#Clone Trooper Sinker | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

oceansssblue · 4 days

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SW REQUESTS:

"Would love to see a Wolffe x reader fic where the AFAB reader is injured in battle, Comms him and then their Comms get jammed and he's just freaking the hell out. Love some angst of him carrying her back to a ship and losing his mind over it"

Some minor alterations but I'm SO HAPPY with how this one came out! I love wolffe and there aren't that many fics about him. Do recommend your favourites! Xx, sky.

"RADIO SILENT" –WOLFFE/F READER

WARNINGS: BATTLE, WOUNDS&BLOOD, ANGST AND FLUFF. 📩💔💖

Halsakaa is a nightmare. The Republic hasn't been able to redirect more forces to the Outer Rim planet to help you; and your troops are struggling to keep the droids battalions at bay. It honestly feels as though the Republic –and the Jedi– have abandoned you to your wrath; no-one coming to this remote location in the galaxy to save you. The destine of your own life, and the lifes of your soldiers, are solely in your hands. And you'd give everything for them, even sacrifice yourself if you have to. After so many experiences together, for almost three years straight now, they have becomed such an important part of you it feels as if you have ingrained every single one of them in your soul. You know you should'nt be so attached to them; Master Ploo quietly reminds you from time to time –though you know he's not exactly indifferent either–. The wolfpack is his own just as they are yours. Yours. Growing up as Jedi you haven't had this kind of... ownership over anything but your saber. Obviously, you don't see the clones as something you can posses, use; but they do belong to you in some sense, and in that way, it's your responsability to command them, to take care of them. And you... love them. It's a dangerous word for a Jedi. But it's the truth. It is the reason why, right now, your soul aches. Each death is a strike right to your heart. But how can you see them any different, when they are such loyal friends? Such fierce soldiers, who fight and die selflessly for the freedom of other citizens in the galaxy, a freedom that hadn't been given to themselves?

Your dark emerald green lightsaber flies in your hands, deflecting one bolt after the other one. Sweat makes your usually comfortable jedi robes stick to your body; minor scratches and wounds tingling painfully at the friction of the fabric. It doesn't make you move any slower, though; you feel unstopable jumping from a cluster of droids to another, the hum of your saber following you around while you slash through your enemies with persistent focus and skill. General Ploo is doing his own thing on the other side of the battlefield; your clone troops split in half to defend both sides of Halsakaa's capital.

You don't know how much longer you can hold this off. All of you have been trained for this, and you're used to drawing strength from the Force, increasing your usual endurance; but even you are feeling exhausted, muscles straining like painful cords, and the thing about the droids is that they never tire out. You know this has to end eventually. Right now, Master Ploo's orders are to hold on til some other battalion can come to your rescue –the other option abandoning Halsakaa to the separatists, which would cause a disastrous impact on the Republic–; though you don't know when that will be. It may be days, or weeks. A month, maybe two. Even with the system of rest-and-takeover you've got established with the clones you're afraid you're going to lose.

The night falls, and some troopers fall back into the delicate safety of the makeshift camp, a decent distant away from the battlefield; they'll try to shut the eye for some hours before replacing other brothers positions again. You keep fighting, completely exhausted but knowing perfectly well that your presence in the battlefield equals the force of ten clones; pushing through your energy limits and fiercely holding your own.

Hours pass, and the two suns of Halsaaka rises again; your tired eyes getting used to the new light while you keep slashing droids with your saber.

"We're pushing them further away from the South Door" Master Ploo's calm voice picks up through your coms. "I have been informed that the 442th have been dispatched in our way. They will join us in two sunrises".

You can't help but give a relieved sigh. The 104th have worked with the 442th more than once in the past. They are heavy infantry; and you wouldn't say no to some of that now. Any fresh soldier would be a welcomed addition. You can see the strain on your troopers; though none of them would dare say a word out loud.

"Copy that" you answer through your channel with your Master and the 104th's commander and sergeant. "I'll feel as happy as a kid with a popsicle when I see that green stripped armour along our light gray one".

You dodge a shot and use the Force to push a wave of droids to the side; your troopers quickly using the oportunity to blast them down.

Wolffe's deep husky voice pipes up in a tiny, well-humoured comment.

"Still a kid yourself, General" he teases you, voice still firm and contradictionally serious.

Your lips pull up on a tiny smirk.

"We can't all age in a blink of an eye, my dear Commander" you chirp back.

