#jackson hillwalker x reader

[heavenlyao3]

hellou there. if it aint too much to ask, can i get some general nsfw headcanons for William and Jackson? and maybe some "first time" hcs too if it's not too much trouble bcos i 100% believe theyre both loser virgins lmaoooo

They are such LOOSERS. 💔

《 Hillwalker Brothers x Reader Smut Headcanons 》

William:

☆ For the first time he'd be super stiff; as in his body, not his dick. Like he just wouldn't know where to put his hands or how to position himself with you. You had to guide him through it but once he learned, he was all over you.

☆ I feel his favorite position would be to hike one of your legs up over his shoulder while the other lay on the bed and his hands are rested on your hips. He loves looking down at you.

☆ Or he'd want you to sit on his face with his hands resting on your thighs while he'd lick/suck on you. He loves the pressure of you sitting on his face, it almost fufills his fantasy of you dominating him. Not really, but it's the closest he'll get.

☆ He has a smell kink. He'll steal your panties/underwear from your drawer or the dirty laundry (ik gross) and sniff them while jerking off.

☆ I find this one really cute but if William's doing any sex act, on himself or you, he'll turn around the stuffed bear laying on his bed so it can't see what he does. He just feels guilty having it look. 😔

☆ A lot of times he'll have a wet dream about you before wanting to have sex with you. Normally, you'd be dominating him in those dreams but he'd never let you do that to him in real life. (Maybe...)

☆ I'd say his sex drive was higher than Jackson's before they met you, but his was a lot worse when you came along. He started to jack off a lot more often.

☆ William loves to bend down to touch foreheads with you. You guys just staring at eachother for a few seconds as your sweat mixes together. He pulls back to kiss your forehead gently and seconds later, the intimate moment is gone.

☆ He grunts during sex. Normally he doesn’t moan but there have been times you've caught him off guard and you'll get a moan out of him.

☆ He’s very good with his hands. From all the farmwork he does around the house, he's a pretty gentle man. His hands were always calloused and beat up but he'd rub a little bit of lotion on his hands for you before touching you.

☆ William is such an ass man. He loves ass. Ass or no ass, he wants ya, he's coming for ya. He gets so hard over the way it jiggles and moves. He'd bruise your ass from needing it in his hands too hard.

☆ William loves cuddling or just simply laying with you after you both are finished and tired. He may not admit it but he loves your company and would love to hold you in his arms forever. He loves to hear your breath against him, your heartbeat, the smell of you. Sometimes it doesn't help him sleep because you're so intoxicating. (In a good way.)

Jackson:

☆ For Jackson's first time I feel he would be way too fast right off the bat and move in huried movements. It was unpleasant for you and your bodies pleasure.

☆ Jackson would be very hesitant at first, considering his whole relationship with the "Lord" thing. He'd say it was sinful but then give in to his temptation.

☆ He'd 100% let you take the lead at first but then soon he'd get the hang of it, and flip you under him, taking the lead instead.

☆ Hopefully you're a masochist. He’s into BDSM. With all the sadistic shit he does, theres no way he doesn't love to do this with you. He ties you up a lot with old rope he'd find from outside, keeping you put as he puts on a violent show for you.

☆ Loves carving on your skin. Whether that be random slashes or it could be his name. It just turns him on to see you all bloody.

☆ I wouldn’t say Jackson has a high sex drive but it definitely went up when you came into his life. He never really gave into jacking off though, except once. He felt really guilty afterward and apologized to the "Lord".

☆ Since he's bipolar I think for the most part when he would've has sex with you would be during a hypermania episode. He'd normally wake you up late at night because he didn’t feel tired, just to fuck you. This is where his rapid movement comes into play as well. Though after you guys are finished, he gets very irritable and agitated, so don't expect to cuddle with him for a long time.

☆ One of Jackson's poorly stiched fingers have surely fallen off during sex. That didn't stop him though, he just kept going.

☆ Jackson whimpers. OH I JUST KNOW THIS LOSER WHIMPERS. Doesn’t matter if he's top or if you're top. He's so loud too, William has gotten pissed at him before because of it.

☆ For sure Jackson's into nipple play. Rubbing his hands over them in small circular patterns, nipping at them with his teeth. He traces over them with his cold blade, watching your nipples grow harder.

☆ Jackson has a breeding kink. Now, he doesn't want to get you pregnant. (If you can get pregnant) [(Ykw nevermind mpreg real too 🥹✌️)] I mean think of the responsibility that entails. And their child being born into a murderous family? (He-he-hell nah) He gets so fixated on the fact of overstimulating you until your babbling utter nonsense; riding you from dusk to dawn. Until the cum is leaking from you.

☆ Like I said he gets irritable after sex so he won't cuddle for long. You just have to make it last as long as it can before his brain overthinks. Now he's up and moving and doing random work around the house. Although, he eventually does get tired and comes to bed and curls up with you. He'll sit and watch you before his eyes get droopy and he crashes. Or he'll crash on the couch, barn, yard, porch, ect.

Taglist: @sherryclover @l1vender00

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If you want to be in my taglist for, "The Butchery" please comment a, "🐖" in my comments. Or just state you want to be in my taglist!

[readersregrets]

Fluffy William x reader and Jackson x reader headcannons and/or fic pls? I love your writing, i feel spoiled whenever you post >^<

👉👈

William & Jackson Hillwalker x reader

Fluffy headcanons 🔪🪓🔪🪓🔪🪓🔪

The dynamic between you and the Hillwalker brothers has settled into something strange yet warm, like a crooked piece of furniture that fits perfectly in a room. You aren’t family, but you’re not just another outsider either. You occupy a space somewhere in between, and they treat you accordingly.

Jackson is the most openly attached to you. He gravitates toward whatever room you’re in, often without seeming to realize he’s doing it. If you sit in the kitchen, he eventually leans against the counter nearby. If you wander out to the barn, he drifts out there too, inventing excuses to fiddle with tools or check traps, all while actually just hovering in your orbit.

He derives a ridiculous amount of joy from your presence. Even when you’re engaged in something mundane, like sorting the pantry or sweeping. He finds it entertaining to watch you work. Occasionally, he abandons whatever chaos he's building just to sit nearby and observe, his attention fully focused on you as if you’re the most interesting thing in the world.

William shows his care in a much quieter way, but it’s just as steady. He tends to check on you throughout the day without drawing attention to it. If you’re working outside, he’ll pass by a few times under the pretense of doing chores nearby. If you disappear for a while, he eventually drifts outside too, simply ensuring you’re safe without crowding you.

Jackson has a habit of leaving little trinkets for you to discover. Nothing dangerous, just odd, harmless little things. Small curiosities meant only to make you smile. He pretends these things just ended up there, but the careful way he watches your reaction gives him away every time.

Despite his chaotic nature, Jackson becomes surprisingly careful when it comes to you. He rearranges parts of the farmhouse without mentioning it, quietly moving hazards out of your usual paths. Nails get hammered down, sharp edges are filed smooth, and traps are rerouted elsewhere. None of it is ever acknowledged aloud, but the safe routes through the house slowly become yours alone.

William ensures that you’re comfortable in practical ways. Things you need appear before you even have to ask, like a towel on the nearest stand while you're painting the walls, a bucket behind you while weeding the garden, or a blanket folded neatly nearby when the weather turns cold. He never points these things out, but he notices plenty of small details that make your day easier.

The silence between you and William is comfortable. The two of you can sit side by side for long stretches without speaking, listening to the quiet sounds of the nature around the farmhouse. For William, that kind of shared contentment is one of the strongest signs of trust he can offer someone.

Jackson’s affection is very physical and casual. He lounges nearby while you read or work, sometimes lying on the floor with his head resting against your leg or knee. The steady rhythm of another person nearby seems to calm the restless storm that constantly buzzes inside his head.

The three of you fall into an almost domestic routine. Jackson paces around the room with restless energy, dragging this and that to different nooks and crannies. William leans against a wall, cleaning a tool or sharpening a blade. and you simply exist in the middle of it all. The tension that usually hangs around the brothers softens in those moments.

Jackson becomes less erratic when either you or William is present, as if the chaos inside him settles slightly. William, too, becomes less guarded, his watchful posture easing whenever you and Jackson are nearby.

