Summary: It was time. You and your girls were returning home, for the first time since your abduction. You would miss the compound where you had recuperated and come back to real life, but you were excited to go home and start trying to live a “normal” life. Having Steve and Bucky beside you on your journey certainly made it easier, and knowing you’d have protection agents near both you and your girls, made everything better. You all had a chance to celebrate your progress and happiness before you moved back home, with an unexpected surprise from Steve.
Author Notes: Thank you everyone for reading! This chapter is a bit of an “in between-er” – the transition between one part of the story to another. I wanted to wrap up Steph’s time at the compound in a relatively direct way but also get her and her family back to Brooklyn. I hope I did it in a way that makes sense. Thanks, as always, to MsEnglish101 for her beta help – she is a lifesaver!
Pairing: Steve Rogers x Plus-Size OFC
Word Count: 5600
Warnings: Fluff, family and relationship drama, (trigger warning) healing after a trauma, some pretty strong angst, and explicit sexual content that is NSFW 18+. SERIOUSLY.
While you considered all the things you’d been asked in the last hour by Bucky and by your children, you realized it was happening – you were all going back to Brooklyn. You were relieved when you did not have a massive, all-consuming panic attack at the thought and weren’t surprised when the first person you wanted to talk to was Steve. Even though they were older, you always checked in on your girls when they slept, and since you were reunited with them, it became a necessity. You kissed them both and slipped over to Steve’s suite, the next floor up.
Thankfully, he wasn’t asleep, and smiled when he answered the door. “What’s up? Everything ok?”
Summary: Being rescued was the only thing that had kept you going after you were abducted, but the recovery after was harder – you knew there was going to be a light at the end of the tunnel, a time when you wouldn’t be scared of being alone – but you were far from there. Thanks to Steve, Bucky, and the entire Avengers team, your recovery began in peace and quiet.
Author’s Notes: Thank you all for reading – I hope you like where the story is going. I am trying to keep the pace enjoyable, but still take the time to flesh out the characters. I want to give ultimate thanks to @MsEnglish101 for being an invaluable sounding board and editor. This chapter and this entire work is much better thanks to her. Please leave comments and let me know how you like it. Thanks!
Pairing: Steve Rogers x Plus-Size OFC
Word Count: 6800
Warnings: Fluff, family and relationship drama, (trigger warning) healing after a trauma, some pretty strong angst, and explicit sexual content that is NSFW 18+. SERIOUSLY.
The next few days were a blur. Physically, you were healing, and mentally, things seemed ok, but you always felt tired and didn’t have much energy, which was strange for you. Your time with Steve was quiet – reading, watching him draw, walking, falling asleep together. Neither of you talked much about what happened, and sometimes you wished you were brave enough to bring it up. He took such care when he was with you, letting you lead and doing what made you comfortable, that you wondered if his feelings had changed from boyfriend to big brother. Sometimes, Bucky was easier to talk to – there was less shared history, less tension, and fewer expectations, which was a welcome relief.
Summary: It feels like every other day you’re in Frank Adler’s garage while he looks under the hood of your beat-up vehicle, trying to diagnose the newest problem. He’s always been sweet about it; you coming in at the last second because you’re running late for work, always slashing the prices so you don’t go broke. One day, on your way into work, your radiator overheats, leaving you stranded on the side of the road. Knowing he won’t let you down, you call Frank. Ever the gentleman, he gives you a ride, but when he drops you off at work, he discovers a secret you had worked so hard to keep. You promised your boyfriend you’d never cheat, but now you’re not sure what you have could even be called love. What happens when Frank finds himself falling for you? Will he be able to keep himself from intervening in the toxic and tumultuous relationship you and your boyfriend have? Word Count: 1,801 Warnings: First and foremost, domestic violence; emotional, verbal, & physical. Language, heavy angst, insecure female reader, PTSD, no cheating, possibly more to come. Author’s Note: A huge thank you to @captain-rogers-beard for allowing me to steal some of her thunder. Your unwavering support has left me speechless. GIF Credit [X]
My work is not to be posted on any other sites (AO3, Wattpad, etc.) without my express written permission. Reblogs are fine.
SIX WEEKS LATER
Mrs. Hudson, your therapist for the past five weeks, was writing in her notebook a few moments after you took your seat. “How are you feeling today, Y/N?”
“Good, really good, actually,” you answered with a genuine smile. “I haven’t had a nightmare for several nights now.”
“That’s great,” she assured you, her pen scratching softly before her pine eyes met yours. “Did you end up going back to work like we discussed?”
Your hands were in your lap, wringing together. It didn’t matter how long you had been seeing your therapist, or how much you trusted her, you were still nervous talking about yourself in such a way to someone. Well, anyone besides Frank and Marge.
