#clone trooper boil x plus size reader

[firstofficerwiggles]

Right, so ever since that last time with the Wolffe story you wrote for Butterfly and your comment on Boil loving hugs? I could not get that out of my mind and he has been stuck there ever since. So, now I am going to sent in this official request! Boil x F! Reader. As I do with almost all my requests I always mention the full bodied ( or big gal ) reader because... relate to it and stuff and ofcourse: Hugs !. Everything else I leave up to you the whole SFW/NSFW/Established Relationship/Not Established etc etc. ( still blaming you for adding Boil to my mind now btw )

Ok so I have been batting around this idea for forever and I finally have a fic for you! I really hope you love it and fall in love with Boil all over again. For your humble consideration...

The One that Matters

Pairing: Clone Trooper Boil x Plus Size Female Reader

Rating: T

Warnings: body issues, insecurity, fat shaming, swearing (fairly mild though), kissing

Word Count: ~3000

Author’s note: This is technically a two-parter but part 2 is rated M and contains the smutty part of the story. I split the story so those of you who want SFW can enjoy part 1 without it. Special thanks to @imabeautifulbutterfly @kavecika and @mysticalgalaxysalad for beta reading!

Part 2 link

You stare in the mirror, tugging slightly at the top you had just put on with a new pair of stylish pants. The outfit had seemed so cute in your mind, but on your curvy body, the top seems less flattering than you had imagined it. You sigh, wondering again if this was a bad idea, going out on a date with a clone trooper. This is the fourth outfit you’ve tried on and nothing seems quite right for a dream date with such a hunk. You give yourself another look in the mirror; you know you’re an attractive woman, you’ve always felt pretty enough, and you’ve had your share of dates, but Clone Trooper Boil is on another level. With his gorgeous face, soulful eyes, broad shoulders, and ample muscles, he is, without a doubt, the handsomest man you’ve ever met. 

Despite your protests that you just wanted to stay home, your friend Jaxie had dragged you out for some fun, vowing to take you to a place where there were sure to be loads of men excited to meet a woman exactly like you. Sure enough, the famed clone bar, 79s, had delivered on the promise of a ton of worked up soldiers, partying hard. There had seemed to be an endless supply of them, each one as tall, dark, and handsome as the next. Still though, next to the petite and beautiful Jaxie, you started to doubt that any of those troopers would look your way. Yet to your surprise, it only took one trip to the bar before you found one who couldn’t seem to stop looking your way.

As you cut a path through the crowd, sidling up to the bar in the middle of the packed club, you could feel someone watching you. You turned slightly to see a clone trooper with orange and white armor, a mustache, and a half smile looking at you. You looked over your shoulder to see if Jaxie was next to you, but she had stopped to speak to someone a few paces back.

“I’m looking at you, beautiful,” a deep voice came from his direction. He sounded amused but friendly.

“You are?” you couldn’t keep the note of surprise from your voice as you looked back at him and into those golden brown eyes.

“Absolutely I am,” he gave you a broader smile, and held out his hand, “Clone Trooper Boil, ma’am, and I’d be honored if you’d let me buy you a drink, beautiful.”

The way he’d looked at you so sincerely as he told you he thought you were beautiful that you’d let him get you that drink. Before you knew it he was telling you how his buddy, Waxer, had dragged him out the club against his wishes. He’d been of a mind to head back to his barracks for the night when he saw you heading his way, and he decided maybe Waxer had been right about this place. The next thing you knew, you had spent all evening talking to him, exchanging comms and making plans for tonight. He even gave you an extended hug goodbye, being sure to tell you how great a hugger you were.

*ping*

Message from Boil> Hi beautiful! 15 minutes away, can’t wait to see you!

Message from you> Ok! See you soon!

Determined, you look yourself in the eye through the mirror,

“A gorgeous man has asked us out to dinner and a show and we are going to go. He thinks we’re beautiful and we are going to trust that his taste is the only one that matters. Now, let’s get to that closet and find something to wear.”

Energized by your pep talk, and motivated to get moving before Boil arrives, you march back to your selection of clothes to see what you can find. Pushing through items that seemed too much like workwear or too casual, you finally land on a forgotten dress you’d worn to a friend’s wedding. You’d only worn it once, but it is pretty and in a color you love. It had seemed too fancy to wear to work and you hadn’t been out anywhere special in so long that you had forgotten it was here. Quickly you slip it on, careful not to muss your hair or makeup, and then turn to glance at yourself once more. As the skirt twirls elegantly around your legs, you finally smile at your reflection, this will be perfect.

