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PLEASEEE DO MORE BUTCHERY BROTHERS WORK🤤🤤🤤 something like they think you’ve run away (because who wouldn’t) but ur just out for a stroll and come back like 20 mins later.. also some crying and yearning on Jackson’s end would be beautiful🤤 thank u for existing and writing these amazing fics

Hide and Seek | Jackson Hillwalker/Reader (2.5k words)

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note: yes guys this is my first actual post in months how are we holding up butchery nation??!! this might suck but yolo we ball. ALSO, i didn't really add william into this one totally not because of a personal bias or anything!!!!

cws: regular butchery nonsense (violence), unestablished-established relationship, suggestive tone at the beginning, codependency, toxic relationship in general, jackson being a huge baby, probably super ooc but it's okay

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When Jackson had found you, you were half dressed in bed, and he was drenched in blood. He hadn't bothered to knock, he had stopped doing so months ago. You didn't have time to sit up before he waved his hand dismissively your way.

"No, no. Stay where you are." He ordered, though it sounded more akin to a request. You probably could've gotten up and out of bed without real repercussion, though he probably would've picked you up after a few minutes of whining and thrown you back into your blankets and pillows himself. He had you locked in there all day, and didn't even think to let you stretch your legs!

You watched from the corner of the room as he peeled off his soaked shirt and wrung it out over the wood floor. Your eyes darted from the pool of crimson on the floor to his chest, where more blood had seeped through from his shirt and onto his skin. You could even see some of the blood he swore he'd wash off four days ago. You grimaced at the view.

"Jackson, you're disgusting." You remarked, eyed still trained on his chest.

"Like what you see?" He replied with a voice far too cocky for someone you could smell from the bed. Dirt and sweat, though you've hypothesized that even a bleaching couldn't wash out his scent. He dropped his soaked-through shirt onto the ground before flexing for you. "If you're so concerned about the blood, why don't we shower together?"

"No! Ew!" You said, pulling the blankets higher over your face in hopes of shielding your eyes from whatever new expression Jackson was making at the thought of his suggestion.

"Joking, joking!" You heard him say, head still covered as the sound of his belt buckle coming undone rang out quietly through the room. You heard the thud of his pants dropping to the floor before his footsteps approached the bed. The mattress sunk to your right as he sat down.

"Can I get under the covers or are you gonna kick me off the bed like last time?" He asked, voice overly dejected while poking your shoulder. You'd kicked him out of bed last time for chasing you around the house with Baconator. It had been harmless, but for a moment, you really thought Jackson was going to let you become animal feed. Turning over, your back facing Jackson, you replied with a grunt. He took it as permission.

He slipped under the covers, cold hand reaching for your shoulder blades. He traced his fingers in random shapes across your skin, muttering a prayer to himself. You could feel his breath on the back of your neck.

"Can I do this?" He asked suddenly, hand slipping down to your waist.

"You ask, but you do it anyways." You complained, eyes still glaring at the wall.

"You let me." He replied, voice devoid of any cockiness. It was hard to convince yourself you hated the psychotic man behind you when he spoke to you, and only you, so gently when nobody was around to hear him.

You like to pretend to have the moral high ground, telling yourself how much of a monster he is, and how you would never let him brainwash you into thinking differently. But how much better can you be when you still willingly let him into your bed at the end of the day, eat the food he gives you, and run into his arms, tail between your legs, when you try to walk by one of his animals and nearly piss yourself in fear. You even ignore the pleas of other prisoners calling to you, their only hope at survival, through the walls.

This life you were living was perverse and evil, and yet you hadn't tried to escape in nine months. There was just as much sin in your heart as his, you just kept your hands clean.

Jackson settled closer to you, chest pressed against your back, legs tangled in yours. Though, it felt a bit awkward. He never really knew how to hold you, and he wasn't very good at it. You often woke up the next morning with a kink in your neck from being locked in a strange embrace.

"Big talk for someone who's barely holding me." You commented, unwillingly fixated on how his arms were resting on you, but not with their full weight.