“I did. Yesterday was my first day back.”
“I bet that wasn’t easy, getting back into the swing of things,” she noted.
You gave a wry chuckle and shook your head. “It wasn’t easy, that’s for sure. As badly as I wanted to go back sooner, I’m glad I waited.”
In the weeks following James’ death, doing anything more than lounging around the house, giving your body time to heal without the added stress of waitressing, was too much. You were sure you had gained another ten pounds, but at that point in time, you didn’t have anyone to impress, to keep happy; just yourself.
On the sixth day of flipping through the channels, of dwelling on the words of negativity bouncing around inside of your head, of hearing James’ raging voice, even in your dreams, Marge had suggested seeing a therapist.
“It will take some time, but it really helped me after I got out,” Marge assured you. “I worry about you, kid.” She had given you the number of Mrs. Hudson, and an appointment was made for the following day.
Clearing her throat, Mrs. Hudson asked, “Are you taking it easy on yourself?” She didn’t only mean your job.
The dark and dangerous thoughts and memories of that night, of all the nights prior to ‘the incident’ were damaging. Your self-esteem beforehand was admittedly low, but it seemed to plummet further after watching James drop to the floor, the life snuffed out of him at your hand.
“I’m trying,” you answered. “Marge has started putting up sticky notes everywhere with affirmations, and Frank, he uh…” a flash of heat crept up your neck at the mention of his name.
“Ah, yes, Frank,” Mrs. Hudson mused. “How is he doing?”
“He’s fine now, got the all clear from the doctor a couple weeks back.”
She shifted in her chair, uncrossed and crossed them the other way. “I remember you telling me about that. How have things been with him?”
Your feelings for Frank had come to light pretty early on in your sessions. Not that you had said anything directly do Mrs. Hudson about him, but as he was half of your support system, it was easy for her to see how you felt about him every time his name was mentioned. You tried to brush it off, saying that because of what happened, it wasn’t a surprise that the two of you were close. She had seen right through that.
Yeah, you were in love with Frank Adler. Head over heels, tongue-tied, sweaty palms, heart threatening to burst of your chest, unequivocally, want to spend the rest of your life with him, in love. So, what was stopping you from being with Frank? The investigation that surrounded James’ death, that’s what.
The last thing you wanted to do was to make it look like you had been cheating on James, that he had been murdered, rather than suffer at the hands of self-defense. And, it wasn’t like you didn’t know how Frank felt about you. Between all the awkward shifting on his feet and blushing whenever he looked at you, his hand carding through his hair, his azure eyes sparkling; it was pretty clear that Frank wanted to be with you.
“They haven’t, not really,” you murmured.
“Why is that?” she questioned, her brows drawn together. “I thought the investigation was completed last week.”
It was your turn to shift in your seat, though instead of crossing your legs, you crossed your ankles. “It was.”
“And?”
You hadn’t really told anyone of the outcome, that there was sufficient evidence to not have charges pressed against you, that James died because you acted in self-defense. Yet, you were surprised that she didn’t know. It was a small town, after all.
There was a glass of water next to you that you drained before answering the question. “They closed the case, no charges filed, not enough evidence to support a murder, let alone a manslaughter charge.”
“That’s wonderful news, Y/N,” Mrs. Hudson gasped, her hands clenched together happily.
“It is,” you agreed, your lips pulling into a smile. “It’s as if my whole life has been handed back to me. I can start over; clean slate.”
“You don’t sound so happy about that,” she noted.
You shook your head, silently disagreeing with her. “I’m thrilled, honestly. It’s just… James was a part of my life for so damn long, that… I just… I’m not sure how to start over. It’s helped, coming here and talking to you; you’ve taught me some some amazing ways to cope, and I’m extremely grateful. I know that the road ahead isn’t going to be an easy one. But, getting started, putting on those shoes and trudging down it; that’s the scary part.”
She was scratching down some more notes and nodding as you talked. “You’re absolutely right and, I must say, you’ve made some amazing strides since you first came here. I’m really proud of the steps you’ve taken. And, as you’ve stated previously, the support system you have in Marge and Frank is extremely important and beneficial. I’ve met them around town before, they’re good people; genuinely kind-hearted. They’re not the kind of people to hurt someone they care so deeply for.”
“I care deeply for them, as well,” you confirmed, your heart swelling at just the thought of them. “They’ve become my family.”
At that, the conversation turned. “Since you brought it up,” she started, turning the page in her notebook. “We haven’t talked about your family much.”
You shifted uneasily in your seat, that swelling feeling in your subsiding, making way for a knot of anxiety. “No, and I’m not sure I want to.”
“You know I won’t pressure you into anything you’re not comfortable doing.”