The coms pick up his raspy chuckle before the frequency goes back to silence.

The droids make way for something bigger and you groan under your breath. The first bolts make the earth beneath your feet shake slightly; orders and screams shouted all around you.

"Bad news, boys" you open the general coms this time so everyone gets updated in this very unwelcomed surprise. "We've got some spiders".

You focus yourself on them; flying through the battlefield and jumping on one droid after the other one, sinking your saber into their red sensors or cutting off their laser canions. Then, when you're in the middle of jumping off of one, a surprisingly well aimed bolt crosses the air and hits you; and you fall down with blood quickly soaking your side, staining the fabric of your Jedi clothes.

"Fuck" you mutter out loud, jaw clenching til your teeth hurt while you stand up quickly and deflect another bold with your saber, trying to cope with the pain. You open your private frequency with Sinker and quickly inform of your state.

"Sinker, I've been hit" you grit between your teeth while you kill the droid responsible for your wound and step back between your troopers to cover yourself momentarily.

You pull your clothes up and quickly glance down at the wound. Usually the bolts inmediately cauterizes the wounds; but this hadn't been a normal droid, but a combat-J1, with it's weapon specifically designed to make the most damage to human's skin without it's predecessors side-efects. The apparently less dangerous bolts are quite the opposite; dividing into smalller ones that diverts into different directions when hitting a surface with enough resistance. Right now, there's only one entrance wound on your right side; but you know they may have carved more than one path inside of you, making it a life or death situation depending on how lucky you are.

"How bad is it?" He asks, slowly but effectively advancing through the droid lines towards you, an easy person to locate with the shine of your emerald saber.

You grunt in pain, hand soaked in dark scarlet blood, and take a deep breath in, knowing what you need to do for now.

"Bad" you just answer, carefully lowering your own saber towards the wound "It's a shot from a J1. I'm going to cauterise the wound for now, but I might go into shock in the next hour. Just a heads up."

You chuckle weakly, and then carefully graze your lightsaber against the wound. The skin quickly hardens and clots; the smell of the burn quickly reaching your nose. Your knees buckle while you swallow your scream of pain; legs shaking weakly and tears springing to your eyes while you finish putting a momentarily solution to your wound. At least you won't die from blood loss for now.

"Maker, General" Sinker is suddenly there, taking a strong hold of your opposite hip to stabilize you. "That really doesn't look good. You should go back to camp, Sir".

You find solace in his strength for a minute before rightening yourself again and getting ready to move. You close your eyes and center yourself with the Force. You're hurt, but you're still in the middle of open fire; you need to swallow the pain and dizziness down and hold on.

You give Sinker a firm nod.

"I'm letting this side of the battlefield on your hands, then" you tell him, his own back inmediately straightening too under such responsability. "Just one more night and we'll have reinforcements with us tomorrow".

Sinker nods in understanding, appreciating your words of encouragement. He quickly orders Comet to help you get safely back to camp; while he inmediately takes the role of leader and commands your part of the 104th clone troops. You need to protect the North Door of Halsaaka while Master Ploo and Wolffe take care of the South.

One arm around Comet's shoulders and finding strength in the Force, you quickly start your dangerous way back to safety. Even though Comet's alert with his own blaster and you're still deflecting bolts with your saber, you're vulnerable now. You just hope you're both able to make it.

You open your coms to inform of the new situation.

"I've been hit with a J1" you warn Master Ploo and Wolffe. You don't like how weak your voice sounds. "Wolffe, I..."

There's a small explosion right beside you; and the force of it pushes both you and Comet to the ground. You whimper in pain, but quickly grab him and push the two of you back up, resume walking –more like stumbling forward–. You try the coms again, wanting to tell Wolffe you've left Sinker with command before retiring for the night; you grumble in irritation when you see your com device has detached from your forearm and has been left abandoned behind.

"Do you have your com?" You ask Comet.

His voice is barely audible under the protection of his helmet.

"My audio appears to be broken after that last fall, General."

You sigh, tired. There's nothing you can do about it now. Sinker will communicate with them sooner or later.

"Let's just make it back to safety then" you say, and Comet nods diligently.

You'll just focus on not collapsing to the ground before reaching camp.

