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tansypoisoning · 5 years

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What You Have (part three of “What You Need”)

Life as an unemployed, homeless wanderer was hard, until you met Captain America. Then it got worse.

Part 1 - Part 2

Fandom: Marvel Cinematic Universe

Genres: Smut, Yandere, creepy shit

Ships: Steve RogersxReader

Relavant Characters: Reader (PoV), Steve Rogers

Universe: Post Civil War, canon compliant (except for the whole Steve losing his marbles thing)

Content Warnings: Dark!Steve Rogers, kidnapping, yandere, abuse

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Steve was already gone by the time you woke up. You knew he meant to leave that day, but you didn’t think you’d be so lucky as to not have to deal with him in the morning. You searched to whole house just to be safe, and he was nowhere to be found.

Maybe he had really left, maybe he walked out to do something and would be back in a second, or maybe it was a test of some kind; either way, you would take the time you had away from him to look for something that could breach the door (a blowtorch would do) and something to fend off wild animals (you were hoping for a bazooka). You spent the best part of three hours combing through every drawer and cupboard, looking under all the beds and behind all the furniture, and even hitting walls in search of hidden passages. If there was anything that could aid you in your escape, it was hidden in a place you couldn't get to.

Deep down you knew you were kidding yourself. Even if you could leave the building and had the guts to shoot a lion, you couldn't go back home by foot, and Steve had to have taken the jet. If you were to ever escape, you’d have to wait for him to come back.

You took a shower, your skin turning raw from the water temperature and your aggressive rubbing. Your reflection in the mirror barely looked like you, and one of your cheeks was swollen.

Breakfast was much the same as it had been yesterday, aside from the small bag of frozen berries in the back of the fridge that you ate in one sitting, and you spent most of your day watching the uninspired collection of DVDs, sometimes pausing to check the local channels or making sure you had looked everywhere for a possible means of escape (you had).

You avoided the pen and the blank piece of paper that had been left in the coffee table – the list Steve expected you to write.

What you wanted… What you truly wanted was to have your freedom back, but he wasn’t going to give you that. You weren’t sure what he was willing to give you, really. He implied you should tell him what you wanted from the time before he’d kidnapped you, but the truth was that you just wanted enough money to pay rent. You didn’t exactly have the brain space or time to dream about the future, what with all the job searching and panic attacks. Even if you figured out what all your dreams for the future were, none of them would include Steve.

Could you ask him to give you something that would let you get away from him? Internet access, a car and a force-field that repealed super humans? He said there wasn’t a right answer, but you suspected there were wrong ones. If you refused to make a choice, would he accept you wanted nothing from him or would he just choose for you? You didn’t want to think about it, so you didn’t. When he came back, you’d just tell him to return you to your former life. If he was going to make you miserable no matter what, you figured you might as well return the favor.

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Steve arrived the day after the next when you were heating your dinner and watching ‘National Treasure’ for the fourth. You didn’t even hear him coming in, whirling around when you heard your name being called behind you. He was standing by the kitchen island, smiling fondly at you.

“It’s nice to see you’ve been doing well while I was gone.” He said. You didn’t think his comment merited a response, so you didn’t reply.

Not one to let your obvious displeasure ruin his mood, he smiled wider and pointed at the microwave “I don’t presume you are making something for me too?”

“No.” You answered and moved to look at your food and watch it spinning round and round. You heard Steve jump over the counter and approach you. The sound of the movie was loud, but now that you knew he was there your senses were attuned to him and only him.

He touched your elbow, and your head twitched to the side in reflex. He leaned over and pressed his lips to yours. He didn’t attempt to delve his tongue in your mouth or make you return the gesture, and he pulled away once you began to shiver. There was still the same dopey, loving look in his eyes, and you turned back to the microwave so you wouldn’t have to keep seeing it.

Steve sighed and walked to the fridge. “Did you do what I asked?”

You acted like he wasn’t talking to you, like the most interesting thing in the world was the TV dinner spinning, and spinning, and spinning…

“Baby, did you write the list?” His voice raised “Did you think about what you want?”

The endless cycle of rotation of the spaghetti wasn’t the most interesting thing in the room, but it was the only one you wanted to acknowledge. It was making you dizzy-

There was a shuffling, metallic noise, then a kitchen knife embedded itself on the counter beside you, cracking the marble on its way. The microwave beeped, but you didn’t reach for the meal inside.

“Did you write the list?” Steve’s whisper was soft, deceptively so.

You squeaked out a ‘no’ and he inhaled deeply before letting go of the knife’s handle and moving away from you.

“I guess we’re staying in here a little longer.” He lamented “I really don’t want to do this, but if you don’t make some choices soon I’ll have to do it for you. You have to tell me what you want.”

Suddenly remembering what you had told yourself on your first day there without Steve, you pivoted on your heels and braced yourself against the counter for courage.

“I want to go home.” You said, watching as he turned to look at you. His brows were furrowed, and he was smiling, but you knew you had made him even angrier.

“Home? You don’t have a home.”

“My car.” You insisted “I want my life back. Take me back.”

Steve’s fingers poked through the packet of squash ravioli he had taken out of the freezer, and you inched closer to the kitchen knife that was still perched on the counter-top. How nice of him to leave it there for you…

“I know that’s not what you wanted.” He shook his head.

