A/N:I DON'T KNOW, OKAY? This just. IT JUST CAME OUT OF NOWHERE AND I'M SORRY. /SOBS
I just. I just thought that since I haven't read to much um. Bubbline "horror" and omg. I should not be allowed to write horror, okay. ESPECIALLY WITH A PAIRING AS BEAUTIFUL AS BUBBLINE. FORGIVE ME.
Time is tickin', t-time is tickin', tickin'.
Time is tickin'
T-Time is tickin' away.
Her fingers tiptoe along the curve of your shoulder, down the length of your arm, and across the raised lines of scars almost forgotten at your wrist.
For the first time in your thousand plus years of existence… you're terrified. Terrified of the person you loved with all your soul.
The girl's lip curls slightly in delight, as though she can sense this. With a sigh, she steps away from you, walking toward a rusted gurney. Your eyes follow her as she fiddles with tools, but the way she's moving is all wrong— all jerking movements, as though her limbs don't know which way they should go.
"Marceline."
No, no, no. Her voice is all wrong as it grates out, and though you hear her, you can't focus because no. This wasn't supposed to happen like this.
She wasn't supposed to come back like this. She isn't the Bonnibel from before, now she's just—
"I'm so happy to be back with you, my love," she purrs, her words coming out mockingly. "You're my savior."
The tip of the scalpel scrapes almost lovingly against the soft skin just at the crease of your wrist, and your throat works, but it's dry, and you can't speak. Her laugh grates at your spine and your heart.
This shouldn't have happened.
Your intentions were good, and you only wanted to bring her back because you loved her. Because you should have been there to protect her, if you had been then she wouldn't have died—
The Creature Who Is Not Bonnibel leans in close, inspecting your face and you can see the way her skin seems pulled back too far against her bones. As though she was haphazardly put together, and not with the tender care she should have been.
"You said you'd keep anyone from knowing about me. Does it hurt?" she taps a slightly gnarled finger above your heart, and the leather straps holding you down seem to dig tighter into you.
"No." you whisper, and it's true. Your heart doesn't hurt because Bonnibel is here with you now and you got what you wanted. A giggle bubbles past your lips, high-pitched and out of place.
Tendrils of your hair curl and uncurl around the creatures arms, brushing her cheeks. Her lips pull back in a vicious grin, all needle sharp teeth. "I'll make it hurt, darling."
You hiss sharply as she presses the scalpel slowly into a spot right below your collar, dragging it down in a curved line. You see spots bloom in your vision as she slowly carves through your skin, carefully— almost lovingly— peeling it back, like butterfly wings.
Blood trickles cool down your torso, and the pain is almost blinding, your breath coming out in shallow gasps.
Her fingers press down in a swift, sharp motion, and you hear the crack before you feel the pain, a scream catching in the stale air, echoing within the crumbling palace.
The Creature Who Is Not Bonnibel grins as she claims her prize, and past the beautiful haze of red covering everything, you can see how her lips split, and her jaw unhinges, eyes going black. You try to speak, but the darkness and red swirl together, clawing and dragging you somewhere far, far away.
A lone tendril of your hair caresses her cheek weakly, and you manage to rasp out,
"Y-you're still…b-beautiful to…me."
