Carrie Managing To Get Anoh Shit Into Star Wars Unnoticed. An Icon

carrie managing to get an “oh shit” into star wars unnoticed. an icon

this is so up my street it's actually just not fair. enemies to lovers & forced proximity is just the gift that keeps on giving and this is truly gIVING

I think I might lose my mind when you post part 2. I don't think I'm ready. This whole thing + smut???!?!?! yeah, I'm sat.

Mutually Beneficial Arrangement

Pairing: Thorn x Senator!Reader / Thorn x fem!Reader

Words: 12,428 / 28,345

Tags/Warnings: 18+ only! enemies to lovers kinda, forced proximity, bodyguard!Thorn, protective!Thorn, a little more than canon-typical violence, so much arguing and flirting and banter, smut in part 2

Summary: You're the most infuriating charge Commander Thorn has ever had the misfortune to babysit, and yet, you're also the one he finds himself falling for.

A/N: This was a request from @capricornrabies that got so out of hand I decided to make it its own thing and split it into two parts. The original prompt was 52. “Just because you're pretty, it doesn't mean you can just get away with anything." / "You think I'm pretty?" from my 500 follower celebration. Featuring my Corrie OCs Burst and Knock! Apologies if Thorn is not necessarily in character, but he had so little screen time this is just build a boyfriend tbh.

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"Commander?"

Thorn freezes, his finger hovering over his datapad before it clenches into a fist.

He glances over at his comm on his desk and heaves a sigh. Well, it’s not his desk, really. Your staff had been kind enough to provide him a private office, tucked away in the fourth level of the estate, far away from the rest of the government officials. They had tried to decorate it for him, but he had waved away most of their attempts, allowing them to only get rid of the garish gold accents and take down the large tapestries that were plastered all over the walls.

But it does still have a lot of useless stuff in it. A lot of useless, fragile stuff. And as much as he’d like to be grateful for the offer of a quiet place to work, he was sure your motives were far from altruistic. He knew exactly what you were trying to accomplish by keeping him so far from you.

 You were by far the most frustrating charge that Thorn has ever had the displeasure of babysitting, and he’d shadowed Senator Orn Free Taa on a pleasure cruise for two weeks, so that was saying something.

You were smart, manipulative, and you had the entire Senate eating out of your hand. The Jedi had no choice but to agree to your demands, and it seemed that every politician under the sun was at your beck and call. It was infuriating, watching you sit there with your perfect smile and your perfect manners, as if the world owed you something, as if you were the greatest thing to ever happen to Coruscant.

And maybe you were, because the last few years have been the most prosperous in recent memory for your planet. You had the support of nearly the entire Senate, and you were able to push through the majority of the legislation you proposed.

If it were not for the fact that you were also extremely stubborn, Thorn might have actually liked you.

But the two of you had locked horns almost immediately after you were introduced, and the past three months have been nothing but a test of wills. And even worse than your annoying personality and inability to stay out of trouble, was the fact that you were one of the few people who could make Thorn freeze up with nothing more than a simple question.

 It was humiliating, really, how weak he was when it came to you. He was a Commander, for kriff's sake. One of the best the Guard had to offer. And yet there was precious little he had in defense against your charming smile and witty comments.

He had no idea how you managed to make him so flustered, and that was the worst part. He never had any idea how you were going to react or what you were thinking, and you had an uncanny ability to make him feel like a complete and utter idiot. He didn’t consider himself an impulsive person, but when he was around you, he found himself speaking before he thought things through, a habit he had been trying to break since he was a cadet.

There was just something about you that threw him off balance. It didn’t matter how many times he saw you or how many meetings he attended with you, the moment you walked into the room, it was like all of his training went out the window, and he was once again a shiny fresh off Kamino, ready to embarrass himself at the slightest provocation.

He should hate you, really. He had no idea why he didn’t. It wasn’t like you got along well, not in the slightest. You had a sharp tongue and you always seemed to be testing his patience, and he found it impossible to relax in your presence. You always made him feel... off. On edge. Like he was a second away from saying or doing something he was going to regret. It was exhausting, really, and Thorn had no idea why you affected him so much. He had no idea what was so different about you. What made you stand out.

What made him act like such a fool whenever he saw you.

Maybe it was because you were a challenge. Maybe it was just the fact that he had been forced to spend so much time with you. Maybe he was just curious.

Whatever the reason, Thorn was beginning to grow tired of it. You had an irritating habit of finding trouble wherever you went, and the past few months have been particularly chaotic, thanks to your efforts.

You were not an easy person to protect, especially since you seemed to have an uncanny ability to slip out of sight when the moment called for it. He was starting to think that you were using the Force, because you would just disappear and then suddenly reappear again somewhere completely different.

Thorn was used to guarding difficult people, but you were taking the cake.

The Jedi Council had insisted that you needed to be assigned a permanent detail, and had tasked him and the rest of the Guard with doing so. And yet, after months, there was not one single clone in the entire GAR that was able to keep an eye on you.

The first time you had given them the slip, Thorn had felt like punching a wall. The second, he was convinced it was an accident. But by the fifth time? It was clear that you were intentionally trying to shake him.

And now, as he stares at his comm, the name of one of the troopers he’d assigned to watch you flashing on the screen, he feels the urge to hit something return with a vengeance.

"Yes?" he answers, his voice tight, and there's a brief silence on the other end.

"We lost her," the trooper admits, sounding miserable. "She said she was going to the refresher and...I guess she wasn't really going to the refresher."

"I see," Thorn says, pinching the bridge of his nose, and he hears the trooper start to apologize.

"It's fine, we'll get her," Thorn interrupts, even though it's far from fine. This is the fourth time they've lost you since they arrived on your home planet, and it was as if your ability to make fools of them all had only strengthened the further they got from the Core. The only solace was that they were far from the watchful eyes of the Jedi Council and the office of the Chancellor, so no one except him knew just how badly they were fucking this up.

“We’ll just track her comm and..." he stops, and his hand falls away from his face. "You did get her to wear her comm, didn't you? Please tell me you got her to wear her comm."

There's another, even longer, pause, and then a small, sheepish, "Sir."

Thorn groans. "She's going to get herself killed."

"We'll find her, sir!" the trooper promises. "We'll scour the entire planet if we have to, she can't have gone too far."

Thorn doubts that, but he doesn't say anything, and instead he hangs up the comm and gets to his feet. He gives a forlorn look to his half-finished report before grabbing his helmet off of the desk and pulling it on, marching out of the office and into the main room where the other Guards are sitting around and playing sabaac.

"Did you get it done?" Burst asks eagerly, glancing over as he strides into the room.

"No, and you're not going to believe what I've just been told," Thorn says dryly, and the troopers all groan.

"What did she do this time?" Knock grumbles. He throws down his cards and crosses his arms over his chest.

"Apparently she went to the refresher and hasn't been seen since."

The group all give each other exasperated looks.

"You know," Burst drawls, "if you just gave us a few minutes alone with her, we'd be able to talk some sense into her."

Thorn stiffens, a rush of...something, some feeling washing over him. It's no secret that his men have become infatuated with you, and Thorn doesn't blame them. You are, without a doubt, one of the most beautiful women in the galaxy, and despite the fact that your personality is atrocious, you somehow manage to be charming.

That's the problem.

You're always charming, and he's the only one who ever sees your less favorable side. It's frustrating, and more than once he's had the urge to pull his men aside and ask them how they can stand it, how they can handle being in your presence without constantly wanting to strangle you.

It's bad enough that you make his blood boil, but having to deal with his own men mooning over you is too much.

"That's not how this works," Thorn snaps. "This is supposed to be an assignment, not an opportunity to flirt with our charge."

"So it's fine for you to flirt with her," Burst says, a teasing note in his voice, and the other clones around him snicker. "I see how it is."

"I don't have time for this," Thorn growls, his hands curling into fists. He can feel his face heating up, and he's glad for the protection of his helmet. "She's out there somewhere, unprotected, and you all are sitting here joking around. Now get up, all of you, we need to find her before she gets hurt. Or worse."

"Fine," Burst grumbles, getting to his feet, and the others follow suit. "Where do we start, sir?"

"Fan out, search the entire manor top to bottom. If she’s not here, we’ll start searching the streets."

"We can't possibly search the whole city," Knock protests, and Thorn gives him a long, hard look.

"We don't have a choice," he says, crossing his arms over his chest. "We're not letting her out of our sight again. Do you hear me? She's going to listen to us, one way or another."

"Yes, sir," the troopers say, nodding their heads, and Thorn lets out a frustrated huff.

"Now let's go."

It takes the rest of the afternoon and a large chunk of the night, but eventually, Thorn finds you. You're sitting in a diner, your hands wrapped around a mug of caf, and you don't even look sorry when Thorn stalks over, yanking off his helmet and slamming it down on the table in front of you. The motion makes the carafe rattle, but neither of you flinch.

"Senator," he says through clenched teeth, and you glance up at him, raising a brow.

"Commander," you reply with a tilt of your head. You gesture to the empty mug placed across from you. "Caf?"

He falters slightly, confused for just a moment before he realizes what you're doing. You knew he would find you here. Of course you did. And you're just as smug about it as he expected, your eyes alight with a mixture of amusement and annoyance, the two of you at an impasse.

Thorn grits his teeth, forcing himself to calm down. He knows he should be angry with you, and part of him is. The other part, the part that is not furious or exhausted, is relieved that you're safe. You've been gone for hours, and as the time ticked by, he could feel his anxiety building.

You were so stubborn, and you had no concept of self-preservation. If anything had happened to you, it would have been his fault.

He should have taken better care of you. He should have been more careful, should have been watching you closer.

He was not going to let it happen again.

"Yes," he says curtly, sinking down into the booth and removing his gloves, shoving them into the pouch on his belt. "Please."

You pour him a cup, and then you pick up yours, holding it out for a toast. He narrows his eyes, but reluctantly he raises his cup, letting the two of you knock them together.

"To peace and prosperity," you murmur, and Thorn snorts.

"For everyone except me, apparently," he grumbles. You grin at that, a slow, dangerous smile that makes his stomach flip

"Don't be so dramatic," you chide him, and his eyes narrow.

"Dramatic?" he repeats incredulously. "Dramatic? Do you have any idea how worried I was?"

"Worried about me?" you tease, and he feels his face flush.

"I—you are—this is serious!" he splutters. "I'm responsible for your safety, and I can't do my job properly if you're running off whenever you please."

"All I want is a little privacy, is that too much to ask?"