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

Wolffe's heart stutters inside his chest when he hears your voice in the coms. You're always strong, always fierce; something he had admired from the very first time he had had the chance to work under your command. He had been cold towards you back then; not purposedly harsh against you, but not friendly either. You hadn't cared. When one of his men had pointed out to you it wasn't personal, but just Wolffe's reserved, unpolished personality, you had answered unbothered and completely understanding. He could still hear those words in his head; "I get it. I'm a stranger that holds the lifes of his brothers in her hands. None of you know me yet; trust is earned. I hope I will with time. I'd like us all to be comfortable with each othef. But if not, it doesn't matter. I'm not here to make friends. I'm here to fight. I'm here to protect people; and I'm here to direct my assigned troops as best as I can in order to achieve the best results with the minor number of casualties. If Commander Wolffe opens up to me I'd be honored. If not, I'm sure we could still be good comrades in this war". He still remembers the way you had tilted your chin upwards; staring defiantly at the clones in front of her, completely unaware of him standing not so far away at her back. "Now, I believe there's still some preparations needed for Jaal; and we're taking off in an hour". With that not-so-subtle signal that the conversation had ended, the troopers around you had quickly fell back to place; and Wolffe had silently followed Master Ploo Koo towards you. "Look at you, little warrior" the older Jedi had told you, a pleasant smile wrinkling the corner of his covered eyes. "Already displaying such good lidership traits". You had turned around in surprise; so many life presences around you, and experiencing a rush of your own emotions, you hadn't been aware of both of their presence. Your cheeks had flushed slightly; though that same defiant glint hadn't left your eyes. "Master" you had slightly bowed towards him. "You see me with good eyes" you had smiled softly at him, in a clearly opened affectionate way Wolffe wasn't used to seing in other Jedi. "Just having a chat with the troops". Master Ploo had chuckled quietly and pointed at him with a hand gesture; Wolffe quickly taking a step forwards towards them. "I have just had a quick meeting with the Council. Commander Wolffe will update you on my behalf, as I need to go have a word with the pilots" Master Ploo had glanced back at him pointedly. "If he'd be kind enough...". Wolffe had inmediately nodded, firmly. He had high respect towards that specifical Jedi; and he didn't usually hold others in such high regards. "Of course, sir" he had then turned towards you. "General, if you can follow me to the strategy room...". You had firmly hold his stare for a few seconds; and the quiet inquisitive gaze had felt as if the young Jedi Warrior had scanned his own very soul. Wolffe had had his first tingle of that uncomfortable but curious feeling back then; a feeling that had only increased with the following years. Nowadays, he...

Wolffe cleared his thoughts and focused on battle. Your voice had sound weak and tired, but you were perfectly capable of holding yourself, and this wasn't the first time you had been hurt before. He had actually patched you more than once in the past and... And then you mentioned a J1, and whispered his name, and there was a loud ringing sound through the coms that sounded too close to an explosion for his comfort and... And the sounds died, leaving nothing more than radio silence. And Wolffe, going against everything he had learnt and was trained for, pannicked.

"General?" His frantic, afraid voice was enough for Master Ploo to focus his attention on him, a graze at his Force life enough to make him understand his commander's feelings. "General. Come on. Com in, kid..."

There was only static.

Wolffe's heart pumped faster, adrenaline shooting through his veins. His hands trembled. A knot formed in his throat, slowly chocking his voice. He never broke down. He never broke down, but...

"Cyar'ika" he begged in a whisper. "Please, please answer and tell me you're okay".

He still got no answer back from you, and he felt his soul hurt.

Master Plo's hand suddenly renched him back into reality; a comforting wave of what could only be his Force washing over him. Wolffe turned his face towards him. The Jedi watched him in understanding.

"I can feel your turmoil. It is such it's difficult for me to focus on anything else. You are in no state to stay in the battlefield" he told him, cautiously gentle. "If my padawan has been gravely injured someone has probably helped her return to camp. You must go and make sure she's okay".

Even if Wolffe wanted nothing more than to start of a run and find her, he still hesitated in front of his General. He was a soldier. A commander. He couldn't leave his place just because he had stupidly, oh so fucking stupidly, fallen in love with her...

Master Plo squeezed his shoulders once. He knew him so well.

"Go" he insisted. "That's an order".

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

Wolffe quickly wrenched the flimsi excuse of a door of the tent open. He had gone to the makeshift infirmary first; his doctor quickly informing him of the state of his Jedi, and where he could find her resting at the moment. "A dangerous wound, but surprisingly stable" he had told him while he took care of the wound of a fellow brother. "She's a tough one, our General. It was a good idea to use her own lightsaber as a cauterizer. She wouldn't have probably made it all the way back here otherwise". That probability had made Wolffe tremble.

