The Night Wind
Why is it some days you caress me?
Hold my thin form in soft, moonlit hands?
Why is it some days you cut me?
Whip my hair into my face hard enough to leave scars?
You were the only one
Who ever came close to staying the same
But centuries later, the harsher you blow
The harsher my pain
The song ended as abruptly as it had started; it wasn't even a song, really. No bass line to be spoken of, just words that had spilled carelessly out of her mouth, and that were now being scattered like torn pieces of a lyric sheet, stolen by the night wind just as quickly as she had spewed them. In the back of her mind, she longed to hold onto them, to find a spare hole in her thousand year old brain where they could squeeze. Instead she let them whisk away from her with melancholy.
Marceline sat on a small rock, her thin arms clutching her sides in a vicious chokehold as she watched Jake and Finn leaping in all sorts of ridiculous motions to pick apples from the great tree that stood in front of them. It's thick, black, almost pulsing branches mimicked her hair she liked to think, and its red apples bared more than a little resemblance to her eyes.
Indeed, Marceline had come to pick many apples from its branches before, but today, she felt no urge to. Mainly because of the howling wind that surrounded them on this dank night, so thick and roaring that even the boys' antics, which she had slowly begun to realize more and more were made in acute awareness of her seemingly sour mood, were drowned out in its bluster.
So she just sat on her rock, fake-smiling as the boys collected the apples while she admittedly played the role of buzz-kill (a role usually held exclusively by one Bonnibel Bubblegum), having claimed exhaustion from song-writing and the regular toils of the day. Of course, Finn and Jake had understood, not taking any insult from her refusal to engage with them, obviously unable to imagine the real reason why she sat, tangled in a mix of her past and angst on that cold, hard rock. Just like the wind… no. That day, those bellows, they had been warm. Searing. And though she had called it wind that day… it was but a mockery of that name.
Marceline had always adored the wind as a child, whether it was the crisp sting of winter's icy gasps numbing her pale cheeks, or the summer's soothing gusts mixing the smell of sweet roses into her black hair and cooling her hot, sun-soaked skin. She had, in her youthful ignorance, thought the wind to be mystical in nature, perhaps even the voice of the world. That had all changed the day the bombs had dropped.
Of course, being half-demon, she had survived. But in the immediate aftermath, she had wished she hadn't. And still a thousand years later, the wind could terrify her like no other entity when it stirred from a delicate press on her forehead to a belligerent whipping of her hair.
She loved it at times, particularly when she flew and it wrapped itself around her. Marceline liked to believe in these moments it apologized for the blighting, terrible force it had used to crush her so many years ago. Still… the fear always lingered, and on days like this, the urge to vomit slowly grew in the pit of her stomach the longer she lingered in her betrayer's grasp.
She didn't blame Finn and Jake in the slightest for not wondering why she would sit out of plucking her favorite food, those luscious, juicy apples, from the tree. The fact that they were going to obvious lengths to cheer her up (at this point having invented some kind of sport involving carrying apples in your shirt while simultaneously throwing them at the other contestant; from what she could see, it currently lacked a scoring system, hilariously enough) was more than enough, and she appreciated they were giving her space.
Sadly though, they had planned their trip for a month, but even when the Sour-Patch-Weatherman on Milk Chocolate Vision Radar had announced prevailing winds in the morning, she hadn't been about to cancel just because something as stupid, as foolish, as the—
"Marcy?" Finn's voice sounded through the bellows of the night, startling her from her silent musings.
Harsh night wind. "Yeah, Finn?" She muttered lamely, immediately retracting her internal comments about the boy, hoping he would take the hint and return to apple picking. Finn being Finn, either too good natured or too oblivious (and sometimes a mixture of the two), that didn't happen.
"Are you okay… you seem kind of down," He whispered, his voice somehow escaping the terrible and fierce torrent of wind that surrounded them.
"Y-Yeah, fine," She lied through her teeth, not meeting his eyes. "Just feeling a little… I don't know, Finn. Just pick the apples." Her sentence finished off with a snapping of her teeth, and immediately she regretted it.
Still, the human boy stayed in front of her, not the least bit dismayed by her aggression. Just like him, to ignore the truths in front of him and press on with an absolute kindness regardless. "I don't want to if you're feeling down," He replied, sitting on her rock and, to her surprise, patting her back. "You don't have to stay, Marcy. I don't want you to be upset."
She could have lashed out at him, then. Lashed out at him for ignoring her words, lashed out at him for being so naïve, lashed out at him for thinking he had any idea what to tell her to bring her peace. Instead, she said nothing, biting her lip as she suddenly felt an arm creasing around her back, its hand cupping her shoulder and pulling her close.