As you’re grabbing your bag for the evening, you hear your door chime.

“Wow, you look fantastic, even more beautiful than the night we met, and I didn’t think that was possible,” Boil greets you with a soft lopsided smile. He’s wearing his formal uniform tonight instead of his armor and he looks dashing in the grey-green suit. 

“And you look even more handsome,” you reply with your own beaming smile. 

Your stomach flips as your eyes roam over his impressive form. He’s so broad and muscular, and has such a stunning face that again you can’t believe your luck in getting to date him. A slight feeling of insecurity hits you though as you wonder what people will think when they see you together. Pushing that evil thought away, you remind yourself that their opinions don’t matter, and you straighten your shoulders as you mentally remind yourself that you are going out to enjoy yourself. 

Boil leans in to kiss your cheek and pull you into a quick hug. He wonders if you can hear his heart threatening to beat out of his chest. He’s been looking forward to tonight since you agreed to the date. He sneaks another peek at your delectable curves as you step out your door. Stars, she’s so damn pretty! His hands itch to run over the lovely slopes and dips of your body, wondering if your skin is as soft as he has imagined it to be. He’d love to pull you into a passionate embrace right now and kiss you until your toes curl, but that might be a bit too much for the start of the night. Shaking his head to help himself focus, he quickly takes your hand and wraps it into the crook of his elbow as he leads you out to his borrowed speeder for the night.

“I hope you like Corellian food?” he asks, “I made a reservation at a restaurant my general recommended. He said it’s a very nice place with a lovely atmosphere and perfect for a romantic evening.”

“That sounds great,” you reply, delighted that he’s thought so much about the date. Other men you know would just leave all the planning up to you or take you to whatever was closest and open.

Boil helps you into the speeder and he can’t resist dropping another kiss on your cheek as he does so. The traffic is fairly light right now so he feels comfortable sliding a hand from the steering to cover yours and hold it as he guides the speeder to the restaurant. He really hopes you like this place. He had been determined to plan the perfect date for tonight, something romantic and entertaining, that would hopefully entice you to want to see him again. He’d been trying to find ideas on his holopad while fending off his brothers’ dumb jokes about being as lovesick as a shiny with his first weapon when General Kenobi had thoughtfully provided him with advice. He’d already secured tickets to what was supposed to be the hottest new performer in town, but getting the suave Jedi’s tips for where to take you to dinner had been much appreciated. As you arrive at the location, its elegant velvet awning and uniformed doorman, tell him that he was right to trust the general’s opinion.

“What a beautiful restaurant! And everything smells so good,” you tell Boil as you’re seated at an utterly charming candlelit table. A waiter pours you a glass of wine, in a crystal goblet no less, and then leaves you to decide what to have from a mouthwatering selection of cuisine. From the fresh flowers on the table, to the soft lighting and romantic music playing, Boil couldn’t possibly have selected a more perfect first date location. He takes your hand once again, and gazes into your eyes,

“I’m so glad you like it, and from the looks of things, we’re going to have a fantastic meal,” he says, sounding eager. 

“I don’t suppose you get to have many fancy dinners as a trooper,” you reply, feeling a touch sad for him.

“We get great food when we’re on the Negotiator,” he explains, “But rations when you’re out in the field can leave a lot to be desired. Still though, I’m grateful to have them.”

“I’m sure you are, but I’m glad you’re getting to have a really special dinner for a change,” you comment.

“It’s special because I’m with you,” he murmurs as he squeezes your hand. 

The dinner is everything he hoped it would be, the food is exquisite and the company even more so. He listens fascinated as you tell him about your life on Coruscant, your work, and your desire to travel more once you can do so safely. He regales you with stories of his missions, focusing on the entertaining or interesting aspects of his brothers and their exploits. Boil tries to only tell you about happy or good things that have happened to him, but when you gently explain that he doesn’t need to sanitize his life for you, he feels grateful in a way he wasn’t expecting.

“You’re sure you want to hear about the bad stuff too?” he asks, still a bit unsure.

“Boil, I want you to feel free to share things with me, even the bad stuff,” you reassure him, “I know you’re a soldier and that means you’ve seen and experienced terrible events. I’m not saying I need every gory detail, but if there’s ever anything you need to talk about, I just want you to know that I’m here to listen.”

“Thank you, sweetheart, that’s comforting and honestly, I wasn’t expecting you to say that,” he admits, looking into your eyes, “The other women I’ve met have just wanted to hear about the excitement.”