His own eyes quickly scanned the Jedi's state now. She was laying down on a rucksack, unusually clad in just a sport top and his Jedi pant's; outer robes discarded and clean bandages effectively wrapping around her lower torso, with just a small amout of blood transpairing on her side. Her lightsaber had been carefully placed at her side. Her hair was untied and a mess; some sticking to her dirtied face and some falling around freely behind her. Despite her evident exhaustion, Wolffe hand't ever been so happy to see her.

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

"Commander?" You asked in a surprised voice, slowly and carefully propelling some of your weight in your elbows in order to see him better. "Shouldn't you be back on the battlefield?"

Your face quickly changes into a deep, worried frown as you scan him up and down quickly.

"Are you hurt too, Wolffe?"

His heart clenches again. He steps inside the tent, slowly falling down on his knees besides you, and closes the door.

"No" he simply answers, observing you quietly.

You're completely lost. He's looking at you in a different way. He... Feels different, in the Force. Usually he feels much more reserved, almost as if he had learnt how to shield his emotions from a Jedi; however this... This felt raw.

"I'm afraid I don't understand" you chuckle and then wince at the way the movement tugs at your wound, a bit nervously now. You pointedly look at him. "You wouldn't be here just because you got worried, right?"

Wolffe's expression doesn't change.

"You went radio silent" he answers, quietly.

You arch an eyebrow.

"Our coms died" you explain, still confused about his attitude.

Wolffe can't help himself. He reaches forward and carefully grasps your chin in his right hand; eyes boring into yours. You gasp in surprise and can't do anything else but stare at his breathetaking mismatched eyes in response; emotions inside of you swirling dangerously with his move.

"You were hurt" he enfasises, almost as if he's trying to tell you something else, something you're not quite understanding. "You were hurt, and you went radio silent".

Oh. Oh. He thought you might be... You might have...

"Oh, Wolffe" his name is an understanding, affectionate sigh on your tempting lips. "I'm okay".

He doesn't want empathy. Doesn't want that almost condescending type of comfort. He needs to make sure you're still here; with him. He needs to exteriorize all this raw, painful emotions he has been keeping hidden for so fucking long, and he wants you so fucking bad it makes his mind and soul burn...

He bends down over you, holding himself against one hand proped against the floor while the other one tugs your neck forward, and then he's kissing you –fiercely, dominantly, real–; he kisses the same way he fights and a surprised but delighted whimper of a moan can't help but escape from your lips, hands quickly clinging onto his shoulders desperately.

You... You hadn't thought you'd end up having this. With you being a Jedi and him being such a perfect, respected clone Commander, you had always brushed your wants aside and...

"Wolffe" you whisper, trembling inevitably when his plush warm mouth moves from your lips to the side of your neck, biting gently. "Wolffe, I...".

He breathes and looks up at your face again; cupping your cheek with his right hand and observing your reaction with his eyes shimmering in needs and desire.

His Force signature blasts. He loves you. He loves you, and you...

"Ni kar'tayli gar darasuum" you whisper, risking it all and giving your heart to him.

Tears blur your sight. They're not sad tears; they're not happy either. They're a mix of emotions that make you feel like a mess and...

Wolffe sighs. You love him. You love him, and the fact that you've told him in Mando'a...

He closes his eyes and gently presses his forehead against yours; finding solace and peace in your embrace, in this Keldabe. His eyes then flutter open, and he holds your face in both of his hands, slowly joining your lips in a kiss much more sweet and unhurried than those from before. You hum, surrendering in complete bliss.

He caresses your smuged cheek with his thumb, taking some of the dirt and exhaustion of the battlefield away.

His voice is a secret whisper as well.

"Ni kar'tayli gar darasuum, cyare".

Your fingers tug at the hair at the back of his neck, and you crash your lips onto his.

You imprint those five mandalorian words in your soul.

THE END.

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

This one was a blast to write! Felt the emotions so raw myself tooo bfbfbsfb this two are so cute. I hope I get to write more of Wolffe in the future, I really like the guy.

Did some minor alterations –like him not been the one to actually carry you back to safety– but it kinda wrote itself and I'm happy with how it came out. Hope you liked it as well!

