Daydreamin'

Steve Harrington-Control

Steve Harrington - Control Janet Jackson

Not requested

First time I fell in love, I didn't know what hit me So young and so naive, I thought it would be easy

August 1982

"I don't understand how you like this stuff!" I roll over to sit up on Jonathan Byers bed. "How do you not? It's so easy to move to, he has a nice voice, don't even get me started on his dancing!" He looks up from his workbook with an incredulous look. "Y/N, I get it, you're a dancer. But seriously? Michael Jackson? I thought I taught you better than that." I shrug, "Well, I happen to like Disco and Hip-Hop. Not everyone could like The Clash, or else they wouldn't be so indie." We sit and study, or at least try to. We eventually migrate next to each other, hands intertwined. Everything felt simple then.

November 1983

Will had gone missing. Jonathan was up all hours of the night looking for him, and for some reason Nancy would always happen to be around. "Hey Jon, you wanna watch a movie tonight? I think we both need to destress." He looks back at me, dazed and confused. "What? Yeah, sure." He turns to look back at someone across the lunchroom. As I follow his gaze, no one but Nancy Wheeler ducks her head down, not wanting to get caught. Everything in me sinks at the realization, but I smile at him anyways.

It's been hours since movie night was supposed to start, and Jonathan had still not shown up. Sighing, I put away all of the snacks I had prepared, put the tape back in the box, turned off the TV, and went to bed, crying myself to sleep. The next morning, I don't see Jonathan or Nancy until second period. I watch them silently communicate across rooms or hallways, Jonathan disappears at her signal, leaving me alone during lunch most days if not all. As Jonathan leaves again, not even bothering with an excuse this time, I break. I gather my things and blink away the tears, heading to the library for peace and quiet. I cry in a secluded corner of the library, muffling my whimpers with my hand. How am I going to fix this?

October 1884

Jonathan didn't want to go to this party. I didn't want to go to this party. But Nancy wanted to go to this party. She wanted Jonathan to go to this party. That's how I ended up dressed as Stevie Nicks, all in black and hair big. I had grabbed a soda, wanting to stay sober and keeping my mind in the right place. I watch Nancy and Steve have an argument, resulting in her white blouse to stain red. I had lost Jonathan not long after we arrived, choosing to people watch instead of looking for him. Feeling claustrophobic over the amount of bodies in the main room, I head outside. I watch the new guy do a keg stand for a surprising amount of time, and observe the costumed teens mill about the lawn. By the time I re-enter the house, Nancy is gone, and I'm done partying. I bump into a wall of a person in the hall, looking up at none other than Steve "The Hair" Harrington. "What are you still doing here? I thought you were taking Nancy home?" Rolling his eyes he leans against the wall. "Yeah, I thought I was too, until your boyfriend did it for me." I gasp, hurt filling my chest. "Oh. Ok, cool. I guess I'm walking home tonight. Guess I should probably get started then if my ride is gone." As I turn to walk out the door once again, Steve grabs my wrist. "No, there's no reason for that. I'll take you home. I mean we both get fucked over, might as well be hospitable to each other." Nodding, I mutter "I need a drink. Fuck being sober."

I take another sip of "Pure Fuel" as Springsteen blasts through the stereo system. I felt the buzz kick in as I move out to the living area. As a bass and drum heavy song comes on I feel a grip on my hips. I throw my head back to see the offender, coming face to face with the "New Keg King". I shout "Can I help you?" over the music with a raised eyebrow. Leaning in, he says into my ear, "I'm hoping you can sweetheart." Ok, if that's how he wants to play, then let's play. I swivel my hips hard against him, his grip tightening. I smirk and grip the back of his neck and his left hand on my hip. Spinning in his arms, we face each other. We keep dancing together, intertwined in a sweaty mess. He moves us against the wall, leaning to nibble at my neck. I catch Steve's eye, and he holds up his keys, time to go. Rolling my eyes, I push the keg king off of me. "Well, I've had so much fun sweetheart, but I've got to go. Have a nice night." As I walk away, I feel his gaze burn into my backside. Linking my arm with Steve, I ask: "Alright big boy, where to?" We get in the car, and I rest against the window, the buzz wearing off, leaving exhaustion behind. I tell him where I live, and fall asleep. I wake-up slightly at him opening my door, and he picks me up. "Parents aren't home. Key under the mat." He gets the door open unexpectedly easily. "What room?" Cuddling further into his chest, I grumble, "Upstairs, third door on the left." I once again doze off, not waking until morning.

