Rosie the Redeemer meets an actual (era appropriate - golden age?) superhero.
Author's note: I chose Cap because he's mentioned at least twice in REDEEMER. I'll write more if people want to, er, spend? their own fic prompts on it. Just give me a "more!" if you'd like more of this and want to use your fic prompt on it. :)
Two years on, Rosie knew what a Redeemed soul looked like, how all the darkness separated and spilled way until only gold and light were left. She knew what pure and good and true and untainted felt like, like a breath of fresh cool air on a muggy morning, pushing away all the day's troubles.
The boy sitting next to her in art class felt like that all the time.
She couldn't hardly look at him for the shining of his soul, and maybe a little bit because he was about the prettiest person she'd ever laid eyes on, with yellow hair and blue eyes and shoulders God Himself must have made to carry the weight of the world. He mostly wore white t-shirts tucked into Levis, and Rosie usually lingered in the hall beside class until he'd gone by, so she could follow him in and admire the triangle his shirt made on its way to his waistband. And he could draw, too, way better than Rosie could herself, so she looked at his drawing pad a lot, and only peeked at him out of the corner of her eye.
It took about three days for him to wink at her when he caught her in the act. Rosie clapped her hands to her blushing cheeks, getting ink from her pen all over her face. Her classmate took a handkerchief from the back pocket of his jeans, and when she accepted it, said, "Steve Rogers."
"Rosie Ransom, nice to mee--" Rosie, wiping up, broke off with a startled laugh. "Steve Rogers, for real? Like Ca--"
Steve Rogers took the smallest breath, just enough to hush Rosie's exclamation, and in the silence, in the brightness of his soul, she knew for a fact, for the first time, that superheroes were real.