Snips and Skyguy One Shots

Love

idrk what this is but i didn't wanna do my bio hw and it popped into my head and so i wrote it

Masters aren't supposed to love their Padawans, and Anakin Skywalker knows this.

But he can't help it.

He can't help the way that relief washes over him like a tidal wave on Mon Cala when he sees that she's okay.

He can't help the way that his chest grows warmer than the Tatooine suns when she falls asleep against him on the way to their- her -home.

Because the temple feels less and less like home to him each day.

Because his home is up on a balcony in a well-furnished apartment with the love of his life.

Because his home is with Padme Amidala.

But he loves anyways.

Loves Ahsoka.

Loves Rex.

Loves Obi-Wan.

Loves too much.

He watched Ahsoka exit her bedroom one night, though, perhaps it was just very early in the morning.

Her shoulders were shaking, and she rapped gently on his door.

He stood frozen to his spot across the room, staying hidden soundlessly in the dark. He was on his way to Padme's and he thought she'd been asleep.

But how could he emerge from the shadows now? Ahsoka wasn't stupid; she'd have questions.

And if Anakin didn't have answers, she'd come to her own conclusions about what he was doing and figure him out.

Anakin didn't have answers.

So he watched, from a distance, as she turned around and pressed her back to the door before sliding to the ground.

She cried into her knees that night instead of Anakin's shoulder.

And he remained silent, rooted to his spot, too afraid to move.

He watched her cry from a distance.

It dawns on him one day that she went looking for him for comfort.

She chose him.

And he chose Padme.

And he can't help the way that he pulls her tightly into his arms out of nowhere one morning just so that she knows that he cares.

But he knows that to care is not enough.

And he knows that she loves him.

She went running to him because he was familiar and safe and warm and-

She went running to him the same way that he went running to Padme.

Only he wasn't there when she needed him.

And so he stayed in his not-home for a few more nights than usual each week, seizing any opportunity he could to be there for her.

And it dawns on him one day that he is her home.

And that she loves him.

So he tells her he loves her back without once letting the words slip off of his untamed tongue.

He tells her in the way he squeezes her shoulder when he's proud of her.

He tells her in the way he nudges her gently when they're laughing together.

He tells her in the way he makes specialized breakfasts for her so she doesn't have to get up early and go down to the Mess before the food is all gone.

He tells her over and over and over again.

And she tells him back.

In the way she smiles up at him in adoration, still short enough that she has to tilt her head back.

In the way that she rests a calloused hand on his arm when she feels his anger is growing too strong.

In the way she holds his hand on the way back from Kadavo, not saying a word about the implications of what had lead her to do it.

She tells him over and over and over again.

But she still leaves him.

And he tells her he loves her by letting her go.

She left home because she left him.

And he doesn't know what to do with himself anymore.

He confides in his wife but it isn't enough to have a home when he's grown so used to being one.

And he wishes for her to come back.

She does.

But it isn't his little girl anymore, it isn't her and it hurts.

It hurts because she doesn't smile at him until the end, and she doesn't have to look up as much.

It hurts because she doesn't seem to even take notice of his stormy emotions, and if she does, she does nothing to soothe them.

It hurts because she doesn't touch him once, and they had always conveyed their feelings to one another through physical touch.

He still loves her.

But he doesn't know if she loves him.

And it's that uncertainty that allows him to risk everything for the one person he knows still loves him.

And it's that uncertainty that allows him to fall to his knees before Palpatine- no, Sidious.

His new master.

His tears sizzle on burning rocks instead of sliding down down his cheeks and onto her montrals like they had on the nights that she laid with him.

His heart is warm, but not with love.

His heart burns with anger.

Because everything, and everyone is against him.

Even the girl who loved him like the stars love the moon.

Masters aren't supposed to love their Padawans, but Darth Vader doesn't have one.

yeah so for some reason i just get all poetic for no reason when i have actual work to do. this was slightly written to get back at ThePianist06 for getting back at me 😁

sorry, not sorry, jazzyyyy!