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sapphireginger · 2 years ago

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Title: Little Omega

Pairing: Pre-Staura/Gen Fic [Stiles Stilinski + Laura Hale]

Rating: Teen & Up

Word Count: 1,072

Warnings: None

Summary:

Mr. Hale squatted down in front of the boy and smiled warmly. "Hello, Stiles."

The boy tilted his head, his small hand clinging to Laura's as he nodded, shyly whispering, "Hi, Laura papa."

A/N:

Enjoy!!

♡ ♥︎ ♡

Created For: @anyfandomgoesbingo / Square Filled: First Heat

Laura called her papa when she discovered the reason why Stiles had gone to the nurse, missing lunch in the process. Her hands shook as she texted her papa, calling him as well. He’d know what to do. As an alpha Laura knew some things but her papa was an omega. He would know how to help Stiles.

Thankfully, the nurse didn’t make Laura leave. Laura did overhear the nurse's cursing under her breath when the sheriff didn’t answer after a third call. So, when Laura said she called her papa, an omega and they’d look after Stiles, the nurse was more than willing to let the young alpha stay with Stiles. It was a relief for Nurse Jacklyn to have someone looking after and caring about the young omega. While she worked, she talked with them about school. It was a good way to pass the time while they waited for Mr. Hale to arrive.

♡ ✦ ⟡ ✦ ♡

When he finally pulled up in front of the school, Laura was waiting out front with Stiles who had her hand clasped tightly in his much smaller one. “Papa, this is Stiles.”

Mr. Hale squatted down in front of the boy and smiled warmly. “Hello, Stiles.”

The boy tilted his head, his small hand clinging to Laura’s as he nodded, shyly whispering, “Hi, Laura papa.”

Laura smiled but she was full of nerves. It bothered her that Stiles didn’t seem to know what was happening to him. The boy was too young to start having heats, right? Laura was certain Stiles’s dad hadn't talked to him about them yet or he wouldn’t be so clueless as to what was going on.

Stiles smiled at Laura’s papa and giggled. “Omega!”

Laura giggled at his excitement as Stiles nuzzled into the man’s arms without letting go of her hand. The purr he let out was adorable and made Laura coo. “Mega,” Stiles said with a happy squeal and a purr.

Mr. Hale chuckled and nodded, his hand brushing up and down the boy’s back. “That’s right. Are you an omega too?”

Stiles nodded and let out a happy rumble. “Uh huh. I is omega. Just wike my mommy was...”

Mr. Hale looked at Laura questioningly. He kept his voice soft so as not to disturb the omega’s attempts to scent him. His gaze was fixed on his daughter, his eyebrow quirking up in the signature Hale way. “It seems to me that he is having a preheat. However, it also appears he isn’t aware of what’s happening and I’m certain he is too young to be entering one outside of certain circumstances.”

Stiles blinked owlishly at them, almost scent drunk and scrunches his nose. “Preheat? I do dat to the oven when I make suppers for my daddy.”

Mr. Hale gaped at the omega’s statement. Granted cooking was definitely in the realm of omega duties so to speak but Stiles was not even double digits yet. In fact, if Mr. Hale remembered correctly the boy was probably only five or six years old.

They ended up taking Stiles to the station after Mr. Hale pulled them both out of school for the day. Being the mate of the mayor made the process much smoother.

The Sheriff was busy with work, and Mr. Hale was glad he didn’t let the boy come inside. It would’ve hurt him to see how easily his dad pawned him off on someone else. He didn’t even let Mr. Hale explain what had happened. Well, Arthur Hale would be bringing this to his wife’s attention.

It wasn’t okay for the sheriff to be so uncaring. It would be his downfall. After all, on the way to the sheriff’s station both Laura and her papa learned that Stiles took care of the house as if he were a kept omega and not a child. He cooked, cleaned and did everything without any gratitude. The boy seemed to believe it was his job, was expected of him and that wasn’t how the Hales treated or viewed omegas.

♡ ✦ ⟡ ✦ ♡

Talia was in the kitchen when they got back to the Hale House and while Arthur took care of Stiles, Talia sat her daughter down for an explanation of the day’s events.

“Your father will take care of the boy.”

“Stiles,” Laura said. “His name is Stiles.”

Talia smiled and nodded her head in acknowledgement. “Stiles. Now, why don’t you tell me what's going on?”

“Mama, he’s so little. How can he have a preheat already?”