While she was never really aware of how cold she was, being a Vampire, and it certainly never bothered her, sometimes warmth touched Marceline in just the right way. This was one of those times, as much as she cursed that very fact.
"…Finn," She murmured, equal distaste and appreciation flowing from her voice, her body swaying away even as felt the pull to lean in. Marceline hated how indecisive she was about her happiness, sometimes. Refusing to cancel their plans for today, knowing the wind would unnerve her. Refusing to accept his embrace, because she was afraid what doing so would lead to.
If anything, the Vampire Queen was consistent. She distinctly remembered how much of a scene she had made to indicate that she had no feelings for Finn, and he obviously wouldn't be acting so… sweet if he didn't know the romantic subtext he was implying.
Romantic subtext? Bleh. She needed to stop hanging around Bonnibel so much. Or at least have someone weed out the fancy-pants words she planted in her head with a memory spell.
"Marceline, you can tell me what's wrong," He whispered, breaking her from her thoughts as Jake shouted out various exclamations, leaping through the air and cutting down the lush red fruit at will with giant yellow scissor hands. "But if you don't want to, I get it. I just hate seeing you sad."
"…You wimp," She countered, trying to turn the tables, and punching him in his arm. "Can't take the sight of anyone else feeling mopey?"
"Nope!" He replied proudly, not rubbing his arm, though obviously feeling the punch as his faced donned a large wince. "You can hit me all you want, as long as you feel better." His words struck a chord of sorts, and she frowned.
"I don't get you, Finn… you're way too nice, bro," She whispered, finally settling into his embrace, her head slowly leaning into his shoulder before curling into his chest. She relished the feeling, and part of her felt intense amusement at how embarrassed he must be feeling internally. His body already seemed to be warming… or perhaps that was just her siphoning his heat.
"And I'm… I'm not a big fan of the wind." The last words escaped her throat through only her sheer force, being very difficult to voice. A particularly angry gust crashed into them, and Marceline felt the terrible urge to dig her nails into the boy in front of her in fear. Thankfully, she restrained.
"…Why?" Finn asked simply, Marceline sighing as she dug even further into him. "I know you like wind, usually. Especially sailing through it at night. Is it worse because it's a bit harsh out today?"
For once willing to expose herself completely, she eventually twisted her neck so their eyes met, and whispered, "It's… hard to explain. You know the Mushroom War?" He nodded, a grim look dug into his normally joyful face; she never brought up the war, and he clearly recognized the importance of her words in doing so.
"Well… some of the weapons used made a lot of wind. Like, gusts. Kind of like this. Really brutal and powerful. Could… knock some people over. And they were so, so hot. Like invisible fire was held in the air and being pushed through you."
An image of a younger version of herself being blown off her feet and onto bitter asphalt rang through her mind, and she shuddered. Somehow, she blocked out the tearing radiation, flinging her skin from her very body like a hand effortlessly discarding a tissue, but only just.
"…I'm sorry you had to go through that, Marcy," Finn whispered as she pulled even deeper into him, pushing away thoughts of seeming clingy and ruining her tough image.
"It's alright Finn," She whispered, falling into the crevice of his neck. "I'm just glad someone cares." She could practically feel his blush radiate just through leaning into him, but didn't mind. "It's pretty dumb though; that Marceline the Vampire Queen is afraid of wind. Really dumb," She lamented, yawning as she finished, the wind settling down somewhat.
"I don't think so," He whispered in return, squeezing even tighter. "I mean… I'm afraid of the ocean. I think we all have stupid fears. And they don't make us weird, just normal. The world's weird and scary, we all have something that makes us feel uncomfortable, vulnerable. It doesn't make us weak, just gives us the chance to prove our heart-guts through overcoming our fears."
"I guess," She replied with a yawn, her arms finally disobeying her mind's orders and wrapping around his body. Marceline knew how ridiculous they must look, considering how much taller she was than him. Yet, it felt like quite the perfect fit. "Ugh," She hissed, disgusted at how low she was sinking.
"…Sorry," Finn whispered, shifting slightly away from her, inviting a crack for the cold night air to slip through, it taking the opportunity greedily and gashing her side. She deftly realized he might have not been as lost to the romantic subte—mood as she had thought.
"Naw, it's alright," She whispered into his ear, pulling him into her. Now, they were more or less equal; leaning into each other, rather than her reclining in his comforting plush. "…Comforting plush?" She muttered to herself, and Finn's body tightened immediately.