The three of you don’t always get along, but if arguments start to flare, you're pretty good at dulling the edge. Jackson loses interest in pushing things further, and William drops the matter sooner than he otherwise would.

You become one of the few people both brothers trust around their spaces. Jackson allows you into his workshop without a second thought, even when he’s working on something intricate. William doesn’t mind you wandering around while he tends to livestock or repairs equipment, just as long as he can keep an eye on you.

Both brothers see you as something rare in the world, someone who didn’t run, didn’t panic, or try to change them.

Somewhere in the midst of all that quiet loyalty and strange affection, you become a permanent part of the farmhouse, whether anyone ever officially says so or not.

[vhatsus]

❦ the red means i love you ❦

(chap. 1)

➪ chap. 2 • chap 3 • chap 4 • chap 5

𓃟 read it on ao3

❦ pairing: jackson hillwalker/cottonwood x fem!reader

❦ word count: 4.5k+ words

❦ summary: moving into a small village near cottonwood mountains was the best decision you’ve made for your peace. everything fell into place just as you expected. all except for the fact that you had caught someone’s attention since you began working at the local diner. meeting jackson cottonwood was definitely something you weren’t expecting, but you soon find out that he’s more than what meets the eye. somehow, you wish you never left home.

❦ authors note: haha,, guess what guys. i’ve fallen down the butchery rabbit hole & now i am plagued by thoughts of this game. can’t wait to see more of my boys on june 8. reader doesn’t play as the character in the game & is a completely different individual btw!! i’ll revise my summary later 🤠 im just rlly tired and wanted to post this before i exploded.

❦ possible triggers: A JOB!!, blood, mentions of weapons, injuries, kidnapping and implied stalking,

Living in a small village was your dream. It always has been, especially after being influenced at a terribly young age to chase a peaceful life.

The place you moved into was definitely what you had expected— tranquil, slow-paced with a family-driven community, and full of greenery and beautiful scenery you would’ve never imagined seeing a year ago in person.

It was everything you had seen in movies, an exact replication of the several years of research you put into move, but there was only one problem— boredom.

It was something that often caught up with you on the slower days once you began to settle down, the air still and time passing and dragging all at once. Ironic enough, you felt a bit homesick, missing the hustle and bustle of your previous living situation, the silence of the village far more deafening than the noises that bombarded the busy streets.

But you figured it was the process of settling. After all, a slow life is a peaceful one and you couldn’t deny that you were rarely stressed these days.

Today was mostly quiet in the diner you worked at. Old, dingy with a bit of wear and tear, but a classic nonetheless. Despite its age coming around, locals returned often and newcomers loved the restaurant, always posting a good review somewhere in the deep corners of social media.

At this rate, you could’ve clocked out early with how dead the place was and even at that, it wasn’t enough to describe the emptiness of your shift. Maybe you could convince your boss or ask your coworker to cover you for the time being. After all, she did owe you a solid for saving her ass last week, nearly begging on her knees to cover her shift because “her boyfriend had made plans and she was sure it was a proposal this time.” (It wasn’t.)

It was convincing and you almost warmed up to the idea until a sharp gasp from your coworker ripped your attention away from your cell phone. She clutched the newspaper with one hand, her other one covering her mouth dramatically.

“Another person missing?” Her voice was hushed and devastated as her and your boss huddled around the folded piece of paper. “Isn’t this the nineteenth person this year?”

Your boss scoffs, shaking her head in disapproval, “The village is becomin’ dangerous, I tell ya. These damn cops ain’t doing shit to keep us safe. Back then, I could walk another village down and still come back in one piece—“

Her words seemed to meld as you stepped closer to them, slowly drawn into their conversation, eyes falling on the bold letters.

“MALE, 27 YEARS, REPORTED MISSING.”

The rest was a bit more difficult to read, but the portrait of the individual sent a shiver down your spine as you observed his features. He looked relatively young; a bright smile, youthful features, and a kind look on his face.

Your coworker noticed your wandering eyes, moving closer as she shared the newspaper with you, hands crumpling the edges of it. “Nineteen and none of them were found! How is that possible?”

The missing persons cases have been the talk of the village recently, someone always related to each person that disappeared. At first, everyone assumed it was their loved ones having a change of heart and leaving the village to start a new life, but as more cases began to pile, the panic began to unfold.

Maybe that’s why the diner was so empty.

You’re not sure how to respond and your boss obviously felt the same way as the three of you read the paper, eyes glued to it. Only the sound of the music playing in the background filled the silence.

꧁

Somehow on the second to the last hour of your shift, you managed to build up the courage to ask your coworker to cover you. Luckily, despite the creepy ambience the place held an hour ago, she gladly agreed, more than willing to return the favor.

So with a smile and gracious thanks, you began to pack up your belongings, ensuring everything was in place before leaving the back room towards the front door of the diner, checking your phone.

However, you heard the sound of the bell chiming before you could reach the door, head rising as your gaze met with one of your usuals— the infamous Jackson Cottonwood. He was the town's heartthrob, all the girls fawning over him and everyone’s mother trying to set their daughter with him.

“Hey sweetheart, leavin’ so soon?” His voice sweet as honey and with that familiar joyful kick, called out to you. He was dressed in his usual plaid, suspended flannel along with dark jeans and his dirtied boots. His hair was parted, kissed by the wind as strands fell over his eyes in a crooked manner.

You offered him a smile, a bit awkward and shy as you nodded, “Yeah, decided to hit the hay early tonight. Slow shift.”

He hummed disapprovingly as this, hands on his hips and you let out a low snicker.

“What a shame. Thought I’d catch up with my favorite girl, but it seems like I missed the window,” He said in a sulky manner, a defeated look on his face. “Suppose the lord isn’t on my side today.”

He was always such a sweetheart, one of the customers you found yourself naturally attracted to. With a mouth like that, it was no wonder why he had so many girls wrapped around his finger. You’d be lying if you had told yourself you weren’t falling victim to the same syndrome.

“It is such a shame. Had you been here an hour earlier, maybe we would’ve had time,” you teased a bit.

“We got all the time in the world as long as you keep workin’ in this diner.”

You laugh at his words and he lets out a prideful and satisfied grin, brightening up his features. Before you could say anything more, you noticed Jackson's eyes travel towards the bar, your gaze following his and soon noticing both your boss and coworker whispering to each other. They both immediately separated from each other, realizing they had been caught red handed.

Jackson leaned down, whispering something under his breath but loud enough for you to hear, “Seems like we got an audience. Let me let ya go for the night, yeah? Shouldn’t keep you back more than I need to.”

You lock eyes with him as he straightens himself out and he spares you a warm smile, sending you off with a squeeze of your shoulder as he breezes past you to sit in one of the booths nearby. You stare at the back of his head for a moment before you shrug it off, deciding to go home. You were bound to encounter him eventually.

꧁

“So what’s the deal with you and Cottonwood?”

You look up from your receipts, your coworker folding her arms as she leaned against the bar. There was a shiteating grin on her face along with a devious twinkle in her eye that made you a bit anxious.

You shrug nonchalantly at her instigating question, continuing to sort receipts, “Not sure what you’re talking about.”

She rolled her eyes at your words, grabbing it from your hands. You shoot her a glare, reaching for the pieces of papers as she held it out of reach.

“Hey—!”

“C’mon. He’s not sweet-talking you for no reason. You’re the only server he butters up, maybe the only girl—“

“He does that for everyone! Please, just give me back—“

With a groan, she gently shoved the receipts back to you, unconvinced by your reasoning, “Uh-huh. That’s why you’re his “favorite girl”.”

There’s a teasing tone in her voice and you can’t help but feel embarrassed. She noticed the slight flush on your cheeks at her evidence, letting out an amused laugh.

“It’s really not like that,” you say, trying to organize the little pieces of paper on the table. “I barely know anything about him.”

It was the truth. Jackson Cottonwood was the biggest mystery of the town despite his popularity. No one knew anything of him besides his name and his mother who once sold meat in the market.

There were several rumors about his status that circulated around town: a farm boy who lived off of the grid, a mafia boss working undercover, an undercover FBI agent collecting data on the village or residing here to keep his name low and much more you couldn’t care to remember. Despite his years of living here (assumingly), nothing was ever truly confirmed. Everything that everyone thought they knew was merely speculation.