“I know, and I appreciate that,” you said, your voice tight and thin. “I also know that it’s something that needs to be talked about.”
Mrs. Hudson tipped her head in curiosity. “Is that something you’d like to talk about today?”
You wanted to talk about the nights you witnessed your dad beating up your mother through the thin sheet you had pulled over your head, hoping he hadn’t seen you. Or the nights you could hear her cries through the thin walls as he forced himself on her. Then there were the days you helped her hide the bruises that came from keeping him away from you.
However, today wasn’t that day. “Maybe next time.”
“Okay then,” she said with a warm smile. “Maybe next time, it is.”
The clock on her desk chimed, signaling the end of your session. “I’ll see you next week, okay?”
“Absolutely,” you confirmed, pushing out of the chair.
She followed suit, closing the notebook she used just for your sessions. “Do me a favor, yeah?”
“Okay.”
“Tell that boy how you feel. You deserve to be loved, really loved, Y/N, and Frank is the man to do just that,” Mrs. Hudson said as she walked you to the door. She didn’t wait for you to agree, just gave your elbow a comforting squeeze.
Frank was sitting on one end of the couch, his long legs spread out in front of him, and an arm draped over the cushion. “Dinner was amazing, thank you, Y/N.”
You handed him a bottle of beer before taking a spot next to him. “Just my way of thanking you for being there for me.”
“You don’t need to thank me,” he softly argued. “You know I’d do anything for you.”
When tears pricked your eyes, you sniffled loudly and took a long drink of beer. You didn’t say anything for a long stretch, prompted only when Frank’s hand was on your thigh.
“Can I tell you something, Frank?”
“You know you can,” he assured you, sitting up fully, setting the beer on the table.
He didn’t press you to start talking, which was one of the things you loved about him. Frank would sit there, silently waiting for you to talk whenever you felt like it, no awkward silence.
“My therapist has been pressing me… no, that’s not right,” you argued with yourself. You shook your head, letting out a frustrated huff.
Frank’s hand was on yours, his thumb sweeping back and forth, the callouses that came from manual labor oddly soothing against your skin. “Is suggesting the right word you need?”
“Yes, thank you. Mrs. Hudson has been suggesting that I tell you something.”
“Are you okay?” There was a glimmer of panic in his eyes at the mere thought of something else happening to you.
You turned your hand over in his, lacing your fingers together. “I’m fine, Frank. I promise. It’s not… bad. I don’t think. I just… I don’t want to ruin – I love you,” you blurted out, crimson coloring your face and neck. “And I know that, I mean, there’s something here,” you motioned between the two of you, “right?”
Frank’s hands were on your face and he was kissing you. You melted into him, sighing as his tongue probed into your mouth, your hands carding through his hair, gripping his wide shoulders. By the time you parted, the two of you couldn’t breathe.
“I love you, Y/N,” he panted, his forehead resting against yours. “So much. I have for a while, long before… the situation six weeks ago. I just couldn’t say anything, not then. But now that I can, I ain’t gonna stop.”
You were a sniffling mess. “I don’t… good things don’t happen to me, Frank.”
“They do now,” he assured you, his hands on both sides of your face.
He started kissing your face, smearing your tears, murmuring with each kiss about how much he loved you, every inch of you. You were crying harder, collapsing against his chest, wrapping your arms around him and holding onto him as if he were your life raft. Which, let’s face it, he had saved your life.
“I love you, Frank.”
You could hear the smile in his voice when he said, “I love you, too.”
Summary: It feels like every other day you’re in Frank Adler’s garage while he looks under the hood of your beat-up vehicle, trying to diagnose the newest problem. He’s always been sweet about it; you coming in at the last second because you’re running late for work, always slashing the prices so you don’t go broke. One day, on your way into work, your radiator overheats, leaving you stranded on the side of the road. Knowing he won’t let you down, you call Frank. Ever the gentleman, he gives you a ride, but when he drops you off at work, he discovers a secret you had worked so hard to keep. You promised your boyfriend you’d never cheat, but now you’re not sure what you have could even be called love. What happens when Frank finds himself falling for you? Will he be able to keep himself from intervening in the toxic and tumultuous relationship you and your boyfriend have? Word Count: 1,693 Warnings: First and foremost, domestic violence; emotional, verbal, & physical. Language, heavy angst, insecure female reader, PTSD, no cheating, possibly more to come.
Author’s Note: A huge thank you to @captain-rogers-beard for allowing me to steal some of her thunder. Your unwavering support has left me speechless. GIF found on Google Images with no source.
My work is not to be posted on any other sites (AO3, Wattpad, etc.) without my express written permission. Reblogs are fine.
