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Words: 943
Main Characters: Dad!Steve Rogers & Daughter!Reader
Other Relationships: Mom!Sharon Carter (Dead before fic)
Summary: The morning of their wedding the reader starts to have second thoughts. The wedding is starting to feel forced, they're not sure if this is what they want after all, but one look at her father Captain America tells her everything she needs to know. The world isn't so scary as long as you know you have at least one person in your corner at all times.
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All you could do was stare at yourself in the mirror not in vanity, but in astonishment. You couldn't believe the picture-perfect model staring curiously though the mirror was actually your own reflection. You'd gotten so use to seeing yourself covered in motorcycle grease, with your hair twisted in a messy bun on the top of your head, you had almost forgotten what you looked like after a shower let alone with make-up and a designer dress on. Your hair was all pulled together in a complicated braid design you'd never be able to replicate in a hundred years. There were about forty silk flowers woven and fixed up and down the massive braid making you look more like the Disney princess Rapunzel than you thought would be possible.
What were you thinking? This wasn't you at all! Why had you wants such a frilly, pastel wedding? Why had you let your best friend talk you into wearing your hair in this stupid braid? Why were you wearing flip-flops? Where did they come from anyway? You didn't even remember buying flip-flops, yet there they were, your toes tucked between the thronged straps of a pair of sandals.
You could leave, you supposed. Sure, you were in love. You really had wanted to get married when you had said yes to a wedding fifteen months ago. You were still thrilled about the idea earlier that morning. You just didn't understand how you had let things get so out of control. Now the walls were closing in. You felt lightheaded. You were finding it hard to swallow.
Then there came a knock on the door. You looked over your shoulder as your father slipped into the room. For a brief second you saw him the way he had looked when you were a kid. The rippling muscles that always scared off even your bravest [boyfriends/ girlfriends], The trendy blonde hair that always looked slightly newfangled on him, and his cobalt blue eyes fresh and unwavering. In the blink of an eye you were brought back to the present day.
Your father was still muscular. Super soldier serum, as it turns out, takes a long time to weaken. For the most part his hair was even still blonde, with only a few streaks of silver running up the sides. His hairstyle at least finally seemed to match his age, even though he didn't look a day over Forty-five. His face was beginning to show signs of wrinkles, and his eyes were different.
When you were a kid you remember your Dad putting a lot of passion into everything he did. He and your mom expected the same sort of passion for you and you rose above and beyond their challenge, and possibly overdid it a little. You ended up developing a tough exterior that was hard to crack. Your Uncle Bucky called it Moxie. You grew up listening to him tell you that since the day you were born you stole a little bit of your father's fire each day.
Maybe Uncle Bucky had been right all along. What had they all really expected from you anyway? When your Dad is Captain America and you mother is Sharon Carter, you were just destined to be badass. Whatever causes most people to grow out of their rebellious phase you never had it. That had never bothered you until the morning of your wedding when look looked over your shoulder at the wrinkles that had formed around your father's eyes. His eyes that looked so tired. His eyes that didn't burn with the fire you once remembered.
"Is everything alright?" He asked you, tilting his head to side slightly. "It's your Wedding Day. You should be happy."
"I am happy." You promised. "I'm just..."
"Terrified?" He chuckled.
"Yeah." You nodded and offered him a small smirk.
"Don't worry." He insisted. "It happens to everyone. Your mother left three times on the morning of our wedding. Each time Aunt Nat dragged her back. Sharon always said she'd be indebted to her for the rest of her life."
"I wish she was here today." You sighed. Maybe that's what had gotten you so upset. Your Mom died when you were ten. You'd been forced to accept that she'd miss your wedding from a pretty young age. You never thought it would bother you. Maybe it did.
"She'd want to be here." You Dad nodded seriously. "And I'm sure she is, in her own way. She could be listening to us right now."
"She was always a good spy." You smiled, wiping away tears.
"The best." He agreed. "Listen, [Y/N], you know, if today's not the day, if you're not ready, just say the words. We be on a chopper halfway across the country before anyone even has to know. We can call Bucky from wherever when we get there."
You didn't need to run away. Whatever you were afraid of, if it was missing your mother or just fears of the future, you knew in that moment none of that mattered. Steve Rogers may have spent decades as Captain America defending truth, justice and the American way, but for the last twenty-eight years, he'd also been your Dad. He'd held you through every break up. He'd sewn the stitches himself when you needed them, he'd sewn your costumes for school plays too. He moved you into college and he'd supported every bad decision you'd ever made and you knew that as long as his lungs were still pulling in breaths, there would always be at least one person in your corner at all times. He was your hero above everything else.
