[ for a long, long moment, rey doesn't say anything at all. not out of distaste or disappointment, not because she doesn't want to hear those words — but because, in her waking memories, in all the years since she's been stranded on jakku, hot sand and burning sun beneath and above, she's not heard those words once.
she's sure she heard it as a child, in those few years in between birth and abandonment, but she'd been so young those memories hadn't formed. not really, not the way she'd have liked them to. not in the sort of way that might have softened the landing of finn's three word confession, the syllables draping over her skin like the warmest, most delicate blanket. ]
Oh. [ she's shocked into quiet — a rare occurrence, to be sure — but more importantly, into gentle consideration. she'd asked, in truth, out of practical expectation. she should know. she should know the reasoning for her shop's namesake, she should know how the process of two bodies slotting together works, she should be familiar enough to be able to navigate this place and the sorts of expectations it had laid at her feet, to be able to discuss with some kind of confidence things like kinks and pleasures and what gets you off. the sorts of questions that had been peppered in between orientation seminars, casually asked by people far more confident than rey could even dream of pretending to be.
but finn's offer isn't practical. it's emotional and raw and sincere, and rey finds she needs a moment to practice the words in her head before she can manage to echo the sentiment back, her voice a little softer now than perhaps it's ever been between them. ]
Finn — I've never loved anybody before. [ that's not right. that's not — she can feel how wrong it is before he even has a chance to react, and she scrambles to fill the pause before it can carry on too long. ] But you're part of me. You always have been.
[ she so wants to get this right, but she doesn't know what she's doing; recklessness takes over where instinct and experience cannot lay a path. ]
I think that's love. I want it to be.
[ and that's what matters, isn't it? what they mean to each other is more than just resistance allies or colleagues or friends. finn has always, always been more than that. ]
no subject
she's sure she heard it as a child, in those few years in between birth and abandonment, but she'd been so young those memories hadn't formed. not really, not the way she'd have liked them to. not in the sort of way that might have softened the landing of finn's three word confession, the syllables draping over her skin like the warmest, most delicate blanket. ]
Oh. [ she's shocked into quiet — a rare occurrence, to be sure — but more importantly, into gentle consideration. she'd asked, in truth, out of practical expectation. she should know. she should know the reasoning for her shop's namesake, she should know how the process of two bodies slotting together works, she should be familiar enough to be able to navigate this place and the sorts of expectations it had laid at her feet, to be able to discuss with some kind of confidence things like kinks and pleasures and what gets you off. the sorts of questions that had been peppered in between orientation seminars, casually asked by people far more confident than rey could even dream of pretending to be.
but finn's offer isn't practical. it's emotional and raw and sincere, and rey finds she needs a moment to practice the words in her head before she can manage to echo the sentiment back, her voice a little softer now than perhaps it's ever been between them. ]
Finn — I've never loved anybody before. [ that's not right. that's not — she can feel how wrong it is before he even has a chance to react, and she scrambles to fill the pause before it can carry on too long. ] But you're part of me. You always have been.
[ she so wants to get this right, but she doesn't know what she's doing; recklessness takes over where instinct and experience cannot lay a path. ]
I think that's love. I want it to be.
[ and that's what matters, isn't it? what they mean to each other is more than just resistance allies or colleagues or friends. finn has always, always been more than that. ]
I wouldn't want anybody else to show me.