He was simply known as the handsome man who often dropped by in town three times a week. Nothing more and nothing less.

She was skeptical, but had no denial to it, “I guess, but still, he's all over you. As a taken women, I know when a man—“

Suddenly, your conversation was cut short by the familiar sound of the bells chiming, both your gazes falling on Jackson, who looked around for a moment before locking eyes with you, nodding towards your direction and heading towards the same booth he always sat at.

Your coworker let out a giggle, nudging your side almost playfully. In response, you shot her a look, eyes pleading for her to behave before she leaned towards you, murmuring something in your ear secretly.

“Speak of the devil. I would continue this conversation but loverboy is waving you down. Get to him before he forgets your tip, yeah?”

At this, you turn your head, finally noticing the smile on his face, his cheek resting on his hand as he looked straight at you. Before you could ask your coworker to take over, feeling suddenly shy and nervous at her accusations, she was already past the doors of the kitchen, leaving you alone to stand dumbly behind the counter.

With nowhere to run, you begrudgingly made your way to Jackson, trying to shake off the nerves.

“There she is,” his voice filled the silence of the diner, muffling out the music playing. “Prayed to the lord I’d catch you today and it seems like they were generous. Lucky me.”

He was always so flirtatious, knowing the right words to get into someone’s heart, and it usually didn’t affect you. Up until this point, at least. You suppose you could blame your coworker for planting nonsense into your head, now hyper aware of his words.

“It isn’t hard to miss me,” you attempt to reply casually, hoping your voice didn't sound as shaky as it felt. “I work here almost everyday.”

“Yeah, but after what happened last time, I assumed praying for our next encounter wouldn’t hurt. It’s always a blessing to be graced with your presence.”

Such a strange compliment. You didn’t think anyone liked you enough to pray for your company. Maybe you’d expect it from the local gas station crackhead, but here you were, receiving it from the village’s heartthrob.

“Maybe you would see me more if you came into town more often,” you fought back the redness creeping up your skin, feeling hot under your collar as you attempted to keep up.

A little smirk replaced the usual smile adorning his cheeks, “Oh? Since you’re askin’ so nicely, sweetheart, I might make an exception.”

With no one else in the diner but you and him, his words felt a little more intimate, voice low and inviting. You could be reading the room wrong, but it definitely felt tense in a way that left you choked up.

You wanted to run away, battling the urge to clock out and hopefully wash the nerves out of your system after taking a hot shower. Somehow, some higher entity out there seemed to grant your wishes. You almost think about kissing your boss’ feet as she walked from the back into the diner, speaking loudly on the phone as she processed a take-out order.

With the conversation now interrupted, you found a way to redirect it, fumbling for the notepad in your pocket as you spoke,”S-Sorry, let me take your order.”

Jackson didn’t seem to mind it much, humming under his breath before answering.

“Sure.”

꧁

The diner had gotten busy within the next thirty minutes, a group of loud college students walking into the establishment for a quick bite. Their boisterous laughs and voices reverberated against the walls of the diner and while it was rather deafening, you were somewhat thankful for the distraction. With the emotions storming in your mind, you figured you needed away time from Jackson.

Unfortunately, he didn’t share the same idea. He seemed to take his time with his meal, taking small bites and reading whatever worn out book he’s pulled out of his pocket as you tended to other customers. You assumed that it might’ve been a slow day for him.

“How was your meal?” You ask as you rack up his bill, eyes glancing at him before back at the paper.

“Good,” he simply replied, hand, leaning forward against the bar. “But the service was better.”

You let out a nervous laugh under your breath, unsure of how to respond. You were hoping that he wouldn’t talk to you for the rest of the night, wanting to rid of the tense feeling in your body, so you settle for that simple act of acknowledgment.

Then you tell him his total, always the same, his order never changing since he’s dined here half a year ago. At this point, you’d expect him to pay without asking. Your boss had even offered him the convenient option of leaving his payment by the table to save him from the trouble of walking over to the register, claiming he was a “loyal” and “truthful” customer.

But he doesn’t do that. Even with the offer, he never does.

He slides the bills over and you reach to grab them, looking up from the receipt. Finally, you seem to freeze, hand stopping midway as you notice his hands, a bit irritated looking as if it had been scratched or scrubbed relentlessly.

Then you notice the dirt trapped under his fingernails along with faint reddening hue along the edges. You can hear him talking, saying something about the boys who had come in earlier, but you can’t seem to tear your eyes away.

It isn’t until he moves to brush his hand against yours on the counter, you’re grounded back to reality, a sharp gasp leaving your mouth as you quickly pull your hand away.

His eyes seemed to widen at this, both of you staring at each other in awkward silence. You attempt to muster up an excuse, mouth opening and closing, but he beat you to it, clearing his throat.

“Sorry, sweetheart,” he apologizes, breaking the silence. “Didn’t mean to startle you. You just seemed out of it, so I was just checking on ya.”

It takes you a moment to process his words before you shake your head, grabbing the bills from the counter.

“No, it’s fine. I’m…”

There’s an odd feeling in your chest, unsettling in a way that heightened your anxiety. Something didn’t sit right and you’re not sure what, feeling almost silly at your emotions. Then you realize that maybe you should lay off the horror documentaries, the paranoia finally catching up to you. So you decide to shake it off, letting out a breath that was trapped in your throat.

“..I’m fine. I think I’m just really tired,” you finish your sentence, offering him a tense smile.

He doesn’t seem convinced for a moment but lets it go (much to your relief).

“Well sweetheart, grab a coffee before you go home, yeah? Dangerous for you to walk alone in that state. Nights are always unpredictable.”

There’s a hint of concern in his voice and you try to wave it off, not wanting to pester him with such trivial scenarios. With your pepper spray and taser you bought half-off from the store four blocks down, you were sure you’d make it home mostly safe.

“I should be fine.”

“Just wanna make sure my girl is safe is all. I’d offer to walk you home but I haven’t finished running my errands,” he says casually, the nickname constant in his mouth. “Maybe next time I’ll pray hard enough to have the opportunity.”

You let out an airy giggle at his words, forgetting about the uneasy feeling almost immediately. You’re not even sure why you assumed the worst in him, chiding yourself a bit for believing he’d commit any heinous acts. He’s been nothing but kind to you from the start and truth be told, if he wanted to do something to you by now, he would’ve.

“Fat chance, but you can keep praying,” you tease and he lets out an amused laugh.

“Best believe I will. My lord hasn’t failed me yet.”

With that, you both catch up for a bit before another set of customers come in, cutting your session short. He nods at you, moving to push himself off of the counter.

“Well, that’s my cue,” he straightens out his shirt, shoving the receipt in his pocket before looking back at you. “I’ll see you soon, sweetheart. Remember what I told you.”

You roll your eyes, shooing him away, “Yes, I know. You’ll see me in one piece next time.”

He reacts to your answer, a prideful smirk forming on his face as he hums in approval, “Good girl.”

Your cheeks redden at his praise and thankfully, he's already turned away, heading out the front door when it happens. As much as you hated to admit it, you figured that maybe you did like Jackson more than you let on.

But only time could tell.

꧁

Time was definitely not on your side.

You hadn’t talked to Jackson since your last encounter with him a week and a half ago. It was out of the ordinary and sudden, his absence obvious as you found yourself waiting for his arrival. The more you waited, the more you wondered.

You did miss him in a sense. Whether it was because he established a routine for you, provided excitement in your life, or welcomed you with blossoming feelings for your relationship with him, you’d never know.

It didn’t make it easier that you hardly knew anything about him. Creating scenarios for his absence felt almost impossible, forcing yourself to dumb it down to simple reasonings. Maybe he was busy with whatever job he had or he got caught up in family business. After all, he was an adult man with adult responsibilities. Visiting his “favorite” girl in a diner shouldn’t be one of them.

In a blink of an eye, two weeks passed without his usual visits and the villagers began speculating. Considering the low population of the village, it wasn’t a surprise that people had caught on quickly, rumors spreading like uncontrollable wildfire.

“Maybe he found a purpose somewhere else. This place can only provide so much,” one woman gosipped, buying fresh eggs from a farmer in the market.

“Told you he was working for the government! Was always suspicious of that one,” Another man had claimed on a different day, hitting his rolled up newspaper against the arm of his friend. “Cottonwood is shady! It’s weird how we don't know anything about this fool when everyone knows everyone here!”

