Dive into a world of creativity!
Boss x Reader
The door to your quarters hissed open, and before you even turned around, you felt him. That familiar presence—silent, commanding, unwavering. Boss was back.
You didn’t need words. The way his heavy boots hit the floor, slow and steady, told you everything. The weight of the mission still hung in his posture, but beneath it, something softer—a need. For you.
He finally looked up, eyes dark behind that helmet’s visor, and you caught a flicker of relief. You stepped forward, your hand reaching for his arm, fingers curling around the reinforced armor. The tension in his shoulders eased, just a fraction.
No words were spoken, none needed.
Your fingers traced the edge of his visor, then slid down to his neck plate, where the cold metal met bare skin. Boss’s hand found your waist, pulling you closer—no space left between you now.
The heat built slowly, burning through the quiet. His grip tightened, and you tilted your head up, brushing your lips lightly over the rim of his helmet as if to remind him you were here. That this was home.
A low, almost inaudible sound vibrated from his chest—a promise, a confession. You smiled, heart racing.
Then, the world faded until it was only you and Boss, the steady beat of two hearts finding their rhythm again.
He finally took off his helmet to reveal his eyes—intense, dark, tired. The kind of tired that comes from seeing too much but still standing tall.
“You’re here,” his voice was low, rough around the edges like gravel, but steady.
You reached up, fingertips brushing over his cheeks. “I’m not going anywhere.”
A shadow of a smile touched his lips. “Every time I leave, I wonder if I’ll come back.”
Your hand slid from his neck to his chest, feeling the steady beat of his heart beneath the armor. “You always do.”
His other hand cupped your cheek gently, thumb stroking as if trying to memorize your face. “You’re my anchor. The only thing keeping me grounded when everything else is chaos.”
You leaned into his touch. “Then stay grounded. Stay with me.”
For a moment, all the walls around him seemed to crumble, and he looked vulnerable—the soldier behind the mask.
“I want to,” he admitted, voice barely above a whisper. “More than anything.”
You closed the small distance between you, resting your forehead against his. “Then show me. Stay.”
The tension between you was electric, but it wasn’t just desire—it was relief, connection, and the unspoken promise that no matter how dark the mission, you were both each other’s light.
He pulled you closer, the strength in his embrace both protective and tender.
And in that quiet space, with nothing but the sound of your breathing and his steady heartbeat, you both knew this was home.
Boss’s hands slid lower, tracing the curve of your waist, pulling you tighter against him. The heat between you grew, the space shrinking until the world outside ceased to exist.
His voice was a low growl near your ear. “I’ve waited too long for this.”
You whispered back, “Me too.”
Just as his lips brushed yours, soft and promising, the sudden buzz of the comms cracked through the silence.
Boss pulled back slightly, annoyed but alert.
“—Scorch here. Uh… I might’ve accidentally blown up the supply depot. Again,” came the familiar voice, a mix of sheepish and panicked.
Sev’s harsh reply followed, “You’re gonna pay for that, Demo. I’m coming for you.”
Boss shook his head, a smirk tugging at his lips despite himself. “So much for a demolition expert.”
You laughed softly, the moment broken but the warmth lingering as Boss reached for his helmet.
“Duty calls,” he muttered, eyes meeting yours one last time. “But I’ll be back.”
You nodded, voice steady. “I’ll be here.”
With that, he was gone, leaving you both wanting more — and counting down until the next time.
Boss (RC-1138) x Reader
Theed’s skyline shimmered under the afternoon sun, its golden domes reflecting the light in a display of serene beauty. Yet beneath this tranquil facade, tension simmered. The recent assassination attempts on Queen Jamillia and Senator Padmé Amidala had prompted the Royal Security Forces to request additional protection from the Republic.
You stood at attention in the palace courtyard, your crimson uniform crisp, hand resting on the hilt of your blaster. As a member of the Royal Naboo Guard, your duty was to protect the monarchy and its representatives. Today, that duty extended to welcoming the Republic’s elite clone commando unit: Delta Squad.
The low hum of a Republic gunship grew louder as it descended, kicking up dust and causing your cape to flutter. The ramp lowered, revealing four armored figures stepping out in formation.
Leading them was RC-1138, known as Boss. His orange-striped armor bore the marks of countless battles, and his posture exuded authority.
Behind him, RC-1140, or Fixer, moved with calculated precision. His green-accented armor was immaculate, and his visor scanned the surroundings methodically.
To Fixer’s left was RC-1207, Sev. His armor bore red markings resembling blood splatter, a reflection of his grim sense of humor and reputation as a fierce sniper.
Bringing up the rear was RC-1262, Scorch. His armor was marked with yellow accents, and he carried himself with a relaxed confidence.
As they approached, Boss stepped forward, his helmet concealing his expression.
“Sergeant RC-1138, reporting in,” he stated, his voice modulated through the helmet’s speaker. “Delta Squad is at your service.”
You offered a formal nod. “Welcome to Theed, Sergeant. I’m Lieutenant [Y/N], Royal Naboo Guard. We’ve been briefed on your assignment.”
Boss inclined his head slightly. “Understood. Our primary objective is to ensure the safety of Queen Jamillia and Senator Amidala.”
“Correct,” you affirmed. “We’ll coordinate patrols and share intelligence. Your squad will be integrated into our security protocols.”