"You think my plush is comf?" He asked, his voice breaking slightly and making it clear he had no idea what was going on, but was pretty alright the thickening tension regardless.
"…The most comf," Marceline replied, content to run with it rather than backtrack and/or berate herself for letting that one slip. "You're just comfortable in general. Sorry I hissed… it's me, not you." She dimly realized that the night wind had began a renaissance, and was crashing into them harder than it had all night, and yet she could barely feel it.
"It's fine," Finn replied, turning to meet her eyes, an act both had been actively avoiding it seemed. His face was plastered with a red blush on his baby-like cheeks, and his eyes holding just an ounce of regret.
"I mean it Finn," Marceline cooed, breaking contain completely, two of her fingers running up his face as his blush magnified, and then delicately weaving into the fold of his bear cap to lightly twist and play with his golden hair. "It wasn't you. I never know what I want, and usually whatever it is isn't stubborn enough to ignore the warning signs of a millennium old Vampire Queen barring her fangs. So, I was angry at myself for not being willing to be honest with myself… actually, I think I was mad for the opposite, that I actually was being honest. It's like a dog with flees."
Marceline paused, well aware that whenever you enter "it's like a dog with flees" into an emotional confession, something was going pretty lumpin' wrong. "Um, sorry. I'm bad with emotional junk when there isn't a bass involved."
"Naw, I got ya," Finn replied, any remnant of hesitation fading from his face, wistful enjoyment taking its place. "Did you mean that though? Um… do you… want me?" Enjoyment bowed out for awkwardness, Marceline slowly chanting words not meant for Finn's ears in her mind as she realized that she had actually just said that. Glob. Dammit.
"S-Sorry, Glob, I didn't mean to…" Finn began, choking up midway through his sentence as he once more started to lean away from her.
"No! Not you, it's me! I'm doing it again!" Marceline shouted, biting her lip in frustration, before sighing and slowly taking her free hand and cupping one of Finn's own within it. She tried to grasp at what words she was trying to say, but Finn beat her to the punch, and how.
"Your hair looks really, really pretty in the wind, Marcy," He whispered, and Marceline's heart nearly started beating right then and there as his entranced face spoke those words. She had a feeling that her face looked very much the same.
"I do," She spat out quickly before she could stop herself. "Want you," She added for good measure, moving closer to him, despite there not being much space left. Finn's eyes widened in a range of emotions, and though she feared he might move way, he remained still. The fact that she had to be the one to fill the gap didn't surprise her; she appreciated he was giving her that power, regardless of if she thought she deserved it.
"Cool," He whispered, breath riddled with the taste of the apples he'd chewed as it flowed from his mouth, his lips nearly as red as that fruit. She was so close to him now, close enough that said breath drifted onto her own lips. "I um, l-like-like you, Marcy, I think. I know." He corrected, Marceline practically magnetized by this point.
She had nothing left to say, and in a motion reminiscent of gently pulling a flower from the soil, she pressed her gray lips onto his, reveling in just the contact. It took her several seconds to break from that hold of a feeling and move, her finger twirling his hair doubling its pace, her other hand shaking as her lank fingers dove into the cracks of his own, her lips nibbling hungrily his mouth.
Finn had more than enough time to keep up, considering how intoxicatingly slow she was moving; no doubt he wanted to savor this as much as she did. As such, it was several more minutes of ebb and flow, of lips easily slipping over one another, just barely held outside the gates of the others mouth, of pulling away and only the faintest kisses being placed, nearly ghostly in nature, before Marceline broke the promise she had given to Finn nearly a year ago, and threw in tongue.
He nearly whimpered, the weenie, when it brushed against his lips, and began to strike quickly into his mouth, like a snake lurking in the grass. Marceline smiled earnestly as their combined pleasure grew; it said more than enough about how this relationship was going to go that she was using snake analogies in regards to herself, rather than him.
She was quite surprised and pleased when his free hand found her side naturally, exploring the thin curves he had no doubt thought of before now. That thought gave her lust all the more traction; that from his reaction, from his heart-rate skyrocketing and from his hand linked with hers growing moist with sweat, he was enjoying this as much as her, and had wanted this.
And that she was his, unequivocally. That none of the princess's he dashed to save, let alone Bonnibel, had ever kissed him like this. That she was his. The thought sent warm shakes up and down her spine. So much so that she had to curtail herself, even as her tongue finally began its siege into his mouth outright, slowly battening through his lips and finally reaching his own tongue's tip. Marceline wanted to go further, but knew this was a good stopping point. Well, she had no intention of stopping. So a resting point.