It had been one hell of a day, and all you wanted to do was go home and take a long hot shower, followed by passing out for about four, maybe seven days. You ached everywhere, the kind of ache that settled deep into your bones, your very bruised and should-have-been-broken bones.
You had gotten lucky when James kicked you. As painful as it was, James wasn’t kicking at full-force, he had been too drunk to do that. Needless to say, you were surprised when the doctor said you had no broken bones, “But, it’s going to feel like you wish you had. Broken bones can often heal faster than a deep bone bruise, as you have.”
After getting an official all clear from the doctor, you were approached by Officer Andrews.
“How are you holding up?” she asked gently, as if you were a scared animal that would bolt if she spoke too loud.
You were staring at your hands. “I’ve been better,” you answered dryly.
“I can imagine,” Andrews mused.
“Hey, have you heard anything about Frank?” Your chest went tight. If something happened to him…
The officer nodded her head. “He’s got a pretty bad concussion, but nothing a week of rest won’t cure.”
“Oh, thank God,” you sighed heavily, your shoulders shaking, tears stinging your eyes.
Andrews’ eyes narrowed the slightest bit. “Is there something going on between you and Mister Adler?”
“What?” you gasped, your head flying up. “No! God, no. He’s a friend, that’s all. I would never, never cheat on James.” You really hoped that she believed you. You couldn’t afford for her not to. If it was suspected that there was something going on between you and Frank, they might suspect it was anything but self-defense.
“I know it’s been a long day and you’re probably itching to go home, but there are just a few more questions. Are you up to answering them right now?” she asked, pulling out her notebook and pen.
No. I am not up to answering anymore of your stupid questions.
You forced a smile and nodded. “I’m good.”
Several long hours passed before Marge found you in the waiting room. You were bent at the waist, forearms on your thighs, head hung, shoulders shaking. When she slid into the seat next to you, draping an arm around your shoulders, you broke down.
It was all too much to hold in any longer. With James dead, there was a part of you that felt relief; you were no longer wedged under his thumb, he had no control over you anymore, you wouldn’t need to hide the array of bruises any longer. However, that was buried beneath oppressive layers of guilt and shame. You were responsible for the death of James, no one else, just you. If only you could have gotten the nerve to leave sooner, or had said no the first time he asked you out; you could have done a million other things at a million different times instead of killing the man you had onced loved.
And Frank had gotten hurt in the process. Jesus, how could you have let that happen? Frank was your friend, had been there whenever you needed help, had gone above and beyond when it came to the confines of ‘doing his job.’ He was gentle and caring, funny and charming, handsome and smart, and never once spoke to you as if you were inferior, or called you names because of your round figure. Frank was a good man, and he didn’t deserve what had happened to him, what you had done to him.
“Hey, it’s okay, Y/N,” Marge said, her tone low and soothing. “Let it out. I got you, girl.”
You latched onto her, sobbing openly, not caring about how other people might react. Your life was forever changed, nothing was going to be the same and, in a way, you were okay with that. Then again, you were scared of what was to come; you were now in uncharted territory with no compass, no map to show you the right way to travel, what routes to avoid, which ones to stop at and enjoy.
Marge handed you several kleenexes after the tears had started to slow down. “You okay?”
“No,” you murmured before blowing your nose. “I’m far from okay, Marge. I killed a man.”
Her hand was on yours and her eyes drilled into yours. “Listen to me,” she urged. “James is dead, yes, but you did not kill him.”
“I did, I pushed him,” you argued, your throat going thick once again.
“He pushed you, he kicked you,” Marge bit out, her cheeks going red. “He beat you almost every damn day. What you did was self-defense if ever I’ve seen it. You didn’t push him with the intent of him dyin’. You pushed him to get him to back off. If they can’t see that, they’re dumber than they look.”
Deep down, you knew what she was saying was right, but your brain refused to accept it. She could say that all day, every day, for the rest of your life, and you weren’t sure if you would ever believe her.
“I don’t know, Marge,” you mumbled, your head shaking as it dropped.
Marge huffed out a breath through her nose before changing the subject. “I saw Frank.”
Your head flew up faster than you thought possible. “You did? How is he? I’ve been askin’, but they won’t tell me anything. I’m not family.”
“He’s hurtin’ pretty good,” she informed you, tucking some hair behind your ear. “But, the doc says he’ll be fine; it’s a concussion, a bad one.”
Guilt slithered through you like a slimy snake, wrapping itself around your spine and heart, squeezing it tight. “A concussion he wouldn’t have had if he never had met me.”
“Y/N, that’s enough of that, you hear me?” she chastised, her eyes glittering angrily. “Frank gettin’ hurt isn’t your fault either. He’s a grown ass man that did the right thing by goin’ with you. Yeah, he got hurt, but he didn’t go into the situation not knowing what might happen. Speakin’ of, why was James there?”