“I really want to get to know you, Boil, and that means hearing about all aspects of your life,” you tell him, then adding with a soft laugh, “Like the way I told you all about my witch of a co-worker, and that certainly wasn’t pleasant. But I wanted you to know what my job is really like.”

He nods in agreement with you,

“Well, when we were talking before about being grateful for food, even military rations, it made me think of a recent mission I completed on Ryloth.”

Different from his earlier stories that were meant to charm you, Boil tells you about seeing the starving Twi’leks on Ryloth and how badly they had been treated by the Separatist occupying forces. He expresses his shock and concern for people that he had previously dismissed as being weak, and he was embarrassed that he had been so quick to judge them at first. The more he talks, the more you lean in, fascinated by him. His openness and forthright attitude are refreshing and your admiration for him only increases. As he finishes his story, telling you about helping the little Twi’lek girl find her family, and discovering that she saw them as brothers, you have to wipe back a tear.

“Boil, you are a real hero, the way you helped that child and her people,” your voice gets a bit choked up, “I wish more people could understand how much you and your brothers have given to this galaxy.”

“I didn’t tell you that story so you’d think I was a hero,” he mumbles, looking down at the table and feeling a bit bashful.

“I know you didn’t,” you reply, reaching out to caress his cheek and encouraging him to look back at you, “But that just makes me like you even more.”

“I like you too, beautiful, more than I can say,” he responds, bringing your palm to his lips so he can place a warm kiss there.

Boil feels as if he could spend the rest of the evening just staring into your sparkling eyes, but he remembers the tickets he purchased and the second part of the date.

“We should probably leave if we want to get to the show on time,” he says, standing up and offering you his hand. 

As you slip your hand into his, you ask, “What type of show is it?”

“A comedian,” he explains, “He’s supposed to be really funny. One of the Naval officers, Lieutenant Commander Rampart, was telling me how great he is when I was looking for ideas for our date.”

“Sounds fun, lead on,” you reply.

When you arrive at the theater, you see it’s designed like a cabaret with little tables all around instead of seats in a row. You’re a bit surprised when the usher leads you all the way down to the front near the stage, they’re the best seats in the house. 

“This is very nice,” you say to Boil.

“I didn’t realize the seats were this good, honestly,” he tells you.

“We like to recognize our military patrons,” the usher explains, “Please enjoy your evening.”

Before you have a chance to order drinks, a server brings a bottle of sparkling wine to your table,

“Compliments of the gentlemen over there as a thank you to the brave soldier,” they say, placing the bottle down with a small flourish. 

“That’s very kind,” Boil replies and you both wave over at the other table in thanks.

“I’m glad to see I’m not the only one who recognizes your important contributions to the war,” you say, giving his hand a little squeeze.

Boil’s cheeks flush slightly and he looks a little embarrassed, “I don’t deserve any special treatment.”

“It’s nice that people recognize all that you sacrifice for us, I wish more people would,” you tell him. You’ve seen too many people be dismissive of the clone troopers, so it’s really nice to see people treating Boil with respect.

You enjoy the wine with him and soon the show begins. The man who comes out on stage is extremely sarcastic and while you find yourself giggling at some of his first jokes, as he continues on with his set, you find yourself laughing less and less. His jokes seem rather mean spirited and they’re starting to be offensive. You notice that Boil is also not laughing and he sits stiffly in his chair. The audience has quieted down a lot and it’s clear to the performer that they’re not in agreement with him.

“Well, geeze, rough crowd tonight, I guess you all left your senses of humor at home,” the man jeers at the audience, “Let’s see who’s here and forgot how to laugh.” He looks right at your table, sizing up Boil, 

“Oh, we got one of the copy and paste boys here tonight, a clone trooper. What’s the matter, pal, missing the old tube tonight?” The man laughs at his own joke but the rest of the audience is silent. The jerk continues, speaking to Boil like he’s a child, “I know you’re probably just a few days old, but laughter is this thing we do when things are funny.” 

You see Boil’s fists tighten and his jaw is stiff, you can practically feel the anger coming off him. 

“Obviously the Kaminoans forgot to add a sense of taste when they churned you boys out huh? I mean look at what you’re with tonight, yuck,” the jerk turns to look at you now.

You feel a sense of dread go over you and you try to shrink down in your seat. You wish he would just stop. 

“I know you boys are hard up for female company, but I’m sure you can do better than this tub of lard. Don’t let her be on top tonight or you’ll have to report another casualty to the GAR.”