The ecstasy consuming his body whole was no more present than when her tongue began to play with his. Once again, he impressed her as he rose to the challenge, tickling the long stretches of her cyclical member with his wider tongue. Obviously, he couldn't win, as proved when she wrapped her tongue around his in its glorious, apple soaked entirety, and then softly drew it back, its rugged texture making the process unbelievably slow and wonderful.
She wanted to end there, but before she could, her tongue still well in his mouth, he let out a garbled whisper. "Suck the red from my lip?" He pieced together, using her own lips to aid in his pronunciation of the consonants, something that turned her on nearly as much as his words.
Marceline wasn't about to give Finn the chance to take back his offer, coating his bottom lip with her tongue's saliva (well, mostly his own by now, honestly), and lightly scraping her twin fangs again his fleshy band. Unwilling to tease either of them for two long, she slowly pressed down, just deep enough to make an incision but shallow enough to stave nearly all pain.
And then she drank him in; most of the red she drew from was his blood, which was lush and tantalizing enough to begin with. However, she made sure to save the lip itself for last, her lower lip sating his mouth as she worked until she was ready. When she did, it was quite frankly, orgasmic, her back arching from his pure, sweeping, innocent taste, and Finn likewise moaning at the sensation. Marceline made sure to not over do it; two little white spots were enough to let anyone know that she was his. No need to bleach his entire mouth, as satisfying as that would be.
Marceline left Finn like that, pulling out of his mouth and pressing one last light kiss onto his lips before moving back, examining her work with pride. Finn was one hell of a hot mess (though she probably wasn't one to talk at this point), clumps of his lush, yellow hair peeking out from his hat, his blue shirt crumpled, and his face awash with a fierce blush and etched with joy.
"M-M-Marceline, I think I love you," He gasped, squeezing her hand, just the tiny presses of his fingers against her worn, gray skin bringing her so much happiness.
Before she could respond, a voice to their side cried out, "Oh my gawd!" They turned to see Jake, who both had admittedly completely forgotten about when they had gone about sucking each other's faces off. Jake, who was twisted this way and that and wearing the most grotesquely adoring face, his jowls rolling this way and that.
"That was so, so, so adorbz! I've been thinking of saying something, but I'm glad I didn't, aw man!" He shouted in glee, both the hero and the Vampire herself somehow blushing even deeper at his words. "I almost turned away for the smoochy smoochy too, but that wasn't even the cutest part!" He continued. "When you were talking, just… awww, young love. Er. Old love? Love!"
"…Glob Jake, are you fluffin' serious right now?" Finn muttered, shaking his head, the dog laughing in reply.
"Jake, glad you approve," Marceline said firmly, all business despite being caught in the most awkward situation she'd been in since… well, a long while. "But… eh… I'd like some more alone time with my boy toy, to be honest." She winked, and could feel Finn start beside her at her words. "Any chance you could let us be and drop the apples off yourself? Feel free to take them all to your place. I'm sure I'll be there often enough to make use in the next week."
Jake gave her a giant wink before smacking Finn playfully in the arm. "Alright, alright. But we need to go man supplies shopping soon, Finny."
"…Man supplies?" Finn asked, perturbed. Marceline figured it must be slightly aggravating, to finally get some release with the opposite sex only to get lost in the lexicon post-act. Still… she did LOVE teasing him.
"Whoooaa! Slow down! Tier 15 is a loooong way off," Marceline retorted, though with a smirk. Finn tried to return the smile, but seemed equally frightened and aroused.
"Babeh, I saw you sucking on his face so hard I wasn't sure if he was going to have one afterwards!" Jake replied sassily, swiping his paw and chuckling. "But yeah, I'll head out. Have fun you two lovebirds!" With that, the magical dog stretched away, leaving Marceline and Finn alone once more.
"…Let's take it as it goes," The Vampire whispered, suddenly drawing back into herself just a bit. Part of her was terrified she was letting someone so close again, but… heck, it was Finn for Glob's sake! For once, she knew she was holding onto someone who would never try to hurt her. And that was more than enough.
Finn nodded and replied, "Um, right. So, are we like…" he pushed his fingers together slowly. "Official? Together?" He sounded very optimist but his voice held just a grain of trepidation she quickly destroyed by glomping him.
"Yep," Marceline replied, smiling brightly as she adopted a swimsuit pose while lying on top of his body. "You'll have to get used to a few things, though. Like this, for instance; I'm tops. That's more important later on, though," She teased, tracing her finger along his chest, his face already careening into another blush. "I'm also a super tease, though I think that's been established."
