Hillbilly x Fem!Shy!Reader

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Gravel crunched under feet as I trudged back to the campfire with a few others. It was a quiet and lonely night, where we found ourselves alone. That was a rather gruelling trial we just got back from, and all I wanted was to unwind by the fire. It was kind of nice when it was quiet like this. It was just Leon, Mikaela, Jonah and I. The others were sure to turn up too as trials would finish. It also meant that I could be sent back to one at any given moment. Leon slumped down on a log next to Mikaela as she flipped through some cryptic looking book. I walked around the large campfire, finding a spot to sit by myself and clear my head. I was a bit shy, and never really knew what to say to my fellow survivors.

As I made my way to a free log, I noticed that there were something already sitting there. I approached curiously, glancing down to see a bundle of wildflowers placed delicately on the log. Their stems were skilfully woven together into a round loop. It was a flower crown.

"Again?" I muttered to myself.

This wasn't the first time somebody had left little gifts like this for me. I carefully picked up the crown and examined it in my hands. I then realised that there was something else hiding under the flowers. My brows rose in surprise at the small sculpture laying on the log. It was a chunk of wood that had been roughly carved into a heart. My name had been cut into the front with what looked like a knife. Who had been making me these? Was one of the survivors pranking me?

I sat on the log, placing the flower crown in my lap. I cradled the wooden heart, tracing my fingers along the carving of my name. I looked up at the survivors, seeing them talking amongst themselves as more were now arriving to the camp. I quickly tucked the heart away, and wrapped the crown around my wrist. I chose against wearing it on my head, as I didn't want anybody asking questions. I also didn't just want to throw it away, so I still wore in on my arm. I was dying to know who was making me all these things. It had been quite some time since it started. My hand shuffled around my clothes for a moment, fishing out a crumbled piece of paper. The fire crackled in the background as I unraveled it to reveal some childish writing scribbled across it.

YOU ARE SO PRETTY :)

I couldn't help but smile at the note. It was one of the first things my 'secret admirer' gifted me. I was left several letters after that as well. They were usually very simple and messy. Some were just my name, followed by dozens of hearts drawn around it. While others had short little messages of praise or affection. They were very adorable. Though I had no idea who they were, I appreciated every little thing they left for me. I hoped that one day they would reveal themselves to me. But at the same time, I knew that I would be very awkward and shy about it.

Maybe they were the same? Seemed like it...



Coldwind Farm, the next night

Yoichi gasped in pain while clutching his bloody side. I wrapped his arm around my shoulder and guided him through the old house. We could still hear the faint revving of the Hillbilly's chainsaw in the far distance. It was always weird with him. The Hillbilly had never once tried to hurt me. When I first went on trial with him, he found me down in the basement. Something in his milky white eyes changed that might. I went to run, but he beat me to it and sped off up the stairs as if I spooked him. Which was ironic, with him being the hulking, crazed killer and all. Just because he never tried to go after me, didn't mean I wasn't wary. My heart still pounded against my eardrums every time I heard that terrible chainsaw rev.

I gently lowered Yoichi down onto the stairs in the Thompson House. He hissed in pain, hands trembling as he tried to stop the bleeding in his side. The Hillbilly had inflicted a gnarly gash along the right side of his torso. I was quick to pull out some grubby old bandages to dress him with. Yoichi whimpered softly as I mended his wound to the best of my ability. His blood felt warm and sticky between the cracks of my fingers. Some of the crimson liquid spritzed onto the small petals of the flower crown I still wore around my wrist.

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