A/N: Okay so I felt like there were far too few ABO fics for Din! So I decided to write one! Also, I must say that while I might be a woman in my 20's and personally find older men attractive, I'm just tired of every story being 42 year old Din with a 20 year old OC. I want more variety! Nothing wrong with it but can we please get some love for the mature ladies too? I really wanted an OC who can match Din where he's at in life. XD Also yes I can forsee this story being very OOC but this is kind of my first take on an AU kind of thing? Just keep in mind that what I'm writing here MIGHT end up being a pile of hot garbage but I wanted to read it so I wrote it! ^^; Enjoy!


The landing, at least, had been smooth. The child was still sleeping, a blessing for Din as he'd never known a more tireless womprat. The kid could go for hours with that little ball, or playing with the ships controls, whatver it takes to drive Din up the walls. He closed everything up tight behind him, making sure the door to the Razor Crest was securely locked as he stared off into the barren wasteland. Hopefully this planet would be suitable for their purposes. It should be simple enough.

A cursory glance gives Din a lay of the land: desolate. No vegetation. No civilization. No resources. They need food and water. Unless he finds some on this backwater skug hole, they'll have to find another. They also have to lay low for a while, considering how much hell they raised on Nevarro. The Guild may come after the kid soon, not that that matters. Din won't let anyone touch him.

Stalking further from the Razor Crest, Din pulls out his Amban phase-pulse rifle and looks through the scope. Not much around here, but there are some blips on the horizon to the east and south. It may be worth it to check them out. Even if both are depleted, what looks like a cactus forest lays past the cliffside nearby. It could be a water source, if nothing else.

What he'd seen in the distance was quite a let-down. The facade of the building may still stand, but it is just that. Only one wall remains. The rest have fallen from damage or time.

The second looks more promising. Although it definitely won't fly, the Imperial gunship must have been a sight in its day. Dry vegetation climbs its exterior, shrouding the vehicle in dusty greens. As he tugs vines from the door controls, Din can't help but wonder...

What's an Empire era ship doing this deep in the Outer Rim? He pushes on the console and the door cracks open with a hiss. Inside the hull, it reeks of stale air, and a weak scent that Din can't place his finger on. However, there isn't a single living thing to be found, according to the thermal display on his scope.

He checks every storage cabinet he can find, but there's nothing worthwhile. Whatever handful of nutrient pastes found in the cabinets are out of date. Expired in 3 ABY, mostly. It's too bad there isn't running water. In fact, the only thing that seems to be in the hull is a data pad on a storage crate. There's nothing of value to speak of on the ship, except maybe what lies behind the door below the bridge entrance. He reads silently, tapping through the data pad curiously. His eyes zero in on the latest entry:

Month 2 Day 4, 284163

Autopilot will have us touching down on Sorgan for a pit stop next week. We just need rations, which is lucky considering the emptiness of the place. There's nothing there!

It is quiet in the outer rim. Well, it is now that I've frozen that stubborn, whining omega in carbonite. She really was getting to be too much, even for me! I guess I was too much alpha for her because she reacted really strongly, lashing out at me and the whole nine yards. I don't get it! Omegas are supposed to beg for alpha cock, yet she rejects all my advances. She should be grateful I don't force a bite on her. Nobody of my status would give her such a grand offer for sloppy seconds. I'm her best shot at being a respectable member of society!

Anyway, I can understand now why she was being sent to the outer rim. She'll make a far better whore once she's shackled in place at the Repopulation Center, and less of a danger too. I once worked with an alpha who had been selected to mate with her. He's missing half his family jewels now. I learned from his mistakes and I'm NOT gonna end up like him. No omega will ever get the drop on me.

But if she had let me, I know it would've been the best I've ever had. Her smell is addicting. I'll have to advise the client not to unfreeze her until they have backup, she may still be feral when she wakes. The only problem is the currency, I have to talk to them about the credits. Imperial credits just don't spend the same as they used to, Heaven knows why. I have to make ends meet somehow. No more mister nice guy after this tedious job!

284163... An old way of writing the year, from back before the Battle of Yavin. That would be 7 BBY, which is possible. This was Imperial dialect, and the expiration dates would support his hunch. He flips to another entry, but none of it is related to this bounty hunter's most recent quarry. Din can feel a droplet of sweat tracing from his hairline to his brow. If this omega is still frozen, would she live through the thawing process? He doesn't process his feet leading him to the airlock door. It's too far in disrepair to open on its own, so Din pries the metal apart. It doesn't put up much resistance, eroded by years of weathering in harsh desert conditions.

Just as he thought, there was only one carbonite slab left resting in this old storeroom. Din thinks it lucky that the power didn't run out before he arrived. There were a measly two ticks of battery power left on this thing, but thankfully the readings don't say anything alarming.

Nothing alarming except that her heart is racing. He flips both nobs to zero and engages the thawing process. She'll need all the warmth she can get so he removes his cape from his shoulders. She'll certainly have hibernation sickness when she wakes. Twelves years is much too long to be stuck in carbonite, no matter the crime.

The chrome fades away, starting in the middle of her face. As pieces are revealed, her shades paint the picture of a woman in her early to mid 30's. Her soft waves of periwinkle are so long that they brush the top of her buttocks. The rag ensemble she wears leaves little to the imagination, but it covers all the necessities. Din has the sneaking suspicion that she hadn't chosen the style herself.

When she falls forward, he instinctively reaches out for her. She's incredibly still, then she begins to shiver. He moves to wrap his cape around her, but she jerks awake, turning on him with a hiss.