“Do you think he was the twentieth victim?” Your coworker theorizes one day, the diner slowing down after the dinner rush. You shudder at that, not wanting to think about that possibility.

The air is suddenly eerie, a sense of unease surrounding the area.

You just hope he hadn’t gotten hurt or abruptly moved away without saying goodbye.

꧁

You finally finish closing up, finalizing and straightening everything out before parting ways with your coworker who blew you a kiss, reminding you to call her before your shift tomorrow so you both could hit up the farmers market.

You spare her a tired smile, nodding at her words before walking towards the opposite direction and into the quiet streets of the village. With the recent news lately, the nights have been emptier, markets shutting down early in fear of the loose kidnapper. You did miss the liveliness of the night life here, but who could blame them? Nineteen people missing and not one body had been recovered.

The incident was easily labeled as the Cottonwood Mountain’s biggest case and probably its only one of its kind.

It had made big news on social media, several of your friends and family members calling you with warnings and concerns for your well-being. Despite the crimes occurring, you were much happier here than you were back home. So with a flash of your pepper spray and taser, you left them with the comfort that you were protected.

While scrolling through your phone, catching up on several messages, you were unexpectedly stopped by the blinding lights of police sirens, noticing the street you usually took blocked off by yellow caution tape and several police cars. There are a handful of officers around along with a few villagers scattered throughout the small, finite area.

You don’t have time to process what was happening before an officer approaches you, his voice hushed but authoritative.

“Sorry ma’am, the area is blocked off right now due to a distressed call. I know its an inconvenience but it’s currently prohibited to pass through the area at the moment.”

Truth be told, you were a bit annoyed at the inconvenience, wanting nothing but to be home after a long day at work, but you bite your tongue in hopes of ending your day on a good note.

“Do you know when everything will clear up?”

You were hoping he’d say soon or within the next thirty minutes, but the look on his face told you everything you needed to know. Defeated, you began to map out other routes you’ve taken once or twice whenever you wanted to take the scenic way home before he could give you a response.

“I don't have an ETA on it yet, ma’am. Is there any detour you could take?”

“Yeah,” is all you say and thank the officer, moving to reroute your path, already dreaming of the hot bath you’d take once you get home.

The alternative path was usually beautiful during the afternoon or the peak of sunrise and sunset, but right now, it felt dreadful as you navigated through the dark of the woods with nothing but your flashlight and the map in the back of your mind. It was an arguably faster way to get home, but also the more sketchy route which was why you avoided it at night.

You’re hyper aware and paranoid now, pepper spray in one hand and phone in the other as you treaded carefully along the dirt road. Every noise and odd gust of wind forced you to hold your breath, body trembling a bit at the silence of the area.

Regret began to weigh on your mind.

Maybe you should’ve waited for them to clear things out or call your coworker to crash at her place until everything settled, but you were already near your apartment, already too far into it to turn back. It would only be more trouble to track back. Only a few more turns and—

Speaking of turns, you rounded the corner of a tree, soon stopping in your tracks as your body paralyzed at the sight of red on the ground. The thick, viscous liquid stood out against the dark of the ground, splattered and smeared, taunting you as your heart dropped.

Your body seemed to move on its own as you redirected your flashlight along the dirt, the light providing you a better picture of streaks of a deep red stretching across the path, almost as if someone had been dragged.

Slowly, you look up, light flashing towards the direction and before you know it, you feel dizzy and nauseous at the sight of a body on the ground, lifeless and obviously, still very fresh, There’s a cleaver sliced through his neck, lodged deep into it, and then you see a pair of feet right next to the corpse, your breathing picking up as you come to the dreading realization that you had been caught red-handed.

Out of instinct, you shine your light on the perpetrator, wanting to at least get a good look of him before you booked it, but found your feet glued to the ground once you met with the familiar face of the villages heartthrob, staring back at you with a smile on his face. It doesn’t feel real and you’re almost convinced you're dreaming until he speaks, his voice unsettling, his usual jovial tone absent.

“I know I prayed to my lord I’d see you again soon, but I didn’t expect it in such an exciting way,” he let out an empty chuckle that sent shivers down your spine. He bent down to rip the cleaver out of the man's throat, the blood gushing out of his wound, pooling on the ground beneath him. Jackson stepped over his body carelessly before making his way to you. “I was hoping under some better circumstances, but who am I to complain? Seeing your pretty face is always such a privilege.”

Horrified, you slowly step back, trying to create distance between you both, knees weak as you try to gather the strength to run. It was a miracle you could even stand after such a gruesome sight.

“J-Jackson—“ your voice whimpers, shaky and mortified, but he immediately cuts you off, a wicked grin plastered over his usual handsome features.

“I like it when you say my name like that,” he comments gleefully, clearly enjoying the state you were in. “If I knew you’d sound as sweet as you do right now, I would’ve hoped you caught me sooner.”

You don’t hear the rest, your heart beating through your ears and your breathing speeding up as you continue to step backwards. Eventually, your hearing picks up, him closing the empty space despite you not being able to make out anything but his silhouette in the darkness.

“.. I told you nights were unpredictable, sweetheart. You should’ve listened.”

You feel your back hit something firm and for a moment, you believe it’s a tree, but once you register its body heat, you slowly come to the realization that Jackson didn’t come alone. Suddenly, you feel a blunt object strike the back of your head. 

For a few moments, you’re barely conscious, feeling an arm wrap around your middle as your body gives out, limp and out of your control. There’s an echo of laughter, menacing and mocking, before you slip out of reality, your life in the hands of the infamous serial killers of Cottonwood Mountains

tags: @delfinadolphin

[wisepainterprince]

What abaout William (from The Butchery) and Reader make a Cherry pie? Assuming neither Jackson or William can cook (just look at their kitchen!! 👎) but Reader can so why not share a moment!

Sweets and Beating Hearts | Hillwalker boys/Gn!Reader (3k words) · · ────── ꒰ঌ·✦·໒꒱ ────── · ·

cw: none :) (butchery boys being normal for once in their lives??? crazy right????)

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note: sorry anon! I made this about both brothers (i couldn't help myself) sorry for the wait! i'm currently making a dating sim and participating in art fight, so I've had NO time to write...also also, thank you for the request! my request box is always open, and I'm writing all summer, so feel free to leave a prompt in there <3

ONE MORE THING: i wrote this in chunks between days so sorry if it isnt coherent sometimes

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William found himself feeling a bit dumbfounded when you came back home with a bag of all purpose flour, sugar, two sticks of unsalted butter, and a can of cherries.

"What's all this?" He asked, wiping his bloodied hands on his pants before taking the bag of flour off of your hands.

"This," you paused, earning a quirked brow from the man, "is desert."

William followed you silently into the kitchen, putting the flour down on the kitchen counter you had cleaned this morning. The Hillwalker's kitchen was practically a crime scene, blood splattered on the corner of walls, cockroaches and flies laying eggs on unwashed plates. You'd done the Lord's work cleaning it all up the way you did. The house seemed almost...normal since you came about.

"What are you going to make?" He asked, leaning against the counter, arms crossed as you turned to wash your hands in the sink.

"Cherry pie." You replied with a shrug. You'd been craving something homemade, not the pie in a box you take off a store shelf and toss into your shopping cart, the ones that always taste far too manufactured to be consumed.

"We have cherry pie in the fridge." William countered, looking over at the large appliance in the corner of the room that you were always scared to open, anticipating the barrage of insects that were ready to jump out at you like a rehearsed military operation. You shot a glare towards it, too, before looking back at him.

"Sure, but homemade pies always taste better." You replied, turning off the sink and drying off your hands with the used towel that you procured to hang on the oven handle. Jackson had taken a liking to it, saying it made the house more homey.

"Did I hear pie?" Jackson asked in a singsong tone, appearing in the kitchen as if summoned by your thoughts of him alone. He was already beside you, digging through the paper bag you had brought back home and taking out the butter. "Can I help?"

"Last time you baked something it caught on fire, and I found a roach in it." You retorted, taking the butter out of his hand and setting it down. "Plus, your hands are disgusting." You added, glancing down at his red-stained hands and mud covered fingernails. You could only imagine what he had been doing a moment ago.