“With three assassination attempts in the last month alone, yes, it is," he says flatly. "You are supposed to have a detail. Do you understand me? A detail. That means that there are going to be guards with you. At all times. If you don’t like it, take it up with the Chancellor, I don't make the rules."

You let out a huff, leaning back against the cushions and crossing your arms over your chest. He's sure that you're not used to being talked to like this, and normally he wouldn't have said anything, but he's fed up. It's been three months of constant arguing, of trying to keep you safe. Three months, and he was still no closer to figuring you out.

"I'm not your enemy," he adds. "We are not here to inconvenience you. We are not here to make you uncomfortable. Our only purpose is to protect you and keep you safe. If you would just work with us—"

"I am!" you protest. "I'm working very hard, and I would appreciate it if you would stop treating me like I'm some kind of spoiled brat."

"If the shoe fits..."

You glare at him. "Look, I understand that this is frustrating, but I have a life, Commander. I'm not going to stop living just because the Jedi and the Chancellor don't think I can take care of myself."

"Well, maybe you can't," Thorn mutters.

"Excuse me?"

"Maybe you can't," he repeats, louder this time. "You're not invincible, you know."

"You don't know what I can or cannot do," you hiss. "How can you make any judgements on how I should act when you barely even know me?"

"Because I've had the misfortune of being forced to deal with you," he snaps. "And I've had the misfortune of seeing you make a target of yourself every single day. Just because you're pretty, it doesn't mean you can just get away with anything."

He doesn’t realize what he said until he sees the surprised look on your face, and the color immediately drains from his own. The two of you stare at each other for a moment, your cheeks starting to flush pink, and Thorn feels his stomach drop. He hadn't meant to say that. In fact, he hadn't even realized he was thinking it.

But it was true.

You were gorgeous, and Thorn was not blind. He had noticed the moment he met you, had seen the way the men in the room were drawn to you. You had the same effect on him, although he liked to think he was at least somewhat better at hiding it than most.

Or so he had thought.

"I..."

"You think I'm pretty?" you finally say, a smile starting to tug at your lips, and he feels the tips of his ears start to burn.

"I, er," he says eloquently, and he clears his throat, his jaw clenching. He had walked right into this, and now he was going to have to pay the price.

Your grin widens, becoming impossibly more smug. The white hot anger that had been boiling inside him moments before is quickly replaced with mortification, and Thorn feels the urge to hide under the table.

"Well, thank you for the compliment, Commander," you murmur, and then you stand, gathering up your cloak and picking up his helmet. "But if that's all you came here to say, we'd best be on our way. I have an important meeting tomorrow morning."

"Wait, what?"

You raise a brow, holding the helmet out, and he hesitantly takes it.

"You can escort me home, can't you?"

"I...of course," he says, trying not to sound too flustered. He had expected this to be a lot harder, and his brain was struggling to catch up. He stands, placing his helmet back on his head, and tries not to wince at the smug expression on your face.

"Good," you say. "I'll give you two weeks."

"Two weeks?" he repeats dumbly.

"Two weeks," you confirm, "and not a single other trooper. You and only you. That's the only way I'll agree to this."

Thorn gapes at you, and then he sighs, shoulders sagging. "Why?"

"Because I'm not interested in having a detail. If you can convince me that I can trust you, then maybe I'll consider changing my mind." You shrug, and you hold out your coat, looking at him expectantly. "Well?"

He stares at you for a moment, and then he rolls his eyes and holds the jacket up, allowing you to slide your arms into the sleeves. "You're infuriating."

"And pretty," you say, turning back around to face him. Thorn reaches out to adjust your collar, smoothing the fabric over your shoulders, and you give him a dazzling smile. "So, do we have a deal, Commander?"

He knows it's a terrible idea. He knows the entire Jedi Council would disagree with him. He knows the Chancellor would never approve. But he's so tired of arguing with you, and his men are already annoyed enough. Maybe it would be easier this way. If it was just him, maybe he could find a way to make this work.

"Alright," he sighs, giving a defeated shrug. "Two weeks. And no tricks."

"No tricks," you promise, and despite his better judgement, he believes you. "Come along, then."

"Senator," he says flatly, falling into step behind you, and you give him a cheeky grin.

"Commander." Your voice is sweet, but he can hear the mocking note hidden underneath, and he grits his teeth. "You really are very cute, you know. I'm glad you think I'm pretty."

His blush comes back full force, and he turns his head away, refusing to look at you. Burst catches his eye through the window, giving him a thumbs up, and Thorn wants nothing more than to run into the street and push him into traffic. He gives him a sign to get lost, and the trooper salutes him, turning around and leading the others away.

He can't believe this is his life now. He's supposed to be the Commander of the Coruscant Guard. One of the toughest men in the Republic. How is it that he keeps losing these fights with you? How is it that every time, he's the one who walks away feeling like a complete and utter idiot?

He has no idea how he's going to make it through the rest of the trip.

"Two weeks," he grumbles, a reminder more to himself than to you, and your soft laugh only serves to deepen his embarrassment. He holds the door open for you, and you give him a playful pat on the shoulder as you pass him.

"Don't worry, Commander, I'll be on my best behavior," you promise, and he can't tell if you're being sarcastic or not.

He lets out a long sigh, shaking his head as he follows you out into the street, the door slamming shut behind him. 

"Good," he says gruffly. "Because I'll be watching."

You slip your hood over your head, giving him a smirk. "I'll make sure to put on a good show, then."

He has no idea what you mean by that, but it doesn't stop his imagination from running wild. He has a feeling he's not going to sleep well tonight.

"Come along, Commander," you say, and then you're gone, disappearing into the crowds, and Thorn hurries after you, trying his best to ignore the strange warmth blooming in his chest.

It's going to be a long, long two weeks.

Thorn had been prepared for a fight.

He had spent the entire morning mentally preparing himself for the inevitable battle, going over different scenarios and practicing what he would say. It was something he did often, something that had saved him and his men countless times before, and he had expected this conversation to go exactly the same.

He was wrong.

He steeled his shoulders and knocked on your door, waiting for your soft, "Enter," before walking in, his jaw set, ready for an argument.

But instead of the sharp retort he had expected, the door opens, and you're standing there, dressed in an elegant robe, your hair pulled back in an intricate updo. He freezes, caught off guard by how lovely you look, and you smile.

"Commander," you say, and his brow furrows. "Good morning. Would you care to join me?"

"What?"

"Breakfast," you clarify, holding the door open wider, and he swallows thickly. He hadn't expected you to be so... pleasant.

"Of course," he says after a pause, stepping into your rooms. The suite is larger than any room he's ever stayed in, and as he looks around, he can't help but feel out of place. The furniture is ornate, the walls covered with beautiful artwork, and even the floor is lined with thick, expensive rugs. The Governor of your planet clearly likes to live lavishly, and Thorn's sure the cost of one meal in this place could feed a battalion.

He tries not to dwell on that, and he turns his attention back to you. You've closed the door behind him, and you're busy adjusting the folds of your robe. He watches as you smooth the fabric over your hips, and then he looks away, clearing his throat.

"So, are we having breakfast here?" he asks. You nod, motioning to the table set up near the window.

"Yes, if that's alright. My schedule is rather busy, so I thought it would be best to eat here instead," you say, and he follows you over, quickening his pace to pull your chair out for you. You give him a soft smile, and he feels his heart skip a beat.

"Thank you," you murmur, sitting down and letting him push the chair in.

"Of course," he says, and then he sits down across from you, removing his helmet and placing it on the table. There's a plate of food already set out for him, and he eyes it, wondering if this is all some elaborate trap. A droid wheels up, depositing a pitcher of juice and a carafe of caf on the table, and he waits until it has rolled away before speaking.

"I wanted to talk to you," he says, and you glance up at him. "About this... arrangement."

"Of course," you reply, picking up a fork and scooping up a bite of fruit. "What would you like to discuss?"

He shifts slightly, not quite comfortable with the whole situation. He had not been expecting to get along with you so well, and he wasn't entirely sure what to do with this newfound friendliness.

"We both have jobs to do," he says slowly, "and I understand that they are sometimes conflicting, but we need to make this work."

"Agreed."

"We can't have any more incidents," he continues, and you raise a brow, the corners of your mouth turning up slightly.

"You mean where I disappear?"

"Yes."

"Well, then," you say, taking another bite, and Thorn's fingers tighten around the edge of the table.

"I don't want you leaving the compound without telling me first. I'll escort you anywhere you need to go."

"Commander—"

"And no more wandering off," he interrupts, ignoring the look you're giving him. "I don't care if you need some fresh air or you're bored or tired, you'll ask me or one of my men first, and we'll make arrangements."

"Is that it?" you ask dryly, and he purses his lips.

"No," he replies. "We will continue to check in regularly, and we'll have a meeting every morning to discuss your schedule."

"So, you'll be joining me for breakfast every day, then?"

"I... yes," he says, surprised by your agreement. You shrug, taking another bite, and he feels like there's a catch.

"Very well. Is there anything else?"

He can't help but stare at you, waiting for the punchline, but you're still eating, and Thorn can't detect even a hint of deception on your face. He lets out a relieved sigh, leaning back in his chair.

"Just don't make things difficult," he says, and then he reaches for his caf. "Please."

"I'll try my best, Commander," you reply, giving him a sly smile. That strange warmth returns, the tightening in his chest, and he has to swallow before replying.

"Right," he says. "Good."

"I have a question for you," you say, and he glances at you, raising a brow.

"Okay..."

"Do you always treat your charges this way?"

"No," he says quickly, and he flushes slightly. "I mean, I've never had a charge like you, Senator. Usually the ones I protect are much more cooperative."

"So it's just me, then?"

"It seems so."

You let out a soft chuckle, shaking your head. "Well, I'm honored. Truly."

He huffs, and then the two of you lapse into silence. Thorn finds himself studying you as you eat, his eyes lingering on the curve of your neck, the delicate lines of your throat, the way your fingers move over the handle of your mug.

He's seen plenty of beautiful women in his lifetime. Coruscant is full of them. But there's something about you that he can't quite put his finger on. You're so unlike the other senators, and despite the fact that you seem to go out of your way to make him miserable, he can't deny there's a certain charm to your demeanor.

He's still trying to figure out what's going on, but he can't quite wrap his head around it. You're not being particularly argumentative, and for once, the two of you are able to sit in a room together without fighting.

"I'm sure," he mutters, and you glance up at him, a glint in your eye. Thorn meets your gaze, and then he quickly looks away, his heart beating a little faster.

He's in trouble.