With a loud scoff, you scraped a hand through your hair. “Guess there was a big bust,” you started, glancing at your watch, “yesterday, and James’ offense was the least of their problems.”
“They didn’t,” Marge gasped loudly.
“They did,” you said begrudgingly.
“What else did they say?” she inquired.
You knew what she meant, she wanted to know if they were going to press charges against you. It was one of the first things you asked Officer Andrews.
One of your shoulders bobbed once. “They have to go through the whole thing, present any evidence – or lack thereof – and submit it to the district attorney’s office first.”
“And how long is that going to take?”
Another shoulder bob as you answered, “Who knows. Could be a week, or a month, maybe longer.”
“Well, that’s somethin’, I guess,” she sighed, her hand grabbing yours. “Have they cleared you to leave?”
“Yeah, I just… I didn’t know where you were,” you started to say. “I didn’t know where Frank was, and I just…” your voice trailed off as your throat, once again, went thick.
Marge gave your hand a squeeze and smiled warmly. “Do you want to see Frank before we go home?”
All you could do was nod. You pushed out of the uncomfortably narrow seat and followed her down a maze the maze of halls of the ICU, until finally, she opened a door. Frank was lying there, his eyes closed, long lashes fanned out, looking every bit like he was sleeping. You rounded the bed, to the side where you could lay your hand over his without interfering with an IV.
He stirred, groaning as his head turned toward you. “Y/N?” he gruffed, his eyes fluttering open.
“Yeah, Frank,” you rasped. “It’s me. Easy there.”
Frank was trying to sit up, but stopped and pressed a palm to his forehead. “How are… are you okay?”
“Don’t worry about me,” you assured him, squeezing his hand.
“But, I do. I can’t help it.” Frank turned his hand over, sliding his fingers between yours.
You should have pulled away, slipped your hand from his, gotten up, and walked out, but you didn’t. You gave him a warm smile. “You shouldn’t,” you insisted weakly. “What about you, huh? How are you feeling?”
“Like I got my head slammed into a wall,” he answered with a wry chuckle.
“Frank, I… I’m sorry about what happened to you.” There were more tears filling your eyes that you tried to blink away.
“Hey, no apologies, okay?” He gave your hand a squeeze.
With a soft huff, you shook your head. “I’ll try, okay? It’s just something I’m used to doing. Everything was my fault.”
“That’s the past, honey,” Marge said as she approached Frank’s bed.
You pulled in a shuddering breath. “I know, I know. I’ll work on it, I promise.”
“That’s all we can ask,” Frank ground out, his face pinched in pain. He quickly pressed the button that controlled the morphine. “Now, why don’t you two go home and get some rest. I’m going to pass out in about five minutes.”
“You do that, darlin’,” Marge hummed before bending over to kiss Frank’s forehead.
Before releasing Frank’s hand, you gave it a squeeze, sweeping your thumb over the pulse in his wrist. “I hope you feel better in the morn… later.” It was well after five am at that point, so your already dizzy brain wasn’t functioning correctly.
“Goodnight,” he slurred, the morphine already kicking in.
You and Marge repeated his statement before turning off the lights and walking out, closing the door quietly.
Summary: You knew that this was the last day. It was either going to be the last day of your abduction, or the last day of your life. You knew Steve would save you, but you also knew life didn’t always work out the way you wanted.
Author’s Notes: I wrote this chapter faster than any other in this series, it felt like it just flowed. I hope it’s not just my bias, and that you, the reader, actually enjoy it! Thanks, as always, to @MsEnglish101 for reading, finding the plot holes, suggesting fixes, and making my writing a lot better.
Pairing: Steve Rogers x Plus-Size OFC
Word Count: 5800
Warnings: Fluff, family and new relationship drama, some pretty strong angst, and explicit sexual content that is NSFW 18+. SERIOUSLY.
Sleep was useless. The floor was cold, the blankets were scratchy and you were alone. You saw the sun start to rise through the small sliver of window not covered by the blackout curtains and prayed – prayed as hard as you ever had in your entire life. You asked God to help you, to watch over your children, your parents, your siblings, your friends. You asked for peace, you asked for forgiveness for all the stupid, selfish stuff you’d ever done. Lastly, you asked for strength – the strength to do what you needed, when you needed to, without hesitation. When you opened your eyes, the sun was higher and the little sliver of light was just enough to make a silly little shadow. You brought your knees up to your chest and breathed slow and deep – even without the benefit of a clock, you knew today was it. The men holding you made it clear that they needed whatever they wanted from Steve today, or you were dead. You closed your eyes again and saw your daughters. You knew once the tears started they wouldn’t stop. You let them come. You waited for Steve.
