Marvel Imagines & Preferences

Pietro- Treadmill

You walked into the gym extremely early one day, yawning and rubbing your eyes. It was entirely empty, aside from one treadmill in the center of the large room. The man running on it was tall with very blond hair, and his feet were moving so quickly he looked as though he may fall right off. He glanced over at you and your heart started beating faster as he smirked slightly.

You cleared your throat and looked at the ground as you approached a different treadmill, turning it on and beginning your workout.

About forty minutes later, you were gasping for breath, your legs burning and lungs on fire. The man on the other side of the room was still going, and didn't look like he was stopping anytime soon. He grinned at you as you slowed down, inspiring you to turn up the speed on the machine and continue running. He did the same, his legs flying even faster than they had been. You reached forward to turn the speed up on your own treadmill, but suddenly lost your footing and went flying backwards.

You cried out surprisedly and grunted as your butt hit the ground. Before you could even blink, the man from the treadmill was standing over you, a look of worry stuck on his face. 

"Are you alright?" He asked quickly, his Russian accent making him even more attractive, if that was possible. "I am Pietro. That was a nasty fall."

"Y/N," you say, blushing as he helps you up.

"You're a very good runner, Y/N," he smiled.

You laugh. "Oh, I'm nothing compared to you."

"Maybe," he chuckled, "But I am no where near as beautiful."

You grinned and stared down at your shoes, your face flushing bright red.

"Well, I think I'm done with my workout," he sighed. "Can I interest you in some breakfast?"

Your eyes widened, "Wait, like a date?"

"Yes, Y/N," he laughed. "A date."

You grinned. "I would love to, Pietro."