The Sterek Haven

This is a safe place for Sterek shippers to enjoy the fandom in a postive way. Hate toward the show or any of the characters, actors, ships or anything else is not tolerated here. We are a wank-free zone. If you're down with this, you can apply here. All Sterek Haven members are positive and friendly, so if you're looking to add some Sterek to your dash, see the member page and make some new friends! We aim to spread the Sterek love through positive action, by creating and sharing the amazing fanworks this fandom produces. There's a bunch of different events happening throughout hiatus, and you can participate even if you're not a member! Take a look at the events page to see if anything catches your fancy. Let's share the love, you guys.

[ao3topshipsbracket]

Tumblr Top Ships Bracket - Round 1 Side 1

Derek Hale/Styles Stilinski (Teen Wolf) vs Sherlock Holmes/John Watson (BBC Sherlock)

Derek/Styles

Sherlock/John

Voting ended onApr 27, 2024

This poll is a celebration of fandom and fandom history; we're aware that there are certain issues with many of the listed pairings and sources, but they are a part of that history. Please do not take this as an endorsement, and refrain from harassment.

[ao3topshipsbracket]

AO3 Top Relationships Bracket- Round 4

Derek Hale/Stiles Stilinski (Teen Wolf) vs James T. Kirk/Spock (Star Trek)

Derek/Stiles

Kirk/Spock

Voting ended onOct 7, 2023

This poll is a celebration of fandom history; we're aware that there are certain issues with many of the listed pairings and sources, but they are a part of that history. Please do not take this as an endorsement, and refrain from harassment.

[teencopandthesourwolf]

"I'm going to make everything okay, Stiles. I promise."

art for @heavensenthale for joining my wolfpack taglist :) ...their prompt word was BREAKDOWN

[heavensenthale]

*tired sigh* I accidentally wrote a fic inspired by this. Special thanks to @runekeepershymnal​ for the sprinting to get this done.

     my love, won't you stay a while?

Pairing: sterek

Word count: 1.4k

Rated: T

cw: for brief mention of past abuse

Read below under the cut or check it out on AO3.

Derek woke up with a start when the door to his loft opened with a metallic screech. He was a light sleeper, a habit picked up days after Laura left for Beacon Hills, after he found her body in the woods, after his betas left one by one. He was a light sleeper because there was always someone after him: hunters, alphas, ancient kitsune spirits, his own uncle —crazed in the aftermath of the fire, of coming back to life. Derek was a light sleeper because he had no choice, because his life was ridiculous, because the universe had it out for him.

His eyes did a quick scan around the room and stopped on Stiles. He couldn’t see his face, still wrapped in the shadows of the Beacon Hills night, but his heartbeat was as familiar as his own.

Derek flinched when his bare feet touched the cold floor, but he didn’t stop to grab his shoes, concerned with the rapid, panicked breaths Stiles was holding back. He stood in front of him, hands just out of reach. “Are you hurt?”

Stiles shook his head, fidgeting under his gaze. For a moment, the shadows under his eyes brought him back another face, distorted by a sick smile as the creature fed on the city’s grief and strife. But this was Stiles, just Stiles, hands trembling slightly as he played with the hem of his own shirt.

“What happened?”

Stiles shook his head again, harder, a sob making its way past his cracked lips.

A dam broke inside him, his shoulders trembled with the weight of the water rushing in and his knees gave in under him. Derek caught him before he made it far, holding him with one hand on his hip and one on his shoulder. A half-sob, half-scream tore his throat and Stiles wrapped his arms around his waist, crying against his shoulder.

“I’ve got you, Stiles,” he wrapped his arms around Stiles and held him tightly. I’ve got you, I’ve got you, I’ve got you, whispered on his hair like a mantra.

Stiles cried so intensely, Derek’s own heart was pounding in his ears. What if something happened to Scott? What if something happened to Stiles’ dad? His mind reeled with possibilities, but all that mattered right now was Stiles: Stiles who was right here and needed someone. Stiles needed him.

Like all the things that involved Stiles, this was easy, instinctual. There was no choice for Derek but to hold him, mumbling reassurances while sobs ravished his body. Derek held Stiles like the world depended on it because right now, it did.

He didn’t know how long they stood there, wrapped around each other, the loudest sound in the apartment was Stiles’ desperate crying leaving a wet spot of tears and snot on his shoulder.