"Well, I'll be damned."

Thorn's shoulders slump, and he glances over at Burst, raising a brow.

"What?"

"She actually got you to do it."

Thorn scowls, turning back to his datapad. "Shut up."

"Oh, come on, I'm just saying," Burst laughs, plopping down onto the bench next to him. "I didn't think she'd be able to convince you."

"Yeah, well, she did," Thorn mutters. He's not entirely sure how it happened, but you did. And now, here he was, stuck with you for the foreseeable future. It wasn't terrible, not in the slightest. You were actually pretty good company, when you weren't making his life miserable. But it was still a lot to deal with, and he had no idea how he was going to manage it.

He has no idea what it is that makes him act this way around you.

"How'd she do it?"

"Does it matter?"

"Kind of, yeah."

Thorn sighs, his fingers clenching around his datapad, and he stares down at his boots. He doesn't want to talk about it, doesn't want to admit that he was swayed so easily, but he knows that Burst is never going to let it go until he tells him.

"I just agreed to it," he finally says, shrugging his shoulders. "It was either this or spend another few weeks arguing with her, and I just...didn't have the energy for it."

"I guess," Burst says doubtfully.

"Look, the sooner we get this trip over with, the sooner we can all go home," Thorn points out. "It's not ideal, but at least now we can keep a closer eye on her."

"So it's just the two of you now, huh?"

"Yep."

"Just the two of you."

"That's what I said, Burst."

"Alone."

"What is your point?"

"I'm just saying, sir," Burst says innocently. "If you wanted a little alone time with her, you could have just said so. We wouldn't have minded. Hell, we would have encouraged it."

"Yeah, well, I don't need any encouragement," Thorn growls, and then he stands, tossing his datapad onto the bench and heading off to find a quiet spot.

The truth was, he hadn't really thought about it. He hadn't thought about the implications of what this would mean. Being alone with you, day after day, until the two of you could return to Coruscant. And now, he wasn't sure what to do.

He couldn't exactly go back on his word, not when he had agreed to it. Not when you had given him the chance to prove himself. But it was difficult, knowing that his feelings towards you had been... complicated, ever since he had met you. Knowing that, if he wasn't careful, things could easily spiral out of control.

And now, the two of you were going to be spending an absurd amount of time together. Alone. With no one around to stop him from doing or saying something stupid.

He was in a lot of trouble.

The rest of the morning goes smoothly enough, and when lunch rolls around, he goes in search of you. You'd spent most of the day holed up in a conference room with a bunch of stuffy politicians, and by the time Thorn comes to collect you, the room is empty except for you. You're sitting at the table, staring out the window, and he's taken aback by how melancholy you look.

"Senator?"

You jump, glancing over at him, and the gloomy expression on your face is quickly replaced with a cheerful smile.

"Commander," you greet him, and he gives you a small nod.

"Time for lunch," he says, and you give him a wry grin.

"Is it, now?"

"You didn't have plans, did you?"

"Only to avoid you," you say sweetly, getting to your feet. You dress flows like water around you, the soft fabric brushing against your legs as you stand, and Thorn finds himself momentarily mesmerized.

He blinks, shaking his head, and gives you a scowl.

"Very funny."

"I thought so," you reply, walking past him and out into the hall. You don't bother looking back to see if he's following, and Thorn lets out a sigh before hurrying after you. He catches up with you easily enough, and the two of you walk in silence down to the dining room. You're not particularly chatty, and Thorn is starting to wonder if there's something bothering you.

You usually like to talk his ear off, and the fact that you're not makes him a little nervous.

He's about to ask if everything's alright when you speak up, your voice so quiet he almost doesn't hear it.

"Thank you," you murmur, glancing at him from the corner of your eye, and Thorn can't help the way his brows furrow in confusion.

"For what?"

"For agreeing to this," you reply, giving him a wry smile. "I know it's not ideal, but...it means a lot to me."

"Of course," he says, surprised. "It was the logical choice."

"Logical," you repeat. "Is that why you agreed to it, then?"

He hesitates, not sure how to answer.

"Yes," he says slowly. "I'm sure the Chancellor would prefer that I spend a couple of weeks with you rather than chasing after you every day. He wouldn't be very happy if he knew I lost you again."

You give a small huff, the sound more amused than annoyed. "And the fact that I'm so charming and beautiful has nothing to do with it?"

Thorn snorts, shaking his head.

"You are very charming, Senator," he agrees. "And you are a very beautiful woman. But if I have to spend another day chasing you down the street, I'm going to lose my mind."

"Good," you say with a wicked smile. He turns his head away, pretending to inspect the paintings lining the hallway, and tries not to flush. "Then let's get through these next few weeks quickly."

"Agreed," he says gruffly.

He holds the door open for you, letting you enter the dining room first, and the two of you find an empty table. There's an assortment of dishes laid out, and Thorn is pleased to see that they're not nearly as lavish as the previous meals. You'd been quite up in arms about the excess and waste of the food yesterday, and the Governor has clearly learned from his mistakes.

Thorn pulls out a chair for you, and you settle down in it, giving him a nod of thanks.

"I'm glad to see he listened," you comment, and Thorn looks over at the table, realizing what you're talking about.

"Yes, well," he says, clearing his throat. "I'm sure he doesn't want to risk upsetting you again."

"No, I suppose not," you agree, picking up a plate. When Thorn moves back around the table, he finds a seat has already been set for him, and he gives you a puzzled look.

"Did you tell someone to prepare this for me?"

"Don't sound so surprised," you reply, rolling your eyes. "It's the least I can do."

He frowns, but sits down nonetheless. As the two of you settle in, a few of the other guests glance your way, and Thorn doesn't miss the way they look at you. He bristles, feeling a surge of protectiveness rush through him, and he straightens in his chair, his hand resting on his blaster. You don't seem to notice the attention, and Thorn doesn't want to embarrass you by bringing it up, but he's determined to keep a close eye on everyone around you.

The others take the hint, quickly looking away, and Thorn's mouth twists in a smirk. Satisfied, he turns back to his plate, and he picks up a fork, spearing a piece of meat.

"So, what are your plans for the rest of the day, Commander?"

"Watching you, making sure you don't wander off, and avoiding my paperwork," he says dryly, and he gets a laugh out of you. He feels his cheeks heat, and he busies himself with his food, trying not to stare.

You're even more radiant when you laugh.

"I'd apologize, but I know it wouldn't do much good," you reply. "How is the paperwork going, anyway?"

"Awful."

"I'm sorry."

"I don't believe you," he says, giving you a wry smile, and you grin at him.

"You're right," you agree. "But it's the polite thing to say, isn't it?"

"You don't need to be polite," he says, shaking his head. "We're supposed to be working together, remember? If we're going to have a successful partnership, we need to be honest with each other."

"Well, if that’s the case, Commander," you begin with a mischievous gleam in your eyes. "How do you expect us to survive this week without killing each other?"

"I don't know," he says, unable to hide his grin. "But I suppose we'll just have to make it work."

"You make it sound so easy," you laugh.

"Nothing about you is easy, Senator," he replies, and the two of you continue the conversation, the banter between the two of you becoming more comfortable. The rest of the meal passes in a blur, and by the time Thorn realizes what's happening, he's having a good time.

The conversation is easy, and he doesn't feel as uncomfortable as he usually does. He doesn't feel like he has to constantly monitor his words, or worry about accidentally offending you. He's able to relax and enjoy himself, and he's surprised to find that he likes talking with you.

It's the best meal he's had in a long time, and when the two of you part ways, Thorn's stomach is full, and his heart feels strangely light.

You really were very charming, and he's not entirely sure how he feels about that.

By the time the third day rolls around, Thorn has fallen into a routine.

It's a comfortable routine, one that he didn't expect, but one that is welcomed all the same. His men are less than thrilled, especially since they’ve been given no respite, but they seem happy enough to know that he’s taking the lead on the mission.

You have meetings early in the mornings, which means that Thorn gets up early too. It's not his favorite thing, but it's worth it to spend time with you. The two of you eat together, and then Thorn escorts you to the office, where he stands guard outside your door while you meet with various representatives from other planets.

Then the two of you go back to your rooms, where you quickly eat lunch before leaving to stroll through the gardens.

The weather is temperate on your planet, and the gardens around the compound are beautiful. You seem to enjoy the flowers, and he listens as you point out each plant, the names and the species. Thorn finds himself paying more attention to your voice than the words coming out of your mouth, and he can't help but think that he could listen to you talk for hours.

You're not the arrogant, self-important politician that he'd thought you were, and he's beginning to realize just how much of your personality is an act. The woman you pretend to be is someone who demands attention, and she gets it. The real you is far more humble, and you seem happy to fade into the background when necessary.

Your people love you. They're constantly coming up to you, greeting you, asking after your health, and Thorn is amazed by how many you know by name. He had expected that you would treat them the way you treated him, but they seem happy to see you, and you seem equally delighted to see them.

There are also the gifts. Every few minutes someone will come up and offer something, and it's a constant battle to keep you from accepting. You're not supposed to take gifts, and even though most are small and seemingly harmless, Thorn is not willing to risk anything. So he gently turns down each gift, and each time, your eyes widen slightly and you give a slight shake of your head. The gesture is subtle, almost imperceptible, and Thorn finds it strangely endearing.

It's not the first time he's found something about you to be endearing. The list has grown rather long since you've been here, and it only seems to get longer with every passing day. The way you smile, the way you laugh, the way you brush the hair out of your face. It's all so... charming, and Thorn is starting to wonder if this is what the other troopers meant when they talked about you.

He'd always dismissed them as foolish, but now, as he watches you from his spot in the garden, he wonders if maybe he should have paid a little more attention. He knows that there's no chance of anything happening between the two of you, not unless he suddenly becomes a different person, but that doesn't stop him from looking.

"Commander."

He jerks, his attention snapping back to you, and you give him a knowing smile. "Are you feeling well? You seem a bit distracted."

"I'm fine," he says, his ears burning, and he shifts uncomfortably. "Is it time to head back?"

"Yes, I'm afraid so," you say, and Thorn moves closer, holding out a hand. You slip yours into it, letting him help you up, and his skin tingles where you touch him. "I have a conference call with the Chancellor this evening, and I need to prepare."

Thorn frowns. He had forgotten about that. The Chancellor had contacted him the previous night and asked for an update on your safety, and Thorn had told him that everything was going well. He's not sure what prompted the call, but it's not unusual for him to do that, and he tries not to let it bother him.

