Bill x Dipper x reader

---(y/n) pov---
I wanted to pull away. I tried even. I was just a pawn. It's all I've ever been. He's trying to make me think that he cares. Make me feel less alone.

His grip is like quicksand though. The more I resist the tighter his grip gets. I feel his soft warm breath on the nape of my neck. I can feel his heart beat through my back. I can hear his whispers pleading me to listen. Silent. Almost like he doesn't want me to hear. Like he's trying to send a message to me but can't actually tell me.

The humor behind this is, an all powerful demon, begging for a mortal to stop. Making him bend at my will. It makes me believe I really am more then just a puppet. It's almost like our roles are reversed.

"I, uh. Listen. Bill."
His arms fall from my sides, warmth slithering away from my body sending small shivers down my skin. In the depth Of my heart I could hear it call for the embrace to return but knew better then to listen.
"I get that I'm needed for something, so please, don't do this!"

His one eye looked at me with confusion.
" I get it. You have goals. You need to achieve them. I made a deal. I can't get out of it but don't, just don't mess with my heart. I can tell your trying to. To get to my weakness. Trigger my emotions. Make me more susceptible to deception."

My gaze refocused on the ground. I wanted him to say something to prove me right. To end the pain. To make this all normal. Or as normal as it could get with given circumstances. I couldn't deny it in me. I feel something for Bill. I don't know if its trust, friendship, understanding, or even if its loathing. Part of me feels drawn to him.

If he just admits to playing me I can get rid of this feeling. This burning desire that I can identify. I can go back to who I was.  Who I am, just put on hold. I can go back to being (y/n). Plain simple modest. Strong and silent. Not scared to use a weapon. Free yet chained down  by past oppressions.

It sounds suckish but its all I know. It what I can trust. What I can always go back to. Finding comfort at a blades sharp edge.

Bill didn't say anything. Nothing. The silence was thick and uncomfortable.

The words monster hunt being chanted in the distance pulled Bills attention from his own little world of thought. Without explanation I was pulled from the grey cemetery and returned to a wooden shack filled with nonsense.

The long day had just begun. I didn't want to admit it but I was looking forward to it. The shack was lacking on quick business. You could see Mr. Pines patients and thirst for money in the way he walked.

Leaning back in my chair behind the register I looked down at the sleeves of my  sweater. The black threads holding it together were coming loose. Each piece  tried to hold on but in the end would fall to the ground and be forgotten.  A nice way to die. No attention or drama. No tears just simple oblivion.

The long day started with the small realization.  " We are all nothing but the fraying threads on a piece of fabric"