Fic: Still
AN: Jesse/Riley fic for tl__dr, who is a beautiful, unique snowflake. This turned out a bit darker than I expected, but that's kind of the nature of this ship. I also apologize about the lack of porn. Unnnngh, Jesse is so FIERCE and manipulative. And hot. I should write more about her.
Still
Riley has nightmares about dust filling her throat. The darkness clogging her lungs. She's drowning in earth, and there's not a thing she can do until drawing even the smallest breath of fetid air is impossible. This is when she usually wakes, but occasionally her dream mind is a quiet, stretching blackness that she must wait alone in until the sun slides over her eyes.
Her mouth tastes of metal in the morning sometimes, like when she'd find herself inexplicably teething a tin can, a ruin of a girl. She brushes twice, uses a whole cap full of mouthwash. Jesse stands by the door and waits her turn, filing her nails or combing her hair. Riley tries not to watch, but glances in the mirror provide images of hands, lips, teeth, or collarbone, and she finds herself staring again. Jesse seems not to mind though, so when Riley decides to be bold and approach that solid sphere, that will that seems to surround her, she is not entirely surprised to find herself drawn in. Jesse pushes the hair back from Riley's face as she has done so often before, but this time it is to make room for her own face, her mouth landing squarely on Riley's chapped lips, her tongue sliding sweetly against Riley's own. Jesse pushes a hand inside the bathrobe and rests it on Riley's breast. Above her heart.
-
Each day at the foster home is worse than the last. Every shout and trivial argument is tortuous, and even simple, well-intentioned questions about school and GED tests make her anxious and resentful. Riley only wants the stillness of the hotel room, that calm, clean cell with white sheets warmed by the afternoon sun. It nearly makes her weep to find Jesse waiting for her when she returns - a mother, a sister, a lover. Perhaps a friend, though she's not sure she understands that concept yet. John is teaching her.
She's eager to take what Jesse will give her and dares not ask for more. But it's hard living with that secret too, and isn't she industrious now, isn't she clever, keeping it all to herself? Some days she just wants to tell John everything, beginning with her dirt dreams.
These days, when that blackness comes, she's not the only one there. She can sense Jesse next to her, though neither will speak. There’s a thin line of flame on the horizon, and they walk towards it together.
-
Sometimes the weight of heaven is too much to bear.
She dreams she's in the shower, except the water's turned to brown-black sludge that coats her body in sick, dark streaks. Jesse smears it over Riley's open mouth and smiles, pressing one thumb down on her blackened tongue.
Jesse is there, cleaning her gun, when Riley wakes.
Still
Riley has nightmares about dust filling her throat. The darkness clogging her lungs. She's drowning in earth, and there's not a thing she can do until drawing even the smallest breath of fetid air is impossible. This is when she usually wakes, but occasionally her dream mind is a quiet, stretching blackness that she must wait alone in until the sun slides over her eyes.
Her mouth tastes of metal in the morning sometimes, like when she'd find herself inexplicably teething a tin can, a ruin of a girl. She brushes twice, uses a whole cap full of mouthwash. Jesse stands by the door and waits her turn, filing her nails or combing her hair. Riley tries not to watch, but glances in the mirror provide images of hands, lips, teeth, or collarbone, and she finds herself staring again. Jesse seems not to mind though, so when Riley decides to be bold and approach that solid sphere, that will that seems to surround her, she is not entirely surprised to find herself drawn in. Jesse pushes the hair back from Riley's face as she has done so often before, but this time it is to make room for her own face, her mouth landing squarely on Riley's chapped lips, her tongue sliding sweetly against Riley's own. Jesse pushes a hand inside the bathrobe and rests it on Riley's breast. Above her heart.
-
Each day at the foster home is worse than the last. Every shout and trivial argument is tortuous, and even simple, well-intentioned questions about school and GED tests make her anxious and resentful. Riley only wants the stillness of the hotel room, that calm, clean cell with white sheets warmed by the afternoon sun. It nearly makes her weep to find Jesse waiting for her when she returns - a mother, a sister, a lover. Perhaps a friend, though she's not sure she understands that concept yet. John is teaching her.
She's eager to take what Jesse will give her and dares not ask for more. But it's hard living with that secret too, and isn't she industrious now, isn't she clever, keeping it all to herself? Some days she just wants to tell John everything, beginning with her dirt dreams.
These days, when that blackness comes, she's not the only one there. She can sense Jesse next to her, though neither will speak. There’s a thin line of flame on the horizon, and they walk towards it together.
-
Sometimes the weight of heaven is too much to bear.
She dreams she's in the shower, except the water's turned to brown-black sludge that coats her body in sick, dark streaks. Jesse smears it over Riley's open mouth and smiles, pressing one thumb down on her blackened tongue.
Jesse is there, cleaning her gun, when Riley wakes.