"Who's there?" She yowls, sounding like part loth-cat and part Wookie, her voice weak and hoarse from disuse. Her eyes aren't focused on him. In fact, they aren't focused on anything. "I c-can't see. What have you done to me?" She's got all the signs of hibernation sickness. Although he'd taken an offensive stance, he can't very well atack a blinded omega for no good reason. She is no threat to him... for now. She is visibly damp from the carbonite, strands of light blue sticking to her temple. Feeling blood redirect to below his belt, Din decides to pressurize his helmet. It won't do for him to rut over an unbound omega as though he were a schoolboy.

"Calm down," he says, not sure whether he's talking to himself or the trembling omega in front of him. He extends what he hopes is a reassuring hand, belatedly realizing that she can't see his gesture. His fingers brush her forearm carefully. She looks quite fragile, but her face contorts in fear, flashing her teeth at him. "I'm not here to hurt you."

"Th-that's what they all s-say." The cold is setting in it seems, her body not producing enough warmth to stop the chill coming from the setting suns. She flinches from the touch of his leather gloves. "What are you?"

Din understands what it's like to feel powerless. She can't see him, can't sense him at all. She has no hope of fighting back if he did mean her any harm. She needs to clock his scent. Slowly, Din removes a glove. Reaching out again, this time with a bare hand, he can already see the difference in her reaction. Whatever scent is coming from his wrist glands, it seems to help her breathe easier. Under the beskar, his eyes are wide like dinner plates at her blatant flirtation. Its a complete 180 from how she was before and he can't imagine its because of the callouses on his fingers. She feels warm to the touch but she clearly can't see any better.

It's fortunate that he sealed his helmet when he did, as a bit of her salty-sweet scent had leaked in and it was maddening to not be smelling her now. To not know. Her thighs rub tantalizingly against one another and he can tell she's letting out slick. She's scent-marking. Rubbing herself against the scent gland in his wrist to spread his pheromones on her. She'll soon smell like his scent. It's too intimate to do with a total stranger, but it seems to be calming the omega's hormones somewhat. She looks less tense and her whimpering is becoming less.

"Alpha," she almost purrs. Her head is tilted down, but her bright blue eyes are aimed in his general direction. "Please." She bares her neck and retracts his hand from blocking her gland. He shudders, the sight stoking a fire in his belly. In a period of major distress, it seems her omega had taken over her higher brain function.

Best to appeal to her inner omega then. "Omega." He purposefully emits his dominant scent when he speaks, daring the woman to challenge him. "I told you to settle down." He has total control when their scent glands come back into contact. Each swipe of his wrist slows her breath down a little, easing the stiffness in her shoulders, until she simply dozes off. Din sighs. It would have been easier to get her back to the ship if she could walk.


Her eyes snap open at the shaking of her bed. An unfamiliar scent srrounds her, one that reminds her of the softest leather and the most refreshing steel. Athri may not know how steel can be refreshing, but she knows that is exactly what it smells like now. It's a fresh metal smell complimented by something icy, like menthol, but it isn't from the ship itself. There's an alpha on this craft. His clothes hang from the wall that fences in the bed. Each of them smells a different level of unwashed. She flushes, sniffing one and finding she quite likes the smell of his sweat.

Shaking her thoughts away, Athri shuffles down to the end of the bed. She feels around, finding a door, and eventually reaches a button pad on the right side, so she presses it randomly until it opens. But her troubles are not over yet. A cacophony sounds from above her head, somewhere on the bridge of the ship, she assumes. Something heavy thuds next to her and she can feel a presence nearby. "Who's there?" Athri says, hopefully to the someone who stands next to her, but all she can see is darkness. She knows she was frozen in carbonite, so she thinks back and remembers that someone had freed her. An alpha had let her out and she... scented him. And that same alpha now stands before her.

She can't even see the man and yet he intimidates with just his presence. "Do you remember me?" His body is warm, waves of heat hitting her side with how close he stands.

She fidgets with the sleeves that fall past her fingers, noting that he must have put a very large shirt over her attire. There wasn't much by way of style for a slave to the Empire. "Yes." Athri wonders if her cheeks are as red as they feel. Her earlier behavior was so inappropriate!

She notices the mans voice being modulated, although she couldn't tell while she was feral. "Can you see at all?" She wonders if he wears it as a translator, or perhaps he wears a helmet for atmospheric purposes. His hand and body had felt vaguely human. Athri knows, being a near-human race herself, that one must not assume if one doesn't have the information.

"No." She tries to clear her head of the Empire's treatment. Small flashes of it hit her as parts of her memory return. "Why did you let me out?"

"I ask the questions," he growls. "Why was there a bounty on your head?"

"Okay! I'm sorry!" Athri scrambles back on the bed again. She tries to placate the man, her open palms facing outward. "He, uh, he wasn't a bounty hunter. He was a slave hunter for the Empire. I can't remember the rest right now."

"Right. Enough questions for today. Get back in there and go to sleep." The deep, weary voice of the alpha held some influence over her still, even when its run through a modulator, and Athri begins to yawn. "We've got a long way to go til Sorgan."

"Wait." The sound of his steps pause. "What should I call you?"

"Mando."

"Mando," She tries the word on her tongue. "Is that short for Mandalorian? Is that what you are?" But the empty cabin provides no response.


A/N: I tried to include a lot of context clues, but if you are not experience with the Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics tag, but I was thinking about putting a more in-depth explaination in chapter two! Thanks for stopping by and please let me know how you liked this by leaving some feedback in the comments or kudos if you like!