Still, he can't help but worry. The Chancellor is a busy man, and the fact that he's taking time out of his schedule to speak with you makes him nervous. Maybe the Chancellor is starting to question the wisdom of assigning him to be your personal guard, or perhaps the Council has had a change of heart and is ready to replace him. Either way, he doesn't like it.

"You should wear the purple," he says suddenly, and you turn to look at him, surprise written across your face. "It suits you."

You blink, and then a small smile spreads across your lips, a sparkle in your eye. "Why, Commander," you tease, "that almost sounded like a compliment."

He scoffs, rolling his eyes. "Don't get ahead of yourself."

You let out a soft chuckle, and Thorn has to swallow hard. "Thank you," you murmur, reaching out to brush a stray petal off of his shoulder. He freezes, his breath catching in his throat, and he can't seem to look away. Your eyes are sparkling, and your fingers are trailing up his shoulder and across his chest, and suddenly the temperature seems to increase by several degrees.

He doesn't know what to say, or how to react, and it takes every ounce of self-control he has not to reach up and grab your wrist. He's not sure if he wants to stop you or hold you tighter, and the uncertainty scares him.

But just as quickly as it happened, it's over. You drop your hand and step away, turning to walk towards the house, and Thorn has to take a moment to compose himself.

"Are you coming, Commander?" you call over your shoulder, and he forces himself to take a deep breath.

"Yes, Senator," he says, and he falls into step behind you, his gaze sweeping over your form, a lump forming in his throat. You look beautiful today, dressed in a pale yellow gown that reminds him of the sun, and he can't help but think about what it would be like to wrap his arms around your waist, to kiss the back of your neck, to feel your skin beneath his fingers.

You look back at him, a mischievous glint in your eye, and his eyes widen.

How long has he felt this way?

He has no idea, and he's not sure he wants to know the answer. You're his charge, his job, and any feelings beyond that are inappropriate. If the Jedi Council ever found out, they would surely be disappointed in him.

He shouldn't want this.

But he does.

And he's starting to realize that the other troopers weren't exaggerating when they talked about how beautiful you were. In fact, Thorn thinks they didn't give you nearly enough credit.

The walk back to the compound is a quiet one, and when you arrive, you head straight to your room. He follows you inside, standing awkwardly in the doorway, and then you turn to look at him.

"Would you mind giving me a moment alone?" you ask.

He hesitates, glancing at the open door, and you roll your eyes.

"I promise not to disappear," you assure him, and he feels his cheeks burn.

"Of course," he says, stepping back into the hallway and shutting the door behind him. He waits a moment, listening for the sound of the lock, and then he walks over to the window, peering out. It's a beautiful view, the city spread out beneath him, the setting sun painting the sky orange and pink. The light catches on the glass buildings, and he can see the faint outlines of ships as they soar overhead.

It's peaceful here, and he can't help but relax a bit. He's used to the chaos of Coruscant, and this is a nice change of pace. The compound is large and well-fortified, and Thorn is confident that no one can get in without alerting the guards. It's a secure location, and it's easy to be lulled into a false sense of safety.

Which is why he's surprised when the door swings open, and a hand grabs him, dragging him inside and slamming him against the wall.

It's an ambush, and it happens so fast that Thorn barely has time to react. He's slammed back again, his helmet falling off, and a foot presses into his chest, pinning him to the wall. A fist comes out of nowhere, and Thorn barely manages to block it, grabbing the arm and twisting, using the assailant's momentum to slam them onto the floor.

The man grunts, and Thorn uses the opportunity to pin him, straddling his hips and trapping his arms, a knee on his chest. His heart is pounding, adrenaline coursing through his veins, and he can't help but smile. He hasn't been in a fight in months, and it's been far too long since he's had a good brawl.

He's not sure what he was expecting, but he's glad that whoever it is isn't going down without a fight. He's been tense for weeks, and the opportunity to release some of that pent-up energy is a blessing.

The man bucks under him, and Thorn tightens his grip, a laugh escaping his lips. "Come on," he taunts, "is that the best you can do?"

"Fuck off."

He's about to respond when he hears the door swing open again, and another figure rushes in, tackling him and knocking him off his opponent. They're much smaller, and he's able to toss them off easily, but not before they manage to get in a few solid hits. They land a punch on his jaw, and he sees stars, his head ringing.

The first man is back on him, tackling him and sending him sprawling, and the second figure lands a kick to his ribs. He groans, the wind knocked out of him, and his vision swims. There's a sharp pain in his side, and he gasps, struggling to breathe.

A moment later, he’s on his back, his arms pinned, and a vibroblade pressed to his throat. The man stares down at him, and Thorn can see the anger burning in his eyes. He's panting, his breath coming in short bursts, and Thorn swallows. 

The man smiles. "Not so tough now, are you?"

Thorn grunts, struggling against the weight on top of him, but the blade digs deeper into his skin, and he can't move. He's pinned, and there's no way he can get free. He watches the second attacker stand, moving towards the bedroom, and he struggles harder, his eyes widening.

No.

The door opens, and he can hear you let out a gasp. Thorn's stomach drops, his heart clenching, and his fingers dig into the carpet. This can't be happening. If anything happens to you, if these men hurt you, he'll never forgive himself. He can't let that happen. He can't let you get hurt.

He can't lose you.

There’s the sound of a blaster going off in the other room, and Thorn feels ice run through his veins.

No. No, no, no, no, no.

He doesn't even think. He just reacts. The rage builds inside him, the fear and the adrenaline and the guilt all combining into one powerful emotion. He lets out a roar, bucking his hips and shoving the attacker off of him. The man tumbles to the ground, the knife flying out of his hand, and Thorn is on him in a second, his fists flying.

He hits the man again and again, until he can taste blood in his mouth, until his knuckles are raw, until a gentle hand touches his arm and stops him.

The world seems to come back into focus, and he can see the man lying beneath him, bloodied and bruised. He's breathing, but just barely, and Thorn's hand clenches into a fist. If you hadn't stopped him, the man would be dead.

He staggers to his feet, turning to face you. You're watching him, a blaster in your hand, and you give him a small smile. "Nice work, Commander."

Thorn can't speak, his breath coming out in ragged pants, and he shakes his head, the rage inside him threatening to consume him. 

"Senator—"

You place a finger over his lips, shushing him. 

"It's alright, Commander," you murmur, your expression gentle. "I'm okay."

He doesn't move, doesn't even breathe, and you reach up, placing your hands on either side of his face, stroking his cheeks. 

"I'm okay," you repeat, and he lets out a shuddering sigh, leaning into your touch. "See? I'm safe. Thanks to you."

Thorn still can't bring himself to speak, and you give him a smile, wrapping your arms around his neck and pulling him into a hug. He hesitates, his body tense, and then he relaxes, letting out a shaky breath and wrapping his arms around you, burying his face in your hair. You're safe. You're okay. You're here, in his arms, and he can feel his heart slowly beginning to calm.

You're okay.

He knows he shouldn't be doing this, but he can't bring himself to care. You're here, you're safe, and he needs to feel that you're alive, that you're real, and that you're here with him. His arms tighten around you, pulling you closer, and he feels your hands slide up his back, your fingers running through his hair, soothing him.

It's a long time before either of you speak, and when you do, it's Thorn who breaks the silence.

"What happened?" he asks, his voice barely above a whisper. You don't move, your fingers continuing to play with his hair, and he closes his eyes, taking a deep breath.

"They must have been waiting for me," you explain softly, and he can feel your voice vibrating through his body. "That man is a guard. And she—“ you nod your head toward the bedroom “—was a maid. I have no idea how they got past security, but I'm not surprised."

Thorn feels his anger start to build again, and he holds you a little tighter. His hands are still shaking, and his heart is racing. He can't believe how close he came to losing you. "Did they hurt you?"

"No," you assure him. "They didn't get a chance to."

He pulls back slightly, meeting your gaze. "I'm sorry. I should have—"

You shake your head. "Commander, I'm fine."

"If I had been there..."

"You were there," you interrupt, a smile tugging at the corners of your lips. "You were there, and you did everything right. You protected me."

He's not sure he did, but the look on your face tells him that he has no choice but to believe you. Thorn nods, his shoulders relaxing slightly, and you give him another smile, your hands dropping to his chest. You're so close, your bodies pressed together, and Thorn finds himself unable to look away from you. You're beautiful, and he's not sure how he's ever going to stop wanting you.

"Senator," he says softly, and you tilt your head, raising a brow.

"Commander," you murmur, and his breath catches. Your voice is like silk, and it sends a shiver down his spine.

"You are a very difficult woman to protect."

You let out a soft laugh, and his gaze drops to your mouth, watching as your lips part, and your tongue darts out, wetting them. He wants to kiss you, wants to pull you close and press his mouth to yours. He wants, desperately, to forget all about the danger, the attack, the mission, and just be with you. He just wants you.

The two of you stare at each other, neither of you willing to break the spell, and Thorn's hands tighten on their own accord, pulling you closer. You're so close, your noses practically touching, and he can feel your breath ghosting over his lips.

“Commander!”

Thorn’s hands release you immediately, and you stumble back, turning around to face the window as Thorn spins on his heel and steps in front of you, shielding you with his body.

Burst stands in the doorway with Knock behind him, their blasters raised, and Thorn lets out a weary sigh.

Of course. Of course this would happen. He'd gotten so wrapped up in you that he'd forgotten to check his comm.

He's an idiot.

He should have known better.

Thorn raises a hand, signaling for the troopers to stand down, and they lower their weapons, their shoulders slumping.

"Sir," Burst says, looking between him and the battered body on the floor. "We heard shots fired.”

Thorn glances at you, and he can see the corner of your mouth twitching, the barest hint of a smile. You give him a tiny shrug, and he nods, his gaze shifting to the man on the floor.

"There was an attempt on the Senator's life. We handled it," he explains. The troopers tense, and their helmets dart to you, scanning your body.

"Are you hurt?" Knock asks.

"No," you reply, and Thorn can't help the swell of pride in his chest. You'd handled the situation like a true professional, and the fact that you were unharmed was a testament to your training. "I’m alright. Thank you, Knock.”

Knock nods, taking in the scene. "Good.”

“There’s another one in the bedroom," Thorn says, jerking his thumb over his shoulder, and Knock nods again, moving past them and into the other room.

Thorn waits until he's gone, and then he turns back to you. He gives you a soft smile, taking a step forward. "Senator, why don't you go and clean up? I'll deal with this."

You look at him for a moment, and then you return his smile, reaching up to cup his cheek. "Thank you, Commander."