“It’s what I want now.” And it was true. You didn’t want much when you were living in your car, but now you longed for the life you had once loathed.

Steve huffed, looked away from you, tapped his feet, drummed his fingers on the fridge – moved like he was trying to remove himself from that moment. Like he was trying to hold himself back.

“Fine.” He said at last “I’m taking you back.”

“What?” You blurted out.

“After dinner.” He offered no further explanation and approached you, box still in hand “Aren’t you going to get your food?”

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The night air was cold, and standing on the rooftop in what amounted to pajamas wasn’t doing you any favors. A coat would be nice, but Steve hadn’t given you any, probably out of spite. He looked at ease in his full body suit, doing checks and double checks to make sure the jet was safe while you shook in your loose shorts. You didn’t know how much of that inspection was necessary.

The second trip was the exact opposite of the first: you didn’t sleep, Steve didn’t get you covers, and you shivered all the way through, but you were happy. You were going back! It felt too good to be true – several times you had considered the possibility of this being a lie, that he wasn’t taking you home at all, but why would he bother?

Hours of hopeful anticipation later, and you were landing in the very spot the jet had been when Steve took you. He had been honest, at least as far as taking you back went.

You jumped out of the vehicle as soon as the ramp was lowered enough to give you the room to slip through. You could feel Steve right behind you, but all thought about was running to your car. You found it easily, just where it had been left and unlocked, but you feared you wouldn’t be able to turn it on.

“Are you sure you want to go?” Steve asked as you were getting into the front seat. Spoken like he’d just asked you if you were sure you wanted to leave in the drizzle without an umbrella…

You frowned, nodded out of habit, and jammed the key in the ignition switch. The motor started easily, and you scrambled for the wheel to get out of there as fast as you could, just barely resisting the urge to ram your car into him (there was a high chance that things would turn out worse for you if you did.)

You looked at the man in your rear-view mirror, watched him get smaller and smaller as you ascended the slope. You couldn’t believe it. You had escaped? Just like that? It made no sense. Why would he take you and go to such extreme measure to keep you, then let you go after you insisted a couple of times? No way, there was no way…

Even after you were long gone and couldn't see Steve anymore, you remained suspicious. He had to be plotting something, but as you sped away from him and his jet the past three days started feeling more and more like a bad dream.

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Some people would say freedom smelled like clean air, others apple pie, and then some that would say that it smelled like cow shit. All wrong.

Freedom smelled like rejection.

Another job you didn’t get, another day of grinding wasted on people who wouldn’t hire you even to wipe their toilet, but that was fine by you. It had been five weeks since Steve returned you to your car, and you were still as glad to be back to your chaotic life as you were the first day. Captain America had taught you to appreciate your rotten situation, who would’ve thought?

You exited the building, smoothing a hand over your nicest pair of slacks, and made your way to the parking lot across the street. You fished for your keys on the way, finding them when you arrived at the spot you’d parked. You looked up and began laughing hysterically.

It was gone. It was fucking gone. Your car, which you had left right there, along with all you had – it was all gone, vanished, only an oil puddle left where your entire life had been less than an hour ago.

You dropped the keys, then to your knees, your giggles morphing into ugly wails. You didn’t know what to do next. If there was a way out of this plight you weren’t seeing it, and you didn’t feel like looking for it at the moment. You had nothing and none, and you were so consumed by grief you couldn’t think. Your emotional state inhibited all rational thoughts beyond the one that told you not to choke to death on your own tears.

A painful lump grew in your throat, and you brought your hands to your neck in hopes your fingers would make things better, but nothing could make things better – not your own touch, and not the one from the person that had approached you from behind and decided to grab your shoulder like an old friend. You had no true friends, old or new, so you turned around with a scowl to tell the weirdo to get off, but the words died in your throat when you saw him.

You should’ve known it would be Steve. None in their right mind would want you old beat up cart; it was falling apart. The only two reasons for someone to take it were to sell it for parts or to destroy your life, and he had stakes in one of these things.

You had been foolish enough to believe he had been serious. Were you so eager to escape you had allowed him to fool you, or had he been clear in his intentions and you just lied to yourself? Had your future been sealed from the moment Steve decided he wanted you?

His eyes were soft and his smile was comforting. You wanted to wipe his fake fucking face in the pavement, but all you could do was cry.

“Are you ready to be honest with me now?” He asked.

That was the end of the line. You had no way to run, nothing to warm and protect you at night. You could tell him to go to hell and maybe he’d go, but then what would be of you? You’d have your freedom, but without a place or a friend there was no telling how long that would last.

Better the devil you know.

You turned on your knees until you were facing him, then tugged on his hand. Steve pulled you to your feet, and his grin now barely concealed his self-satisfied glee.

“Yes.” You whispered in between sobs “Take me home.”

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A/N: This is just a transition chapter so it’s not very exciting. I’m planning on two more chapters, and part 4 should be the longest and take a while, but it’s going to have the highest density of smut so that’s nice.

#DENSE SMUT lol more like dense me #steve rogers x reader #dark!steve x reader #dark!steve rogers x reader #dark steve rogers #dark!steve rogers #dark!fic #MCU fanfiction #dark mcu fanfiction #mine #What You Need

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