"Nothing a bit of water won't fix." Jackson replied, running his hands under the cold faucet water for a moment before shutting the tap and shaking the water off them (Jackson was aiming for William, who shot him the world's deadliest glare).

You ignored the brothers' antics, Jackson letting out a scream and running around the kitchen table, escaping William's angry pursuit, and knelt down in front of the drawer under the countertop. You pulled the drawer out, rummaging through it for a second before your fingers grazed across the front of a leather book. You moved the rest of the junk out of the way, taking the book out from under it all. It was an old cookbook you had found a while ago while deep cleaning the kitchen, and you'd been meaning to use it ever since.

You barely had time to set it down on the counter with the rest of the ingredients when both brothers froze, gazes locked on the black leather cover. You gave them both an odd glance, confused by the sudden silence in the room, before opening to the table of contents. In all honesty, you hadn't actually looked through the cookbook beforehand, and you found yourself feeling pleasantly surprised at what you'd found inside.

"Are these pictures of you guys?" You asked, looking down at the small stack of glossy photos that were pressed between the pages of the book with curiosity.

Both brothers remained silent and unmoving for a moment before looking at eachother. You swore they looked almost...mournful, but it only lasted a second. William sat down at the kitchen table with his arms crossed, pretending not to watch as Jackson walked over to you, looking over your shoulders to get a better view of the images.

"I haven't seen these pictures in years." He commented, picking one up from the pile and examining it carefully. Suddenly, he snorted and flipped the picture over, looking at the date written behind. "Hey, Will!" He called, showing his older brother what he'd been looking at. "You were an ugly eight year old, by the way."

William squinted, trying to get a good look from where he was sitting. "You were the one with a huge tooth gap." He retorted, mildly offended.

"It wasn't that big, you always tell people that!" Jackson complained, rolling his eyes.

You wordlessly held up a picture of what you assumed was Jackson, with the described, comically large tooth gap. Jackson scoffed, taking the photo from your grasp and putting it facedown on the counter. Willian stood up from his chair, striding over and picking up the picture to get a better look at it.

"Remember that time I shoved a twig in your mouth through that gap?" He asked, smiling almost fondly at Jackson's grinning face, cheeks rosy from the sun, hair sticking up in all directions from running in the backyard and rolling around in the grass.

"What?" Jackson asked incredulously, looking up from the new picture he was holding to give his brother a confused expression.

"You don't remember? You cried about it for three days to mama." William added smugly. "You wouldn't stop asking me to play dogs and cats with you, and you wouldn't leave me alone, so I made you leave me alone."

That story pulled you out of your own head, and you gave William a shocked expression, paired with a burst of laughter. Jackson's head snapped towards you, giving you a betrayed look. "Don't pick his side!"

You gave him a mocking nod of the head and a "yes, of course, I'm sorry," before piling up all the pictures and bringing them over to the kitchen table. If you were going to get this pie done today, you were going to need to start now.

You left the brothers alone with the photos as you opened to the 'Old Fashioned Cherry Pie' recipe, page forty-two. First step was the pie crust.

You measured the flour, butter, and salt, and began mixing it with a large spoon you found. The brother's kitchen was notorious for not having the right kitchen tools, and you felt your arms begin to burn as you attempted to mix your concoction into something that you thought might resemble pie dough.

Suddenly, William came over, leaving Jackson to his own devices across the room. He wordlessly took the bowl out of your hands, mixing the ingredients far better than you had been a moment ago.

"Thanks, William." You said gratefully, massaging your wrist as you looked back at the cookbook's instructions.

"You were never going to get anywhere with the way you were mixing the bowl." He replied, mildly amused expression on his face as his eyes trailed on you and the new piece of clothing you were adorning. You must've slipped on the apron he had gifted you a month or so ago when he was distracted with Jackson and the pictures (he had stolen that apron from one of his victims of course, but you didn't need to know that). There was something so undeniably right about you in his kitchen, baking a cherry pie with his mama's recipe (though he figured you didn't know that either).

Jackson seemed affected by the sight as well, glancing up from the pictures he was snooping through to stare at you when your back was turned. However, you were too busy sprinkling some water onto the dough and using a spatula to mix it into a paste, Will holding the bowl, for you to notice.

"Can I mix too?" Jackson asked, already walking over before receiving the okay.

"Are you five??" William shot back, paired with a glare that didn't phase his younger brother in the least. Jackson yanked the bowl out of William's arms before hiding behind you, smirking back at him from over your shoulder.

You found yourself surprised by their attitudes towards eachother. They were acting almost childishly, but not in the way they usually were. There was something far more familiar, and far less guarded in the way they were behaving. They were enjoying themselves, though it wasn't the same enjoyment they got out of tormenting and murdering. They were having fun, genuine unadulterated fun, and you had no clue why. All you were doing was baking a pie, and yet the room felt warmer than usual, and not only because of the preheating oven.

"Okay..." you began, looking back again at the cookbook that you only now noticed had a pink stain on the side of the page. It was old, used, and saturated with memories, "Now we need to flatten it for the pie pan."

"I'll get the rolling pin." William said, before walking over and rummaging through some of the drawers you were yet to deep clean. Jackson set the bowl down before leaning on the counter and looking at you, a pleasant expression upon his face.

"I can't believe you found that old book. I thought it'd been thrown out by accident." He commented casually. You could see through his act though. He really wanted to talk about the cookbook with you.

"How old is it?" You asked.

"I don't really know, but our mama used to use it all the time. I think it was passed down." He explained, "That was her favourite recipe, the pie you're making."

You suddenly realized why the brothers insisted on always having the house stocked with cherry pies. The brothers didn't disclose to you much information on their childhoods. They didn't seem like the types to willingly let down walls either. However, the pictures on the walls said all you needed to know. Those pies reminded them of warmer times. It was almost...pitiful. You didn't dare mention it.

"Found it." William called, bringing the rolling pin over to you. You took the dough out of the bowl and took the wooden tool, flattening it down. Once satisfied, you placed it in the pie pan and cut off the access dough. Now, it was time for the filling. Jackson was already on it, stabbing through the top of the cherry can and draining the juice out into the sink.

"Will we have extra cherries?" He asked hopefully, handing the can over to you. You eyes the amount of cherries in the can and shrugged.

"Maybe. Why?"

William's eyes seemed to light up, as if remembering something.

"To make jam. Mama used to add some into her pies." He spoke up, shooting Jackson a knowing look.

"Oh yeah, definitely." You replied, feeling sweat bead at your forehead from the sudden pressure you felt making this pie. If it didn't taste exactly like whatever nostalgia the brothers wanted to experience, you knew it would keep you up at night.

And so, the tasks were divided. Jackson would turn the rest of the dough into strips for the top of the pie, and you and William would make the jam.

It was really then that you realized that the brothers didn't know how to make anything other than boiled eggs and toast. You could practically hear the kitchen weeping with the abuse it was dealt daily by the two.

"All we need to do is simmer some cut up cherries with sugar and a bit of lemon over the stove." You explained to William who stood beside you, trying not to look absolutely clueless. You fiddled with the stove nobs (they were stubborn and old, and didn't turn on sometimes) as William dices the cherries you had set aside for the jam. Even his dicing was awkward, each piece of fruit cut in varying sizes, but you didn't want to make him more conscious of his horrible cooking skills. You'd rather save your sniding remarks for a time where he would be giving you a bit too much backtalk.

Once the pan began to heat, you gave william the okay to toss the cherries into it. He took it literally, some of the cherry sauce splattering onto the rest of the stovetop. You turned to look at him in mild disbelief, but he seemed to be feeling your exact sentiment, staring down at the mess he'd made.

"Are you feeling alright?" You ask, tone mocking to hide your mild concern for his foggy mind. He was deep in thought, he had been for at least half an hour now.

"Peachy." He replied flatly, finally tearing his gaze from the splotches of pink and red he created out of the messy canvas of a room that the kitchen was. He sighed when he noticed that some of the pink and red had landed on your apron, quickly wiping it off with his thumb and tasting the remnants of his mindlessness. It tasted like canned cherries and the warmness that saturated his brain every moment you were near. He didn't mention it, obviously.

The two of you stared at the mixture as it began to bubble slowly. You squinted down at the sugary concoction and turned up the heat.