"Very," Finn agreed with mirth, thankful she was floating just enough so that he could feel her on him but that she wasn't squishing him in the slightest. "You're really awesome, Marcy," He whispered, corny to a fault, but somehow she didn't really mind, and settled into a more comfortable position on his chest, lying stomach to stomach.
"Let's snuggle," She commanded, curling into his again, and Finn voiced no objections whatsoever; in fact, they both let a comfortable silence settle, their mouths being quite worn. They stayed that way for a long while, she very much so enjoying the rolling tide of his breathing, until the temperature truly began to drop and Finn's body because a mixture of yawns and shivers.
"And now let's go," She said eventually, knowing Finn would be too sweet to disturb her rest and probably sleep out here with her if she asked.
"Eh? Buh Marceline… we should UUUUUUUUUUUUHHHHHYAAAA!" Finn's statement fell flat with a yawn, and he giggled girlishly. "Aight, I guess we're good. Mind giving me a ride?"
"Fly airline Marceline!" The Vampire replied with a smirk, lifting him up by his shoulders, and though she was just as able to levitate him by holding his hand, she gently pressed his back into her chest, her arms tight around her. "Once you rack up those miles, you'll get something good!"
Impressed with herself for remembering how airline miles worked and for confusing Finn with yet another innuendo, once again making him blush by holding him so closely, she slowly rose, her grip firm but unable to be called anything but a caress.
They sailed through the night sky, the wind very present, but not painful in the slightest. At any point where the memories of the nukes began to fill her mind, she would automatically remember a much more recent moment, that of Finn whispering how beautiful her hair looked in the wind. And somehow, that made everything okay.
Marceline took a… unique course to get to the Tree-Fort, wanting to enjoy the sensation of flying with Finn wrapped in her arms as long as she could. But, eventually, his shivering became great, and she swooped to his home, quietly entering through the window and placing him in his bed.
"You alright with me heading out Finny?" She whispered, her fingers once again slipping through his hat and finding his hair. Marceline had a feeling this would be a reoccurring action between them.
"AHHH! Yeah," Finn replied after another yawn, snug in his sleeping bag and staring up as if she was his guardian angel or some junk.
"Dude, your eyes are sparkly and it's kind of creeping me out," She stated, but was entirely unsuccessful at removing the smile from her face.
"Pfff, you should prepare for MASSIVE DOTING!" He replied, each outburst of affection tiring him more.
"Alright, alright, I will," She replied dreamily, pressing a kiss onto his mouth once more. "But first, we have some unfinished business." Finn froze, his eyes shooting open as slight fear crossed them, obviously concerned. "You told me you love me," Marceline whispered, tickling his nose with her finger. "And I didn't get a chance to return the feeling. I love you, Finn. You big weenie."
"I love you too, my Queen," Finn replied through the marble mouth of one nearly at sleep's door, Marceline snorting at how cute his reply was, torn between telling him not to call her than, or telling him to ALWAYS call her that. She settled on neither, letting him rest, and kissing his forehead before floating out of the Tree-Fort.
As she flew, the night wind, though he was no longer in her arms, was very soft, even in its bluster. The memory of that day had been replaced, and she couldn't be happier. Slowly, she felt words build in her throat, words that seemed familiar, yet very, very different. She sang them in a soft sing song voice, feeling the wind spread them far, rather than rip them to shreds.
Every day you caress me
Hold my thin form in soft, moonlit hands
And no days do you cut me
I wrap you in my hair as you cleanse my scars
You were the only one
Who ever chose to stay the same
Centuries later, no matter how harsh the wind blows
I feel your embrace shield me from pain
I had to get some serious Finnceline out of my system, if the fluff present wasn't an obvious enough indicator. I did not think writing a multi-chap featuring them but not shipping them would be this difficult.
The above being as it is, I might have really, really over-done the kissing, but if I wake up at 5 am to write a story because I can't sleep, I am giving myself free-reign, baby! Also, Jake, you patoot. At first I was worried that was out of character before I realized how radically in character it was.
I liked the song in both its versions, though I think I'm still not hitting the weird peak of awesomeness that Adventure Time songs hit. Alas. I did like the use of wind though, as it's something I appreciate heavily in nature.
Finally, I somehow wrote most of this while looking up Bubbeline fanart. Which just makes all the sense in the world. I need to write something up with them, even if it's short. Anywho. Thanks for reading!