THINKING: A Bill Cipher x Reader One-Shot

THINKING

Bill Cipher laid on his bed, with velvet sheets and a golden headboard, thinking. Even a demon had to organize his thoughts from time to time, and when you know LOTS of things, organizing your thoughts can take quite some of the "time" concept meat-sacks always worry about.
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Weirddamggeddon. Gods, he really messed up that one. Centuries, millennia, lifetimes of planning and pulling strings, and he was defeated. He should've been angrier, he should've been devastated, but he wasn't. He knew lots of things, and his downfall had unfortunately been one of them. Of course, this revelation did come a bit late. Meaning he couldn't stop Weirmaggeddon from coming, couldn't stop his own demise. Knowing lots of things had its perks, but sometimes, things are better left unknown.

His form. He had mixed feelings about his current form. On the upper hand, it made him blend in with the meat-sacks if needed, and could hold more power, more strength. On the down side, his self control was absolutely sloppy compared to his previous form, and his temper would flare constantly. He looked humanoid, a form he'd acquired when humans first appeared in the timelines.
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And during this clean-up of his almost all-knowing mind, Bill Cipher thought about something. Something he had thought about a bit too much, in his opinion.

Y/N. Gods... He wanted them. He wanted this dimension once, that was the entire purpose of Weirdmaggeddon after all. But them, they made him feel. His desire to have them even rivaled his desire for this dimension. Blame it on his current form, blame it on one too many margaritas, but he wanted them. Not in the way a child wants a new toy, no. He wanted to work his way through Y/N's mind, weave himself into their thoughts, make them think about him, like he has thought about them. He wanted to hold them close at night, and make a deal. A deal that would allow him to hold whatever box they stored their feelings in, would allow him to do whatever he wanted, whatever his slipping self-control desired.

They had held him close when he broke through the statue, coming back when Stanley's mind did. They sewed his clothes when he was too weak to make everything look nothing less than spotless. They let him stay in their puny household. It was almost comforting, knowing that they didn't mind finding deer teeth in the cereal boxes and eternally screaming heads in the bathroom.

Y/N wasn't mortal, no. Minor demon, causing sleepless nights and scattered thoughts. A shadow in the closet, peeking through your door and hiding under your bed. They barely could manage to craft their humanoid form, yet they helped him heal when he had hurt his. He could squash them like a bug, end them with just a snap, but they helped him.
Soon enough he was back to being his levitating, top hat wearing self, and he left. The look on Y/N's face when he went to say goodbye was printed into his mind. A look so dark, so terrifying, yet so emotional all the same. Their eyes spoke that they would miss him, his gaze wanted to show that he would come back.
But he just floated away and left, making deals to restore his power, ending lives to relieve some stress. He needed to think about it first. About that timeline he so badly wanted, about the future where he wouldn't just wonder what it would be like to hold you close.

Demons didn't love. They just felt the closest thing they could to the feeling treasured by mortals, a warmth in their chests, in their core.

He felt warm when he thought of them.
He thought of their h/c hair, that he so badly wanted to run his fingers through.
Grim smile, as dark as their soul, that he treasured like a piece of ancient knowledge.
S/C skin, that he so badly wanted to touch. To relish and embrace that warmth he felt when he was around you, or thought of you, or when he ventured on the paths where he could have you.

His thoughts were all about you. He couldn't get you out of his head.

So he rose from his velvet sheets, dusted off invisible dust from his pristine yellow tux, and came back. It was all the same, from the creaking doors to the dark hallways. The warmth that sprouted in his chest when he saw you was worth it. All those nights he laid there thinking about you, they were worth it. It was worth it, just to see that dark smile split across your face, to see the words held in your eyes.

"You came back, huh?"
"Yeah, doll. I came back. And guess what?"
"...What?"
"As long as you exist, I'll keep coming back to you."
A dark smile, as they stood very, very close to him, and simply said:
"I'm right here."

And he lost it, he kissed them, and he ventured and explored all the timelines he had spent countless nights thinking about. Gods, he had terrible self control.
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Bill Cipher laid on your bed, with blood red sheets and a headboard of bones, and felt very, very warm. He pulled you closer to his chest, enjoying the way you wouldn't push him away, not even when he was covered in blood or lust was rolling off of him in waves. He loved you, or whatever this warmth could be called.

Demons can't love, but that doesn't mean the lust they feel isn't enough to replace the emotion.

Think about that.

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Hey! I just wanted to point out that the Bill at the top is my version of Humanoid! Bill Cipher. Made him myself, meaning that pic is MINE. If you want to see more of my carp, you can check out my Tumblr under the name moonlightartcarp.

BAI