Talia tilted her head in thought and shrugged one shoulder. “Well, sometimes omegas bloom early. Tell me, when did you realize he was in preheat?”

Laura pondered the question for a moment. “Well, I went to the nurse because I was worried about him. He was fine after I hugged him and dropped him off at his classroom. He always seeks me out before school to get his hug. When I didn’t see him before lunch, I was worried. So, I got a pass from my teacher and went to check the nurse’s office. When I got there, he was there talking but I don’t know who he was talking to. He looked at me and—” She stopped suddenly, her eyes going wide.

Talia chuckled knowingly. “Did he flash his eyes at you?”

Laura nodded. “Yes,” she whispered. “He flashed them, and they were a beautiful turquoise color.”

“Did you flash your eyes back at him in return?” Talia asked, already knowing exactly what it all meant.

Laura nodded again and looked at her mom with an awed expression. She smiled softly and a rumble sounded in her chest. “He’s, my omega?” She asked and looked towards the stairs.

“Yes, but he might not yet understand, Laura. Be patient with him. Yes?”

Laura huffed but nodded, already feeling her instincts flare up with the need to look after her omega. “I’ll try.”

Talia nodded. “Good girl. Come help me in the kitchen. Your father will bring him back shortly and we’ll go from there. Okay?”

“Okay, mama.” Laura glanced once more at the stairs smiling when she heard the omega—her omega—rambling excitedly to Laura’s papa. She giggled softly and sighed happily when she heard the boy squeal at the pajamas he was put into.

Knowing her papa was looking after her mate, allowed some tension to bleed from Laura’s shoulders. Stiles would be okay. The Hales would make sure of it.

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sapphireginger · 2 years ago

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Title: I’ve Been Burned Before - Chapter #3

Pairing: Steter [Stiles Stilinski + Peter Hale]

Rating: Mature

Word Count:

Warnings: None

Summary:

With a sigh, he starts marking down his inventory. It’s been six years since he left Beacon Hellhole behind, along with the ones he once called friends. For the first year perhaps, he maintained a small measure of hope that someone would notice his absence but as his power grew and the silence from them continued, he used what he had learned to make them forget, to make them all forget.

A/N: Enjoy!! ♡ ♥︎ ♡

Full AO3 Link

Created For: @anyfandomgoesbingo / Square Filled: Amnesia

“Thank you so much for your help, Spark Gajos!” the young woman says, her eyes full of gratitude.

The amber eyed man smiles. “My pleasure, Alpha Bennett.”

“Goddess bless you, young one.”

“Well met, Alpha Bennett. Same wishes of fortune to you and to yours.”

He watches the young woman’s retreating figure before flipping the shop sign to:

✴ Sorry! We’re Closed! ✴

It’s quiet this early evening and he likes the quiet. It’s part of why he chose this location after college to build his business. His mind sometimes wanders to the ghosts of his past, but he can’t imagine wanting anything he had before—“Well except for one thing,” he says under his breath and turns to head into the back room.

At first, he thought he'd regret it, but now, the amber eyed man can’t bring himself to regret it one bit. His business is booming, and he’s helped hundreds of people. He's aided humans, hunters and supes alike over the years. The tattoos on his skin indicate his strength as a spark and people will travel thousands of miles just for him.

Only the amber eyed man himself remembers Stiles Stilinski. Everyone else in the world only knows of Mieczyslaw Genim Gajos, the mischievous spark whose loyalty and compassion are acknowledged as well as his power to right any wrongs done to himself and others. He isn't feared but rather revered. So, he goes by Genim or Spark Gajos in regard to formality. No one knows of Stiles Stilinski. At least, that’s what Stiles believes.

🔥♡✨ ♥︎ ✨♡🔥

It’s nearly 2 am when Stiles’s eyes snap open at his spark’s warning that his wards are being crossed. He bolts upright because there is only one person who would be able to get past them. That person is dead so far as Stiles knows. So, he grabs the bat from its home next to the doorjamb of his bedroom and slips downstairs like a shadow, completely silent.

He can see the silhouette of the person through the back door’s glass window, and he feels his spark vibrating in anticipation though of what, he has no idea. The door creaks open and with a silent deep breath in, Stiles bolts forward ready to swing the bat which is imbued with his spark.

Suddenly, a scent hits him and he freezes. His eyes lock with ice blue ones and his jaw drops, but no words come out.

The man quirks a brow and nods towards the bat still held aloft. “I see you still don’t play but still have the bat.” His eyes roam over Stiles in very blatant admiration. “Then again maybe you do play. I mean look at how much you’ve grown, Stiles.”

