Steve Rogers Imagines

Eyes Up Here

tumblr: ourpeachskies

QOTD: Who else thinks that divide by Ed Sheeran is a fucking masterpiece!!! 

...............................................................................................

"Sssh, guys it's happening."

Right when you look up, a tall figure stops running and pulls off his shirt, revealing a body Michelangelo's David would have envied. The sunshine and sweat add a shiny gleam to the ridges of his pectoral and abdominal muscles, making him look like a fallen god from the skies of Olympus.

That is, if fallen gods wore tight gray running shirts and track pants.

"And there it is," Wanda breaths, her already-large eyes widening. She and Nat start a slow clap, the latter adding in a couple of whistles.

"I can't tell believe you dragged me out of bed at six in the morning on a Wednesday to watch someone take off his shirt," you sigh as you tiredly rub your eyes. You look around - there's no one at the track but three of you and the hottie with the abs.

"You can grumble all you want, (Y/N), but you have to admit this is hell of a view," Nat grins. Her steely gaze turns pensive and she muses, "You think those abs are completely gym-manufactured or made through sports?"

"It's got to be both. That," Wanda moves her hand in the direction of the abs in question, "is too incredible and has to be a result of magic."

"It's too early for this," you sigh. But Nat is right, those abs are rather glorious, and you can't help blush as you watch the athlete's chest rise and fall as he catches his breath.

Right then the half-naked person of their discussion squints their way, his hand shielding his eyes from the sun. While you're too slow to react, Wanda immediately drops her eyes to the phone while Nat casually blows a bubble with her gum.

His eyes stop on you, and his lips turn up into cheekily smile. He first waves before sending you a two-finger salute. Something in your brain clicks as soon as he salutes, and you gasp, "Holy motherfu -"

"Swear jar!"

You hold out your index finger in Wanda's direction. "Nope, I didn't say the entire word!" you exclaim.

Nat keenly stares at you, her fingertips drumming the side of her leg. "Do you know this guy?" she asks.

"That's my friend who's been helping me study for my History of World War II class."

"That's Steve Rogers?" Wanda incredulously asks, her jaw slightly dropping. "That's the guy you've been meeting up with three times a week for this past semester? The sweetest guy you've ever met has a body like that? No wonder you think you might have a crush on him."

"No! I mean, yes, but -"

"(Y/N) (Y/L/N), you little minx." A sly smile perks up on Nat's lips and the redhead strikes a saucy pose. "You didn't tell us that all this time, you've been meeting up with this bonafide hottie with an ass that won't quit."

"Swear jar!" you loudly accuse.

Nat glances at Wanda. "Swear jar commissioner?" she asks.

"Pass, because it's true," Wanda nonchalantly shrugs. She giggles at your miffed expression and nods her heads towards Steve. "Look, his butt is like a perfect peach," she observes before turning to you. "How did you not know about this incredible body of his?"

"He always wears sweaters that cover up... that," you gesture at your study buddy's incredible shoulder-to-waist ratio. Besides, you have a crush on him because of he's such a gentleman; he's a ridiculous flirt with you during your study sessions, but everything he says and does has the foundation of chivalry and integrity. Looks were never important to you, but you, too, begin to blush as Steve's sex god body slowly infiltrates your mind.