Behind Boss, Scorch leaned slightly toward Sev and whispered, “Think they have any good caf here?”
Sev replied dryly, “As long as it doesn’t taste like ration packs, I’ll consider it a luxury.”
Fixer, without looking up from his wrist-mounted datapad, interjected, “Focus, Deltas. We’re here for a mission, not a vacation.”
Boss turned his head slightly. “Maintain discipline. We’re guests here.”
You raised an eyebrow, a hint of amusement tugging at your lips. “Your squad has a unique dynamic.”
Boss’s tone remained neutral. “We operate efficiently.”
⸻
Over the next few days, Delta Squad integrated into the palace’s security framework. Joint patrols were established, and you found yourself frequently paired with Boss. His stoic nature made conversation sparse, but his presence was reassuring.
One evening, during a perimeter check, you decided to break the silence.
“Your squadmates have distinct personalities,” you observed.
Boss glanced at you. “They’re effective.”
“I’ve noticed,” you replied. “Scorch’s humor, Sev’s intensity, Fixer’s precision. And you—you’re the anchor.”
He paused, considering your words. “Leadership requires stability.”
You nodded. “It’s commendable.”
A brief silence settled before he spoke again. “Your team is well-trained.”
“Thank you,” you said. “We take pride in our duty.”
As the patrol continued, a comfortable silence enveloped you both, the foundation of mutual respect beginning to form.
⸻
The days turned into weeks, and the collaboration between your unit and Delta Squad deepened. Shared meals and joint exercises fostered camaraderie. Scorch’s jokes became a familiar background noise, Sev’s rare smirks were victories, and Fixer’s occasional nods signaled approval.
With Boss, the connection grew subtly. Shared glances during briefings, synchronized movements during drills, and the occasional exchange of dry humor.
One night, after a successful operation thwarting an assassination attempt, you found yourselves alone on a balcony overlooking Theed.
“The city’s peaceful tonight,” you remarked.
Boss nodded. “A welcome change.”
You turned to him. “Do you ever think about life beyond the war?”
He was silent for a moment. “Sometimes. But duty comes first.”
You smiled softly. “Always the soldier.”
He looked at you, his gaze intense. “It’s who I am.”
“And yet,” you said, stepping closer, “there’s more to you.”
He didn’t respond verbally, but the way his hand brushed against yours spoke volumes.
The city lights glittered below like the reflection of a thousand quiet thoughts. The silence between you and Boss wasn’t strained—it was gentle, natural. It had become that way over the last few weeks. You stood shoulder to shoulder, close enough to feel the warmth of his armor radiating softly through the Naboo evening chill.
His helmet was still on, the ever-present barrier between his world and yours. But something in his posture shifted, a subtle drop in his shoulders, a small exhale that sounded more like a sigh than static.
Then—quietly—he said, “It’s strange.”
You turned to look at him. “What is?”
“Peace.” A beat. “This planet. The quiet.” He paused, like he was deciding whether to say more. “I’m used to marching into warzones. Places that smell like carbon and blood. Where the air’s thick with ash and tension. But here… it’s almost too quiet. Makes you feel like… something could go wrong any second.”
You studied him for a moment, surprised he was sharing this. “Maybe it’s not that something will go wrong. Maybe it’s just that you’ve never known anything but chaos.”
There was a pause. Then, slowly, his hands came up to his helmet. You heard the hiss of pressure release before he pulled it off and cradled it against his side.
This was the first time you’d seen his face. You had imagined it—many times—but the reality was softer than you’d expected. Strong features, yes, but tired eyes. Eyes that had seen too much, too fast. He looked younger without the helmet, and older all at once.
He didn’t look at you right away. His gaze stayed fixed on the skyline.
“I don’t usually take it off,” he admitted. “Feels… exposed.”
You smiled gently. “You don’t have to explain. But thank you for trusting me.”
His eyes finally met yours then, sharp and searching, but not cold. “You’re different from the officers I’ve worked with before.”
“Good different?” you teased softly.
He didn’t smile, exactly—but something softened around his mouth. “Real different.”
You leaned against the railing beside him, your fingers brushing his. This time, he didn’t move away. He turned his hand slightly until his gloved pinky hooked around yours.
“I don’t know what happens after this assignment,” you said quietly. “But I know I’ll remember this. You.”
He nodded once. “Same.”
The moment stretched—not romantic in the overly dramatic way holodramas would tell it, but intimate in its honesty. The weight of your fingers against each other. The hush of the Naboo breeze. The flickering of torchlight behind you, and the way his gaze lingered on your face like he was memorizing it.
And then, with the kind of quiet confidence that came from someone who rarely acted on impulse, Boss leaned in slightly—slowly, giving you time to stop him if you wanted. His forehead came to rest gently against yours. It was a simple thing. No kiss, no dramatics. Just contact. Shared breath. A moment stolen from the endless march of duty.
“I can’t afford to be soft,” he murmured, voice barely above a whisper. “But you make me want to be.”
You closed your eyes, forehead still pressed to his. “Then let this be the place where you can.”
His hand, calloused and heavy, rose to cup the side of your neck for a second before falling away. Not because he didn’t want more—but because he wasn’t ready yet. And maybe you weren’t either. But that was okay. It was enough.
Tonight, it was enough.