#finaltrooper

𝐒𝐋𝐄𝐄𝐏 :   my  muse  falls  asleep  on  your  muse,  making  it  hard  for  my  muse  to  leave. –––––– @finaltrooper​

the images play across the screen in black and white, the volume reduced to a level that would’ve made it perfect viewing for his dog and no one else. poe is trying his hardest to remain absolutely still, save for that little wriggle to get the remote; a movement executed in its entirety with his breath held. truly, perhaps he was being dramatic, no one could stop him if he were to stand up and leave the apartment and head home.

except for finn – his friend and co-actor who was now sleeping soundly upon his chest. perhaps it was his fault, poe had insisted on a classic film and finn had grumbled before promptly fallen asleep within the first fifteen minutes. because another adam sandler movie? seriously? he had to put his foot down after the fifth time.

his gaze drops to the man sleeping atop of him. finn lets out a little snort, nose scrunching up in his dream. poe’s his fingers drift close, but failed to close the last few millimetres to brush against his cheek. he could leave, but he doesn't want to. though he's played many a role in his career and lived lives others could barely dream of, this moment seems to wrestle all thoughts from his mind. 

rubbing his one available hand over his face, he directs his eyes to the ceiling. he’s fucked. since some indeterminable date, he’s developed feelings for the man sleeping atop him. the reasons why come easily to him – finn was beautiful, generous, kind, and absolutely talented. their chemistry read from the first session had blown his mind. he worked well with other actors, but with finn it had been effortless. with all the hints from the get-go––––– yeah, he’s fucked. 

they sit side by side in the falcon, close enough to bump shoulders. but when the words leave finn’s mouth, rey is transported back to takodana, into the hubbub of maz’s cantina and the crush of people that fill the space beyond a sequestered table. there, amongst their small and desperate group, finn has just exploded with frustration and rey has known him what feels like both days and mere hours at the same time but she’s not seen this look in his eyes before. 

when maz crawls across the table to examine finn, rey bristles on his behalf but she can’t stop looking into the terrified maelstrom that finn’s eyes contain. there’s so much that he’s not telling her them and it’s eating him up from the inside out. suddenly, he doesn’t want to do what they set out to do anymore and he’s walking away and saying goodbye and it’s too soon for you to leave me, everyone leaves but i thought you’d be the first to stay.

now she knows more about why he said what he said, did what he did. she’s forgiven him for not knowing how much it hurts her to watch someone’s retreating back when what defined her life for so long was loneliness. abandonment. because he brings his own past to the table and she found out so soon after why he was so afraid.

looking into his eyes now, rey notes the present tense. here they are then, both grappling with the terror of the past few hours and every terrible moment in their lives that led them there. finn may still be replaying every image that rushed to his mind on takodana, and now starkiller base, too. he’s in the middle of finding out who he is outside of the first order....but he still veered off course to help her. the least she can do, she supposes, is meet him where he is.

there’s a headache blooming at the front of her skull - or it’s been there since she woke up trapped in a first order cell and she’s only now noticed it - and rey has to blink to regain her bearings. everything is foggy at the edges and she’s so tired --- but she’s not alone this time. neither is finn: in his pain, in his fear, and in his discovery. slowly, rey nods, making almost severe eye contact to let him see her understanding. there’s no need to say aloud that she’s felt the same; finn already knows. 

darren  shan’s  zom  -  b  :  goddess.

there’s    the    noise    of    hissing    hydraulics    as    kylo    ren    takes    off    his    helmet,    cold,    dark    eyes    looking    into    warmer    ones.    there’s    confusion    in    his    expression,    the    kind    that’s    hard    to    hide.    ❝    .    .    .    but    i’m    not    apologising.    i    don’t    want    your    forgiveness.    ❞    because    can    he    be    forgiven    for    all    that    he’s    done    ?    if    he    is    forgiven,    what    is    he    then,    what    does    that    make    him    ?    ❝    i    will    not    apologise.    i    don’t    regret    what    i’ve    done,    not    to    you    or    to    anyone.    ❞

that’s    not    true.    his    voice    betrays    him.    ren    is    filled    with    regrets    and    they    haunt    him    from    first    to    last,    and    suddenly    he    avoids    finn’s    eyes,    preferring    instead    to    look    a    little    past    his    ear.    how    many    choices    has    he    made    in    his    life    that    were    truly    his    ?    how    many    years    has    he    spent    as    the    puppet    of    somebody    else    :    his    mother’s,    luke’s,    snoke’s,    and    maker    knows    who    else    ?    

though he’s not exactly scrutinizing too closely this round, between him and the man sitting in the chair, he has an inkling as to what happened.  

he places the steaming coffee-filled styrofoam cup in front of finn. “ 𝐈𝐓'𝐒 𝐍𝐎𝐓 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐁𝐄𝐒𝐓, but it’s a step above black sludge. there’s a place down the street that’s got better stuff – if you like authentic colombian coffee, of course. ”  the corner of his lips tilt upwards as he settles into his own chair with hands wrapped around his own cup. “ so, shall we get started? ”  // @finaltrooper​ 

@finaltrooper  said             “  i’m fine, i’ve had worse.  ”

        pretending she hadn’t even heard him, sansa continued tending to his wound, brow furrowed in concentration as she applied pressure to the area. it certainly looked bad, blood soaking the cloth, though its pace was lessening, and the wound was a considerable size. she wasn’t going to say that, however. her hands were GENTLE as she switched the cloth out for a medpatch. 

          words fluttered about in her head, but they felt too personal because while they were a proper response they were also what she’d often wished someone would say to h e r when she’d forced a smile. someone to tell her that what she was feeling, the hurt, the anger, and everything in between, was fine. even if it wasn’t what a proper lady was supposed to feel. if she turned a blind eye and held her tongue then she’d be the same as the people who ignored her suffering slowly, she looked up and met finn’s gaze.          ❝  just because it isn’t the worse doesn’t mean it doesn’t HURT. ❞

@finaltrooper​ :   ❝ my most dangerous habit is trusting. ❞                     𝐀𝐂𝐂𝐄𝐏𝐓𝐈𝐍𝐆

            ❝ YEAH, i can tell. ❞

his response was flat, though an INKLING of humor was laced in his voice. it wasn’t often he joked or found much of anything amusing, but this guy being pretty damn SELF AWARE after doing the thing he just claimed he was bad at was funny. in a way that probably only starkiller found amusing. despite his words, in the moment he was a little THANKFUL for the blind trust, even though he himself would never return it. he was getting pretty tired running for his life, and some hapless fool helping him for no reason was a welcome break.