"Isn't it going to burn if you do that?" William questioned, eyeing the cherries as they began to bubble far more than before. You waved a dismissive hand.

"Definitely not, I know exactly what I'm doing..." You trailed off as a particularly large bubble began to grow beneath the surface of the cherries. You leaned in closer just as it popped. William grabbed you by the hip, pulling you back just before the boiling jam landed its aerial attack onto your face.

"I thought you said you knew what you were doing!" He chastised, giving you a mildly panicked expression as he quickly turned the heat dial down to low. He squeezed your hip tighter in his hand for emphasis.

"I didn't know it would explode all over the place!" You retorted, angry expression quickly morphing to a smirk as you took in his panicked expression, panicked over your well being. "You do care."

William stared at you in shock, and then exasperation, before pushing you off to Jackson, grumbling something about keeping you away from anything heat related.

Jackson was nearly done cutting the rest of the dough into strips, shooting you a grin as you were sent off to him. "William doesn't want you anymore?"

"Something like that." You replied. "Can I take over for you?"

Jackson shrugged, handing you Hilda and making space for you at the counter. You usually felt honoured, heart fluttering with pride, when he lended you his cleaver. It was intended for his hands alone, and sometimes yours when he was in the right mood. Other than that, he was overprotective of it. However, in this instance, you were very disgusted by its presence, specifically near anything going into the pie.

"Jackson, did you even wash this before using it??" You questioned, disgust dripping from your tone as you shot him a mildly horrified expression.

"What's wrong with her? She's just got a bit of blood on her." He countered, arms crossed.

"Now that blood's gonna get into the pie, Jackson." You sighed, setting Hilda down and reaching for another, cleaner knife. He took Hilda and slid it back into his pocket with an eye-roll. "Fine, your loss." He muttered.

You swallowed down your contempt for how gross the pie was going to be now, and began slicing up more pieces of dough to weave together atop the cherries and jam.

Suddenly, you nearly sliced your finger off as you jumped, startled out of your concentration by two arms wrapping around your middle, Jackson's chin resting on your shoulder.

"Careful." He whispered mockingly into your ear, before pressing a quick kiss to your jaw. "Don't want to lose your hand."

You bit back the snarky comment you wanted to spit at him, exhaling instead and continuing your precise knife work. Jackson was in a really, really good mood. He wasn't one for touching, and with the addition of him letting you even hold Hilda...best not to ruin the moment.

He continued watching you, fixated on your hands before speaking up again.

"The Lord knew what he was doing, bringing you here." He said, fingers drumming against your stomach idly.

"What does that mean?" You asked, brow quirked.

"You're an angel." He continued.

"Okay," You snickered. "Thank you?"

"I bet Will thinks it too, he's just tough about it."

"What did you just say about me?" William interjected, intense glare on Jackson, but the younger paid no mind to the unsuccessful intimidation attempt.

Jackson opened his mouth again, as if to get another thought of his off his mind, but he decided against it.

"Hm?" You attempted, trying to coax whatever it was he had on his mind out of him, but he shook his head.

"Don't worry your little head about it. I'm just happy you're here." He paused, deep in thought once again. "You make the house warmer, you know?"

"Was it cold before without me?"

"Something like that."

The kitchen fell into a comfortable silence afterwards. William took the jam off of the burner and put it into the pie tin, and you helped Jackson with weaving the top of the pie with the strips of dough the two of you had cut up.

The rest of the evening was slow, eating pie with your two boys, and admiring some more old pictures. It was interesting, getting a real glimpse into the lives of the Hillwalkers before everything went horribly wrong. Soon enough, Jackson had taken out all the old shoeboxes filled with photos that are usually tucked away and forgotten about. The house was warm. You relished these moments, and you knew the brothers did, too. There were unspoken emotions in the room, but they didn't need to be stated aloud. You knew you were loved here.

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[kainskaligraphy]

faux medkit

sypnosis: pigothy bit you but nobody's around to help

tags: implied/referenced: alcohol use, drug use; william & reader; jackson & reader

a/n: sorry for the lack of posts, gonna try be more consistent from now! since i hit 5 chapters on my fic, i decided i'd take a break but here i am again :) i'll probs try smaller projects in the mean time to get back on my feet :P,, but more smaus??? lmk

[lotuslinhh]

Love at first sight?

Jackson hillwalker/cottonwood x reader (1K word count)

Triggers: Slight gore (blood), weapons (knife), kidnapping, murder

Authors note: first fanfic kinda nervous… wrote this all in one sitting so if parts don’t make sense please tell me!

You were knocked out in a strange room, dusty unkept for hours probably. Two brothers, you think you overheard their names as Jackson and William?

That doesn’t matter when you have more serious business to attend to. Like dying by the hands of these weird sentient animals. At first, when you saw it you were freaked out of your mind. I mean look at it?!? Its disgusting freakish human limbs and animal body terrified you, barely able to approach it, let alone injure it.

But, as time goes on, and the longer you stay there, maybe- maybe you could kill it. It’s kind of like those zombie horror games yknow? Just a little more.. horrifying to look at. So as you go through each room of this disgusting, vile house, you try to kill the creatures despite your prior fear. I mean, you have to do what you have to do to live y'know? It’s not like you're going insane the longer you're there, or maybe start to enjoy killing these creatures or anything because I mean they tried to kill you first, right?

After hours of walking around the house you don’t see the previous siblings anywhere. Only the faint smell of blood from the last ’zombie’ you killed. To your ignorant gaze, the house was empty. Unfortunately you were wrong.

Jackson had just come out of the basement, cleaning up the last supposed survivor that had come. Yawning out dazed, ready to come get you next— I mean you're not any different right? Just another ‘survivor’.

You were just laying there on his couch. At first, he was gonna come up and kill you yet he saw one of his cows approach right behind you. So instead he just stood by the side of the basement door watching you, thinking the cow would just do his work for him. But as soon as the cow was inches behind you, you stabbed it so quickly in the eye— causing the monster to fall back in terror. You jumped on top of it and quickly began stabbing it in the chest.

The way your eyes twinkled and your hair swayed as you stabbed the pathetic, poor, large creature couldn’t help but make him blush. I mean, anyone else who saw that would agree right?! He watched as the creature became lifeless on the ground as you sat on top of its body, hands gripped on the knife in its chest. Panting as you pulled it out one last time.

As you pull the blade out, all you could do was watch as the blood trickled out of it. Your body isn’t used to stabbing monsters, but at least you survived another hour right? Your sanity has slowly decayed as you went through the house, and the disgusting putrid smell is starting to get to you. At some point you wish you could help clean it but that gives whatever’s in this house more time to kill you.

Soon however, of the corner of your eye, you see one of the brothers— Jackson? Next to the doorway of the basement. “Crap crap crap” is the only thing going through your mind as you sit still on top of the creature.

Though you’ve killed all these creatures, they don’t really think, or speak— like zombies. But a human, especially if it’s one of the brothers? That’s basically out of the picture. I mean, just look at him, he’s probably stronger than you considering that he killed that survivor no problem. Not only that but you're and outsider, they know every nook and cranny of this house and you barely know where each key goes.

You swiftly get off as you run to find a door to go, looking around frantically. “Where do I go? What do I do?” Races in your mind. You run as quick as you can to the hallway, only to find all the doors around you locked. As you look back the only thing you see is Jackson right behind you.

“Found you” he says grinning in a way that makes your stomach churn. Swiftly pulling the knife from your hand, as his other hold your hands up.

Your frantic but try to keep your cool as you looked up at him. Thinking of whether to plead and beg or scream, but none of the options seemed like they would work.

Jackson is inches away from your face as he looks straight at you. “Wow, you really are prettier up close.” He thinks as he stares at you. The option of killing you doesn’t seem so needed when you look at him like that. Your big, wide eyes (that seem more afraid if anything) staring up at him makes his cheeks redden oh so slightly. Which seems to only terrify you slightly more.

“Please don’t kill me I-i can clean the house, or I’ll even help you kill people for whatever reason- I mean you seen me kill the cow right- wait sorry for killing your cow.” You pant out nervously, unsure of what to do in this situation. He looks manic to you— I mean why is he smiling at you like that?!

Somehow, your messed up, awkwardly phrased pleads actually works?! The next thing you know you’re freed, your knife thrown down the hallway as he does what you perceive as a wink? You can’t tell as he walks away from you. The only thing you know is that everything that happened felt like a fever dream.

