#wolf speaks

Im going to share some ideas ive had to use some magic while you sew!

-

Enchant your tools or fabrics! I whisper to my needles and dedicate them to my gods!

Sew sigils! Either where they cant be seen or where they can! if you're in the broom closet, you can sew runes into the inside of whatever you're sewing! I've used a separate piece of fabric, sewn sigils on it, and stuffed it into plushes!

Choose colors intentionally! trying to make something to help with self love? make it pink! trying to make something to help with protection? black! Something to attract love? red! this goes for threds too!!

Use specific materials for magical meaning! Cotton? luck, healing, or protection! Silk? purity, transformation, wealth, and protection! and so on!

Witch’s stitch! Finish every project with one stitch made with pure intention! or tie a not with pure intention!

Charge your items before using them! Use whatever you want! clensing and charging is a great way to make things with intention!

Use specific stuff for stuffing! Ill use corn for abundance mostly, but it can also be used for fertility and the cycle of life! you can also microwave it and its a heating pack! and doesnt deciticrate like rice does so lasts longer! but you can use whatever you want really, even putting herbs in with other stuffings!

Create wearable spells! Use sigils and runes to make your clothes protected or to help with other things! Maybe sew an abundance or luck rune into your wallet if you can or sew protection runes into your clothes!

Cleanse your tools regularly to remove old energies! Simple as that! You dont want the old energy sticking around longer than it should!

Hate Misha or Cas? Block

Hate Jared or Sam? Block

Why is it there

What are they trying to tell us

„Jeep.”

— wc: 3.2k

— summary: After a long evening spent together Stiles finally gathers the courage to talk about his long buried feelings for you he has since he was a kid.

— tags/warnings: FLUFF, love confession, friends to lovers, nervous!Stiles, making out, friendly banter, teasing.

You’d been friends with Stiles Stilinski for long enough to know that silence made him uncomfortable. Not normal silence.

Normal silence was fine. Studying together in the library, driving around town with the radio on, sitting beside each other at lunch without speaking because neither of you had anything particularly interesting to say, that was normal.

But this silence? This was different. This was the kind where Stiles kept glancing at you and then immediately pretending he hadn’t. It had been happening all night. You’d noticed it at the movies.

At the diner afterward. And now, especially, inside the Jeep. You weren’t sure when things between you and Stiles had changed. Maybe they hadn’t. Maybe you’d simply started noticing things you’d been deliberately ignoring.

Like the way he always saved you the passenger seat. The way he’d text you whenever he got home, even if he’d only dropped you off five minutes earlier. The way his hand sometimes lingered when you passed him something.

Or the fact that, whenever someone flirted with you, Stiles suddenly became very interested in whatever was happening approximately six feet away. You’d known him for years. You knew his tells. You knew when he was lying. You knew when he was scared. And you knew when he was jealous.

You just hadn’t known what to do about it. Until tonight.

Rain ticked against the windshield as the Jeep sat parked outside of your house. It was dark and your parents weren’t home. Neither of you had moved. The engine had been off for several minutes.

“You know,” Stiles said eventually, staring straight ahead, “I’m pretty sure this is the longest you’ve gone without making fun of my driving.” He smiled, looking over at you.

You looked over at him. “Your driving is terrible.” You chuckled, looking at him with wide, amused eyes that he had grown to love over the years.

“There it is.” He signed, slowly running his hand through his hair. It had gotten a lot longer since last summer. That buzz cut really did him all pretty to grow that hair out.

“You nearly hit a mailbox.” You chuckled in disbelief, turning a little more towards him and watching as he turned his face away.

“The mailbox came out of nowhere.” He whined theatrically, his hand coming up in his ‚don’t accuse me’ kind of fashion.

“It was stationary.” You pointed out.

“That’s what makes it so unpredictable.” He doubled down, looking over at you once again. His eyes followed the change of your face as you laughed at him. You laughed.

He smiled, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes. For a moment, you watched the rain slide down the glass. You slowly stopped laughing and your eyes hang on his.

You saw the… emotion in them. How his eyebrows knitted together slightly and his eyes glossed over. It made you tilt your head gently. Then you said quietly, “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing.” He answered almost immediately, dropping his eyes down to his lap and seating back in his driver’s seat.

“Stiles.” You said firmly.

“It’s Nothing.” He insisted, his hand flexing on the steering wheel as if he was trying to calm himself down. It made your heart twist a little in your chest.

You turned toward him and threw him the biggest crooked eyebrow you could’ve imagined. Your whole face basically said ‚you’re saying bullshit and i know it so tell me the truth.’ He didn’t even have to look at you to feel the energy. He sighed.