Derek was surrounded by Stiles’ scent, dripping sorrow and loss. He knew that feeling all too well and his chest tensed knowing Stiles was drowning in that. A long time ago, Derek had had Laura to hold him through it, to guide his breathing after one panic attack too many. Did Stiles have anyone to bring him back?

Stiles was his friend. No, Stiles was pack —maybe Stiles was the link between the old Hale pack and Derek’s new pack— and Derek would help him through it. Whatever it was that had him in pieces, no matter the cost, no matter the consequences, he’d fix it. He told him as much. "I'm going to make everything okay, Stiles. I promise."

Stiles relaxed against his body with a deep sigh, his shoulders sagged with relief. I’ll fix it, damn it.

Derek’s chest was full of nebulous feelings he couldn’t name, thoughts that would be better left unsaid but couldn’t be stopped. They stirred in his stomach and his mouth tasted bitter for basking in this moment of vulnerability because it made them closer, because it made them something else entirely. Something more.

Stiles is my friend, he insisted. He’s my friend, he’s my—

Stiles stirred in his arms, burying his face deeper in the crook of his neck, his mouth breathing hot on his neck. In an attempt to level his heartbeat, Derek inhaled deeply, but all he got was a noseful of Stiles; it almost hurt to be this impossibly close, unable to say anything.

Eventually, his sobs softened, the tremors in his body subsided, and all that was left was Stiles’ spent breathing on his shoulder, unaware of the thoughts warring inside his head. Derek’s hands tightened around Stiles, squeezing once before letting his arms fall to his sides.

“Do you want to talk about it?”

“Not really.”

Derek understood. Some things hurt too much, cut too deep. Sometimes, Derek forgot Stiles’ life hadn’t been filled to the brim with violence until recently. He didn’t have practice in the art of losing everything. If Derek dwelled too long on that, he’d be the one breaking down.

“Come on,” he called, gesturing to his plain kitchen. Derek filled in the kettle and Stiles huffed a soft laugh in the back.

“Man, you gotta give me something stronger than tea.”

With a sigh, he put the kettle away and reached for an open bottle of vodka in the fridge. Derek poured two shots and downed his quickly, pouring a second one. Stiles lifted a questioning eyebrow in his direction. “What?”

Stiles just shook his head and drank. They stayed in silence after that, trapped in a staring contest where no one wanted to give in. Derek wondered whether Stiles would do anything else, if he’d ask something else, if he’d hold Derek’s own words against him. Instead, he walked to Derek’s bed and sat on the edge, chewing his words before speaking.

“Can I stay here tonight?”

Derek knew the smile that formed in his lips was telling, but Stiles didn’t seem to notice. Derek would let him stay forever.

“You can have the bed,” he said instead.

“Derek.” When Stiles said his name, it was a tired whisper, a silent request. Derek didn’t have to think it twice. He walked to his dresser and changed his shirt and by the time he made it back to bed, Stiles was already bundled in the covers, only the top of his head visible. Derek shook his head and got in the bed, keeping his distance from Stiles.

He stared at the ceiling, trying to stop his mind from spiraling at the thought of being in bed with someone else. The last time he had been with someone in bed was a hazy, painful recollection filled with shifting faces and whispered words that could’ve been a spell for all he knew. Derek remembered that night with the same feelings he recalled the feeling of drowning, of wanting to swim away but having your body be paralyzed from the neck down.

“Derek.”

When Stiles said his name, it was a question, it was an offer, it was an anchor, and damn if that wasn’t poetic, huh? Derek’s breathing leveled when he thought of Stiles’ eyes trusting and vulnerable when he came through the door, of Stiles’ arms wrapped around his waist holding on for dear life; he thought of Stiles’ unwavering loyalty, how he’d risk everything for those he loved; he thought of Stiles coming back for him time and time and time again. Stiles would always be there and Derek was hit with the realization that he would never leave him. It would be this for him until the day Stiles decided to leave himself.

Derek’s life was ridiculous.

He held his hand out across the mattress and Stiles took it cautiously, bringing it up to his face, rubbing his cheek against it in a gesture that made the wolf part of his brain roar possessively. Derek stroked his thumb across his cheekbone, his nose, all the way down to his cupid’s bow. Stiles kept his eyes on him the whole time, still under his hand.

