𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐔𝐧𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐠𝐨𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐧 (Bill Cipher x Reader x Dipper Pines)

𝘟𝘟𝘟𝘝𝘐: 𝘛𝘩𝘦 𝘍𝘪𝘳𝘴𝘵 𝘋𝘢𝘯𝘤𝘦

꧁𓊈* (-) *𓊉꧂

Written on 11/14/2023

(Y/n)'s head felt foggy, her memory hazy and slowly returning. She was somewhere dark, lying on the ground on one side, facing a blank, white, unfinished wall of someone's basement. The muffled whispers of people nearby felt painful against her throbbing head. So much had happened in the past 24 hours. As they slowly returned to her still thoughts, images passed by her eyes like quick flashes in the dim light.

She had been with Bill in the forest. Not recently she felt, but several hours ago. She could recall getting stabbed by something through the chest, the feather she had taken out of the bottom of pandora's box. Though her body didn't ache from the wound but something tight was tied around her torso, some sort of cloth. While she wanted to try and touch it, to investigate the odd feeling, she didn't have the energy to move right now, still recovering from waking up on the floor. Wait, she remembered it now. After waking up from nearly dying, Bill had helped her dress the large hole in her chest that had been left behind from the feather's blade. He had told her it would heal soon and, by the lack of pain, she hoped it was okay now.

She had done a little bit of exploring into the abilities it had given her, one of which was likely her favorite yet. She could summon feather daggers now out of the air and throw them around, something that she thought would be infinitely useful to her during this mission-- to take down the cult. Oh shit.

It took all of her willpower not to jump at the realization of where exactly she was; the creepy, dark hold of none other than the group that attempting to kill her weeks ago. She remembered dropping her stuff off at home and then heading out again, her knife tucked into her bra and hidden. From the feeling of its cool blade against her skin, she could tell that it was still there, waiting to be used. Sure, she might not need it anymore with her feathers, but it was still a comfort she wanted to keep. She had gone into town and picked a random body to hide herself behind and get herself kidnapped. She could smell the drug slipped into her drink at the bar, the same one Bill had told her they were currently hiding in. With a little conversation it was pretty easy for her to get one of them to approach her.

She had came inside and sat down silently, holding her head in her hands as if filled with sorrow. (Y/n) sighed a few times into her palm before a man came up to her with a beer to give her, his wife nearby to engage in a chat. With a well spun story she caught the ear of one of the members quickly, spinning a tale of her being new to town, no friends, and no family. She was completely alone. She'd watched enough murder case documentaries to know exactly what one of their people would be looking for.

Either way, today really wasn't her day. She had to nearly die and then let herself get drugged and tied up in some moldy, crusty hole-in-the-ground. She'd clearly been out a while, grim stuck to her cheek and her clothing's wrinkles leaving pinkish marks in her arms and neck. (Y/n) could hear the people above talking about something muffled and meaningless, their footsteps creaking overhead. She slowly pushed herself off of the harsh ground and looked around the small area, a long generic room meeting her gaze. It was maybe about the size of a living room and about twice as long as it was wide, a few naked wooden beams supporting the walls above. A pair of creaky, unstable looking stairs climbing upward to the door and likely the outside world. A single, turned off light hung from a lone wire from above, but she could easily see through the dark shroud and make out the shapes of two other people. An older woman in a yellow blouse laid on her side across the room from her, a middle-aged man in a blue polo and goatee slumped over in the corner.