#totes emosh

“...the memory of all that.

My blog had been too wholesome so I’m here to ruin it with some emotions.

Here’s the song if you’re unfamiliar:

And here’s a recently edited version because I was feeling like it

Steve Harrington x Reader(Holland)

[Using @hargroovin prompts ♥]

You looked up from the bright red booth that had been yours for past two hours to determine what literal shadow was looming over you. Your fingers were still wrapped around the strawberry milkshake that was now warm and melting.

It took effort for your gaze to focus but when you did your tired, agitated eyes were met with soft, brown ones. The ones that made your heart stutter, though you were far past allowing yourself to feel it now.

Your intruder took the form of Steve Harrington, complete with his fluffy hair, bomber jacket and Ray-Bans. You were too lost in your own mind to start asking questions about the baseball bat with nails sticking out the end, that was protruding from his backpack.

A barely audible sigh left your lips and you replaced it with the straw of your drink. Steve threw his backpack down and took the seat opposite without invitation.

“Y/N. Y/N? Come on are you even listening to me?” He had clearly tried to talk to you but you weren’t paying attention to him, so he leaned over and pulled the milkshake from your grasp.

At his interference you met his concern with a frown, “Give me that back, please.” Your voice was quiet and polite.

“Y/N come on we need to talk about this. You can’t keep shutting yourself out from everyone, especially Nancy, she misses you; and me.” He added himself with uncertainty, his eyes flickering to yours and away again.

“Why you Steve? Because we had a fling before Nancy, before my sister died, and now you just feel sorry for me?” You snapped back. This was your alone time to wallow and he was ruining it.

“Because I care about you. I always have. And I know the anniversary is coming up but you can talk to me, or shout at me, just anything!” He rolled his eyes and threw his hands in the air, he had always been a bit dramatic you thought. “I can’t watch you waste your life away in this diner.”

“How can I talk to you about anything? You run around with middle-schoolers keeping whatever secret you have, while I’m here not being able to move on, because my parents can’t move on. I’m stuck Steve.” Your voice breaking at his name, in turn causing his chest to tighten at your pain.

He gave in to himself, and when you thought he was getting up to leave he just sat himself next to you, pulling you into his side and pressing a kiss to the top of your head. His touch was all it took, it meant more to you than any words he could say and you let it all go.

Your tears were soaking into his sweatshirt but he only held you tighter, as though you were clinging to each other for dear life and not in a public diner in the middle of the afternoon.

“I will help you through this. I promise,” he whispered, “But I need you to let me.”