A thousand thoughts fly through his mind at once. He remembers the cocktail bottle. He remembers standing between Derek and the alpha. He remembers when everything clicked into place. He remembers the lie he was told and the burn he got as a reminder.

Long slender fingers gently brush his left arm where the scar still sits, his hold on the bat wavering for a brief moment. He digs his nails into the scar to snap himself out of it and uses his spark to hide his scent. There is no need for him to let this person—his person—have access to anything.

“What the hell is a Stiles?” he asks. It makes sense, since most people actually asked him that after he started using the name.

The man tilts his head and gestures to him with a sweeping motion of his hand. “You are what the hell is a Stiles.”

Stiles scans the man’s face, feeling like this has to be a trick or something. The man before him looks like Peter Hale but at the same time he doesn’t because the Peter Hale he remembers had burns covering the entire right side of his body as a result of the Hale Fire. So, Stiles has no idea how Peter is even here right now.

“You shouldn’t remember that name.” Stiles steps aside gesturing for the man to enter. “I mean you shouldn’t even be alive.”

“Yet here I am. How funny is that?” Peter quips as he steps inside, glancing around. He absolutely does not—absolutely does—flinch when the door locks and the magic sweeps over him. He’s not pleased when he feels it. “Someone has been busy haven’t they?” he says with a purr. “Such a powerful and extremely beautiful spark you are, sweetheart.”

“Shut up Peter,” Stiles replies with an eye roll to rival the wolf's and steps past him towards the stairs underneath which there is a small cubby. When Peter tries to follow, he can’t. Ice blue eyes flick down to see a perfect ring of mountain ash surrounding him. “Like I’d really just let this slide,” Stiles says when he feels Peter pushing against the barrier slightly.

Peter huffs. “Forgive me for expecting a warmer welcome, darling. I mean, you know, after I got such a warm goodbye the last time.”

Stiles winces and his shoulders slump, though still full of tension. He slowly turns around with a sapphire gem encrusted dagger in his hand, a collection of small runes engraved in the blade. “Yeah. Well, that wasn’t me. I tried and you saw how well that went.”

“Yes. Tell me, did they realize they got you with the flames or were they too relieved to have the big bad wolf taken down to even be bothered to care?”

“What are you doing here at 2 am in the fucking morning, Peter Hale?!” Stiles asked, his tone icy and blatantly ignoring the wolf's question.

Peter smirks. “That’s more of the hello I was expecting. Well, to answer that question it’s going to cost you some answers to some of the questions I have for you.”

Amber eyes flicker briefly a shade of glowing purple. “Don’t try to manipulate me. It won’t work.”

“Won’t it?”

“No.”

“Are you sure?” Peter says smoothly.

The hesitation on Stiles’s face is beautiful and Peter can tell the curiosity he always loved seeing in the boy coming out. “Fine, but I reserve the right not to answer certain questions.”

Peter scoffs. “Like I’d ask anything too personal. It’s not like I care if you’re super kinky or super vanilla in bed.”

Stiles squeaks and his cheeks redden slightly. “Shut up, Peter.”

“Stiles? You simply must answer that now. I mean I can’t imagine you as either but then again maybe I want to experience it for myself.”

“You wish.”

Peter nods. “Oh, I do.”

They stare at each other, neither willing to give in but Peter is certain that the time he spent paying attention to this building and its wards will pay off.

Surprisingly, however, Peter is the one to break first. “Two weeks ago, I landed at an airport nearby. I was running away again. I would have gotten on another plane but before I could even go to the counter to buy another ticket, I smelled it.”

“Smelled what? Good old classic airport bathroom lust that all the couples getting a quickie in before their flights are coated with? Some stale Cheeto contraband? Super sweaty week old socks?”

Peter glares at him. “No." His tone turned slightly wistful. "I smelled lavender, cinnamon and petrichor but this time there was also the scent of ink and paper. I had smelled it once before and I have been looking for it ever since. Then, who should I see when I look up but you. I saw you Stiles, you who I have been searching for the past three years, two months and eighteen days.”

Stiles swallows thickly and subtly sniffs his shirt. Then he feels stupid for doing so. He doesn’t have a werewolf’s super sniffer. “And why were you searching for me?” His brow furrows. “Wait. Three years?”

“No. Three years, one month and eighteen days.”

“Yeah, okay then. Whatever. Well, I’ve been gone longer than that. So…try again.”