He leans into your touch, his eyes closing. "Of course, Senator. It's my job."

"And you're very good at it," you murmur. Your hand lingers for a moment, and then it falls, and when Thorn opens his eyes, you're gone, disappearing into your dressing room and shutting the door behind you.

Thorn stares at the closed door for a moment before letting out a breath and scrubbing a hand over his face. He can hear Burst snickering behind him, and he turns around, giving him a hard glare.

"What are you laughing at?"

"Nothing, sir," Burst replies, trying and failing to hide his amusement. "Nothing at all."

Thorn narrows his eyes. "Burst—"

"Commander, you can't deny that this is a bit amusing,” he says as he moves toward the unconscious man. He kicks him over onto his front, and Thorn has to suppress a wince at the damage he did. The man is covered in blood, his nose is broken, and there are several cuts on his face. His eyes are swollen shut, and his breathing is labored. He's lucky to be alive.

“I don’t find any of this amusing,” Thorn mutters, his expression dark. He's angry, and he's not entirely sure why. These men had tried to kill you, and he should be relieved that they had failed. But instead, all he can think about is how close he'd come to losing you, and how easy it would have been for him to get distracted. How close he'd come to not protecting you. How much worse this could have been.

He should have been more careful.

“If you say so,” Burst replies as he crouches down next to the man, a pair of cuffs in his hands. He whistles low under his breath, looking him over. "You did this?"

Thorn clears his throat, his cheeks heating, and he glares at the ground. "Yes."

"Wow, sir. Nice work.” Burst reaches down and pulls the man’s arms behind his back, and Thorn watches as he binds his wrists. The man doesn't move, his head lolling to the side. "I didn't know you had it in you."

"Shut up," Thorn growls.

"Just saying, I'm impressed. You must really like the Senator."

"Burst," he says warningly.

"Relax, Commander," Knock interrupts, appearing in the doorway, and Thorn feels a surge of relief. He’s carrying the woman over his shoulder, her body limp, and he dumps her on the ground next to the man. "We won't say anything."

"I don't know what you're talking about," he lies, but even he can tell that it sounds weak. Burst snorts, rolling his eyes.

"Yeah, right."

"Look, this is none of your concern," Thorn snaps, his eyes darting to the door and then back to his troopers. He doesn't want you overhearing their conversation, and the last thing he needs is for this to get back to the Chancellor.

If the Chancellor knew how he felt, if he found out how Thorn had failed him, failed his mission, failed you... well, Thorn would probably lose his position. Or worse.

And it was all because he couldn't keep his feelings in check.

He was an idiot.

The Chancellor had put him on this mission for a reason, and he'd made a promise. A promise to protect you, to keep you safe. And what had he done? He'd let his feelings get in the way, and now he'd failed you.

He couldn't afford to do that again.

“Take them down to the holding cells. Quietly,” he orders, his voice low. “We can’t know for sure that there aren't others. Until we have confirmation, I don’t want the rest of the household knowing about this. Understood?"

"Yes, sir," they say in unison, and Thorn turns his back on them, moving towards the bedroom. It's quiet inside, the door hanging off its hinges, and Thorn surveys the damage, his lips pursed.

The room is a disaster, and he's not sure how long it's going to take to fix. He's definitely going to have to speak to the Governor about the security measures, and he makes a mental note to have a word with him first thing tomorrow. They’ll have to move you to another wing, and the compound will need to be swept for more would-be assassins. He's not going to take any chances.

But those are problems for tomorrow. Right now, he just needs a few minutes to calm down.

He walks over to the bed, sitting down on the edge and leaning forward, his head in his hands. His mind is racing, and his heart is pounding. He feels like he's falling apart, like his whole world is crashing down around him, and he can't catch his breath.

This is the first time he's felt like this in a long time, and it scares him. He'd thought he was beyond this. He'd thought he was above it, the feeling of helplessness, the fear and the panic. But as he sits there trying desperately to get his emotions under control, he realizes that he's not. He's not as strong as he thought. He's not invincible.

And it's all because of you.

He'd thought you were his charge, someone to protect. He'd never expected you to be more than that, to mean something to him. But as he sits here, thinking about how close he'd come to losing you, the terror that had gripped him when he'd thought you'd been shot, the rage he'd felt when he'd seen you in danger, he can't deny it any longer.

You mean something to him, and he doesn't know what he would do if anything happened to you.

Thorn shudders, and he closes his eyes. He can't let himself go down that road. You're safe, and that's what matters. The attack had been averted, and no one had been seriously hurt. Everything was fine. He has to keep reminding himself of that, or he'll drive himself crazy.

"Commander?"

He opens his mouth to respond, his head jerking up, but the words die in his throat when he sees you in the doorway. You're wearing the purple outfit he had suggested earlier, and your hair is styled elegantly atop your head. It's hard to describe the feeling that rises in his chest, a strange mix of relief and awe and longing, and it takes him a moment to compose himself.

When he finally speaks, his voice comes out as a hoarse whisper.

"Senator."

"Commander, are you alright?"

He stares at you, his mind struggling to formulate a response, and you move into the room, kneeling in front of him and placing a gentle hand on his kne

"Commander?"

"I'm fine," he says, clearing his throat and looking away. "Don't worry about me."

You frown as you reach up to brush a lock of hair out of his face. "You're bleeding."

He blinks, startled, and then his hand rises to his forehead, his fingers coming away red. He hadn't even realized he was injured. "Oh."

"Let me take care of that," you murmur, standing up and disappearing into the bathroom. He hears you rummaging around for a moment, and then you return, a small medical kit in your hand. You open it, pulling out a bacta patch and tearing open the packaging.

Thorn lets out a shaky breath, his shoulders sagging. He knows he should protest, that he should tell you that he's fine, that you should leave him alone, but he doesn't want to. He's exhausted, and you're being so gentle with him. He can't bring himself to refuse.

You lean forward, pressing the patch on the cut. He winces, and you make a soft sound.

"Sorry," you whisper, your voice barely audible. You give him a half-smile and tilt your head. "Does it hurt?"

He shakes his head, a small grin tugging at his lips. "Not at all."

"Liar."

"Maybe."

You shake your head and sigh, your eyes flicking down to his hands. The blood from his split knuckles has soaked through his gloves, and the red darkens the black leather. "Let me see."

"I'll get a medic."

You frown, and he holds up his hands. "Please, Senator. I'm fine. You're already late for your call."

"The Chancellor can wait," you argue, but Thorn shakes his head.

"You know he can't," he says, giving you a wry grin. "I'm a big boy. I can handle a few scrapes and bruises."

You don't look convinced, but you seem to know better than to argue with him. You stare at him for a moment longer, and then you nod. "Fine. But I'll check on you afterwards. No arguing."

"I wouldn't dream of it," he replies, and you give him a sharp look. He smiles, holding his hands up. "No, really, I wouldn't."

"Good," you say, your gaze lingering on his hands. "Will you escort me to the conference room?"

He nods. "Of course, Senator."

You stand up, offering him a hand, and he takes it and lets you pull him to his feet. You smile, and Thorn can't help but feel like his heart is going to burst out of his chest. He knows that he shouldn't, but he loves the way you smile at him.

You lead him out of the room, and the two of you head down the hallway. He folds your arm into his, his other hand resting on top of yours, and the two of you fall into a comfortable silence. He doesn't know what to say, and he's grateful that you don't seem inclined to talk either. There's nothing left to say.

As you make your way to the conference room, he thinks about the events of the past few hours. It had been a close call, and if you hadn't been so quick, or if Thorn hadn't been there...

He could have lost you. He could have lost this. The thought terrifies him, and he tightens his grip on your hand, unwilling to let go.

He doesn't want to think about what would happen if he did.

It's been three days since the attempt on your life, and the mood in the compound is tense.

No one speaks much, and the troopers are on high alert. You seem unbothered by the whole thing, much to his frustration. He's been watching you closely, waiting for a sign that something is wrong, but there's nothing. You're perfectly fine, and it makes him wonder how often you've been targeted. How many attacks have you endured, and how many has he not known about?

It bothers him more than he cares to admit.

He's been sleeping in the hall outside your new room, taking his shifts with the troopers who patrol the corridors at night. It's not a comfortable arrangement, and he's constantly worried that someone is going to attack him, but it's better than being caught off guard. He's not letting anything happen to you, and if that means sacrificing his own comfort, then so be it.

You, on the other hand, seem unfazed. You go about your day, holding meetings, making plans, and Thorn finds himself growing increasingly frustrated. You don't seem concerned, and while that should be a relief, it's not. You should be worried. You should be scared. But instead, you're acting as though nothing has changed, and it makes him furious.

"You need to take this seriously," he tells you after dinner. You're sitting in your room, reading a datapad, and you glance up at him, raising a brow.

"I am taking it seriously," you say, and Thorn huffs.

"You're not," he argues, and you roll your eyes.

"Are you questioning my judgment, Commander?"

He sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Yes."

You place the datapad on the table beside you and turn to face him. "And why is that?"

"Because," he says, his voice growing louder, "this is your life we're talking about. Don't you understand that? Someone tried to kill you."

"I'm aware."

"Then why aren't you acting like it?" he snaps.

You frown, folding your arms across your chest. "What exactly do you think I should be doing, Commander? Should I cry? Should I scream? Should I cower in fear? What would make you happy?"

"That's not what I mean, and you know it," he growls, pacing the length of the room. "You're acting as if nothing has happened. As if this isn't a big deal."

You shrug, picking up your datapad and returning your attention to it. "It's not."

"Not to you, maybe. But it is to me."

"I'm touched," you reply dryly, and he glares at you. You sigh and shake your head. "People try to kill me all the time, Commander. It's part of the job."

He freezes, his heart skipping a beat. "What?"

You shrug again, not looking up. "It's not a big deal."

Thorn's eyes widen, and he lets out a noise that's somewhere between a laugh and a cry of frustration. He doesn't know whether to be angry or horrified. You're completely unconcerned, and he doesn't know how to respond.

He's always known that your job is dangerous, but he'd never realized just how much danger you were actually in. He doesn't know if the Chancellor or the Council are aware of this, but he knows that he's going to have a word with them. He's not sure how much more of this he can take.

You raise a brow, giving him a small smile. "What?"

"You're unbelievable," he mutters, running a hand through his hair. He wants to punch a wall, or break something. Anything to release the pent-up energy. He feels like he's going to explode, and he's not sure how much longer he can contain his anger.

