A shortish one shot for this collection because I had a sudden inspiration! I still have heaps of requests that I'm in the midst of writing but I had to get this one out before I could continue. Not exactly a crime AU, but...but yeah, this is what it is. Have at it!

I don't own Gravity Falls!

Pacifica would be the first to admit that she wasn't the most morally guided person in the world, and that was with complete disregard for her nightly activities. By day, she was Pacifica Northwest, socialite queen in Gravity Falls and the greater Oregon area. She had a foot in the door at the white house, ears sitting in at the United Nations, and people peppered through different intelligence agencies all throughout the world – and everyone knew it. It was no secret just how many careers should could ruin with a snap of her fingers, how many people's lives she could ruin if they got on her bad side.

What wasn't quite so apparent to her reverent onlookers and lackeys was her…other business.

Being a mob boss wasn't exactly an easy profession, not when her organization was one of the FBI's most wanted criminal enterprises, and certainly not when there was a reward sitting prettily on the head of 'Elise Salem' AKA 'Notre Dame.' It was unfortunate for those attempting to get her out of the picture, then, that no one would ever suspect Pacifica Northwest to be the head of such a despicable business.

Which was completely perfect for her, of course, in regards to the shipments of illegal substances and weapons in and out of the country – and the information that got shared with her. People payed a hefty price for intelligence on the political affairs of the world nowadays. Everybody was into everybody's business, and the longer it stayed like that, the longer crime payed.

Even more than the racketeering, coercion, extortion, and various other illegal activities, there was the deepest side to her business – the side of her dealings that she only shared with one other person. Not even her most trusted allies, bar one, were allowed to deal with the supernatural aspect of her business, because all in all, that was where at least seventy-five percent of her profits came from. Magic was a precious commodity to her clients, and where there was a demand, she would supply.

Besides, in human terms, dealing with magic wasn't even a criminal offense! It wasn't like they could throw her in jail for a crime that didn't even exist. And if she did happen to get caught one day for one of her other crimes, she'd probably end up getting placed in a nice little padded cell instead – something that was completely fine by her, because at least she wouldn't have to stand on piss covered floors and eat slop for dinner.

However, for the more organized magical communities like the fae and the gnomes though, she had to be very careful in the folk she dealt with. If she got caught by them…well. It mightn't be too pleasant for her, at any rate.

So far though, her empire was only going in one direction: up. Clients payed up on time (and if they didn't, she had enforcers to make sure they didn't miss it again), her associates were firmly kept under her thumb, and the name Pacifica Northwest was so far removed from Elise Salem that she was fairly confident she'd be at this game for a long time to come.

"Oh Pacifica darling, you simply must tell us more about your rendezvous with the young duke last spring!" Her mother gushed proudly from her seat, a sparkling flute of champagne in her hand. She hid her grimace, casting her eyes away to watch her guests. Many of them danced and skirted across the dance floor, while others talked circles around each other. Her mother was easier to bare now that her father was out of the picture, but that snotty attitude was still ever-present - in fact, she dared to think that the more surgery she got, the more arrogant she became.

Gross.

From the corner of her eyes, she saw a dark shadow pass by the wall.

"Mother, I actually have to go," Pacifica said suddenly, swiping her purse from the table and gathering her dress in her hands as she stood. Priscilla paused, looking offended to having been interrupted.

"But Pacifica, you haven't even finished your drink-"

Priscilla was too late to stop her from leaving. Even as she reached out to grab her arm, Pacifica had already escaped from the comfortable seating area and started walking quickly from the ballroom, her heels tapping out quick, snappy beats against the hardwood floor. Once she was away from the visibility of her guests, she picked up her pace, running down the mansion hallway and then up the stairs, fumbling for the key in her little silver clutch. She paused when she was outside the double oak doors to her study, her breathing rushed and ecstatic.

She clicked the key into the lock, closing her eyes and taking in a deep breath to compose her, and then opened the door.

"Took your time," Dipper said as he pushed himself around on the swivel chair.

"Shut the hell up I got here as fast as I could and you know it."

She caught the little smile on his face as he continued to spin on the chair. Instead of sending a sharp quip back at her, he simply said, "You look freakin' beautiful, you know."

