The Sawyers x Reader - The Texas Chainsaw Massacre

Trust and Loyalty.

(he/they/she pronouns for Bubba)

it would take months for them to fully trust you, to not wear their masks around you for extended periods of time. their whole life they've been told that they are 'pig-shit ugly', that 'no-one would ever love a face like theirs', among other constant verbal assaults against their appearance and the substantial physical abuse, it all took it's toll on the person that you adored, the person you dedicated your new life to. for many months whilst you were captive in the home, they'd make sure to wake before the sun began to peak over the parched texan horizon just to swap their masks; just the thought of you seeing their 'horrid, twisted' face enough to make the large beast of a person bellow in a guttural state of anxiety, a cold pang of panic traversing their spine.

however, through your loyal and untarnished love, admiration and acceptance of the very essence of their being, they slowly began to understand that looks played very little standing on the love you showed her.

you thought she was beautiful in and out. the way his hair peaked through the gaping stitches of their masks made your heart soar, it was soft and curled, matching perfectly with the coarse, sprawling plains of hair that covered their body. their skin was as supple as it was hardened from long days grafting on the farm; littered in stunning valleys of scarring and intricately patterned with beauty marks. they were your teddy bear, your big strong lady and you wouldn't change them for the world. you loved their smile, their warm eyes, their long lashes that fluttered so nervously when they looked your way. his heart was pure and just as full of love for you as yours was from them, so when the day that he finally showed you his unmasked face dawned; nothing changed. they were still, if not more so, the most handsome person you had ever met, your person. your love. with lots of reassurance, soft kisses and cuddles locked away in their room on that warm, orange tinted evening, they knew that you loved them no matter what. they swore to themselves, with your tiny frame laying ontop of them, your fingers swirling patterns through their soft chest hair, that he would never let you get hurt. that no harm would ever come to you and that he would be forever at your side; doting and loyal, just as you were for him. she'd be a best friend, a confidant, anything in order to help you thrive in the environment he once wilted within. she had found her patch of heaven in a place so macabre and dark... no one or thing would ever take that from them.