steve harrington imagines

mvp

18+ only please!! there is smut!!!

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It's a surprisingly nice evening for summer in Indiana. There's a warm breeze that kisses your cheeks and keeps you cool under the late afternoon sun. Perfect for one of Steve's baseball games. The last few you went to were unbearably hot, so even though it's still warm, and you're still sweating a bit, this is much better. Not that you're paying much attention to the weather with how close this game is.

His team is up by two points in the top of the ninth, and there's someone on base, but if they hold them off from scoring, they'll win. Steve's pitching, and you know he's feeling a lot of pressure, especially since this is a pretty important game near the end of the season. But you also know that he's totally got this. He's been pitching so many strikeouts this game, and he can definitely do one more.

He stands at the pitcher's mound, bottom lip tucked between his teeth as he squints at his catcher. He looks fucking beautiful, quite honestly. Tan skin glowing in the golden hour sun, the sleeves of his jersey tight around his biceps. Pretty hair tucked under his hat, the eyeblack he'd carefully applied before the game smeared across his cheeks. You might just have to jump his bones when the game is over.

Steve gets into position, presses the ball into his glove, and takes a deep breath. You stand from your seat on the rusty bleachers, metal creaking underneath you, to get a better view of the field. Someone behind you — probably Jessica, another player's girlfriend — huffs in annoyance, but you ignore her, too caught up in Steve, and sending him all of the good luck you can. He moves into his windup position, takes another deep breath, and sends the ball over the plate in a perfect strike that the batter watches go by.

You let out a breath you didn't know you were holding and whistle loudly, earning you even more dirty looks from the people sitting around you. Half of them are supporters of the other team, so you can't blame them, but you're not going to quiet your support for your boyfriend. You know he can hear you — his eyes flick to yours for just a moment when he hears your whistle, and his mouth pulls up at one corner almost imperceptibly. He winks at you, subtle enough to go unnoticed by everyone else, but the cockiness makes you flustered and causes you to roll your eyes at the same time.

The rest of the inning flies by with a pop-up to right field that's easily caught by Steve's teammate, and another strikeout pitched by Steve — one that the batter watches go by. You'd cheered again, even louder than before, and blew him a kiss as he ran off the field.

Now you're waiting for him, not so patiently, on the bleachers. You usually have to wait a bit while the team debriefs, and while you don't mind most of the time, you're feeling antsy today. You want him in more ways than one, and you don't know how much longer you can wait. Thankfully, due to a good game and short debrief, it's not too long until the players start filtering off of the field. Steve is always one of the last ones out, but you stand up in search of him anyway.

"Harrington!" you shout Steve's name as he exits the dugout, waving a hand in the air as you bounce on the balls of your feet excitedly.

Hearing the sound of your voice, Steve's head whips in your direction, and the biggest smile you've ever seen is on his face. He gives you a wave before turning back to the teammate he'd walked out with, saying something you can't make out as he slaps his back and then makes a beeline for you. After the game, his uniform is awry; jersey half tucked in, hat on backwards, and he's so sweaty, but somehow, you don't mind. His bat bag is slung over his shoulder, but it's quickly dumped on the ground as he approaches you in favor of scooping you up into his arms, "Baby!"

You let out a shriek and throw your arms around his neck as he lifts you off of the ground. Your toes are barely an inch from the grass, but it's enough to have you clutching onto him. He's still sweaty, having just come off the field, but you don't mind. "Steve! You did so good, baby!"