"Like I don't know that already," she laughed. Finally having the forethought to close and lock the door behind her, she added, "You on the other hand, look like you've come straight outta Al Capone's riff raff."

Dipper looked down at himself as she walked over. Her eyes flickered over him, not stupid enough to deny that she was admiring him. He really did look like he'd been ripped straight out of the prohibition era, what with the pressed white shirt under a cinched waistcoat, and a black fedora sitting cleanly on his head to boot. His jacket had been thrown over the back of the chair, tie haphazardly undone at his neck.

Grinning, Dipper held up a simple yellow tape measure with a simple design on the front shaped like an hour glass. "Cause I was," he said.

"What? No way!" She said as she sat down on the desk, sliding one finger along the edge of the fedora before pulling it off and placing it on her own head. "How much did you mess up for the time anomaly police or whatever?"

"Enough."

"You know doing that literally helps us in no way whatsoever?"

"Hey now, I can't always run around playing good cop all day. Gotta let the dirty cop be a dirty cop every once and a while, love."

"You're going to get yourself caught with the crap you're pulling. And then I'm going to get caught saving your dumb ass."

"Oh honey, you have absolutely no faith in me. You should know that a man as suave as myself knows how to stick to the shadows."

Pacifica rolled her eyes, leaning forward over the desk so she could slide her hands over his cheeks and bend in close to nuzzle her nose against his. "You're such an idiot," she muttered as Dipper let out a chortle of laughter. His hands moved up her arms to where her own rest against his cheeks, his thumb fiddling across the glittering silver jewel on her ring finger.

"And you're stuck with me for the long haul."

"Oh lord, kill me now!" She bemoaned dramatically, pulling her hands away so she could place one against her head like she was going to faint, falling off the desk and onto her fiancé's lap. He let out an amused grunt, arms winding around her waist as he started to spin on the chair again. They went falling off backwards when Dipper spun the chair too fast, tumbling into a heap of laughter on the floor. She buried her face in his chest, shaking her head as she tried to quell down an undignified snort. His hand slid up and down her back before finding purchase in her carefully curled hair, twisting in gently.

When they finally settled down, Dipper asked, "You ever gonna tell your mother you're engaged to a commoner?"

"She's still useful to me right now. I can wait a little longer before giving her a heart attack," she joked.

Dipper hummed gently, bending his head down to kiss her hair. "Love you," he said.

"You clod," she murmured as she slowly lifted her head, letting him pull away as she did. "I love you too."

"I know you do." His voice only held a strain of cockiness, the sincerity that touched his voice stronger.

And then they did that thing again – the thing where they looked each other in the eye, and stopped all the joking and let quiet settle over them like a wave. Pacifica's fingers brushed through his hair gently, and she realized with a start that his hair was a sticky. She pulled her hand back, staring at a little smear of red on her hands. "Oh, you have been getting into a mess, haven't you?" She tutted. "Well…at least you cleaned up your clothes before coming home."

"Ah, anything for you, Paz, anything for-oomph!"

She cut him off before he could continue, her lips pressing hard against his. Dipper's arms wrapped tight around her waist, pressing down her body flush against his as his mouth started to move against her own. It wasn't long before tongues got involved in the mix, pushing against one another in an attempt to find a decent rhythm, and then hands were roaming in places they weren't meant to be roaming, pulling at clothing and hair and trying to find rough purchase anywhere and everywhere they could.

No. She wasn't the most morally guided person in the world, but as long as she had her partner in crime at her side, she didn't really give a damn. He was here, and he was all hers, and he was just as bad a person as she was, and she wouldn't have had him any other way.

Thank god everyone was downstairs. She really didn't think she'd be able to refrain from putting a hit on anyone who walked in on them now – not when Dipper's embrace was oh so warm.

"I love you," she whispered into his ear as his teeth worked at the skin at her clavicle, pulling just enough to leave a mark but not enough to hurt.

"Love you too," he breathed out.

"Yeah...I know you do."

I know you do.

And we are done for this chapter! I have a few fics to update soon that I haven't and I'm running behind schedule, but I'm glad I got this chapter up.

Until next time, thanks for the R&R!

Filthy Mallards.