[swampkee]

JACKSON HILLWALKER X GENDER-NEUTRAL READER (PT.I)

I'm so convinced that this man likes someone who puts up a good fight. Someone who stood a chance.

You got lost into the woods by mistake due to a malfunction with your gps. You were on your way home after adventuring to a new place out boredom in the evening until you found yourself in the middle of nowhere; nothing but trees around you. That's where you hear bushes shuffling a few feet away.

Turning around, you saw a monstrous pig-humanoid thing infront of your eyes. You froze in spot; wondering what the hell is that thing?

You shook your head incase you were imagining stuff, you took a step back anyways. Probably tired from all the stress from getting lost.

As you backed up, you stopped when you felt your back bumping against someone. as a grunt slipped off from them. You turned around to apologise before meeting immediate darkness. With a numbing sensation on your head.

You woke up extremely groggy, through your blurry and muffled surroundings you could hear a conversation between two men.

"Why is this meat so tough?! What did you feed it?!" A man yelled. "Those hitchhikers from last week." Another one chimed in. As your vision clears up, they start taking notice.

"Heyy! Finally awake aren't ya?"

You jolted back as you started to take realization of the situation, you're frozen on the seat, staring at the two unknown men before you.

"Welcome to cottonwood farm! I'm Jack-"

A few moments later, the pig happened to wake up earlier than expected, the humanoid arms dragging the whole heavy pig body, lets out a eerie cracking sound. The pig squealed trying to bite your head off before the brown haired man yanked its back legs, dragging it back. It then shrieked and ran out of the room.

"-Son." The guy, Jackson finished before snarling, "WILLIAM! Why'd you put that thing in so early! Atleast let me finish my intro!" Jackson yelled at his brother who's just staring at him nonchalantly. "Welp, I got a pig to catch."

With that, William walked out, wrench in hand. Jackson grumbled underneath his breath, before clearing his throat and turning towards you a smile that is frighteningly friendly. His smile was nothing genuine but a mockery.

You only glared at him with hatred and full of threat; He grins egotistically. Jackson started taunting you, how you'd make a good pig, you'd be long-lasting livestock for their creations, ect², just to see that expression contort into something more fearful.

Oh how he enjoys the look of vulnerability, however you only scowled and cringed at him. He'd never expected to get kicked in the face mid-monologue.

He stumbled back in surprised, Jackson surely did not see that coming as he hold his stinging cheek. Spitting out some blood; he turned to look at you. You wasted no time and ran past him. He looked at your seat where you were supposedly tied tightly, a tiny pocket knife laid cutely on the floor. "well, that was rude!" He humphed as he crossed his arms.

You ran as fast as you could, body filled with adrenaline only to be bumped into something hard..someone i mean. You looked up, annoyed but quickly paled as you noticed it was another man. The man that Jackson so called brother, William.

"Oh." You accepted your fate on spot. You watched as he raised his wrench but in instinct, you still merely dodged that. The metal hit the corner your shoulder hence from pushing him back mid-strike. You didn't knew why but you ran the opposite from him, now you're back face to face with the dweeb, Jackson.

"I told you to tie them up." William blatantly voiced out from behind. "I DID." Jackson defended. He huffs before turning to you.

Jackson bloody lips raised to a grin as he eyed you straight; tapping the (not-sharp part) tip of his cleaver against his cheek. His dumbass face pisses you off, you raised your fist to punch him again but immediately was stopped as your wrist was gripped tightly by someone behind you. Ah, William.

"Now, now. Feisty one aren't ya? Have to admit, that was quite unexpected coming from someone who looked as frail as a paper." He wiped the small blood from the corner of his mouth with content. "Let's just throw this one to the basement." William said monotonously. You furrowed your eyebrows with wide eyes; in disbelief what you heard. You struggled in response of rejection to the idea.

"Woah, woah. Horsie already ate those hitchhikers last week. Let's not waste some merchandise shall we?" Jackson waved his hands in order to lower his brother's exaggeration. He smirked though, at you as he mentioned the third final word; merchandise.

You scowled and did the unthinkable; you spat on him. William cringed a bit in disgust but his composure never wavers. Jackson, moved back a bit, tilting his head to the right where u aimed your spit on his left cheek. He let a short snort, almost mockingly. "Eat shit." You taunted, eyes boring through his.

His expression didn't changed, he wiped the spit from his face with his sleeve before contorting into a displeased look at your words.

"Ugh, you city folks and y'alls vulgar language. I 'outta cut your tounge to teach you some manners." He snarled in annoyance. You mouthed "Manners??" in bewilderment, considering the irony of the situation of these two freaks literally kidnapping you, threatening your life, and now bringing up manners??

You looked at him deadpanned at his comment. Jackson paid no mind to it but pointed his cleaver near your neck, whatever expression you had now changed into something for tensed. "You listen here very closely now, We have alot to do today, so If you move from this spot, your limbs are going to be our next work. You can try to escape, but if we catch you, game over." His voice laced with seriousness and malice, his eyes staring straight into yours with a pure sadistic glint.

Your lips quivered; trying to think of a comeback. However that sharp tip of his weapon against your throat, you wouldn't dare to move a skin. You glanced over your shoulder to see William who still had a tight grip on your wrist. Beads of sweat started to form as you scramble in your thoughts to think of a plan, what's wise and what's not right now.

Jackson, in response to your silence, hummed in content. Smugging at you as he pulled his cleaver away from you. "Yeah, thought so." He snarked. You scoffed, yanking your wrist as you noticed William's gripped soften. You grumbled a "Fine." before turning towards the middle-split haired guy. "But know this, I will do whatever it takes just to wipe that stupid smug off your face! Then, get the hell out of here!" Your face inching closer to his's as you claimed; jabbing a finger towards him.

He remain unphased. "Wow, looks like somebody already set their priorities straight." He snickered. "Well then, I'd like to see you try."

As you were about to open your mouth to counter, you were cut off by an annoyed gruffly voice, "That's enough from you." He grabbed your shoulder, putting a distance between you and Jackson, making you stumble back. "All bark, no bite. Just like the rest. You're lucky that we have enough food for the animals for now. However, they'll never refuse a little snack. So, beat it." While his hand is still on your shoulder, he pushed you forward, signalling you to go back into the attic. Jackson moved to the side, giving you room to walk ahead. The grip he has on his cleaver was already enough hint for you to take.

Breathing out a shaky defeated sigh, you stomped your way back inside the attic. Your stance became more..small as you hold your wrist, nervously.

As you got into the attic, you turn around to see them both staring at you down, like predators to a prey. Jackson closed the door slowly while waving at you; sinisterly. "Don't disappoint us."

You're in for a whole joyride. Now you have to think about how the hell you are going to get out of here.

Now, you did, infact, not disappoint them. Puzzles after puzzles, from riding a pig rodeo style, to obliterating their cow mutants. You're a neutral. The siblings watched you from a hidden cameras amused and annoyed at the same time. First of all, how dare you kill their creations and second of all, wow.

How impressive. And annoying.

It's been awhile since anyone gotten this far.

The fire in your eyes burns brighter, determined as you are closer to escaping. Those injuries you acquired, blood decorates your body as your scars from battles with their mutants grew. Jackson narrows his eyes, as he stares at you a little too longer to his liking.

With adrenaline still pumping within you after fighting that annoying ass horse, you shouted "Who's all bark no bite now?!" You raised your fists up in the air like a protest with your weapons in your hands, "FIGHT ME, YOU COWARDS!"

Challenge accepted.

You may have impulsively spouted that by mistake. You lowkey regretted it but if you could fight off monsters, why not humans?

Jackson only smirks and William narrowed his eyes upon the challenge, deep down excited for another rough housing with their stubborn guests. They always liked the struggle, after all,

it's just like hunting rabbits.

Between you and Jackson, man, was it tough. You already learnt a thing or two after battling with their creations, so you know your way with a knife and the gun. Jackson being manic he is just swings and swings his cleaver who he dubbed `Hilda'.

You are for sure ain't dying from an object named Hilda.

The fights between you and him was definitely bloody to say the least. From punches to slashing. The only thing that you both could emphasised on were the adrenaline scorching through y'alls veins. Ironically, both of you somehow ended up in a tie, breathing heavily, bruised up and bloody on core.