I’m sitting here, sobbing in relief and of the mental anguish that has happened, and is yet to come. I can’t put into words how much I love this series.
Summary: A Marvel AU fic. You and Sam Wilson were colleagues first and friends second. You were both top of the resident pool in a prestigious orthopedic surgical residency program, which left no time to start or cultivate real relationships. You had earned the spot through relentless efforts on every front, despite unwanted opinions that your plus-size pear-shaped self couldn’t hack it, and you were not interested in a relationship that could pose even the slightest risk to derailing your dream. A well-timed offer of the often-discussed, but seldom observed “sex with no strings,” started something that made you more than smile.
Word Count: 2900
Pairing: Sam Wilson x Plus-size reader insert
Warnings: SMUT SMUT SMUTTY SMUT. If sex without strings isn’t your thing, please don’t read. If a woman who knows what she wants and isn’t afraid to get it isn’t your thing, you should move on to the next worthy fic. If a black man and a white woman isn’t your thing, this isn’t for you. Oh, and this chapter has a teeny bit more angst.
A/N: I wanted to write, but didn’t feel like starting another multi-chapter serious fic. Ummmm, so that didn’t go according to plan. Here I am with part 3 of this, and halfway into visualizing part 4. Oh well, it’s what I love about this fanfic deal – that you can do this kind of thing just because it feels right. Not many things in life are like that. Hope you’re loving it! Let me know, I always appreciate your time and efforts in reaching out. – Steph
For the first time since you’d been….whatever you were….Sam canceled on you. He had been polite and honest, but said he just wasn’t up to coming over. You responded the only way you knew how, that you understood and hoped you would see him soon. You felt the sting of guilt and a tiny bit bigger kick of karma coming around to smack you upside the head for getting into this situation in the first place and doing the last thing you wanted to do – hurt your best friend.
Summary: The sweet relief at the end of another school year was immediately followed by your excitement to celebrate Steve’s birthday and celebrate the 4th of July with a long-overdue party thrown by you and your best friends.
Word Count: 4800
Pairing: Steve Rogers x Plus-Size OFC
Warnings: Fluff, family and new relationship drama, and explicit sexual content that is NSFW 18+. SERIOUSLY.
Author Notes: Thank you to everyone who has taken the time to read, like, reblog, and comment on this fic. I have to admit, it warms my heart that this is such a supportive and welcoming fandom. Good news – this was the first chapter for which I used a beta and I think you’ll notice some nice improvements in quality and continuity. To quote @star this is the last chapter of lovely fluffiness before a good amount of angst (not as good as how she writes angst, but I gotta try) comes Steph and Steve’s way. Thanks so much, again. Can’t wait to hear what you think – Steph
Summer always went by so quickly. You’d been working in different schools almost 20 years and every single year, the hot months were over before you knew it. Not this summer. You were determined to enjoy your time with your kids, with Steve, and with your friends. You were excited to kick it off at the 4th of July BBQ that you and your girl squad had been planning for a few months. It was the same day as Steve’s 100th birthday, so you wanted it to be special, but you knew he wouldn’t want to draw attention to himself there, so a quiet celebration was going to be tacked on at the end, with just your crew and closest friends. You, Bucky, and the girls had multiple covert meetings to think of gift ideas, and you were all eager to see his face when he opened what you finally decided upon.
Summary: It feels like every other day you’re in Frank Adler’s garage while he looks under the hood of your beat-up vehicle, trying to diagnose the newest problem. He’s always been sweet about it; you coming in at the last second because you’re running late for work, always slashing the prices so you don’t go broke. One day, on your way into work, your radiator overheats, leaving you stranded on the side of the road. Knowing he won’t let you down, you call Frank. Ever the gentleman, he gives you a ride, but when he drops you off at work, he discovers a secret you had worked so hard to keep. You promised your boyfriend you’d never cheat, but now you’re not sure what you have could even be called love. What happens when Frank finds himself falling for you? Will he be able to keep himself from intervening in the toxic and tumultuous relationship you and your boyfriend have? Word Count: 1,634 Warnings: First and foremost, domestic violence; emotional, verbal, & physical. Language, heavy angst, insecure female reader, PTSD, no cheating, possibly more to come. Author’s Note: A huge thank you to @captain-rogers-beard for allowing me to steal some of her thunder. Your unwavering support has left me speechless. GIF found on Google Images, couldn’t trace it back to the original source.
My work is not to be posted on any other sites (AO3, Wattpad, etc.) without my express written permission. Reblogs are fine.
By the time Frank came to, he was in the back of an ambulance, the siren screaming, and a mask over his mouth. His head was pounding and his brain felt twice its normal size. It was making him nauseous, and the potholes weren’t helping matters.
