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Thoughts and dreams (about you)

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She’s dying. 

She’s dying and she can’t breathe and she doesn’t know what to do. She’s drowning, she’s drowning like in her nightmares but this time she isn’t sleeping—she’s awake, she’s conscious but she still couldn’t get out of it. She couldn’t get out of here and it felt like she’s going to die, she’s going to die, she’s going to die—

But she isn’t. She’s not dying—Marceline is. Her blood is dripping and pooling around her with a stake pierced through her chest, and she’s gasping for her and calling for her name. Bonnie. Bonnie. Bonnie“BONNIE!” 

She gasps. Someone was holding her shoulders, and she’s grasping into their clothes, their arms, anything to keep herself grounded. It was Marceline’s, she recognizes it now—that’s good, right? She smelt like cinnamon and cider. She always does. She always does. She’s okay. Marceline’s okay—she’s not bleeding, she’s not dead, she’s okay. Is she? 

“Hey, hey what happened? What happened, Bon, what did you—” she’s asking her questions but she couldn’t answer them, her hears were ringing, and she couldn’t breathe. A pair of arms wrapped around her, tight and assuring, and she fell into them almost immediately. 

“Bonnie. Bonnie breathe,” Marceline’s voice says, calming and soft. “Shh, shh shh—it’s okay. Breathe. You’re okay.” 

She shook her head, swallowing and gasping for air. It felt like her lungs were stuffed by water—her heart was beating too hard it doesn’t it doesn’t stop, it’s not stopping, she doesn’t know how to make it stop. “Marc—Marcy, you—” she’s grasping on Marceline’s chest this time, trying to find an evidence that she’s hurt, her girlfriend’s hurt and she’s dying and it’s real—

“Shhh. Bonnie. It’s okay. It’s just a panic attack, okay? We’ve been through this. You’re gonna be okay. It’s okay.” Marceline’s hands were on her shoulders, her arms, squeezing her body tightly to help anchor her back. “Baby, breathe. It’s okay. I’ve got you. You’re right here, you’re with me and everything’s going to be okay.”

“I—” a suppressed sob tears through her chest, and she finally melts into her girlfriend’s arms. “I saw—you were dead—Marcy, you were—”

“I’m not,” Marceline tells her, her palm cupping her cheek and guiding her eyes to look at hers. “I’m not, Bonnie. See? I’m okay. You’re okay. It’s not real. I promise you.”

Bonnie nods. “It’s not real. Not real.” 

“Yeah,” she nods with her, pressing a small kiss onto her shoulder. “That’s right, you’ve got it. There you go. Just keep breathing. I’m here, okay?”

“Okay.” Bonnie buries her face into her chest, still breathing heavily. “Okay.”

She was a mess. 



She’s staring at the fire turn the wooden logs slowly into ashes. 

The occasional crackling noises calms her down. It’s always nice to be sitting in front of the fireplace with Marceline with a mug of hot chocolate on each of their hands, but this time, it’s all so… tense. Whether it’s because of the too-sweet chocolate her girlfriend made or the events that had happened earlier, Bonnie doesn’t know. 

It’s probably the later, though. And the worst part is that she doesn’t know what to say about it.

“So…” Marceline finally spoke up, setting her mug on the coffee table, “are we going to talk about it?”

She sighs, setting her mug down too. “Not really.”

“You know we’ll eventually have to, right?”

“I know. But… not now.”


“In a few days?” She suggests, shrugging her shoulder. 

The black-haired girl sighed and gave her a small smile. “Okay.”

Bonnie leans on her shoulder while Marceline carded her fingers along her hair gently. “I’m sorry it keeps happening, Bon.” She whispers to her. 

“Don’t be. ‘S not your fault.” 

“But they’re about me, right?” 

She didn’t want to admit it to Marceline, but she nods anyway. “Yeah. Most of them are. I… I guess it’s because I was afraid of losing you the most.”

Marceline huffs out a laugh. “That’s very flattering, thank you.”

“Hey. I mean it,” she chides, pulling away from the hug. “I—I kept having, I don’t know—sights, of you hurt and dying and… earlier, it was you getting staked while gathering for woods.” 

“Staked,” Marceline repeats, thinking. “Huh. That was a long time ago, wasn’t it?”

“I… yeah. I guess I was just paranoid. A lot.”

“Hey.” She squeezes both of her hands gently. “It wouldn’t hurt to see Minerva again, you know that, right?”

“I guess not.” Bonnie just shrugs. 

“Okay. Good.” 

And then it was silent again, for a moment. She watches the fires burning still, the red and blue flames dancing around. It was almost hypnotizing. 

“I dreamt about you too, you know.” Marceline spoke up once again, breaking the silence. There were tears in her eyes when Bonnie looked up to face her, and she felt her own heart break in half. “I dreamt about my mom, and Simon, but it’s mostly about you. When you—in the war, when you got crushed, I realized how close I was to losing you for good at that moment, and… from that day, I just couldn’t stop dreaming about it.” 

“I know, Marcy,” Bonnie says softly, and believe her when she says she does—she remembers the countless nights she woke up to Marceline screaming for her, the countless nights she had to wake her up while the girl cries in her sleep. “I know. I guess… I guess we’re really scared of losing each other, huh?”

“Of course,” Marceline laughs between her sobs. “Without you, I… I don’t know what I would be.” 

“Me neither,” she presses a kiss into her temple softly. “But, hey. The war is over, and while it might not feel like it sometimes, we’re okay, now.”

“I’m trying to believe it,” Marceline shrugs, wiping the tears that had escaped her eyes away. 

“So am I. Maybe we can try together, then.” Bonnie tells her. “Remember what Jake said? It’s a bad day, not a bad life.”

“Yeah. You’re right.” Marcy sighs. “But—I need you to be honest with me on something.”

“Okay.” She blinks. “What—what is it?”

“Is my hot chocolate really that bad?”

Bonnie wasn’t expecting that—she had probably laughed for a minute straight after comprehending what the question was. “Well…”


“I’m not saying it’s that bad, but… if Peppermint Butler was here right now? He’d probably call it an abomination, then try to send it to the demon realm.”

Marceline groans, hiding her face behind her hands. “Ugh, I knew it!”

Bonnie laughs with her. “It’s okay, dummy. I’ll still love you. Maybe.”

“You’re horrible.”

I know.”

And then it was like nothing had even happened—they’re back at it again, laughing at their own stupid jokes and chatting away while the fire crackles in front of them still, silly and in love and happy. 

“Thank you,” Bonnie says to her at some point that night when they’re both warm and sleepy, “for being here. With me.”

“Why?” Marceline frowns in amusement. 

“Because—because I love you. And you love me too, and you make me happy and alive and whole—so, thank you.”

Her girlfriend just smiles teasingly. “Aw. You getting soft on me, P?”

She nudges her shoulder, smiling with her. “Maybe.”

“You know, as long as you’re here, I don’t think my life would ever be a bad one either.”

They stared into each other’s eyes for a moment, green eyes staring back into hers, and she saw so much love in it, her gaze warmer than the fire crackling beside them. Marceline. She’s alive because of her, and she’ll be living for a thousand more years for her. “I love you.”

“I love you, too.”

Turns out, her life wasn’t as bad as she thought, after all.