William walked behind you while raising his wrench to finish you off until Jackson raised his palm at him to halt his tracks. "Nah leave 'em." Was all he said lazily, looking at you with playful smug. William lowers his weapon, staring at his brother curiously, questioning why is he not finishing you off already.

You on the other hand, didn't have the strength to react to anything, exhaustion overpowers your system that you fall to the ground.

"What?" William's tone was pure confusion as he stared at his brother with a deadpanned look yet with visible annoyance. Jackson only raised one of the end of his lips to a half-assed smile.

What had happened before this was that you and Jackson had placed a bet all while being at each other's throat.

.....

In the Garden, the sounds of feral grunts filled the air, Jackson swung his cleaver in all angles, his crazed look stares right back at you as you kept dodging it- skipping back, side to side, ducking- all while trying to find a crack in between his swinging to attack back.

Exhaustion was already by your ear as suddenly your vision clouds over for a shorten moment, this was taken advantage of as suddenly you felt a sharp pain against your arm.

"Ooh-" He mockingly winces. "-That looked like it hurts!" You shrieked upon the sharp contact on your forearm yet immediately recover as you pulled out your gun and targeted his foot. To which, you managed to hit. He let out a loud "OW-!" with literal anger laced underneath the pain. You smirked held your nose high, "AHAH, GOTCHA!" You then pointed out your gun towards him who's on the ground with one knee; clutching his ankle to stop the blood flowing, groaning in pain. Thus, you pulled the trigger.

click. click. click.

....

Turns out you ran out of ammo from shooting haphazardly with hopes of getting him. Silence filled the atmosphere, Jackson looks at you with anticipation and victoriously smiled. After regaining his composure, he immediately took charge towards you with his cleaver raised in the air. You immediately took out the knife from your pocket and deflected his attack.

You both were literally face to face close, with the blades from both of y'alls weapons clashing each other- stopping it from slashing each other necks. "How about this, huh?" He spat out while still keeping his grip and strength on his cleaver, trying to test your focus. Your free hand on his chest trying to back him off from your personal bubble. "What-?!" You sharply questioned him, eyes flaring with adrenaline to keep yourself as steady- on par with his strength.

"Whoever gets to topple the other gets the privilege to do whatever. If you can defeat me in a game of rough-housing I'll let ya off with a ticket of free-will."

What the fuck. You stared at him bamboozled, you snapped yourself back when you noticed when he raised his free hand and crumpled it into a fist, lunging towards you. You moved to the side, managed to avoid that. The edges of y'alls weapons slides away.

Your hand then formed a fist and went for his jaw right under. Unlike you, he didn't had enough time to dodge that, you punched him up and he stumbled back with a grunt. Impressed and thrilled, he chuckled.

Jackson re-gripped his cleaver tightly and stared at you intensely while licking the blood from his lips. He charged towards you as he swung Hilda with a more shrill in his grunts each time. Dodging his attacks seemed more intense and you had no room to think of a next move.

By the looks of it, he seemed tired to the bone but still tries to push past the exhaustion in killing you once and for all. Drenched in sweat, breathing wavering. He's mad. You're quite a pest aren't you?

He flipped his cleaver to the handle and striked you against your cheek, causing you to stumble onto the ground. You groaned as you rub your numbing cheek, not noticing Jackson was already towering over you, breathing heavily.

Silence deafens everyone's ears, only the sounds of Jackson catching his breath was present. He stared at you down victoriously before raising his cleaver, "Looks like i win." He twist his lips to a cocky smile.

That damn smug. THAT DAMN SMUG.

You growled and pushed yourself with your elbows and feet flat on the ground, raising your body slightly up, before lunging your foot towards his crotch in a speed where he could barely react to it. He hunched forward from the impact, his tone of voice slightly raising up to a high pitch scream.

You took the moment to tackle him and pushing him against the ground. Sitting on his body to restrain him, your injured forearm pressed against his throat, enough to almost cut his airways. "I...I win..! I win!!" You proclaimed at him, short of breath.

Something flashed in his eyes, almost in a panic, he stared at you with wide eyes, before palming your face and grabbing the collar of your shirt. "GET OFF OF ME." He yelled as he threw you off of him, his voice was wavering slightly from the anxiety bubbling within his chest. His chest rose and deflate rapidly as he sat up. You stared at him wide eyed, You weren't even offended. Just, confused.

"I'm ..sorry..?" You apologised anyways, not wanting to deep dwell into whatever his personal problems with what just happened. Jackson seemed to zone out for awhile, his face was deadpanned, you grew agitated from the lack of..action. You both are just sitting there.

You looked down at your hands, you're littered with fresh scars and bruises. You grimaced at the sight before shifting it towards Jackson, who's still not in reality at the moment.

"You... alright, man?" You spoke up from the thick tension, you swore you felt a choke from swallowing the thickness of the atmosphere. However, that question seemed to make him snap out of it. He grabbed Hilda again before running fast towards you out of nowhere. Before you could even react, he grabbed your throat and pushed you towards the ground, legs locking yours preventing any sort of movements. His grip tightens and you began to panic, trying to pry him off, struggling underneath him.

After awhile he lets go and you coughed, trying to reclaim back the air back in your lungs desperately. "I..i win."

You coughed, "That's ...thats not fair!" You both are just being cats and dogs at this point. I win this, I win that, yadda yadda. Even you dropped a sweat from your forehead over how childish (and deadly) you both are being. Well, also the amount of stamina you've been using.

"Shut it! You're in my property, i get to choose whoever wins!" He points his cleaver towards you.

"This is clearly a tie! I toppled you over first didn't i?!" You propped yourself up with your elbows, looking at him frustrated.

"Nuh-Uh! I did it first before you, and then right now! 2 score outnumbers 1!"

Scrambling to get up, You punched him as a rebuttal, using your foot to push him towards a tree and hold him against it, you held your knife to his throat "Now, it's even."

Apparently you used up the last ounce of energy you have inside from that one punch alone.

.......

Welp now here we are at the present. William only eyed Jackson more somber looking, before sighing heavily. "Ugh..Now what?"

"We're still a tie, i demand a rematch." He smiled, his face is just dribbling with blood from his temple, nose and lips. He did get punched alot today didn't he?

"Atleast get your ass cleaned up first."

"Language, William."

[ilovejeansosomuch]

William Hillwalker relationship headcanons with a reader that helps him and Jackson and likes to blend in as a survivor pleasels weasels😋

🫪

Exclaimer; Fem intended reader but anyone could apply, mentions of murder whatever the hell the butchery has, Stockholm syndrome (??), idk you tell me this my first time, second person point of view, probably grammar mistakes and lowercase when it’s supposed to be uppercase, spoilers for the ending of the game

- You and Williams relationship was odd, it wasn’t some romantic relationship that shows affection. But rather bonding over killing someone. While he’s the one doing all the dirty work you like to sit around him while picking at your nails.

-Your relationship just sorta happened you both were friends and had bonded over traumatic childhoods so when they started their whole mutation process that’s when it happened.

-Jackson and William noticed that people are more attracted and gravitate towards you so they have you go in the woods pretending to run away.

-You and William are always together, even though you arent doing everything together you guys are always somehow in the same space doing your own stuff.

-whenever you play along you have to make sure you always have a backup weapon on you or a med kit standing by, one time when you were with a survivor they had noticed that you weren’t attempting to escape so they attacked you. Safe to say they didn’t make it either as William had to step in to save you. Albeit you claim that you had it handled (you didn’t)

-Because youre the only one that leads people towards you, youre like the only person thats bathed..like I bet you that the brothers stink like piss and are greasy that bath did not look clean nor used..

-whenever William has to take somebody apart he makes sure you close your eyes. He claims a lady should never have to witness such heinous things (mind you whole house smell like ass because of all the legs and arms scattered around). It’s one of the simple things he does to show that he cares.

-when the survivor (the player..ykwim?) had gotten into the barn and set mama on fire he made sure to grab you so that youll be safe even at the expense of leaving mama behind.

guys I had so many ideas in mind and than I fucking forget what I actually wanted to write down. Let me listen to some music and than ill have my headcannons down.. This is also my first time writing anything so tell me how i did..just dont call this dogshit or ill cry