“Y/N,” he groaned. “Whe- where is she?” Frank moved to get up, but there was a hand on his chest, forcing him back down.
“Easy there, Frank,” the paramedic said. “You’ve got a pretty severe head injury.”
“I don’t care,” he ground out. “I need… need to…” His eyelids were so heavy, he couldn’t keep them open any longer.
The last thing he heard was the EMT shouting, “His BP is too high!”
There was a blanket on your shoulders and someone helping you out of the house. You didn’t know who it was, because all you could see was James; the stunned grunt that was driven from his lungs as you pushed him with all your might and the nauseating sound as the back of his head cracking as it hit the edge of the counter, you couldn’t shake it. It was playing on a loop, over and over again, even after he was pronounced dead and the white sheet was covering him.
You wanted to scream and cry until it stopped, but nothing would come out of you; not even tears. You just sat there, in the ambulance, a blank look on your face, while the EMT looked over your wounds.
The same officer that helped you with obtaining the restraining order came up and cleared her throat. “How we looking?”
“Just finishing up,” replied the EMT. Once your shirt was covering the large bruises on your side, the EMT jumped down, leaving you alone with Officer Andrews.
She pulled out a pen and flipped open her notebook. “Can you tell me what happened tonight?”
I killed him. I killed James. And… and I think Frank is dead. No one will tell me anything.
“Y/N,” Andrews said softly. “I need you to talk to me, okay?”
Frank was helping me pack, your brain tried explaining, but your mouth wasn’t cooperating.
She looked around, making sure no one was watching, and rested her hand on yours. The gentle touch made you jump, made your eyes slam into focus, made the look on James’ face as he died disappear from your brain.
“I was… we thought it wou- would be better,” you stammered, your eyes filling with tears.
“You and Frank?” Andrews started taking notes.
“James was in jail,” was your simple answer.
She nodded in understanding. “So, the two of you came here to pack your belongings?”
“Yes,” you sobbed, your hand covering your mouth. “James was supposed to be in jail. It was the only way I would come here.”
More notes were scribbled down. “Walk me through what happened.”
Frustration was eating at your already frayed nerves. “Tell me why he was out of jail.” You were in no position to make demands, but that didn’t stop you.
“I don’t have an answer for you,” was the only thing Andrews said.
You wanted to believe her, you really did, but you were finding it really difficult. While you wanted to stand your ground, you were too tired to argue right then.
“Frank was in the bedroom,” you started, your shoulders sagging. “Getting some jewelry that means a lot to me.”
“Okay, that’s good. What happened next?”
The breath you pulled in was ragged, making your throat hurt. “James, he uh, he came up behind me and grabbed my hair,” you sniffled loudly as tears streamed down your cheeks. “I… I tried getting free, but he uh, God, he wouldn’t let me go.”
Andrews sat there, taking notes, letting you set the pace for the remainder of your statement.
“When Frank heard James’ voice, he came out of the room, and James just lost it.”
“How so?” she asked.
Another ragged breath was pulled in slowly. “He accused Frank of making a move on me, told him to, ‘get his own bitch.’”
“He said that?”
“His exact words were, ‘This is my home, my bitch. Get your own,’” you scoffed and rolled your eyes.
Her pen was still scratching against the paper when she asked, “And then?”
“I told James that that’s not what was happening, that I asked Frank to come over, to help clean up the place,” you elaborated.
“So, the broken glass all over the floor wasn’t from tonight?”
You were shaking your head. “No, it was that way when we got here.”
“Good to know,” she murmured, mostly to herself.
You were staring at your wringing hands. “James didn’t believe it, that Frank was there to help me.”
“Why is that?”
“My car,” you chuckled in bemusement. “I’ve taken that piece of shit into the garage where Frank works almost every goddamn day because the radiator keeps overheating. James was convinced that I was stepping out on him, and nothing I said or did could convince him otherwise. Seeing Frank in the house tonight must have solidified it in his mind, because when Frank stepped forward, James shoved me into Frank, hard.”
Andrews looked at you with a sad gleam in her eyes. You could tell she hated this part of the job; getting a statement from a battered woman, especially when there was a dead body. “Then what happened?”
“James went ballistic,” you choked. “Started beating up on Frank, punching him until his head hit the wall. After he went down, James went to kick him. I don’t… I don’t know what came over me. I just… I put myself in front of Frank, took the kick.”
“Are you okay?” she couldn’t help but ask, concern etched in her features.
You shrugged half-heartedly. “I need x-rays.”
Andrews gave a tight smile before asking, “After the kick, what happened?”
“He uh, he grabbed my hair again and pulled me up,” you answered, your voice trembling. “I just… I had had enough of his abuse, of hearing him call me every vile name in the book. I screamed and pushed him with everything I had. His feet, they got caught in the mess and he fell back. If I close my eyes, I can still hear the sound of his head hitting the counter.”