"Why, thank you, Commander," you say as you turn your attention back to your datapad, and he lets out a growl, pacing across the room. He can't believe this. He can't believe how cavalier you're being, how flippant, and it's infuriating.

He's never felt like this before, and he's not sure how to cope with the emotions bubbling up inside him. He's worried, and scared, and angry, and a million other things, and it's overwhelming. He doesn't know what to do.

"Commander, are you okay?"

Thorn stops pacing and looks over at you, his gaze meeting yours.

"Why are you so nonchalant about this?" he demands, his voice coming out harsher than he intended. "You could have died. Do you realize that? You could have died, and then where would I be?"

Your eyes widen, and for a moment, you look shocked. You stare at him, and Thorn can see the concern in your gaze as you set your datapad down again. "I don't know. Where would you be, Commander?"

Thorn stares at you, unable to speak. He can't bring himself to voice his true feelings. If he does, there's no going back. If he admits how much you mean to him, how much he cares about you, he's afraid of what will happen.

He's afraid that he'll lose control, and that he won't be able to stop himself from telling you everything. From revealing how he truly feels about you. And that would be a disaster.

"Useless," he mutters. "I'd be useless. I'm supposed to be protecting you, and if you had died, I would have been a failure. I couldn't have lived with myself. So, yes, I'm questioning your judgment, and no, I don't think you're taking this seriously."

You're quiet for a moment, and Thorn takes a step closer, his hands on his hips. He's not sure why he's doing this. He knows he's overreacting, and he can't stop the words from spilling out of his mouth. He needs you to understand, and he can't seem to keep his mouth shut.

"Commander," you murmur, "that's not—"

"If you'd died, it would have been my fault," he continues, ignoring you. "I would have failed you, and I would have failed the Chancellor, and I would have failed myself. And I'm not sorry. I'm angry. I'm pissed off. And I'm not going to apologize."

You sigh and lean back in your chair. "I didn't expect you to."

"Good."

"Look," you say, standing up and walking over to him. "I know you're worried, and I appreciate it. I really do. But I'm not some helpless damsel in distress, and I'm not going to stop living my life because someone wants me dead. If I did, I would never get anything done."

Thorn's jaw clenches, and he takes a deep breath, trying to calm himself. "I just don't understand how you can be so calm about this. It's dangerous, and I don't like it."

"That's not your choice," you point out, and he scoffs. "I'm not going to hide, Commander."

"Senator—"

"Commander."

"I don't care," he snaps. "I don't care what you want. This is about keeping you safe, and if that means you're not happy, then so be it."

You roll your eyes, turning your back on him and walking over to the window. You stand there for a moment, staring out at the city below, and Thorn watches as your shoulders slump.

"I'm not some pet, Commander," you say, glancing at him. "I have a job to do, and I'm going to do it." 

Thorn's eyes narrow, and he grits his teeth. "I'm not asking."

"I know," you say, looking back out the window. "But you can't stop me."

He opens his mouth, ready to argue, but you shake your head, cutting him off. "And I'm not going to fight with you about it. If you want to spend all your time worrying about me, that's your business. But don't expect me to do the same."

He scowls. "Senator—"

"Enough, Commander."

The words sting, and Thorn takes a step back, his face twisting in anger. "Fine," he growls, stalking towards the door. "If that's how you feel."

You turn, giving him a hard look. "It is."

He shakes his head and slams his hand against the door panel. The doors slide open, and he pauses, looking back at you.

"For the record, Senator, I do worry about you. A lot. And not just because it's my job. And I'll continue to worry, whether you like it or not."

Your face softens, and Thorn steps into the hallway, the doors closing behind him. He stands there for a moment, his hands clenched into fists, and then he lets out a frustrated groan, leaning against the wall.

He's an idiot. He's the biggest idiot in the entire galaxy.

He's never felt like this before, and he's not sure how to process his emotions. He's worried about you, and angry, and afraid, and he's so tired of arguing with you. But most of all, he's hurt. He thought that you understood, that you would listen to him. He thought that you would see that he's just trying to protect you. But you don't.

He doesn't know how else to convince you, and he doesn't know what else to do. He can't force you to change your mind, and he can't stop you from putting yourself in danger.

But he can try.

Thorn stalks down the hallway, his boots thudding on the floor, and he tries to clear his head. He needs to get his emotions under control. He's acting like a child, and he knows it. But he can't help himself. Why does he have to protect such an infuriating woman? Why does he have to want you so much? Why does he have to care about you so much?

He's been trying so hard not to let his feelings get the better of him, but he's failing. And it's only going to get worse. He can feel it. Every time he's around you, his emotions are in overdrive, and he's having a harder and harder time keeping them under control. He knows he should back off, but he can't. You're like a magnet, and he's drawn to you. He can't stay away. He doesn't want to.

And that scares him more than any assassin ever could.

Taglist: @baddest-batchers @covert1ntrovert @stellarbit @bruh-myguy-what @qvnthesia

@spicy-clones @kindalonleystars @cw80831 @totallyunidentified @heidnspeak

@lovelytech9902 @frozenreptile @chocolatewastelandtriumph @etod @puppetscenario

@umekohiganbana @resistantecho @dindjarins1ut @tech-aficionado @aynavaano

@burningnerdchild @ihatesaaand @lolwey @hobbititties @mere-bear

@thegreatpipster @lordofthenerds97 @tentakelspektakel @notslaybabes @mali-777

@schrodingersraven @megmegalodondon @dangraccoon @dreamie411 @sukithebean

@bimboshaggy @anything-forourmoony @9902sgirl @jedi-dreea @salaminus

@ghostymarni @gottalovehistory @burningnerdchild @yoitsjay @callsign-denmark

@julli-bee @sonicrainbooms @captn-trex @feral-ferrule @webslinger-holland

@marchingviolist @deerspringdreams @chaicilatte @somewhere-on-kamino @silly-starfish

@floofyroro @veralii @chubbyhedgehog

this is so wonderfully written ❤️ and Tech is so sweet omg! I think a forehead kiss from him would heal me actually

Unexpected Comfort

Tech x f!reader: Sweet and soft Tech goodness, reader is the Batch’s medic. This is a short and sweet little piece that helped me cope with the first panic attack I’ve ever experienced. Sort of friends to lovers if you squint. Mostly proofread.

Summary: You experience a panic attack since joining the GAR as a medic and while it’s not your first, it takes you by surprise. Thankfully Tech, who just so happens to be the one you’re crushing on, is there to help ground and comfort you.

words: 1.2k

warnings: description of a panic attack but other than that this is SFW.

a/n: it’s been wayyyy too long since I’ve posted anything but my life has been pretty awful recently so this ficlet is entirely self indulgent and me just trying to seek some much needed comfort. enjoy! 🫶🏻 @jetii I was inspired by your lovely header images from your fics when I started making one for this.💜

divider: @saradika

Taglist: @jetii @techwrecker @alegendoftomorrow @stellarbit @heiress-prime @scarlettdeclermonts

You aren’t sure what triggered it. That all too familiar feeling of panic begins gripping at your chest while your heart drops into your stomach. Your breathing starts to come in frequent short gasps as the panic settles in.

You fall to your knees with your arms clutching around your middle and lean forward so that your forehead is pressed to the cool metal deck of the refresher. Hot tears begin dripping from your lashes onto the ground and it’s taking everything in you not to let your sobs and gasps for air be heard.

Thankfully Hunter, Wrecker, Crosshair, and Echo were off doing their own thing in the measly downtime they were all allowed while Tech remained onboard the ship to recalibrate the nav system. You had stayed behind with the intention to catch up on some much needed rest since the last mission had you running on only six hours of sleep and three ration bars in the last two rotations.

You attempt to soothe yourself with the deep breathing exercises you had used in the past any time this all-too familiar feeling of panic began to creep in. But this time it wasn’t helping as much as it usually does and your breaths start turning into hyperventilating.

Bringing a hand up to cover your mouth so as not to alert Tech of the state of panic you were in, you bit down hard enough on the back of your hand to nearly draw blood. You knew as the team medic that you’d definitely be bruised in the morning but that didn’t matter much at the moment.

You squeezed your eyes shut, your tears forming little pools where they had fallen onto the floor as you sucked in another desperate breath. The sound that accompanied it was muffled by your hand pressed against your mouth but it nonetheless came out louder than you wanted. This only made the hyperventilating worse and you couldn’t keep the sound of you drawing more rough breaths into your lungs from reverberating against the walls of the refresher.

Sobs wrack your crumpled form and you can’t hold them back any longer, the force of them causing you to breathe in sharply. You prayed to the Maker that Tech was too engrossed in his recalibrations to notice but your prayer must have fallen on deaf ears because there was a soft knocking sound against the door.

You hear Tech call your name, slight urgency apparent in his voice but you don’t want him to see you like this.

“I-I’m fine! Just l-let me be, please, Tech.” You choke out against the floor. You tighten your hold around your middle in a bid for some kind of control, hoping desperately that the panic will start to subside, but the feeling only persists.

“You do not sound fine. May I come in?” Tech asks, his hand hovering over the door panel.

Your only response is another choked sob and another sharp intake of breath.

Tech swiftly overrides the lock on the door and as soon as it slides open he’s kneeling down beside you. He tentatively places a hand on your shoulder while the other reaches under your arm and gently pulls you into a seated position on your knees.

Your face is blotched red, your eyes still leaking tears and you still haven’t stopped hyperventilating. The feeling of passing out is creeping further and further into your field of vision before Tech firmly but gently grasps your shoulders.

You don’t want to look him in the face. The mere thought of him feeling sorry for you was enough to make you squeeze your eyes shut again. You lower head between the two of you, the top of your head nearly touching Tech’s armored chest.

“Look at me, cyare. You are safe, we are all safe.” Tech assures you. One of his hands finds your back and he’s begun rubbing slow circles against the fabric of your shirt. His other hand finds your chin and tips your face up to look at him.

“I will repeat again that you are safe, as am I and my brothers.” Tech’s eyes are sincere and you’re finding that his mere presence is grounding you, let alone his gentle touch.

You’re no longer hyperventilating, your breathing to starts to slow a bit but the tears are still freely falling down your cheeks. You sniffle and nod your head while letting a choked sound escape past your lips.

Tech watches as another tear slides down your cheek and moves his hand to swipe it away with his thumb while his palm cups the side of your face. You lean into his touch, your hand coming up to cover his against your cheek. Tech’s presence, while grounding and calming, makes something in your stomach flutter. You can’t help the slight blush that’s begun coloring your cheeks while his hand is still pressed gently to the side of your face.