"Oh yeah?" He scoffed, before squeezing you far too tight, far too suddenly. Your breath came a choked gasp as he let out a mocking laugh. "What, is this better, this what you wanted?"

He squeezed tighter, and you could swear you saw your life flash before your eyes. You struggled in his arms, trying desperately to contort yours in order to claw him off of you, but your efforts were fruitless. If he didn't stop soon, you were really going to die.

You sucked in a painful breath when his death-grip finally ceased. You immediately sat up, holding yourself as you felt the ache in your ribs grow sharper with each breath you took.

"What is wrong with you?!" You shouted, looking down at the wide-eyed, guilty looking Jackson who was frozen in place.

"Was just joking around," He began, looking completely sober, and frankly horrified at what he'd done. He sat up, reaching for your arm before hesitating and pulling back, fiddling with his other hand instead.

"I didn't mean it." He whispered rather pathetically. It always threw you off when he spoke in such a manner, something he'd only started doing recently. Before, he had no qualms throwing you into the dark, damp basement to laugh as you ran for your life from that stupid horse he was so proud of making, nor did he have problems with holding your hand down onto a table and stabbing the wood between your fingers to see how good his hand-eye coordination was.

Honesty, you despised Jackson for a long time. But, something in his mannerisms had changed, and every passing day, he seemed more and more at your mercy than the other way around.

Still, sometimes he forgot that you were normal, or at least in comparison to him. He grew up brutish, covered in mud and guts and chopping people up into animal feed, and you, you were like pristine porcelain, one he could easily shatter without intention. He felt as though he had done that just now. It was a sin beyond worthy of Hell.

You slid out from under the covers and stood up, still holding yourself as you walked towards the door. "I'm going to the bathroom." You muttered, barely looking over your shoulder to see him avoiding your gaze.

Closing the door behind you, you stood in front of the bathroom mirror and lifted up your shirt. Your fears had been confirmed as your eyes roamed over the bruises already starting to form. You found yourself thinking of how ridiculously unaware Jackson was of his own strength. Though, evidently, he had never had a need to be gentle while handling other things or people before.

After a few moments of examining the extent of the damage he'd caused, you left the bathroom and stood in the hallway, staring at the direction of your room. You didn't want to go back there, to Jackson, not now. You weren't scared of him, he'd lost any intimidating qualities a long time ago. But, you were annoyed at the very least. You'd come back later, you thought.

And so, you ventured downstairs where you were met with an uninterested William, too busy scarfing down pizza and focusing on whatever was playing on TV to give you anything more than an acknowledging nod. You went to the kitchen, found nothing edible, and abandoned your quest for a late night snack in favour of stretching your legs a bit more.

You awkwardly squeezed by Baconator, staring far too long at its grotesque limbs as it went along its way, and found yourself in front of the patio door, which was unusually unlocked. You blinked hard, before confirming that the door was indeed missing its lock, and you could easily leave if you wanted to. You knew better though.

"Hey, William?" You called out, earning a muffled 'What!'.

"Can I go outside, or are you gonna chase me with a wrench or something?" You asked, mouth practically salivating at the thought feeling the cool night's breeze on your face for the first time in weeks.

"If you run away, I'm sending the pig after your ass." Was all the permission you needed to open the door with a creak and step outside.

Avoiding the fifteen and counting bear traps, you walked along the dirt path outside. It was uncharacteristically cold out for the time of year, but you'd take freezing weather any day if it meant being able to see the stars. Something you loved about Cottonwood Farms is how remote it was. Any light pollution from nearby cities or towns were unable to reach these skies, allowing the beautiful lights above to paint a breathtaking view.

Jackson had taken you stargazing a few times. In fact, stargazing was the first nice thing he had ever really done for you. Once you'd gotten comfortable enough with him to occasionally reply to his banter, you complained about being cooped up in the same room and missing the stars. He had brought you outside a few days later.

