#ncvaprime

finn’s kissing booth (not accepting)@ncvaprime​

▏▶︎Ŧ-И◀︎▕

          ❝nah, s’never. who could i——— i mean, the other stormtroopers would but—❞ whatever else he wants to say dissolve into the quiet mumble that spills into the neck of the amber bottle hanging between his fingers. it’s almost empty, which is deemed a problem given how finn frowns into it before letting it roll with a thud on the ground.

         his hands are the only things holding him upright as finn takes in the wondrous stars above him, the way they twinkle and shine, the promise of hundreds and thousands of planets before him. infinite possibilities and he’s here. with the resistance.

         or more presently, here with richard rider, talking about all the things finn hasn’t done. his head lolls to the side, to similarly glazed eyes, almost obsidian in the twilight. his pale skin is bathed in it, turning smooth as moonstone before finn’s very ( drunken ) gaze and without conscious thought, they trace over the fullness of his lips, wet from the couple of drinks they’ve had.

ASK ME TO DESCRIBE A COLOR WITHOUT USING THAT COLOR

funeral parlors with silver slivers oflight and smiles and laughter sharppopping the darkness like little needlesagainst billowing balloons.

silas saying no and silas saying yesand silas humming thoughtful with asound like velvet draping over youreyes. silas’ voice like a blindfold thatyou grow comfortable wearing. is itcomfortable for others to wear too?

sleeping at last.

        moons, planets, stars, galaxies. black holes and nebulae, supernova and the silent howl of the planets dotted across the galaxy as she knows it, and beyond to the universe. when she sleeps, outside of the nightmares and terrors that torture her mind, she hears the whispers of the worlds beyond, the stars calling to her. come home. and she is tempted, each time, to join them in peace. take a ship in the dead of night and fly off into oblivion. she would die like that, but without fear. the thought brings her a sense of calm.

       “then it... would be easy,” she says slowly, trying to find the proper words, “to get lost in ourselves.”

▌▏Ŧ-И ▕▐  

            now, finn’s not one to get extraction points wrong. he may not be a WHIZ at piloting but he does know his navigation and the co-ordinates are to this cliff’s edge, a clearing at the end of a forest so thick you can barely get sunlight between the interlocking canopies. 

            he checks his chrono just to make sure he’s not late. it’s not improbable but nope, no, he’s actually right on time— a burst of sound from his left. blasters up.

         ❛Are you with the resistance?❜ The question is small talk really as nimble fingers tinker with the different parts on her speeder.