You broke down, covering face as your emotions hit you like a tidal wave. Despite the pain screaming in your side, you bent over and covered your face with your hands. You didn’t hear Andrews tell you that she had no further questions, that she’d be in touch. You didn’t hear the rig start up, or the conversation between the driver and the EMT that had been tending to you. You didn’t know the rig had moved until the back door opened up and the flashing lights broke through your fingers.
Marge had been waiting for Frank to wake up for almost three hours. In a small town, word travelled fast. When something big went down, it travelled even faster. She had gotten to the hospital before Frank had been admitted, and kept pestering the nurses until they finally caved, allowing her into his room after the doctor had gone. So, when he started making noises and shifting on the small bed, she was standing over him, holding one of his hands.
“Easy Frank,” she murmured.
“Can you turn down the lights?” he grumbled, his voice thick.
While she did that, Frank hit the button that moved him into a sitting position. “Where’s Y/N?”
Marge poured him a glass of ice water, mostly ice. “It was hard enough to get in here.”
“We gotta find her.” He moved to get out of the bed, but Marge stopped him; not that it took much.
“Uh uh, Adler,” she admonished. “You’ve got a bad concussion. You ain’t goin’ anywhere.”
If his head didn’t feel like it was going to explode, he wouldn’t have given up. “I just need to know that she’s okay, Marge.”
“I know, kid,” she sighed, straightening the blankets over his legs.
He stared hard at her through narrowed eyes. “What? You know somethin’.”
Her lips pulled into a tight line as she shook her head. “It ain’t good, Frank.”
“Tell me, Marge,” he implored, snatching her hand from the bed. “Tell me.”
She blew out a heavy breath before delivering the news. “James is dead, and they’re sayin’ Y/N killed him.”
“Wait… he’s dead?” Frank’s aching mind was swirling, trying to remember everything he could, but the last thing he could remember was James throwing punches.
“You hit your head pretty hard,” Marge clued him in.
Frank’s eyes were flicking back and forth and his brows were furrowed. “You know what happened.”
“Come on, Frank. You need to rest.” She should have known better than to try and dissuade Frank, he was more stubborn than a mule.
“No, Marge, I don’t,” he ground out, wincing at the pain that shot through him. “What I need is for you to tell me what happened.”
“I don’t know specifics.”
“I don’t care,” he insisted.
Marge huffed out a breath through her nose. “After James knocked you out, she ended up pushing him and he hit his head on the edge of the countertop. He was dead before he hit the ground.”
A small sense of relief washed through Frank. If Y/N was strong enough to push James away, than she must not have gotten hurt too badly. His head fell back against the pillow and he blew out a sigh of relief.
“I need you to do me a favor, Marge.”
She took hold of his hand and said, “I’ll find her, kid.”
“Thank you,” he murmured before the pitch of unconsciousness took over.
Summary: The time had come. You were ready to tell two of the most important people in your life, your daughters, about you and Steve’s relationship. It was the natural next step, and ended up being a non-event. The change wasn’t so much of a change as Steve left for his first long mission since you started dating, but a return to the old normal was ok. The end of the school year was upon you, and you enlisted Bucky’s help in planning an end-of-the-year surprise to reward the girls (and you) for getting through another school year. You had no idea what other surprises lie in store during the trip.
Word Count: 6700
Pairing: Steve Rogers x Plus-size OFC
Warnings: Fluff, family and new relationship drama, and explicit sexual content that is NSFW 18+. SERIOUSLY.
Author note: It’s the “kiddo” chapter! I loved writing this, and as I read it again, I realized this chapter was when my writing went from “good intentions but totally cringe-worthy” to “Hmmm, I would read this all the way through even if I hadn’t written it.” Thanks, as always, to all of you for reading, liking, reblogging and commenting. It seriously makes my day, and I am beyond grateful. Enjoy!! – Steph
What. A. Day. It was infinitely better because it started with Steve, but it was long nonetheless. As usual, you were excited to see your daughters after they’d been gone all weekend, but there was a little bit of nervousness around today’s reunion – you and Steve had decided to talk to them about your relationship. You both knew it. It’s not as if you didn’t want to tell them, you just wanted to give your relationship a bit of time before you brought their hearts into it as well. You figured you’d invite Steve over for dinner and tell them then. No need to make a big plan or big speech (which went against every fiber of your being, but you were trying to go with the flow). You received several texts from Steve during the day, some of which were totally NSFW (you’d have to teach him that acronym, ASAP), and some that made your heart melt. Thank God for the cab ride to your second appointment, or you’d have had no time to respond.
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