You frowned, eyes tearing away from the mesmerizing stars above to look back towards the house. You'd yelled at Jackson, frankly for good reason. But you began feeling somewhat guilty over the entire altercation. He was a horrible person, no doubt, but you still desperately craved for him to be around you. It was a sickly feeling that seeped deep into your bones, feeling guilty for wanting something, or someone wrong.

He hadn't meant to hurt you, really. At least that's what you thought. Maybe he got some sadistic, cruel enjoyment out of it, even for just a moment. He probably did, he was sick after all. Somehow, though, you found yourself not caring. Clearly, that made you sick, too. What was worse, was that you could feel yourself finding comfort in the matter.

You had only a few more moments to look back up at the stars before you heard fast approaching footsteps. Suddenly, you were knocked onto the ground, hitting your face hard on the wet grass. Your moan of pain was muffled, as a hand pressed your face further into the ground, gripping your hair roughly and nearly pulling it out.

"Why are you leaving me?!" You heard Jackson yell from above you, his entire weight crushing the ribs he had already bruised.

"Jackson, I can't breathe-"

"I didn't mean to hurt you, I thought you loved me, why are you running away?" He interrupted, sounding as if he hadn't even heard you speak over the sound of his own mind running quicker than he could catch up to. His hand gave way for just enough leverage to allow you to turn your head, cheek pressed flush against the dirt. He looked lost, eyes wide but unseeing. He wasn't looking directly at you, instead focused on a rock a foot away from your head.

"Jackson, I'm not leaving." You managed to say finally, earning his eye contact. He stared at you for a minute, chest heaving as if he had ran as fast as he possibly could to you. Then, a look of understanding crossed his face, like he'd woken up from whatever trance he had gotten stuck in. He let go of your hair and backed up, just enough for you to turn over and sit up straight.

"I'm so- so, sorry. I didn't mean any of it, angel, I swear." He stuttered out. "I don't mean to hurt you, I just can't help it."

"It's okay," you assured, hand reaching out and landing on his shoulder, "I know."

You hadn't noticed your nose was contorted all wrong until he reached out and wiped the blood off of your face messily, smudging it onto your cheek and down your neck with shaky hands. "I keep doing things to you I don't want to, it just happens." He explained, voice cracking. "This isn't what the Lord wants. He gave me to you and I'm ruining you."

Something about what he had admitted broke a dam in him, and suddenly he was stumbling over his words like a child.

"I prayed to The Lord for something to save me, and I promised I'd be a good boy and always be thankful and loyal to him, and I keep going back on my word. I'm terrible, I've always been terrible."

You pressed your fingers to his lips, muttering 'it's okay's and 'stop's as he went on a bit longer before falling silent, tears wetting his cheeks. Never in your life did you think the psychotic killer that had kidnapped you and tried to have you eaten by farm animals would be crying in your arms like you were all he had to live for.

"You're all I have, the animals and William, they don't mean anything to me. I'll leave it all behind, I'll treat you right. Don't go." He finished, having now climbed into your lap, holding your face like a prized possession. You didn't believe his words for a minute, he was unstable and he said things he didn't mean, even though he thought they were entirely true. He and his brother were inseparable, and his animals were necessary to do the Lord's bidding. But the devotion was genuine, and that was all you needed.

"I told you, I'm not going anywhere. I want to be here, with you." You comforted, though, you meant every word you said. You were certain, especially now, that given the chance, you'd spend the rest of your life in Cottonwood Farms. Jackson had become a pillar in your life. Going on without him was unthinkable. You were his gift, given by The Lord, and he was yours.

"I gotta fix your nose." He said suddenly, looking more aware of himself and his surroundings than before. He was looking at the damage, fingers gently assessing what was needed to be done. You tilted your head to press your lips to his thumb. His expression melted, moving your head to face him again before pressing his own lips to yours. He was a terrible kisser, always pressing too hard into your face. He pushed you back down onto the ground, climbing over you and entering his tongue into your mouth. Your nose ached worse and worse, but that wasn't really important.

He was a brute, and you were porcelain. But, you were okay shattering on the floor over and over again if he was there to tape you back together afterwards.

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