You feel awful, so embarrassed and humiliated.

“That’s enough!” Boil pushes his chair back and jumps to his feet so fast that it crashes to the ground with a loud bang, “It’s one thing for you to insult me, but to insult a lady is despicable. You’re a sad excuse for a man if you think it’s acceptable to make fun of someone’s appearance for your own amusement. We live in a galaxy of incredible beings of all different bodies, shapes, and sizes, and yet assholes like you still think women are only acceptable if they match your particular preferences. My girl is beautiful the way she is, and I’m honored to be with her. I’d get up there and kick your ass, but we’ve already wasted enough of our valuable time together listening to your sorry excuse for comedy.” 

Boil turns to you and takes your hand, helping you to your feet. He places your hand on his arm and moves to walk out. You hear the comedian call out,

“If I wanted your opinion, buddy, I’d ask a droid, at least you can tell them apart.”

Boil stops for a moment, he turns back to look at the jerk. But before he can say anything, someone throws a bottle on the stage where it crashes at the man’s feet. 

Someone in the crowd yells, “The trooper’s right, you’re an asshole.”

More bottles and glasses are thrown amongst shouted insults at the comedian. Boil hustles you out of the theater, but you turn back just in time to see a particularly large glass hit the guy in the head. It makes you laugh in spite of it all.

When you’re back out on the street, Boil takes you a little ways away from the theater to a small plaza where there are some pretty potted flowers and trees with little twinkle lights. He leads you to a bench and motions for you to sit. When he looks at you, his eyes are soft but worried. He turns to face you, taking both of your hands in his, “I’m very sorry I brought you to that awful show tonight, and I’m sorry you were treated with such disrespect.”

“Oh, Boil, it’s not your fault, you couldn’t have known he would say such rude things to us both. I’m sorry he was disrespectful to you too,” you reply. Then thinking of the way he jumped to your defense, you smile up at him, “But the way you stood up for me, that was truly honorable, and I appreciate it more than I can tell you. I think I finally understand why women say ‘My hero!’ to the guy in those cheesy romance holofilms.”

“How could I not defend you? It was the right thing to do. Any real man would do the same, doesn’t make me a hero,” he tells you, looking a bit embarrassed at your praise. Before you can say anything else, he continues, his voice slightly husky with emotion, “I think you’re so beautiful, every part of you, I love all your luscious curves, and I have since the moment I first saw you.”

“Do you know what I told myself as I was getting ready tonight?” you say, “I told myself that when it comes to my appearance, your opinion is the only one that matters tonight. That man was a real jerk, but he doesn’t matter. You think I’m beautiful, and that’s all that counts tonight.”

“I like that,” he smiles at you, and his hand comes up to caress your cheek and jaw, “I’d like you to think that every night.” His eyes look down at your lips and then back up to find your eyes. “Can I kiss you? It’s all I’ve been thinking about all night, really since we first met.”

“Yes, please,” you just barely breathe out the words and his lips are on yours. Boil’s kiss starts off so soft and sweet, his lips moving lightly over yours as he pulls you into his embrace. A soft little moan sneaks out of your mouth, and Boil answers it by deepening the kiss, his tongue licking at the seam of your lips seeking entrance. When you grant it, you hear him groan in satisfaction as he holds you tightly to him, brushing his tongue over yours in a passionate kiss.

Boil holds you close to him as he kisses you, one hand at your waist while the other is on your upper back. His hands are itching to explore more, but you are in public and he doesn’t want to push his luck. Gently he breaks the kiss before he can get too carried away. When he looks at your pretty face, he thinks you look luminous with stars in your eyes as you gaze back at him so happy and content that it makes him smile even more.

“That was the best first kiss I’ve ever had,” you tell him, “In fact this is the best first date I’ve ever had.”

“Even with that awful guy?” Boil asks, surprised but relieved that you think so.

“That guy was an ass, but without him, I might not know how great of a man you really are, Boil,” you explain.

“Well, for our second date let’s skip the comedian,” he replies with that lopsided smile of his.

“You’re already planning our second date?” you ask with mock surprise.

“Sweetheart, I’m planning our second, third, fourth, fifth, hell, all the dates you’ll let me have.” His face is all lit up with the idea of a future with you.

“You can have all the dates you want, my handsome hero,” you answer him, “As long as I’m with you, the one that matters.”

Thank you for reading! Click here if you want the smutty part 2!

Tag list: @onabouteverything @kazthedestroyer @noodlesfics @ladykatakuri @boomtowngirl

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