Anchor. He savored the word in his mind, turning it around with care. Would it be so bad to let himself be held together by this?

“May I?” Stiles’ hand reached for his face, but hovered an inch from touching his face. Derek hated that Stiles knew to ask.

“Yes.” A whisper, almost a prayer. When Stiles’ hand touched his face, his heart raced, his mouth dried. But Stiles didn’t do anything else but touch his face softly, looking into his eyes with an adoration that hurt.

They stayed like that, silent in the moonlight until the light of dawn bled through the windows. When Derek’s eyes couldn’t stay open any longer, he fell asleep with Stiles’ hand still on his cheek. It was the best sleep he had in years.

[heavensenthale]

An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works

Rating: Teen And Up Audiences

Fandom: Teen Wolf (TV)

Relationship: Derek Hale/Stiles Stilinski

Additional Tags: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Recreational Drug Use, Pining, Derek Hale Needs a Hug, I made Derek feels things so I don’t have to, I consider canon a suggestion at best

Summary

“What if there are werewolves in Quantico and I’m stepping into their territory?” Stiles asked again, the frantic look in his eyes meant he had had too many or too little Adderall. “Stiles, you’re gonna be fine,” he said. Derek opened one of the brown delivery bags on the table and unwrapped a burger, gesturing Stiles to sit down. “Eat.” “Can’t. I’m meeting Lydia for dinner,” he replied. Derek put the burger down, no longer hungry.

[Or, The pack graduates and Derek’s left in Beacon Hills wondering what happens next]

HELLO EVERYONE I AM BACK ON MY STEREK BULLSHIT. GET THIS ONE WHILE I STILL LIKE IT.

[tw-edits]

[alphalewolf]

[alphalewolf]

[halesbane]

[scottymccall]

How lucky I am to have something that makes saying goodbye so hard.

[zainclaw]

[camehereforfriends]

WHAT HAPPENED BETWEEN SEASONS, TELL ME YOU COWARDS

[scottymccall]

How lucky I am to have something that makes saying goodbye so hard.

[allthetylertalk-blog]

Argh, some fans found Tyler's house apparently (probably after MC posted the general location and then they googled Joe's property records) and put a note through his door. 😨😠

I saw and just…I have a lot of feelings about it and none of them are good.

[ladiekatie]

Half Baked Fics

Going Grey

T | 1400 Words | Sterek | 1/1 | Complete

Perhaps the mirror was lying to him? It was a little steamy when he saw it; the few strands of not black hair in the mix of his beard. A quick glance in the forward facing camera of his phone disproves his theory.

or the one were Derek finds grey hair in his beard, tries to hide it from Stiles, and turns out Stiles finds it super sexy.

This cannot be happening. The likelihood of this happening was impossibly low, and even then, it never happened.

But because he is Derek Hale and because he is cursed by every being in the universe, this could only happen to him. Never mind the generations of his family that had jet black hair until the day they died, his Nana lived to be 120 and still, not a single strand of grey anywhere on her head.

Him though, he was a one out of a million.

Perhaps the mirror was lying to him? It was a little steamy when he saw it; the few strands of not black hair in the mix of his beard. A quick glance in the forward facing camera of his phone disproves his theory.

Fuck.

He wastes no time grabbing his keys and racing to the CVS on the corner a few blocks away. The poor cashier looked terrified as Derek set down 5 different black hair dyes for men, and a couple for women. The scowl and light growling weren’t helping the situation at all.

He needed to get this done before Stiles gets home.

Stiles. Shit.

Continue reading on AO3

[stilesbansheequeen]

‘Stiles dislocates his shoulder in battle and Derek has to reset it’ au, written for @stiles-and-the-sourwolf based on her list of hurt!stiles prompts!

i did my research, but you should not fix a dislocated shoulder yourself except in an emergency, nor should you use this fic as any kind of medical guide

feat. scarred!Stiles, injured!Stiles, & full-shift!Derek

For a frightening moment, Stiles has no idea what happened.

All he knows is that the last hellhound the pack is fighting just tackled him, that his bat flew out of his hands, and that his shoulder just made a terrifying sound as he hit the ground.