Also, dear friends, if you ever want to request something longer than a one-shot, you're able to do so as well (if the plot goes accordingly or I find it expandable). I'm not writing whole stories, but a short one of maybe 2-5 chapters max would be okay.

Stay tunned for the next one yall. It will be a little angsty one with Echo, and then we'll have a flirty fun one with Crosshair.

Xx,

Sky.

Back to main masterlist here!

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wanderingmirror · 8 months

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"Alright, that's it! Square the fuck up!"

A Coruscant Guardsman shouted, causing all attention to fall onto him. Wolffe froze at the venom in the man's voice and the hatred in his eyes.

"What?"

He asked and the Corrie rolled his eyes. He also rolled his shoulders and started bouncing, readying himself for a fight.

"I said, square the fuck up. Are you deaf or is that your ego?"

The Corrie growled. He snarled and Wolffe nearly snarled himself if it still didn't baffle him on why the Corrie was so pissed. The other clone moved into a ready stance, loose and unassuming. But the dark hatred never left the man's eyes.

"You and your boys talk so much shit about us Corries, why don't you prove it? See if you can put me on my fuckin ass. I am so sick of your bullshit. Square up, Commander! Give this pencil pusher a fuckin taste!"

The other Corries didn't seem to care that one of their own was trying to start a fight. The Wolfpack was also quite stunned that a Corrie even wanted to fight. Rule keepers and fun police an all. Master Koon stepped forward and tried to de-escalate the situation.

"Alright, I don't think this is a good way to deal with these issues-"

The Corrie growled low and long, his eyes still fixed on Wolffe with rage.

"With all due respect, Sir, I want this dick to give me a reason to let me beat the ever loving shit out of him. He talks all this bullshit about my fuckin Commander and doesn't expect me to fuckin retaliate!? The only reason I ain't beating the shit out of you now is you haven't given me just cause. So square the fuck up, Commander Shabuir!"

The Corrie was respectful towards Master Koon. But that respect ended when it came to the Wolfpack. The other clones in grey all looked at this pencil pusher in stunned shock. They had never seen a Corrie lose their temper before. And seeing it now was slightly unnerving. The Corrie started to get irritated with the continued shock.

"Oh come on! I'm giving you a fucking opening, you spineless bitch! Square up and prove you're fucking better than me! Maybe if you do, I'll start to think you're more than just a spoiled little brat!"

That set Wolffe off, he growled and charged at the Corrie without further prompting. He tackled the Corrie and tried to get him to the floor for a few punches, but all that did was cause the other man to take a few steps back. He wrapped his arms around Wolffe'e waist and lifted him up upsidedown. The Commander yelped as he was thrown to the left away from Master Koon. He hit the ground outside the Temple with a crack. His right side was throbbing in pain as the Corrie descended upon him with a fury.

He punched the sensitive right side without care for the damage dealt. His face was a snarl as he violently headbutted Wolffe when he tried to sit up and fight back. After some trouble, Wolffe finally got the upper hand. He flipped them over and returned the vicious headbutt to the Corrie, but the other man didn't seem to care that his nose was now bleeding.

"That all you got, you bitch? I've fought stronger assholes than you!"

His voice was nasally from the bleeding nose, but the snarl was still there as the Corrie expertly blocked or parried strikes. He took a few, but like before, he didn't seem to care that Wolffe was beating the shit out of him. Until the tables turned and the Corrie flipped them again, away from the steps and began to punch at the Wolfpack Commander. This continued until eventually the Corrie was pulled off Wolffe after flipping two more times. Wolffe was bleeding from his own nose and the Corrie had a black eye on top of his own bloody nose.

They both had bruises and small cuts lining their faces as they snarled at each other. The Corrie was being held back by a larger Corrie. Wolffe was kept back by Sinker and Boost. The bigger clone was in full armor, helmet and blaster too. He was holding the smaller Corrie around his waist and allowing him to wiggle about.

He was shouting insults and curses left and right, not caring that he was doing this in front of several generals including Shaak-Ti, Plo Koon, and Obi-wan Kenobi. The Generals looked heartbroken and confused at the hatred in the smaller Corrie's eyes. Shocked too, that the other Corries weren't doing anything to really stop their brother from doing this. The larger one was just holding him.

"Talk shit about my Commander behind his back around me again, and I'll make you wish you were never decanted, you fucking prick! I'll beat you so senseless that Prime himself will climb out of Hell just to laugh at you! Don't you ever disrespect my family again! You hear me, you front line bastard!?"