Summer 1985

When I was 17 I did what people told me Did what my father said, and let my mother mold me

"Y/N, you need to get a job. How are you going to get a car? Or pay for college? Your mother and I are not always going to be here for you." I nod at my father's words. "Yes Sir." My mother opens her mouth to give her two cents in. "Oh, Y/N, before you go, let me help you with your make-up today. You always have to be presenting yourself, you want to make me proud, don't you?" I look down at my plate, nodding, and take another bite of my waffle. "Oh, and Y/N, maybe we can start a diet. Don't want an embarrassing figure now honey." Pushing the offending food around my plate, I respond "Yes Ma'am."

I'm in Control - Never gonna stop. Control - To get what I want. Control - I like to have a lot. Control - Now I'm all grown up

I ended up getting the job at Scoops Ahoy, much to my Mothers chargain. "Y/N, are you sure you can control yourself around so much sweets? I just don't want you to get any bigger than you already are." Desperate to prove my mother wrong, I eat salads every meal, run the mall during my breaks, and always make sure my make-up is immaculate. I squeeze into the uniform my mother demanded I get in a small. It miraculously fits my waist snugly, but pulls at my hips, and rides high on my thighs. The shirt is short and tight around my torso, making it uncomfortable when teenage boys stop by only on my shift, doing everything in their power to stay at the counter and oggle what the uniform brings attention to. One of them grows brave and leans over the counter, "Did you sit in a bowl of sugar? Because it looks like you've got a pretty sweet ass." I turn red in embarrassment, cursing my mother for my "blessings" and her insistence on the overly tight uniform. As I do my best to deflect their eyes and serve them as fast as possible, Steve comes out of the back, his shift starting. His eyes flicker between my red face and the boys ogling his co-worker. He pushes me behind him as he confronts the boys. "Alright guys, how can I help you? Our U.S.S Butterscotch is really good, and two scoops will only cost you a buck. So what'll it be? Oh, and Y/N, Robin needs you in the back." I open my mouth to protest, but he just nudges me towards the door. Reaching the back, I look at Robin. "Steve said you needed me?" Her eyebrows scrunch together. "What? No, I haven't even talked to Steve today."

.

We all sit in the bathroom, bloody and bruised. Talking about random shit. Parents end up being brought up in the conversation. "Ugh, my parents want to control me. My dad wants me to be an adult, and my mother wants me to be just like her. She made me get that stupid uniform in a small, she wants me to do my make-up dark and perfect, she wants me to be the skinniest girl out there. I bet she wishes I was made out of clay so she could mold me exactly how she wants me to be." Robin mutters "My parents just want me to get a boyfriend. Like that's going to happen." We both turn to her. "What does that mean?" Blinking, she realizes what she said. "Oh, uh, I like girls. I don't like boys like that." I grimace as I scoot closer to her, taking her hand. "Thank you for feeling comfortable enough to tell us that. Just do you know, you're not missing out on much. Guys are bullshit." Steve shouts a "Hey!" at my accusation, but I give him a look that says "Seriously? Be honest with yourself." He raises his hands in surrender and turns towards me. "Alright, why didn't you want anyone to get close to you when you first started working here?" I swallow thickly, thinking through my answer. "Everyone else has been in control of what happens in my life for so long, I wanted to take that control back. I thought, if there was no one to try to take control, I would never have to lose control. Stupid I know." They both shake their heads at my answer, just sitting in peaceful silence until Dustin bursts in the door. "Guys, we've got to go."

After this is all over, Steve takes me home like he did almost a year ago. I rest against his window, sleeping off my injuries. I wake up as the car stops, but it's not outside my house. "Steve? Where are we? This isn't my house." Putting the car in park, he turns back to me. "No, it's not. It's my house, thought it would be easier to get you patched up and rested here than getting you home and needing to explain it to your parents. You can call them and tell them you're with Robin or something." I go to stand and walk into the house, but my legs give out. Steve picks me up from off the ground and carries me into the house. We patch each other up, band-aids here, ice packs there. We spend the night watching cheesy tape after cheesy tape, neither wanting to sleep and see the nightmares under our eyelids. As we both doze off, too exhausted to stay awake any longer, I feel Steve kiss my forehead and whisper "You talk about wanting control, but you've had control over me since that Halloween."