The Long Way Home
Part 1 - It’s Ok To Want More
Summary: A hardworking creative discovers she can’t girlboss her way out of wanting more out of life and turns to Right to Love Matchmaking for assistance.
Pairing: Commander Thorn x fem!Reader (designer/seamstress) (no y/n, no physical descriptions)
Warnings: very mild suggestive thoughts
A/N: Y’all are the first to get to meet two of my OC’s! Blizzard, a former member of the 212th, and Daria Trace, matchmaker extraordinaire 💙💙 This is the set up, date to come in chapter 2
Rating: T Word Count: 1325
Running an upscale boutique on Coruscant had its perks. Your clients ranged from bored debutants spending daddy’s cash to senators and their aids. The gossip was always top notch, and you frequently caught wind of scandals before any journalist was even close.
Despite your popularity, most of your clientele paid you little attention. This would have bothered most people, but you preferred it this way. You’d slip in one earbud and soundtrack their unintended exposes while you worked.
In between clients, you’d often spend time arranging your window displays. It was something you did for fun because the majority of your clients came to you based solely on word of mouth.
You were setting up an elaborate display for the coming holidays when you looked out to see a few couples here and there. No elaborate displays of public affection, just the gentle gestures of new love and old love alike.
Fingers laced together. Kisses pressed to temples. Soft smiles and knowing glances.
Your heart gave a pitiful twinge, and your turned back to your mannequins and fabrics.
You had stopped making time for love a long time ago. You weren’t willing to put your passion, your livelihood on the back burner for disappointment and mediocre sex. But you’d seen ads for that new matchmaking service everywhere you went lately, and the uptick in happy couples was impossible to miss.
It was hard to resist the fantasy of a comfortable love. The gentle brush of fingers over your face after a long day to welcome you home. Waking up to kisses and snuggles. Someone to make you miss your train because they had to have you one more time.
You shook your head and reigned in your thoughts. You had work to do, and lusting after a life the Maker hadn’t intended for you was distracting and painful. You didn’t have time for either one.
Yet day after day you found yourself taking the long way home. Your steps carrying you past Right To Love’s offices.
***
It was the blasted bridal show that did you in. Surrounded by fabrics in every color from brilliant white to darkest black, and exhilarated brides, your heart demanded your attention.
Your work-focused brain had been running things long enough, and your starving heart could not be silenced. Work was fulfilling, but it didn’t call you sweet names, draw a bath for you, or make you shake with pleasure in the dark.
It’s ok to want love. I can ask for more. You thought, taking a deep breath as you waltzed into Right to Love’s lobby.
“Hello, welcome to Right To Love. Are you here for an evaluation and profile submission?” A clone dressed in a smart, well-tailored outfit asked from behind a sleek white desk. His name tag identified him as Blizzard.
“I think so,” you cleared your throat. “Yes, yes I am.”
“It’s ok to be nervous.” Chilly name aside, Blizzard’s voice was warm and reassuring. “Most of my brothers are too. Here, just fill this out, and one of our matchmakers will be with you shortly.”
He handed you a datapad, and you accepted it with a lightly trembling hand.
You sat down and started filling out the form.
The questions ranged from the easy, ‘Occupation? Last long term relationship? Last short term relationship?’ to the difficult, ‘What are you looking for in a match? What brought you to Right to Love? What does love mean to you?’
One standard hour later, you were fanning yourself after handing the datapad back to the Blizzard, who gave you another encouraging smile, as he directed you to wait.
“There are drinks and snacks on that back table there,” he added, and you mouthed a ‘thank you’ to him.
Your eyes roamed the lobby, and you spotted a few other people here and there, lounging on the comfortable chairs. Some looked terrified, others looked relaxed. You counted yourself amongst the terrified, as you grabbed a bottle of meiloorun soda, and perched at the edge of a chair.
You sipped delicately at your soda, while you watched others exit looking elated or in a couple of cases utterly embarrassed. Your stomach twisted, and you eyed the front door. Had you made a mistake? You could still run for it. You rose from your seat, pretending to look at the art, as you scooted towards the exit.
You were a mere 10 steps away from freedom when a woman called your name, and invited you to follow her. She was short, but the way she held herself could fool anyone into believing she was as tall as any trooper. She had golden brown skin, a dyed lavender buzz cut, and a mischievous grin on her glossy lips.
“I’m Daria Trace, one of the matchmakers,” she said.
“How does one become a matchmaker?” You asked, curious.
“I majored in psychology and behavioral studies, and I ran a small matchmaking service for extra credits at university.”
“What’s your success rate?” You asked, matching her stride.
“Seventy percent of the couples I matched up at uni are still married,” she said with a grin, as she opened her office door, and gestured for you to enter and have a seat.
You took a deep breath and settled in at her desk. Instead of sitting behind the desk she sat next to you.
“Tell me who you are,” she said.
“Isn’t that what the profile’s for?” You asked with a raised brow.
“It gives me the basics, but I’ve been doing this long enough to know that people present themselves differently on paper. So tell me something real.”
You took a quick sip of your soda, hoping to ease the dryness in your mouth and throat.
“Um…I have my own business. I guess you could say I’m married to it. I like to keep busy,” You said, feeling the weight of her scrutinizing gaze.
“So why cheat on your job with a boyfriend?”
“I’m…my,” you feel that twinge in your chest again. “My heart wants more. Work is a sure thing. Always there for me. I just want more. I have a lot to offer, and just…”
“It’s ok, go ahead,” Daria presses, head inclined towards you.
Up close it feels like her dark brown eyes are looking through you. Like your mind was an open book, and she was flipping through the pages on the hunt for evidence that you were worthy of her time.
“I’m fine on my own, but I know I could be a great partner if I had the chance, if I took the chance.”
“And why haven’t you taken the chance?”
“I could never find someone supportive, who understood my need to create and find my own way. They wanted me to do well, just not as well as them.”
Daria sat back, and observed you a moment. Her eyes roaming your face with an unreadable expression. She stood up, and moved to sit behind her desk, tapping away on her datapad.
She grilled you a little more, asking about pets, marriage, children, foods, colors, and even scents.
“I think I have just the guy for you,” she said finally, her smooth voice carrying just a hint of self-satisfaction.
“Really?” You couldn’t hide your surprise.
“Mmhmm! According to the schedule you provided, you’re free tomorrow night?”
“Tomorrow?!”
“No time like the present. Are you ready?”
You could tell wasn’t just asking about tomorrow night.
“I am,” you responded, nodding.
“Perfect! He’ll meet you at Dex’s Diner at 1800 hours,” she said sending a confirmation to your device.
“Wow,” you said pulling it out of your bag and staring at the message. “What’s his name?”
“Thorn,” she said with a bright smile. “I can’t wait to hear how it goes.”
“Thorn,” you said softly, enjoying the sound of his name.
“Have fun, ok?” Daria said. “Don’t hold back.”
“Alright. Thank you,” you said, as you left her office in a daze.
