous. He wanted you as his personal plaything and he didn’t like to share.
You couldn’t swallow it anymore. You couldn’t keep biting your tongue to stay the perfect toy in hopes he might see you as more.
You had to end it.
“You already took care of that, Steve.”
You reveled in the buzzing silence of the other line for a beat.
“Goodnight,” you told him.
And you hung up the phone.
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Because everyone asked (I mean, kind of, I for sure wanted to hehe) here is the continuation to this small piece :>!!
Warnings: none. your family is overprotective of you. overall fluff.
Happy reading!!
You knew it was coming, the moment you saw Satoru and Suguru frantically rush out the classroom door and disappear into the hallways with your secret, you knew it was only a matter of time before either your siblings, or your father, called you to discuss the elephant in the room.
And yet, you still hoped they’d let this slide. Prayed that somehow this would be forgotten, just like everything else that usually pertained to you—in true Satoru fashion— and let you return to the safe haven you’ve found in Naoya…
Whatever you desired was instantly thrown out the window the moment you received the following message from your father.
“Please come home this weekend, there is much to discuss.”
Oh, how you wanted the earth to simply swallow you whole. Lighting to strike you, or… just about anything really, to avoid this situation.
But alas, Friday was fast approaching, and when you were just mere minutes away from joining your siblings for the ride back home, you began to anxiously prepare to face the consequences of your actions—all unthinkable scenarios soon crossing your mind.
“Let me go with you.” Naoya would insist once more, virtually glued to his phone in case you needed anything. “I can talk to your father if need be.”
“As much as I want to… I feel like this is something I need to do on my own.”
“Y/N…”
“In case anything happens, I… I want you to know I love you.” You confessed. “You’re the best thing that has ever happened to me, and I will always cherish our short moments together.”
Naoya swallows, hating the lump forming in his throat, the way his heart sank to his stomach at the very likely situation of never seeing you again after today.
But just like you, he doesn’t lose hope. Not yet—for he still counts on fate to keep the two together; after all, his feelings for you were too pure, genuine, ones he never thought himself capable of harboring.
That must be something… right?
For Naoya at least, it does. And he doesn’t know what he’ll do if he loses you.
“Hey… dad.” It was the fateful moment, uttered the moment you walked into his studio, quietly sliding the door close behind you and making way to the seat in front of his desk, where you’d find both your father and siblings seemingly scrutinizing your presence: the obvious disapproval of your relationship with Naoya.
“Hello, Y/N.” he responds, tone void of the usual enthusiasm that followed. Today you weren’t to talk with the chirpy, goofy father you knew.
This time you’d face the strict side of him, the leader of the clan.
And that made you feel even tinier.
“I guess we’re going straight to it… right?” you ask.
Eiichi presses his lips together—yes.
“Fa—father, I didn’t mean to—”
“I’m not going to deny the disappointment I felt upon hearing you had a boyfriend, especially after you promised to only focus on your studies.” Your father interrupts, his words chipping at your poor heart. “And of all people, the heir of the Zen’in just had to be the one you were dating.”
Feeling as the worst daughter ever, your gaze lowered to the floor, hoping that by evading his eyes his reprimands would be a fraction more tolerable—but it would be for naught, since the damage was already done: you’ve lost his trust, and thus, Naoya.
There was nothing else to say, you might as well voice your regrets.
“I’m sorry.” You whisper, tears soon dampen your cheeks. “I’m sorry dad for disappointing you—”
“…But what hurt me more… was the fact that you didn’t trust me enough to tell me.” Eiichi reveals with a sniffle that shows he too had begun to cry.
“D—Dad—”
“…Does he make you happy? Beyond the rumors that plague him and his family, have you truly found happiness by his side?”
“I… I have.” You finally confess, fidgeting with the edges of your sleeve. “He makes me really happy, like I’ve never felt before.”
“Then that’s all I need to know.”
“Wait, what?! That’s all you’re going to say, father?!” Hinata, your sister, is the first to cut the tension between the two with a loud shriek; clearly expecting a type of fight, some resistance for a relationship she considered unjustifiable in so many levels—you were far too good for someone like him! Surely her dad could see that?! “It’s—It’s Naoya for god’s sake! From that wretched Zen’in clan!”
“I know; but at the same time, this is Y/N’s decision to take. And if she’s happy, who am I to stop her?” He answers, much to your sister’s growing frustration. “I know all about being in love and fighting the odds to be with the one you cherish!”
Hinata scowls, somewhat disgusted by the comparison. Naoya could never…
“Though I am a bit upset that you didn’t tell me anything, pumpkin! Why didn’t you?”
“I… I guess I was… afraid.” You swallow, doing your best to wipe the tears from your face and compose your voice. “I’m aware of what people think of Naoya, so I… thought it would be better to keep it… a… secret…”
“But from me?!” Eiichi cries. “We swore to always tell each other everything, remember?!”
A promise made when you were very, very young; so much so, you probably didn’t even think much of it, just wanting to follow your father’s lead and continue doing whatever it is that you did back then…
But to him, it was a pact signed with blood (dramatic much?) and such, your secrecy hurt him deeply.
“I still don’t trust Naoya.” Hinata quietly adds.
“You ought to trust Y/N.” Ren, your brother, adds. “She wouldn’t have lasted as long if she wasn’t happy with him.”
“Wait—how do you know how long—?” you blink.