“Okay, fine. Something.” He admitted, still not looking at you, but instead down at his lap. You waited. He rubbed both hands over his face. “I just—” He stopped. Started again.

“Tonight was supposed to be fun.” He whispered, looking over at you. And suddenly you didn’t see that funny, charming Stiles with his goofy jokes and radiant face. He seemed… sad.

“It was.” You murmured, looking at his face.

“Yeah, I know. That’s the problem.” He chuckled under his nose, looking down again for a moment before looking into your eyes again. His gaze swept over them slowly, as if studying you.

“How is that a problem?” You frowned softly, pushing your hair behind your ears as you sat more sideways on your seat to face him fully.

He seemed to contemplate for a while, before just blurting out—„ “Because you were laughing and you looked really pretty and then I spent the entire night thinking about—” He abruptly stopped. You raised an eyebrow.

“Thinking about what?” You coaxed, looking at him in disbelief and truly feeling straight confusion about what was going on right now. You didn’t understand what the hell was the deal with Stiles.

“Nothing.”

“You literally just said—” You said quietly, furrowing your eyebrows even more.

“I know what I said.” He cut off abruptly, his voice sharper and lacking that funny and childish undertone. It made you shiver just because you’ve never heard him speak like that before.

“Then finish the sentence.” You said quietly, your eyes meeting again. Stiles looked at you. Really looked at you. And suddenly, all the jokes disappeared.

“I spent the entire night thinking about kissing you.” He said finally, keeping his gaze on yours. It was bad. So, so so bad. Your heart gave one hard, embarrassing thump.

“Oh.” You said dumbly.

“Yeah.” He looked away almost immediately, focusing on the hem of his shirt that was suddenly super interesting. “Which is great. Really great. Super normal thing to confess in someone’s driveway.”

You smiled. “How long?” You said quietly, watching his side profile as he furrowed his eyebrows as the question fell out of your mouth.

“What?” He asked, his voice quieter than before as you watched his expression change.

Stiles looked away for a moment, his fingers drumming restlessly against the steering wheel. The nervous energy that usually made him talk faster than his brain could keep up with seemed to have nowhere to go now. He swallowed, then glanced back at you.

“How long have you wanted to?” You asked, unable to keep the curiosity from creeping into your voice.

His expression shifted immediately. There was something almost vulnerable in the way his eyes flickered over your face, as though he was debating whether telling you the truth was worth the inevitable embarrassment.

A small, disbelieving laugh escaped him. “You don’t actually want me to answer that,” He muttered, shaking his head slightly.

“I do.” You insisted, giving him a small smile.

“You’re going to make fun of me.” He said it almost accusingly, although the corner of his mouth twitched like he already knew you probably would.

“Probably,” You admitted, shrugging.

“See? That’s exactly why—”

“Stiles.” You interrupted him gently, your voice enough to make him stop mid-sentence.

He sighed, leaning back against the driver’s seat. For a moment, he stared through the rain-streaked windshield as though the answer might somehow be written there.

“Years,” You finally admitted.

You stared at him, your lips parting slightly in surprise. “Years?” You said in disbelief.

“Yeah.” He glanced at you, looking almost sheepish now.

“How many?” You pressed, shifting a little closer in your seat. The gear shift was sitting between you like a wall.

Stiles gave you an incredulous look. “Can we not do math right now?” he asked, a nervous laugh escaping him.

You couldn’t help laughing softly at that. Of course he would try to turn a confession into a joke. But when you looked at him again, the humor had faded from his expression.

That was when you realized he was genuinely nervous. Stiles Stilinski. Nervous. Because of you.

The realization sent a strange warmth through your chest. For years, you’d watched him confidently talk his way through impossible situations, watched him face things that would’ve terrified most people, and yet somehow admitting that he’d wanted to kiss you was what had him struggling for words.

Without really thinking about it, you reached across the center console and took his hand. Stiles immediately went quiet.

His eyes dropped to where your fingers had wrapped around his, and for once, he didn’t make a joke. Instead, his fingers slowly curled around yours, his thumb brushing over your knuckles almost absentmindedly.

“You could’ve told me,” you whispered, watching the way his expression softened.

“I was going to,” he replied, his voice just as quiet. He also watched as your small hand touched his bigger one.

“When?” You asked with a smile.

“Eventually.” He said the word with such certainty that you almost laughed. He slowly squeezed your hand

“That’s vague,” you pointed out, raising an eyebrow before tilting your head to the side just a little bit.

“I had a plan,” he insisted, squeezing your hand lightly as he spoke. He slowly looked up at you.

