Multi-Fandom Imagines

Meant To Be Yours (High School!Steve Kemp x Reader)

A/n: Hello everybody! Today is April 6, 2022. Observe me, Rose, attempting to crawl out of a writing slump pit. Observe me, Rose, extremely unhappy and juggling a lot, but trying to return to what truly makes me happy.

Which is sociopathic serial killer cannibals, I guess.

Warnings: Underage drinking, attempted drugging, cannibalism, kidnapping, breaking and entering, overall very scary meets very sexy

Y/n storms into her house, tossing her keys down on her entry way table in frustration, practically tearing her fingers through her hair as she marches down the hallway.

She escaped. 

She had narrowly escaped the clutches of a psychopath, or, rather, a sociopath who feasted on the flesh of young women.

Aka her high school sweetheart.

He hadn't drugged her or tied her down. Yet, at least. Y/n wasn't a fool, she knew there was something off. The farther into the woods they drove, watching the bars of cell service drop from her phone. She had tucked it away, taking Steve's warm smile and comforting hand on her thigh as something to trust rather than her gut.

He had shown her around his family's lavish mountain cabin, not noticing that she noticed the tooth peeking out of his discarded sketchbook on the table, or the large walk-in freezer located in the kitchen inexplicably, or that she had caught a glimpse of him slipping something in her drink. Or, by his terms, her "old fashioned with a twist."

Regardless of Steve's smile, or his reassuring kisses, or his hands wandering her body and lips finding her neck as they danced like they always did, like how they met at their junior Prom a year ago, Y/n knew something was wrong. When she had excused herself to use the restroom, she had taken an extra peek around, finding his bedroom and the door to a deep basement.

In his bedroom, however, were more sketchbooks. Thumbing through them, she found horrifyingly disturbing imagery. Feature portraits of mangled women, close-ups of various body parts, of women tied up and cowering in dark corners of shaded rooms.

Apprehensively, she had creeped down the rock-cut stairs, finding a long hallway with door after door. When Y/n had peeked inside, she began trembling. A girl, with a bandage wrapped around her forehead and leg. Or, what would have been a leg, if it had been there.

But it wasn't just any girl. This girl had gone missing in the previous month or so, rumored to have run away. Heather Chandler. But she hadn't run away. She was kidnapped and was slowly being eaten alive by Y/n's boyfriend.

Y/n staggers backward, traveling down the hall and shaking every door she came across until she threw open a large door to reveal...another freezer. This one housed Heather's detached body parts. Y/n lets a scream rip through her throat as her knees go weak, leaning against the door as she looks at the mangled limbs.

A tsking noise is heard a few yards from her. "Oh, sweetie..." Steve sighs. Y/n pulls her eyes from the fridge, gaze tear-blurred as she glares at him. "Why did you have to come down here? This is going to be so much harder than it had to be if you had just taken the drink."

He begins walking towards her, so Y/n backs into the door in a frozen state of fear, silently taking contorl of her surroundings. "You're a fucking pyschopath. That's Heather in there! You kidnapped her!"

Steve groans, rolling his eyes. "Why does everybody go straight for psychopath? Socio, baby girl, sociopath." He wraps his arms around her suddenly, roughhousing her away from the fridge. Y/n drives her knee up into his crotch, watching him keel over as she kicks him solidly in the chest, sending him skidding backwards into the shelf of body parts.