Peter sighs. “I swear that’s how long it’s been. By the time I was cognizant again, three years had gone by. Only I didn’t know that until I stopped at a motel for the night a day after leaving that accursed hellhole of a town.”

Amber eyes lock with ice blue ones. “Well congratulations, Peter Hale. You are one of two people in the entire world who remembers Stiles Stilinski. But news flash, I’m the other one and I’m telling you now—He’s gone. Stiles died. I don’t—He doesn’t exist anymore. Got it?!”

“Oh, sweetheart,” Peter says softly.

“Don’t. Call. Me. That.” Stiles’s voice is icy but Peter can smell salt in the air. It makes him whine as the last thing he wants is his mate crying.

“What do you want me to say, Stiles?” Peter asks softly. “Ask me again. Ask me why I’m here.”

Stiles clears his throat and subtly sniffs. “Why are you here, Peter Hale?”

Peter meets the spark’s gaze to ensure Stiles knows how sincere the wolf’s next words are. “I’m here because someone stood between me and death and didn’t waver. I’m here because someone defended me even if it still meant I’d die. I’m here because someone burned for me, and I can’t get their scent out of my head. That's all I can think about. So as soon as I caught that scent in the airport, I followed it. That scent…" he trails off and swallows thickly, his throat clicking quietly. "Do you know what it means, Stiles?”

Stiles wants to shake his head because no he doesn’t know but really his heart would stutter if he said he doesn’t know out loud. So instead, he just waits.

Thankfully, Peter doesn’t keep him waiting too long. “That divine scent—the scent of lavender, cinnamon, petrichor, ink and paper—is my mate’s scent. It’s your scent, Stiles. A wolf who finds its mate will never want another and will never cease their desire to be with their mate. So, when you ask why I am here…that is why.”

The silence is deafening. Stiles had dreamt of someone—anyone—realizing he was gone but no one had. Not even his own dad had noticed. So, he made everyone forget he ever existed. Except, apparently not everyone did because here’s Peter Hale who is looking at Stiles in a way no one else ever has. It has been six years since he left that accursed town and now, here he is face to face with a piece of the past once more.

There’s no reason he can’t just make Peter forget too, and then send him on his way. The wolf wouldn’t truly be hurt or anything right? After all, Peter is Peter and Stiles is Stiles.

“I am sorry you’ve spent so long searching. If I had known, I would have made sure to spare you the pain.”

Peter frowns. “The only pain I’d feel is if my mate rejected—” He cuts himself off, eyes widening in understanding, and he laughs humorlessly. “—which is exactly what you’re about to do, isn’t it? You’re about to reject me, aren’t you?”

Stiles’s throat clicks because really, he doesn’t want to but how exactly are they supposed to go about this mate thing? “Wouldn’t it be easier to find someone else?” he asks.

“No!” Peter snarls, his eyes flashing. He then grimaces yet Peter knows he is completely unapologetic about his reaction. “There’s no one else for me. If you reject me then that’s it.”

“Talk about pressure,” Stiles grumbles.

Peter flashes his eyes again, pleased when amethyst purple answers electric blue. “Stiles, tell me here and now that you don’t want me. Look in my eyes and say you reject me as your mate. If your heart doesn’t skip…" he trails off and sighs. "Then I’ll go.”

Amber eyes scan the wolf's face, and he opens his mouth to speak. “I don’t want you as my mate.”

Ice blue eyes crinkle as Peter smiles. “You know what I just heard? Your heart blipped over the words ‘I don’t want.' You’re lying, sweetheart.”

Stiles blushes and looks away. “Fine. Maybe I’m sort of flattered but, well, you’re you and you look like you look, and I mean well yeah so whatever.”

“Such a flatterer. Do you think I could be free of this barrier now perhaps?”

“Only if you answer this next question correctly.”

Peter quirks his brow. “Okay. Shoot. I’d like to exit the eternal trap sooner rather than later.”

Stiles crosses his arms and smirks. “Who is Dia, iskra mojego serca?”

The smirk falls and blue eyes tear up. “My best friend.” He blinks and meets Stiles’s gaze. “Claudia Marie Gajos.”

Amber eyes glisten with tears and he waves a hand to dispel the mountain ash. It’s a strange sensation being held by Peter Hale, but it feels so right to Stiles. So, he doesn’t pull away. He can feel the magic of his mother around Peter’s heart, and he melts into the embrace, knowing that for just a few minutes he can let go. Peter has him.

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