You turned toward him a little more. “You had a plan?” You smiled, pushing your hair back with your free hand.

“Kind of.” He grimaced, clearly realizing how ridiculous that sounded. Your hand was warm and it distracted him from thinking clearly.

You smiled. “What was it?”

Stiles let out a quiet breath through his nose and looked down at your joined hands. “Honestly? It involved a lot more confidence,” he admitted. Your smile widened.

“Well, maybe I can help with that.”

His eyebrows lifted as he looked back at you. “How?”

Instead of answering, you leaned toward him. The movement was slow enough that he had every opportunity to pull away. He didn’t. In fact, he seemed to forget how to breathe altogether.

His eyes flickered briefly toward your lips as closed the remaining distance between you. You leaned over the gear shift and slid your hand on his cheek and pressed your lips to his. The kiss was soft. Almost painfully so.

For one suspended second, Stiles seemed completely frozen, as though his brain had short-circuited and forgotten what it was supposed to do now that the thing he’d imagined for years was actually happening.

Then his hand tightened around yours. His other hand lifted carefully, almost hesitantly, until his palm rested against the side of your neck. His touch was warm, gentle, and surprisingly uncertain for someone who normally carried himself with so much restless confidence.

You could feel the smallest smile forming against his lips. And suddenly, the years of almosts didn’t seem so important anymore.

All the stolen glances, the lingering touches, the moments when you’d wondered whether there was something more between you—all of it seemed to collapse into this one quiet moment inside the Jeep.

When you finally pulled away, you didn’t go far. You stayed close enough that you could feel his breath against your skin. Stiles stared at you, his eyes wide and his lips slightly parted.

“Okay,” he whispered, almost to himself, his eyes dropping down to your lips.

You laughed softly at the dazed look on his face. “Okay?”

“That was—” He stopped, shaking his head as though he’d lost the ability to form a coherent sentence. He swallowed thickly.

You smiled. “What?” You chuckled softly, gently sliding your hand to the side of his neck, your thumb rubbing his jaw.

“Nope. I don’t have words.” He gave you a helpless little shrug, looking almost offended by his own inability to speak.

“You?” you teased, your smile growing. “No words?” You said softly, almost teasingly as you looked up into his eyes.

“Don’t ruin this for me,” he muttered, although he was smiling now too. Before you could answer, he leaned toward you again and pulled you back into the kiss.

There was less hesitation this time, less uncertainty. Stiles seemed to have finally realized that you weren’t going anywhere, and the realization showed in the way he relaxed beneath your touch.

You could feel him smiling against your lips, which made you smile too. The Jeep suddenly felt much smaller than it had ten minutes ago.

Your noses bumped awkwardly against each other when you shifted closer, and Stiles immediately broke the kiss with a quiet laugh.

“Ow.” He smiled, chuckling quietly as he still cradled the back of your neck.

“Sorry,” You murmured, laughing as you glanced down. Your cheeks flushed crimson slowly, you bit your lip.

“No, no, I’m fine.” He waved it off, though his grin made it obvious he wasn’t bothered in the slightest. God, al he could think about was kissing you again and again.

“You sure?” You asked, looking back up at him with soft eyes, your faces so close you could track and count every freckle on his face.

“Absolutely,” he assured you, nodding far too seriously. You narrowed your eyes playfully. Then you kissed him again before he could start rambling.

A quiet sound of surprise escaped him, and you felt his shoulders relax as he leaned into you.

Outside, the rain continued falling, drumming steadily against the roof of the Jeep. The windows had begun to fog around the edges, blurring the familiar outline of your street beyond the glass.

Neither of you seemed to care. For once, the world outside could have disappeared entirely. Eventually, you pulled back just enough to breathe, your forehead resting lightly against his.

Stiles kept his eyes closed for a moment, his breathing still uneven. His thumb moved lazily over the back of your hand, as though he needed the small reminder that this was actually happening.

“You know,” he murmured, finally opening his eyes, “I’m going to be unbearable about this.” He whispered, licking his lips.

You laughed under your breath. “You’re already unbearable.”

“Yeah, but now I have evidence.” His grin widened, and there was that familiar spark in his eyes again.

You rolled your eyes, but you couldn’t stop smiling. He looked at you for a moment longer. There was something almost boyish about his expression now, something soft and genuinely happy that you’d seen a hundred times before.

Only now, you understood it differently.

“You really like me?” You asked, your voice quieter than before. The question seemed to catch him off guard.

He stared at you for a second before letting out a quiet laugh. “Seriously?”

You nodded. “Seriously.” You said softly, looking at his face as his hand slid from the back of your head to cup your cheek. His expression softened.

