Avengers One-Shots

Daddy Doesn't Pray Anymore [Steve Rogers]

Pairings: Steve Rogers x fem!Reader

Characters: Steve Rogers, James Rogers (OC), Evan Rogers (OC), Darla Rogers (OC) | mentions of, Bucky Barnes

Words: 2.6K

Summary: Steve's children notice their father and the various times in which he prayed.

Warnings: major character death, swears, angst, fighting

A/N: okay so this is another one from the Chris Stapleton collection, I knew from the beginning it was gonna take a hella angsty turn and even though it's short I think it hits right in the feels. Also a little disclaimer I personally am not Christian so if there's any kind of inaccuracy I'll apologize in advance.

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James, Evan, and Darla grew up with the familiar sight of their father praying. Kneeling beside his bed, hands folded together and his head bowed down to the floor. He'd whisper a verse or two and every night they'd hear their names come from his lips.

Darla was too young to understand why he did it, but it always brought a smile to her face when she heard him say her name.

All Evan ever wanted was to be like his father, so every night, he'd sit kneel right there next to him, like a miniature carbon copy, waiting for his turn.

James always had an objective eye. He didn't know if there was a God, or if he believed in one, but he admired his father's steadfastness in his beliefs. That having those nightly conversations could keep his family on the right path, keep them safe.

All three children noticed how you listened to Steve while he prayed, whether it was right before bed or when he said grace before eating dinner, you watched him, learning the carefully memorized words that would leave his mouth because each night he wasn't there you'd hold the hands of one of your sons and your daughter, leading them the same way their father did. It was important to him, and if it was important to him it was important to you.

"Is Dad coming back today?" Evan asked, putting his finished homework in his backpack.

"He should be," you nodded, washing the lettuce for the salad. "You sick of hearing me say grace already?" you asked the seven-year-old who only shrugged, but you knew it was the truth. It was like a ritual with Steve, it just wasn't the same with you.

Seemed like your husband was right on time. His car pulled up in the driveway and all three kids ran out from wherever they were in the house to go say hi to their father.

Steve hopped out of the car, bag slung over his shoulder, wearing a simple pair of jeans and a button up shirt.

"Daddy!" Darla called, racing out of the house to run into her father's arms. He picked her up with ease and pressed a smacking kiss to her cheek.

"Hi my love," he smiled. "How are you?"

"I'm good," she hummed, tucking her face in his shoulder while Steve wrapped his other arm around his two boys.

You decided to come out and join in on the reunion, a dish towel still in your hands while you stood outside the front door.

"Does your husband get a hello?" he asked with a raised brow and you smiled, still wiping down your hands.

"Come here and we'll see," you smirked while he walked up to you, pressing a soft kiss to your lips. "Welcome home soldier,"

While Steve told your children about his most recent adventure you finished making the salad and called everyone to the dining room table for dinner.