You close your eyes and attempt to take another deep breath. It comes out shaky and a little choked but it’s a whole lot better than it was just a few moments ago.

“I’m sorry you’re seeing me like this.” You finally say between sniffles.

“There is no need to apologize. Panic attacks occur in more than thirty-five percent of humans.”

“True.” You offer him a small smile, your eyes finding his again. You know Tech is aware that you’re already knowledgeable of that fact but it warms your heart to see that he’s trying his best to reassure you.

“Comforting me must be a little out of your comfort zone though.”

“You might be surprised to know that it isn’t. My brothers used to suffer from them quite frequently when we were cadets and I was usually the one to help calm them.” Tech replies without missing a beat.

His hand falls and clasps yours that’s resting on the top of your knee. You avert your gaze from his, searching for something on the refresher floor to focus on as heat rises to your face yet again.

“Oh, I didn’t know that. But somehow that makes a lot of sense.” You admit softly, your voice coming out a little hoarse.

Your gaze shifts to Tech’s hand covering yours in your lap then slowly back up to his face. His expression is soft and your eyes linger on his lips a half second longer than they should before closing them and shaking your head.

You know you shouldn’t expect Tech’s kindness and concern to mean anything more than just that. But the hope has already settled in your chest and the longer his hand lingers over yours the deeper it’s roots take hold.

Looking back up at Tech you offer him a small but sincere smile.

“Thank you for helping to ground me. I truly appreciate it…and you.” You say finally, silently hoping he gets the message that you are thankful for him in more ways than one.

You hesitantly turn your hand palm up in your lap so that your fingers interlace with his.

“You are most welcome, cyare.” Tech says just before leaning forward and pressing a soft kiss to your forehead.

omg I loved this so much !!! nervous rex is my favourite, and such a nice concept too :)

Necklaces - Rex x f!JediReader

Summary: Rex told himself the necklaces you adorned were only so captivating because Jedi didn’t usually have such things. 

A Rex one shot where we follow Rex working through his thoughts (feelings) about your necklaces. 

Tags/Warnings: CT - 7567/Captain Rex, Jedi Reader, Rex is confused bless him, implied sexual content, alcohol references.

Word count: 1.2k

Author's note: This came to me this afternoon and I had to get it out of my brain. This is for my girlies who love layering their drip and love Rex. Niche? Probably yes.

On a more serious note, this is my first time writing again in years. Do I feel vulnerable posting this? Yes, dear reader, I do. But you gotta start somewhere. Feedback is appreciated :)

— 

It’s not like he hadn’t seen them before. Rex knew that. Many women wore them in a variety of colours, stones, metals, and he didn’t care then. So why, Maker why, was he so captivated by the delicate necklaces you wore around your neck everyday? 

It had been the second thing he’d noticed about you when you’d met. The sterile light of the ship danced across the silky chains, pulling his eyes both up to your neck and down between your cleavage. 

He told himself the necklaces were only so noticeable because Jedi didn’t usually have such things. Wasn’t it forbidden anyway? He thought as he regarded you from afar. 

He’d steal glances at them. He’d watch you untangle the fine chains during moments of respite, lifting your hair away and methodically shuffling the clasps to the back of your neck. He quickly realised you’d toy with them when deep in thought, too. 

He’d watch the chains dangle from your neck when you lent over the command table to point at something, and force his eyes to wherever you were gesturing. Doing his best to ignore the sounds of clinking pendants accompanying your smooth voice. 

He’d watch the way his brothers also took note of them, feeling a lump in his throat and twist in his gut which he didn’t want to name.

— 

He remembered the day he asked you about them. It had been a few months since you’d joined the battalion and while he cringed inwardly at asking such a personal question, he’d grown tired of wondering what the shapes and symbols meant to you. He wanted this information for himself, making sure to ask you when everyone else had left the command room for the evening.

You’d smiled at his question and absentmindedly moved your hands to fiddle with the chains – unaware that you’d mesmerised the Captain in the process – as you explained they were from your home planet. You frowned when you discovered they’d tangled yet again.

“Allow me, ma’am,” Rex stepped forward, feeling like his feet weren’t his own as he moved into your space and tilted his head to get a better look at your neck.

His ears felt so hot he almost didn’t hear you thank him. His hands didn’t betray his nerves as he brought his thick, calloused fingers to the dainty chains. He huffed as he managed to tangle them even more before finally getting the hang of it and gently prying them apart. 

In such close proximity, he almost felt dizzy. He’d never have guessed you’d smell so floral, sweet, womanly. You’d averted your gaze, watching him in your peripheral vision with a small smile. Rex could feel your heartbeat in your neck thrumming away, and resisted reaching out to run his knuckle along your high cheekbones.

—

Then there was that time you joined them at 79s. How could he forget? You’d worn a dress that, while modest, didn’t exactly hide your figure as you sat across the table looking at him. The sweetheart neckline you wore was anything but sweet on Rex’s alcohol-buzzed mind. 

And those necklaces. Fuck… those necklaces, Rex thought as he ran a hand over his face at the booth. They sit so beautifully on your skin, he noted, before realising this was his first time seeing them against your flawless skin and not your robes. Taking another sip of his drink, he shoved down his brain’s traitorous musings of how the chains would lie on your chest if he could lay you down and– 

Standing up, and feeling grateful for his codpiece, Rex went to get some air. He took a woman home that night. She wore necklaces too.

—

And then one day, while lying in his bunk and trying to fall asleep, Rex realised that his fascination with your necklaces actually had very little to do with the necklaces. 

—

It was stupid. Plain bloody stupid. Reckless, too. But there Rex stood. Shifting his weight from one foot to the other outside your door. His heartbeat thundering away. The door opened and you smiled at him. It may as well have been a bullet to his heart. 

“Yes Captain?”

“I-uh, I got you this.”

Rex reached into his utility belt, mentally kicking himself for stammering like a shiny. 

His chest tightened watching you quizzically look over the velvet pouch he’d put in your hand. He almost wished he could take it back. Take it all back and get on with his life again. No matter how much duller it would be.

You gasped as you pulled the necklace from the packaging. A fine golden chain bearing a pearl dangling in the air as you examined it. Rex tried to gauge your reaction. He both wanted to see every minute expression you made, but also to turn away and hide should you hate it or him for doing this. He felt sick. 

“Rex, it’s gorgeous,” you found your voice, “how did you know I’d lost my other one?”

“Hard not to,” Rex shrugged, before wincing at giving himself away. 

Great, now she thinks you're some creep keeping tabs on what she wears, he thought, before groaning inwardly at the realisation that he had been doing exactly that. 

But how could he not know? Rex had noticed your distress when you’d realised that one of your necklaces was missing only a few rotations ago. Most of the men were tired, sitting on the shuttle floor as it carried you to The Resolute. You hadn’t said anything, but you didn’t need to. He noticed. Through his helmet, he watched you clasp the base of your neck, counting your chains with knitted brows, before checking your belt, your pockets, even your boots, before you looked down and pinched your eyes shut. He knew what that expression on you meant by now.

He could feel your hurt from across the shuttle. And he hated it. 

Your soft lips pressed to his cheek snapped Rex back to the present moment. His eyes went wide and body as rigid as durasteel. He just knew his cheeks had flushed.

“Thank you Rex. Would you do the honours?” You fiddled with the new addition to your stack.

Red nodded, his throat too dry to speak. 

He watched you turn around, presenting your neck to him. Gently, so gently, perhaps as cautiously as he’d ever moved in his life, Rex swept your hair to the side. He raised the necklace, taking a selfish moment to breathe you in. He was so scared he’d wake up any minute now, in his bunk with his heart hurting and panicked breathing. 

But when he felt your warm skin under his fingertips, he knew this couldn’t possibly be a dream. Securing the clasp, he thanked the gods above that you liked it. That he hadn’t overstepped. That you’d let him get this close again.

His breath hitched seeing the pearl as you turned around. It looked like it was always meant to be there, falling perfectly between the other jewels and gleaming the light. 

“What do you think?” You asked cheekily. You’d pushed your chest out towards him, as if it would help him see any better.

Maker, are you trying to kill me? 

Rex wracked his brain for an intelligent response. For something that walked the line between professionalism and flattery. He blanked and settled with the truth instead.

“You’re beautiful.” 

Your subsequent blush is unmissable. Rex grins, euphoria flooding his veins and reaching every fibre of his being. 

— fin —

technical devotion, part nineteen: safety

a/n: I remembered I have a taglist this time lmao so yay. also just fyi, there's gonna be seven more chapters (after this one), which is funny to me in and of itself because this fic was originally only supposed to be like 10 chapters in entirety but... I have no chill apparently

warnings: mentions of blood & injuries, traumatic weight loss? idk what to call that

last chapter | next chapter | master list | join the taglist

Echo’s day so far had been particularly monotonous. Every day had been for a while now.

He had skipped breakfast after another sleepless night, instead opting to stay in Kan’s office and monitor Imperial long range comms on the off chance he heard anything about rebels or prisons or anything else that they never talked about. After hours of tuning in and not finding anything, he dragged himself to the mess, and grabbed some caf before continuing on with his previous activity.

This had been his daily routine for a few weeks. He couldn’t bring himself to do much else.

When he walked past the command room on the way back to Kan’s office, he heard people speaking in hushed voices. He turned his ear to the door with a frown, but failed to hear what they were whispering about. He opened the door, and the two people hunched over the holotable shut their mouths when they saw him, looking very caught as they switched it off.

“What’s going on?” He asked, looking between Rex and Spider as they scrambled for something to say.

“Nothing” Rex said quickly, standing up straight, “What brings you here?”

Echo gave them a sceptical look, “I heard you two… whispering”

“Ah, right” Rex rubbed his neck awkwardly, not adding any further comments.

Spider gave him a look, “I think you should just tell him Rex”

“Tell me what?” Echo frowned, stepping into the room.

Rex sighed deeply, “Please don’t be angry when I tell you this, I just wanted to make sure our intel was correct before I got your hopes up”

Echo waited patiently for him to continue, trying to quell the irritation that was already bubbling up. Rex looked to Spider and nodded for him to leave the room. When the door closed behind him, Echo was growing impatient.

“What is it?”

Rex took a deep breath before speaking, “We know where Kan is”

A range of emotions washed over Echo. He was relieved, yes, also angry like Rex had predicted, but his worry was still taking over. Knowing where Kan was didn’t make her safe.

“How?” Echo asked.

“Senator Chuchi did some digging, one of the descriptions of the prisoners matched her perfectly, so we’re pretty certain”

“How long have you known?”