The other Corries ran over to the one shouting and one of them finally put a stop to the cursing and venom. If only because some children were coming over to see what the noise was. The Corrie growled lowly and the larger one just sighed as he lifted the smaller into a more secure hold. The group soon left, all but one. He walked up to Master Koon.

"I won't apologize for my brother's actions or words, but I am sorry you and the other Jetii had to see that. It should have been dealt with in a more private way. I apologize."

The Corrie said and ran off. Tension in his shoulders signalling his obvious discomfort at having to be alone. Wolffe was still trying to calm down from the small fight. Still suffering from the shock at how brutal and vicious the other guy was. His anger cooled into something like awe and wonder at how strong the guy was in order to lift him up like that armor and all.

"Fuck me, I didn't even get his comm number!"

Wolffe finally groaned and Boost snorted. The tension fell away with the laughter and teasing.

Gatz was still fumming when they arrived back to HQ. Bloody nose and black eye all but forgotten as he went straight to his Commander's office, poking his head in. Finding Fox half asleep in his chair, Gatz walked over and sat down on the old couch they had brought into the office. He sighed and texted Dogma that he was in Fox's office. Neither he nor Fox spoke, mostly because Fox could already see and put together what had happened.

"Who?"

The older clone asked and Gatz just huffed quietly.

"Fuckin Wolffe. Bitching about you not being there for the End of the War Drunk fest. Talking about how you had a stick up your ass and how you should really stop being so cold and strict. Really, you'd think by now they'd learn to keep their damn mouths shut!"

Gatz vented and Fox just sighed softly. Nothing pissed the Corrie ARC off more than any form of disrespect towards the Guard. He had nearly been decommed for it. Had been reconned for it twice but the memories always came back after getting a look around HQ. No one really understood how, but they didn't question it. Not wanting it to stop working and risk losing Gatz forever.

The ARC was one of the few really old Corries. That list had grown so short only five people were still on it. Fox, Thorn, Chalk, Thire, and a medic named Word. The only medic the Guard officially claimed due to more and more restrictions and thinly vailed threats to transfer. But now they barely had to worry about it with Chancellor Bail Organa put forth reforms to help with their struggles.

Ritz had to drag Stitches away from the medbay to rest after he had ordered every Guard in for a thorough check up. Having gotten a fully restocked medical bay after three full years. Never had Fox seen the medic so close to his old self. The first CMO of the 501st. Before Kix. But that was the closest they would ever get to seeing the veteran medic. Stress had a way of bringing the darker half of the medic out, and not in a pleasant way.

Dogma entered the room with a scowl that matched his buir's own fierce one. Fox snorted as Gatz flushed in embarrassment.

"The medbay should have been your first destination. Why did Chalk enter the bay alone if you had injuries?"

Dogma growled and Gatz flushed more as he scratched the back of his neck.

"Not used to having a full stocked medbay yet. Was really just given you a heads up since I did remember that the Doc was getting some rest."

Gatz sat still as Dogma healed his wounds. Fox just sighed at the other clone's antics to get the medic's attention. Though the injuries weren't really a part of Gatz' obvious plan to win over the other. He did try to keep his wounds to a minimum. But his temper was a short fused one. Easily triggered. Dogma still helped even when it looked like he wanted to throttle the ARC.

While the rest of the treatment was done in silence, the ARC was quietly watching the medic with this love struck expression. Dogma finished working on his broken nose and Gatz hissed at his poking at the black eye.

"Try to keep out of trouble for a while, Gatz. I don't think Buir would be happy that his new supplies have mostly been used on you."

Gatz nodded and the room lapsed into silence again. But it was broken by a soft snore, pulling both of their attentions over to Fox who looked to have fallen asleep. They smiled, leaving the room quietly after covering the Commander in a blanket.

Gatz parted ways with Dogma along the way to the medbay and then the barracks where he flopped down on his bunk. He grinned and closed his eyes, planning on just going crazy against the GAR the next time they talked shit about his family.

Gatz knew that it would be fun to put them to rights the rough way.

#random #angst #star wars the clone wars #clone ocs #no order 66 #angst with a happy ending #starwars #clone wars #original oc #fighting #plo koon #commander wolffe #clone trooper sinker #clone trooper boost #clone trooper dogma #commander fox #tw cursing

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