Across the Stars (Star Wars X Reader)

Mine (Commander Wolffe X Medic! Reader)(NSFW)

I love all the clones with my whole heart, but this man... he has a special place in my heart. He's my tired, constantly annoyed husband. This is also very indulgent of me b/c I would do anything to have Wolffe (or really any of the clones) help me through one of my severe disassociation events

Warnings: Sexual harassment towards a woman, mentions of battle, disassociation, fluff, smut, Wolffe has a marking kink, angst, filthy use of mando'a that should be expected from our clone boys ;)

some of the mando'a words used: nau (light), verd (soldier) kotir (brave) -'ika (little. added on to a pre-existing word or name. Ex: verd'ika- "little soldier")

"Are you an angel? Because your beauty is heavenly," The rebel slurred, his eyes racking over your body. You huff out a chuckle, both laughing at the cheesy pick-up line, and trying to mask your discomfort as you spread bacta gel on the young man's gaping shoulder wound—a result of getting knocked back into the rocky Onderonian hillside during a battle with the seperatists. As a medic with the 104th, you were accustomed to tending to wounded civilians during relief missions. However, you were not accustomed to flirts who couldn't take a hint.

He's been at it ever since he regained consciousness, and it was wearing on your anxiety. You wouldn't say you're meek, no, you could scold Boost and Sinker for not showing up to their mandatory physicals in front of the rest of the pack, much to the two troopers' chagrin. But, when it came to those whom you weren't familiar with, unwanted advances, and life-or-death situations, your insides couldn't help but painfully twist and scream at you to run away.

"What? I'm serious babe, you're gorgeous," you notice the way he subtly bites his lip as his eyes continue to appraise your form, "Say, why don't you come back home with me after you finish up here?"

"No thank you," you reply almost coldly, turning away from him to wash your hands of the bacta gel. You turn your gaze outside of your tent; longing for a certain commander, who was out with General Plo and the majority of the pack looking for the missing.

"Aw, come on baby," he practically whines, grabbing your wrist as you walk by him to get the bandages, "I promise I'll show you a good time, a pretty girl like you deserves a good fucking,"

You try to yank your arm away from the man, but his grip is firm, jerking you closer to the stretcher he was laying on, and fear begins to settle in your stomach.

Luckily, the force was on your side, and the Maker heard your prayer.

"Hey," a familiar gruff voice calls into the tent, and you almost sob in relief.

Wolffe was standing at the tent's entrance, his arms crossed, helmet at his feet, eyes glaring at the bastard on the stretcher, looking as if he could pounce on the man.

The patient was stunned enough by Wolffe's intrusion that you were able to yank your wrist out of his grip. You rush over to Wolffe, almost tripping on a loose med kit, and the commander pulls you into his arms.

"How did everything go?" you ask as if you weren't shaking in his embrace, still spooked from the thoughts of what could've possibly transpired had he not come to your tent, and Wolffe offers you a small, comforting, smile.

"Everything went fine," he murmured, nudging his forehead to yours in a Keldabe Kiss, and he made a show of sliding his arms around your waist, fingers gently resting on your ass, "Our other medics are tending to our latest group of survivors. The General sent me to tell you to take a break–you deserve it, cyare."

You make quick work of wrapping up your patients' wound, just wanting to get out of there as fast as possible. Your patient was silent as you hastily tended him, likely due to Wolffe's intimidating glare as he watched you tend to the man-- making sure the flirt didn't try anything else. For a split second you thought you heard him growling.