“Since… two rotations ago”

“And you didn’t tell me?” Echo crossed his arms, but Rex jumped in before it could escalate.

“Look, the plan was that Spider was going to go and get her, and she’d be back here before you knew anything about it. Like I said, I don’t want to get your ho-”

“Send me instead” Echo interrupted him, his voice firm as if it was a command.

“Echo” Rex said in a sigh, rubbing his hand over his face, “Spider was an ARF in the 41st elite corps, he’s got this”

“And I was an ARC in the 501st, I’m not seeing the relevance”

“It’s not about that. You know what I mean” Rex gave Echo a pointed look.

“Rex, please” Echo begged, his tone a little desperate, “Please send me instead”

“Echo, we… we’re pretty sure it’s her, but you need to be prepared for it not to be”

“I know, I know. I just-” He looked to his feet, “Please, I- I need to do this”

Rex didn’t want to give in, he really didn’t, but the pleading, broken hearted man in front of him was a hard one to disappoint, even when he wasn’t in this state.

“Fine” Rex conceded, “But I’m trusting you to be objective about this. I don’t want you ending up captured too”

Echo nodded, “Of course”

“Alright” Rex turned the holotable back on, revealing a map, “This is the place”

Echo drew his ship out of hyperspace, the blue streaks pulling back to reveal a planet that made it seem he hadn’t even pulled the lever. The surface was painted by swirling blues, punctuated by large white clouds, and for a moment it reminded him of Pabu.

A stern voice crackled through the comms, interrupting his thoughts and demanding clearance codes for landing. Echo obliged, transmitting the codes that Senator Chuchi had acquired. He waited with bated breath as they verified the authenticity of them, and his body relaxed when they let him know he was cleared for landing.

He brought his ship into the upper atmosphere, going over the plan in his head, trying to remain calm. He’d done things like this before, it would be fine. He was prepared for Kan not to be here, but that didn’t mean that he wouldn’t scour the entire building until he was sure she wasn’t.

His ship touched down on the landing platform and he took a deep breath, opening up the door and adjusting the stormtrooper armour that he was wearing. He stepped out of the ship, his eyes scanning the platform for anyone taking note of him, of which there were only a few mechanics glancing over as they worked on other ships.

Echo walked slowly, calculated, trying not to look suspicious by rushing about. He followed the map that he'd burned into his brain, heading for the detention block of the base. He nodded to the troopers that were stood just down the hall from the door he needed to access. Ordinarily, an access card would be needed, but Echo was able to bypass that necessity by way of his scomp.

He kept glancing over his shoulder, making sure the stormtroopers were still faced away as he cracked through the door's encryption. The door zipped open, and Echo pulled out his scomp, quickly darting through the door and putting his cybernetic arm back into place.

The cells that lined the hall were only ray shielded, so he could see through and into them. He peered into every cell as he passed, his eyes narrowing in on the figures inside to identify the one he was looking for. He made it though a few corridors before he came across a cell that made him stop in his tracks.

The person inside was curled up on the bench that lined the back of the cell, their knees pressed to their chest and their head resting against the wall. Echo almost didn't recognise her. Her frame was a lot smaller than the last time he'd seen her, her skin clinging to her bones in a way that made Echo’s heart lurch.

Once he had recognised her, he immediately slammed his fist into the control panel to lift the ray shields, ripping off his helmet as he rushed inside.

“M'aira”

Echo fell to his knees in front of Kan’s rigid form, taking her face in his hands. Her eyes fluttered, but didn’t open fully, as if she couldn’t, or didn’t have the strength to.

“Who- What…?” She muttered, an edge of fear and uncertainty.

“It's Echo” He spoke gently, not wanting to frighten her. Her eyes opened a little more at that.

“Echo” She whispered, “You’re here”. She sounded relieved.

“I'm here” Echo confirmed, leaning his forehead against hers, enveloping her in his presence, his safety. “I'm going to get you out of here Cyar'ika. Can you stand?”

As he guided Kan's feet to the floor, Echo noticed a small trickle of dried blood down the side of her neck, and bruising around the tiny wound from which the blood had spilled. Echo decided to put it to the back of his mind, focusing on getting Kan out of here before he dwelled on the state she was in.

Kan’s knees crumbled beneath her as she tried to stand up, and she slumped back onto the bench.

“I’m sorry, I can’t-”

“It’s okay” Echo assured, a hand on her shoulder, “Can I pick you up?”

Kan chuckled at her own joke before she told it in a weak voice, “I don’t know, can you?”

Echo shook his head with a small disbelieving laugh escaping his lips, “Still got a sense of humour I see”

Kan shrugged a little, her eyes fluttering closed at the same time. Echo took that as his sign that it was time to go, and hooked an arm under her knees and across her back, lifting her far easier than he would have liked. She had certainly lost a lot of muscle mass, which explained why she was so weak. Once again, Echo tried not to think on it for now.

Echo promptly made it out of the cell, making his way back through the halls that he had used to find Kan. They didn't make it too far before being intercepted, but Echo wasn't going to let up until Kan was safe again. An Imperial officer was walking along the same corridor as them, and looked up from their datapad as they were about to pass by.

“What is going on?” The officer asked, utterly perplexed by seeing a stormtrooper carrying a barely conscious woman.

“Prisoner transfer, ma'am” Echo responded, his voice unwavering

The imperial frowned and gave Kan a look of what seemed to be disgust, “Why are you carrying her?”

“She doesn’t have the strength to walk, Ma'am” Echo answered her, though he was aware that this situation was certain to become more of an issue soon enough.

The officer gave him a sceptical look, “Show me”

Echo’s arms instinctively tightened a little, staring down at the Imperial through the visor of the stolen helmet.

“That's an order, trooper” She said sternly, her brow furrowing further.

“Just do it Echo” Kan whispered into his shoulder.

He grimaced under his helmet, nevertheless obliging and bending down to place Kan on the ground. She was wobbly on her feet and gripped onto Echo's arm for some stability, ending up just leaning on him to stay upright. Echo did his best not to touch her in a way that would give them away, only letting her use his body to hold herself up.

“Hm” The Imperial hummed, “Okay, pick her up. I shall escort you to your shuttle.

“That's really not necessary Ma'am” Echo countered, immediately taking Kan back in his arms.

“I'll decide what's necessary” The officer snapped back, and Echo couldn't help but wince and roll his eyes at once. He'd figure it out, he knew he would.

He followed the woman out onto the landing platform, then directed her towards his ship. She didn't say anything at first, and neither did Echo, in his mind it was all going according to plan. He was climbing the first steps into the ship when she finally spoke.

“What kind of ship is this?”

He didn't bother answering, instead pushing her back onto the platform and rushing aboard to close the door.

He placed Kan down on the bunk at the back, as gently as he could in a rush. He immediately went about getting the ship in the air, ignoring the blasterfire that was now being directed towards the ship.

He made his getaway, pushing the lever to send them to hyperspace and sitting back, abundantly relieved. He let out a long breath, rubbing his hands over his face to bring himself back to the new reality that Kan was safe. He looked back at her, his heart breaking just a little to see her sat up and looking down to her lap with a despondent expression.

She looked so different, a shell of her old, ever-cheerful self, and it was almost too much for Echo to cope with. He approached her slowly, making himself known but not trying to startle her too much, then knelt in front of her. Her eyes flicked up to his, and they looked empty, such a stark contrast to the eagerness, the life, he usually saw swimming in them.

“Oh Cyar'ika” He brought his hand up and gently stroked her face with his thumb, “What did they do to you?”

Kan didn’t respond, and looked down to her fiddling hands, feeling a little embarrassed of the state she was in.

“M'aira?”

She then turned and laid down in the bunk, facing away from him and staring out of the back window. Echo sighed, sitting on the edge of the bed and bringing his hand to her arm to gently rub it back and forth, reminding her that he was there, that she was safe. He could feel her relaxing more and more under his touch, and when it seemed that she had reached the point of sleeping, he took his hand away.

Kan reached out and grabbed his hand, “Don't leave”

Echo’s heart ached at how small she sounded.

“I’m not” He reassured her, squeezing her hand gently before taking it away again.

Echo stood up and went about noiselessly removing his armour, his eyes never leaving Kan as he stacked the pieces on the floor next to the bed. Once he was stripped down to his blacks, he laid down behind her. He could see how rigid she was, and continued to stroke her arm.

“You're safe, Cyar'ika, you can relax” He murmured, his voice barely above a whisper.

He once again felt her body ease under his hand, though this time she turned to look at him. Her eyes searched his for a moment, some unknown emotion fighting its way out to reach for him.

“Thank you for coming to get me”

Echo gave her a small smile as he brushed some hair from her face, “Of course M'aira, I'm just sorry it took so long”

Kan let her mouth form a small smile to mirror Echo's expression, just as a violent shiver wracked her body.

“Are you cold?” Echo asked immediately.

Kan nodded.

“Come here” Echo gave no room for argument, and pulled her body into his.

Kan relaxed immediately, the feel of Echo's body pressed against hers confirming that she was safe, that he was really here.

“You're always so warm Echo” She muttered into his chest, which brought a fond smile to his face.

He held her even closer, burying his face in her neck and taking in the scent that he had been missing for months. Kan did the same thing, taking in his presence in every way she could, gripping at his clothing with one hand, the other placed over his chest to ground herself to his heartbeat.

“I've missed you so much”

Echo's heart ached at the cracking of her voice, “I've missed you too Cyar'ika”

Kan lifted her head to look up at him again, “You keep saying that, Cyar'ika, it's Mando'a isn't it?”

“Oh” Echo blushed a little at getting caught, having been only half conscious of himself using it in the first place, “Yeah, it is”

“What does it mean?” Kan asked.

Echo cleared his throat, “It's like… sweetheart, or darling”

Kan let out a contented hum, her head coming to rest against his chest again. “I like it” She asserted, turning it over in her mouth again, “Hm. Sounds better when you say it”

Echo's chest filled with warmth, his heart feeling full, almost bursting at the seems as Kan fell asleep in his arms. This time, he'd make sure that's where she'd stay.

taglist: @darthnihila @cdblake1565 @bunny7567

unfortunately I think I win

lego rex?? I'm eloping right now.

(also tag your friends!) time to start a new chain of chaos >:)

let’s see who the lucky man is-

…hey yk what that’s not bad. it could be a LOT worse.

@stawberrywaffles307 @fiveminutetrash @salubriousbean @kybercrystals94 @royallykt @faithsilver (tags open!)