#this is so cringe plz review and validate me I will owe you my life

[rosesfromslashers]

Deep Ellum - Chop Top Sawyer x Reader

I've fallen down the TCM pipeline and I can't get out. Plz send help. Sorry if my writing comes off as a lil rusty! I'm in the process of teaching myself how to write again.

CW: Kind of a dark fic! Drunk reader, Chop Top to the rescue in his own special way (aka kidnapping), so be prepared for yandere vibes. Referenced stalking. Nothing explicit. Reader has she/her pronouns and is referred to as a girl.

They ditched you.

They fucking ditched you.

You're trying so hard not to cry, but with the alcohol coursing through your blood stream, it's hard not to let your emotions get to you.

Surely they didn't mean to. I mean, maybe it was your fault. You try to remember if you were the one who broke away from the group - maybe you took a wrong turn, or something caught your eye, or maybe you went into a different bar and forgot to call after your friends. But you're not that fucked up, right? But no matter how hard you dig into your memories, it's like they never even existed.

And that's when it hits you.

You're alone, in a wild part of Dallas - a place you've never been to - wandering around Deep Ellum after dark. And as your lack of memory serves, you've been blacking in and out three ranch waters in on an empty stomach, because your new friends said you should have one more. When in Texas and all that yeehaw bullshit.

Fuck.

You're in a dangerous spot, drunk off your ass to the point of swaying. There's nobody around on the street you've found refuge on, just lines of cars up and down the sides of the road. And judging by the ache in your head, your brain could decide to turn itself off again at any minute.

So you cry. The drunk tears just start to flow and you become aware of just how sloppy you look, crying on a street corner in a mini skirt, boots, and a shitty cowboy hat on a cold Texas night. God, it just makes it worse.

Then nothing. You try to form memories, to keep track of where you are and what you're doing but you just CAN'T.

Then something briefly snaps you back. The rumble of a truck. A soft denim jacket being wrapped around your shoulders. A slight Southern twang with almost a boyish charm and excitement saying you'll be alright, "I've gotcha," an arm around your shoulder to steady you and the rumble of that truck growing closer. Wait, did this person just... smell your hair?

You can't form images, but you can feel and hear faintly, like everything is ten miles away.

And just like that, it's over, and you're concious (and panicked) enough to know that you're in a stranger's truck going God knows where.

You're too scared to look at the driver. To see who it is that would snatch a drunk girl off the side of the road. You're positive that you're going to end up dismembered in a ditch by sunrise.

"I-I've never brought a girl home for dinner!"

You blink, keeping your eyes focused out the window.

"I-in the traditional sense, a-anyways."

You sit in shaking silence.

"It's okay. I know you're p-plastered. We'll be there in 30 and I'll let you sleep it off."

"Where are you taking me?" You ask, trying your damndest to not sound so scared, but it comes out as a squeek.

"Come on baby," he says, "look at me."

You do, and a sense of recognition floods through you.

It's the guy. THE GUY. The one from the record shop you stopped in yesterday. The weird one with the shaggy black hair and the vest and sunglasses and the pin that gave you a laugh when you saw it. Something about sitting on a happy face? It doesn't matter now. Because he's glancing from the road, eyes burning behind purple shades.

"'Member me? I sure do remember you!" He sounds so excited.

"You look real pretty when you cry, i-if you don't mind me saying."

"I kind of do," you whisper.

"Speak your mind! Ya know, I have this theory that nowadays people are just so scared of open communication and-"

He starts to go off on a tangent, but there's just too much going on for you to process that right now.

He's still rambling as he takes an exit onto a dark road.

"Please don't kill me!" You find yourself pleading. He laughs.

"Y/n, I ain't gonna kill ya." How does he know your name? "In fact, I think my family's gonna love you!"

"Y-your family?" You try and piece together as much as your inebriated brain will let you.

"Yeah! You've got my baby brother Bubba, my older brother Drayton, and my twin Nubbins. I really can't wait to introduce you to Grandpa!" Your head is spinning.

"T-they're gonna be real proud of me. None of them have brought a girl home before." He sighs almost dreamily. "I won't let 'em touch a hair on your head. You're all mine."

Okay, so his family is A) dangerous, and he is B) insane. Perfect.

You're never drinking again.

His hand finds your knee, you try to recoil but there's no where to go.

"I know what you're thinking. We're moving real fast, I'm aware of that. I mean, I didn't even say hi yesterday!"

"But I know we're just gonna be just perfect. Good thing I was following you tonight. Something real bad could've happened." Yeah, like getting abducted.

"But Chop's gotcha now, and you won't have to worry about a thing."

#chop top sawyer #texas chainsaw massacre #chop top x reader #slashers #slasher fic #this is so cringe plz review and validate me I will owe you my life #tcm 2 #slasher x reader