Avengers X Reader (One Shots)

Two crazy heartbeats (Steve Rogers)

Writer's note: Yet another story I literally pieced together as I wrote it. Has also been in my drafts for around 4 months. I hope it's not too messy. I changed the subject close to 3 times while writing it. But I kind of love how it turned out. Fair warning, I never liked how Steve's story ended so I'm in denial. Here are the consequences.

Summary: Who says it's never a good idea to meet your hero? Through the darkest of times, a simple ad on the web can change your life for good. (Warnings: Kind of angsty, mentions of Tony's death -spoiler alert, I guess-)

You had always been a comic book fan, ever since you were a little kid. You loved reading about a certain hero and his comrades, selflessly diving into battle, with only freedom in mind. You kept asking everyone that was old enough around the time of the Second World War to remember the Captain, and their stories, from passing by him once at the local bakery to actually fighting alongside of him, never failed to amaze you.

When the great attack in New York happened, you were a senior in college. Even though you were originally from New Orleans, you went to Julliard School of arts with a piano scholarship, so you happened to be at school when the first Chitauri fell from the sky.

You remembered the panic and terror everyone felt, trying to shield themselves from the huge alien monsters, and you remembered the breath of fresh air called The Avengers, running into battle.

Iron Man shooting missiles, Hawkeye shooting arrows. Black Widow strategically attacking the monsters, making them crash into one another. The Hulk was jumping from building to building, seemingly effortlessly ripping the damn things in half. A Caucasian male in his mid-twenties with a magnificent set of hair caught your eye, waving his big hammer around, shooting- was that- yep, that was lightning. Lightning was coming out of his hammer. Then, the great Captain America jumped into battle, shouting orders and punching aliens. There's a sentence you'd never thought you'd say.

After that incident, weirder things kept happening, from flying cities, to men and women that could breathe fire, to half the population disappearing. Yeah, that last one stung.

You survived the so-called "snap" or "blip" or "dusting" or whichever silly name the media had come up with that week. You lost your parents, your sister, most of your closest friends. Made you wish you hadn't survived. You'd spend your days crying, jumping at every sound, looking out the window in the hopes your loved ones had returned.

Nothing.

Days turned into weeks, to months and then to years. Somewhere along the chaos of it all, you'd come across an ad about a support group for snap "survivors". You hated the fact you were considered survivors. As far as you were concerned, you had died the same day your loved ones did.

It was thoughts like that, accompanied by the little weak voice of logic in you that persuaded you to join the support group.

Upon arriving to the building mentioned in the ad, you accidentally bumped into the mountain of a man called Steve Rogers. One of your childhood heroes, in the flesh, standing in front of you.

Your body went numb, mind froze and you could have sworn you felt yourself scream but no sound came out.

After the initial shock passed, you could actually hear a few words coming out of him.

"Are you okay? Are you hurt? Can you hear me?"

Okay, hearing, check. Time to speak.

Words.

How do we speak? Do we need to open- yes, your mouth was open.

Then shut.

Make a sound, damn!