“Yeah,” he said simply. “I really do.”

Your smile came slowly, spreading across your face as warmth settled in your chest “Good.”

Stiles blinked. “Good?” He asked.

“Yeah.” You leaned closer, brushing a quick kiss against the corner of his mouth. “Because I really like you too.”

For once, Stiles didn’t have a joke. He didn’t try to make the moment lighter or fill the silence with some ridiculous observation.

He just looked at you. And smiled. It was probably the softest smile you’d ever seen on his face. Then, after a moment, his eyes flickered toward your house through the windshield.

“So…” he began, his voice taking on that familiar hint of nervousness again. “You wanna come inside?” You glanced toward the house and then back at him.

“Stiles.”

He shrugged, looking down at your intertwined hands. “I don’t want the night to end.” He whispered quietly and looked at your face.

Something in your chest softened. You looked at him for another second before reaching for his hand again, your fingers slipping comfortably between his.

“Me neither,” you admitted quietly. Stiles looked down at your hands before meeting your eyes again.

And when he smiled this time, you knew that whatever happened next, things between you and Stiles Stilinski were never going back to the way they were.

You both sat in your bed, already changed in soft pajamas. Him in sweatpants and a white t-shirt and you in a tank top and shorts. You sat on his lap, his back resting against the headrest of the bed as his hands squeezed your waist.

The kiss had started slowly. It was sweet, familiar now, despite the fact that only a few hours ago you hadn’t even known whether he felt the same way.

Every few seconds, one of you would pull away just enough to smile before leaning in again.

Stiles’ hands stayed at your waist, his thumbs absentmindedly brushing over the fabric of your shirt. He seemed completely content to just sit there with you.

Eventually, you pulled back slightly, looking at him. His eyes opened slowly

“What?” He murmured, looking up at you with those brown eyes of his. His hand slowly brushed your hair back.

You smiled. “Nothing.” You murmured.

He raised an eyebrow. “That’s suspicious.”

You laughed softly, and he smiled at the sound. Then he leaned forward and pressed another gentle kiss to your lips. When he pulled away, you studied his face for a moment.

“That’s it?” You asked quietly.

His eyebrows immediately furrowed. “What do you mean?”

You shrugged, suddenly a little embarrassed by the question. “I don’t know. I just thought…”

You trailed off. Stiles stared at you for a second before his expression softened with realization.

“Oh.”

You looked away, suddenly feeling awkward. “I just thought maybe you wanted something more.”

There was a brief silence. Then Stiles gently took your chin between his fingers and turned your face back toward him.

“I mean, I want you close,” he said quietly. “That’s pretty much all I’ve wanted for years.” You blinked. He gave you a small smile.

“I spent years imagining what it would be like to kiss you,” he admitted. “And now that I actually can, I’m not exactly in a hurry to do anything else.”

„…Yeah?” Your expression softened, your eyes searching his for a bit as your gaze softened.

“Really.” He nodded. “I like this.” His arms tightened slightly around your waist, pulling you closer until you were comfortably against his chest.

“I like having you here,” he murmured. “I like that you’re sitting on my lap. I like kissing you. I like being able to hold you without having to pretend I’m just… reaching for something.” He whispered.

You smiled, your heart quietly melting. “You’re being surprisingly sweet.” You smiled, looking at him and sliding your palm on his cheek to cup his face.

“Don’t tell anyone,” he whispered seriously. “I have a reputation.” He chuckled, leaning his face into your hand like a cat.

You laughed and rested your forehead against his. “I won’t.”

He smiled. For a moment, neither of you said anything. You simply stayed there, wrapped up in each other, listening to the rain tapping softly against the window.

Then Stiles shifted slightly, making himself more comfortable against the headboard, and pulled the blanket over both of you. You looked down at it, then back at him.

“You’re literally tucking me in.” You chuckled, and snuggled yourself against his shoulder slowly.

“Yeah.” He smiled, brushing his hand over your back gently, his fingertips tracing your back muscles with soft touch. His hands were so warm and soft.

“Why?” You questioned, a laugh escaping you.

“Because you’re cold.” He murmured, adjusting the blanked over you two slowly and pulling you closer with two arms.

“I’m not.”

“You’re welcome.” He whispered. You laughed quietly, shaking your head before settling against him anyway. Stiles pressed a soft kiss to the top of your head.

And somehow, that affected you more than another kiss ever could. Because you realized that he wasn’t trying to get anywhere. He wasn’t waiting for something else. He just wanted you there. Close. With him.

And for the first time that night, you understood that maybe that was exactly what you wanted too.