Two Halfs of One Warrior • Obikin/Vaderwan One-Shots

You Can't Just Leave Me

• Summary: Anakin swears he’s above his Omega instincts, but when he’s sparring with his Alpha master one day, some wires get crossed that leave him unable to distinguish friend from foe. A primal fear consumes him, and no amount of Jedi training will shake the feeling he needs to escape. He needs to protect himself from the dangerous Alpha circling around him, searching for any sign of weakness.

When backed into a corner, an Omega’s last line of defense is their bite. After all, an Alpha would never hurt their mate.

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There is nothing worse than being alone.

Anakin has suffered through many ills in life beginning with his first breath as an enslaved person, but none of it was as bad as the moments he felt alone. Sitting on a cold ship unable to sleep without his mother nearby, laying in a bed after Qui-Gon Jinn’s death with his future entirely uncertain, locked in his quarters with his body on fire and no one and nothing to ease his pain.

To be a Jedi meant to eschew fear, anger, and hate. These things are as much a part of Anakin as the Force is, and the best he can hope for is to fight them tooth and nail, just as he fights to keep what he has now. He no longer has his mother with him, but he has friends. He has a place in the Jedi Order where he belongs. And he has Obi-Wan, who he loves and admires in equal parts as he despises and envies.

It may look different than he imagined as a child, but they are his family now, and he is grateful. Truly he is, even when he feels like he deserves more. Especially when he feels he deserves less.

The people that lived out in the dunes of Tatooine far beyond the outskirts of the cities were a superstitious lot, even more so than the slaves of Mos Eisley. But one belief of theirs stuck with Anakin all the way to Coruscant: to be alone is to court death. The only creatures meant for solitude were the great krayt dragons that devoured any unsuspecting being that crossed their paths.

Anakin never wants to be alone again, but the rage inside him is like a krayt dragon and it will devour him and everyone around him one day. It wants and it waits underneath his skin like the sands the krayt traverses, and Anakin doesn’t know when it will emerge and strike out, only that it will.

Maybe he’s lucky that he’s not an alpha. His master is an alpha. Padmé was an alpha. Qui-Gon was an alpha. Most of the council members are alphas. And with his rage, he thought he would be too.

But he’s an omega.

“Nothing to be ashamed of,” his master says.

Not that Anakin feels shame. It’s what he is, and it doesn’t feel wrong. His instincts are somewhat troubling, and difficult to fight, but it would have been worse if he were an alpha.

Instead of the urge to push and shove until a fight for dominance breaks out, Anakin wants only to touch and be touched. He’s always been tactile, but now it physically hurts to hold back from hugging Obi-Wan or leaning against his shoulder when they’re sitting side-by-side. Innocent touches that he shared with his mother, that he had never gotten from his master or any other Jedi.

He doesn’t want to crave these things that he knows he’ll never receive, that he knows he’ll never ask for. His omega instincts can be ignored, but it only feeds the krayt.

“You’re distracted.”

Anakin pauses with his lightsaber at his side, panting. They’ve been locked in practice for a while, he keeps making dumb mistakes. Usually, it’s enough to get Anakin out of his head, but he’s too on edge. His skin is crawling, and his palms sweat so much that Anakin can’t keep a grip on his saber.