It’s not more than a few seconds before the weight of the hound is tackled off of him, but otherwise, no one comes to his rescue. The battle continues to rage around him, the cacophony of gunfire and howling and yelling all echoing through the preserve. The pack is spread everywhere, from behind the trees to in them, and all he can do is hope that someone notices him before he gets trampled.

He’s not sure how long the whole thing goes on. His head has been getting increasingly fuzzy, and he idly wonders how hard he banged it. The fuzziness quickly turns into a rush of panic when the face of a huge black canine suddenly appears right over his own, its muzzle covered in blood. It looks furious, and Stiles isn’t proud of the distressed sound he makes. The reading he’d done on hellhounds talked about how the beasts were known to tear out the throats of their victims before dragging them down to hell. Stiles isn’t sure if he believes in the whole eternal torture thing—and hey, that’s what living in Beacon Hills feels like half the time anyway—but he’s still not particularly keen on having his jugular ripped out.  The hound is off to his left and staring straight down at him, and hysterically, Stiles thinks of all the jokes he’s made about big bad wolves out in the preserve. Hounds are close enough.

In a fit of desperation, though it’s more likely to result in his hand being bitten off than anything else, he flings out an arm to try and shove the hulking hound away. Well, at least he tries to. What actually happens is that his hand and forearm barely make it six inches off the ground before weakly flopping back down, sending pain shooting up his arm.

Fuck, what did this thing do to his shoulder?

Stiles cries out incoherently, trying to get someone’s attention. No one else shows up, though, and a moment later the creature looms even closer, and looks Stiles right in the eyes. Oh, good. At least this whole thing is satisfying for someone.

Right as Stiles is about to tear his gaze away and try to come to terms with his own mortality in a matter of seconds, the monster’s eyes flash blue.

Stiles doesn’t think he’s ever been so relieved in his life.

“Not a monster,” he slurs, mostly to himself. “J’st Derek. Thank fuck.”

He lets his eyes close, and promptly passes out.

Keep reading

[captaintinymite]

Chapter 15 of “Two Minutes for Holding” is here!

Sneak Peek:

The squeak from the hinges of the locker room door as Derek pushed it open echoed in the empty room. The lack of teammates didn’t surprise him. Practices on Monday’s had always been voluntary. He remembered the tone of Coach’s voice at the start of every school year as he explained, “You delinquents need time to do your homework seeing as how this is an actual educational institution .” Derek, himself, had never needed the extra time for homework. If there was one thing he was better at than playing hockey it was managing his time efficiently. Where other students took the opportunity to catch up on their sleep during breaks between their classes, he dedicated his time to his studies.

Still, he knew that Monday nights were popular time slots for once a week evening classes, having taken advantage of this in more than one occasion. For those semesters, he was grateful for the optional practices.

As he waited for the others to arrive, he enjoyed the solitude, taking his time changing out of his street clothes, he could hear Coach muttering in his office about the taste of his dinner. Moments later, there was a clatter when his eating utensil fell to the desk.

“Let me give you a piece of valuable advice,” Coach called out into the void of the locker room, no doubt aware of someone’s presence within it, “never get married. Your wife will make you eat kale and bran muffins. She’ll tell you it’s because they’re good for you and she cares. Everything will be going fine and then one day she’ll take away your saturated fats. But I swear to God, it’s cruel and unusual punishment. Natalie has become like a drill sergeant.”

READ THE REST ON AO3

Art for :  Cover, Chapter One, Two, Three, Four, Five, Six, Seven, Eight, Nine, Ten, Eleven, Twelve, Thirteen, Fourteen

[captaintinymite]

Reblogging for evening crowd

[hoechloin]

Derek and Stiles: AU edition [insp]

[captaintinymite]

I commissioned the lovely @gri-clover to create a piece for mine and @apinkducky ‘s fic- and isn’t this piece a thing of beauty? 

“Hunka Hale’s Burning Love” (link to ao3)

As firefighters and lovers, both Stiles and Derek, knew the dangers of their job and what it could mean for their relationship. They knew what could happen and did the job anyway. That doesn’t mean they didn’t worry about each other getting hurt. They’d been lucky in that respect…so far.

oh- and there’s also a charity sexy firefighter calendar involved as well.

Or you can read it here on tumblr as part of the Sterek Writer’s Spring Fic exchange