“You knew?!” Eiichi gasps once more, betrayed yet again by another one of his children. Has he done something to earn their mistrust?! “Did everyone here know of this and decided not to tell me??”
“I didn’t know!” Hinata cried. “How did you find out, Ren?!”
“It was written all over Y/N’s face—”
You, your sister, and father looked at him as if he’d grown a second head, making him roll his eyes and sigh.
“Really? Did none of you notice how chirpy she became? Or how flustered she’d return after getting lunch?” Ren raises an eyebrow, Hinata shakes her head, you simply… blush, embarrassed that your careful attempts to keep your relationship a secret were not discreet at all. “I sometimes even wonder where your head is, Hinata… It was written all over her face!”
“I mean, she’s always like that, right, father???”
Eiichi remains silent, the subtle admission that he agreed with Ren’s observations. The signs of an infatuated girl were there: from how he’d hear you talk “to yourself” late at night, to always keeping close to the phone at home just in case one of your friends from school called…
The signs were always there, he was just too blind to see them, perhaps out of his disposition to see the little girl he always considered you to be—you were his youngest, after all.
And yet, he couldn’t blame you; for he had been in your shoes too, acting the same way when meeting your mother, if not worse, for his relationship became the talk of the town as soon as everyone caught wind of it. You had managed to keep it a secret at least!
Eiichi also knew that a part of you, beneath the playful, carefree child you always were, desired to find the love of your life, a hopeless romantic naturally inspired by the devoted relationship he had with Tomoko, and the all-around loving relationship they all had as a family.
Thus, it was highly unrealistic of him to expect you to only focus on your career when he knew of this side of you, or when he also hoped that by enrolling in jujutsu high you’d find someone responsible, hardworking, and of course dedicated; someone that would provide you with a good life and everything else you desired, as a future partner.
Perhaps most of his shock (if not all) came from the fact that he never imagined those shoes to be filled by Naoya himself! The snobbish heir of the Zen’in, a clan most would want to steer away from when money wasn’t involved.
A kid he always knew as keen to torment others, not cherish them!
And yet, here you were, seemingly enamored with him; and by the looks of it, the feeling was mutual…
Still, he worries. He has to, it’s his job as your father. To think of the worst things that could happen to you and do everything in his power to prevent them.
But Ren’s words held some truth behind them: if Naoya wasn’t of your liking, if he hadn’t been what you imagined… then this train of thought wouldn’t be happening at all. Your father likes to believe—no, he knows that you’re sensible enough to do the right thing.
And if that is to be by his side… then he’ll support till the end of the road.
With a few requirements, of course.
“Does that mean… I’m not in trouble anymore?” you murmur, your soft voice making Eiichi’s heart squeeze.
“Oh, you were never in trouble, Y/N!” He gasps, quick to stand from his seat and take you into his arms, easing your anxieties into embarrassment given the way you soon became overwhelmed by his gestures.
“Dad—that’s—you’re choking me!”
“I’m so sorry for frightening you, pumpkin. I was just worried that you weren’t happy with him. But you don’t know how glad I am that you’ve found someone to share your life with.” Eiichi adds. “…And I’m so sorry that I made you think you were disappointment—you are not; you could never be!”
“Dad…” your voice trembles, hugging him tightly in return.
“But I still have to meet him, Y/N. You have to bring him home if you want this relationship to continue.” Eiichi soon warns. “And no doing anything of that nature until you’re much older! Or at least safely, I wouldn’t want you to pause your stud—”
“Oh my god, dad! Can you not say that in front of my siblings?!” You shriek, whatever embarrassment you felt before was nothing compared to this. “We barely do anything…”
“As it should be, you’re far too young to be thinking about anything else!”
“I’m sure you were a saint, father.” Ren snickers, his jest going completely over Eiichi’s head.
“I was! I did everything to win your mother’s heart, but always careful enough to never offend her or her family!”
“Woosh…” Ren laughs, finding his father’s naivety hilarious.
“Well, whatever! That doesn’t mean I’m all too happy about it…” Hinata crosses her arms, pouting. “Not when he hasn’t even formally introduced himself to us! I can’t believe I got to hear about it from Satoru and Suguru first!”
“Can he come over today? No—he must come over today! I have to talk to him before anything else—"
“Wait, dad he—I can’t invite him over today! He’s going to freak out! I need to prepare him, you know…?”
“Prepare him? Don’t tell me that jerk gets nervous.” Hinata says.
“Hinata, we need to respect Y/N’s boyfriend.” Eiichi defends Naoya, making Hinata squirm out of disgust. “But fine, I’ll give him a week to prepare his speech as to why I should let him date my adorable daughter!”
“Dad, you’re going to scare him!” you fret.
“Then he better come prepared.”
Well, it’s good to know that at the end of the day, you never really had anything to worry about—your father was just concerned about you, as he always was, but still approved of your relationship with Naoya. Somewhat, he has yet to be fully convinced that Naoya is indeed the best match for you, and considering his overprotective nature, seems like your boyfriend will need to do so for the rest of his life…
But Naoya would much rather take on this than the notion of losing you.
Didn’t stop his blood from running cold when you eventually told him, probably the most nerve-wracking thing he’s had to prepare for in his life, but he still pushed forward—because for you he’ll go to the end of the world, just to keep you by his side.
Naoya meeting your father is happening too :)))))) keep him in your prayers.
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