My Routine As Someone Who Shifts Almost Every Week. 

Criminal Temptation Part 1

Pairing: Natasha Romanoff x fem!reader

Summary: Natasha went undercover to dismantle a crime empire—getting close was just part of the job. Years later, the one she betrayed is out of prison, and now Natasha must decide what’s more dangerous—the woman rising through the criminal world, or the love she thought she buried years ago.

Warnings: slight violence, suggestive themes, light fluff

Words: 4171

The thump of bass fades as Natasha steps out of the club, leaving behind a blur of neon, perfumes, and heat. The heavy door slams shut behind her, muffling the pulse of music into a distant throb. 

The cold hits immediately, sharp but not unfamiliar. Russia’s winter is worse than where she is now. Still, it slices through the false warmth she’d borrowed from the crowd inside.

Natasha exhales into her hands, breath curling like smoke in the night air, and pulls her leather jacket tighter. It’s well-worn but hers—actually hers—not issued or borrowed. 

A rare luxury for someone like her.

New York’s skyline looms in front of her like a question she hasn’t figured out how to answer yet.

She came here to breathe, to forget the rules written into her blood. But freedom is quieter than she expected, and the silence leaves too much room for doubt. 

SHIELD had offered her a lifeline—structure, purpose—but sometimes it feels like a cage disguised as a choice.

What if this isn’t it either?

Her shoulders tense as the wind slinks down her collar. She squints up the street, thinking about nothing and everything at the same time until a loud voice cuts through the hum of the city. 

“Leave me alone!”

The club door slams open and then closes again.

Natasha’s body stills, trained instinct waking as she turns her head slightly to the commotion. A man and a woman are now arguing near a sleek black car just a few feet away. 

The tone isn’t drunken bickering—it’s edged and tense. 

Natasha narrows her eyes as she observes the two from the corner of her eyes.

“Look, it’s getting late,” the man says, gesturing toward the open car door. “Just get in.”

The woman doesn’t budge. Her arms are crossed, chin lifted in open defiance.

“I’m not going with you. What part of that don’t you understand?”

The man’s mask of patience cracks. He mutters something low and harsh under his breath, then reaches for the woman’s arm. 

Natasha is already moving.

Her hand snaps out, fingers clamping around his wrist before he can touch you. 

“She said no.”

Her voice is quiet, but the threat laced beneath it is unmistakable. She shifts subtly, positioning herself just enough to cut between you and the man.

But you don’t shrink behind her like she expects.

Instead, you step in beside her. One hand glides to rest at the small of her back, fingers brushing the leather of her jacket with unshaken calm.

That catches her attention. The angle of her jaw shifts in suspicion.

But before she can examine you further, the man sneers at her. 

“Mind your own business—ah!” 

He cries out in pain when Natasha twists his wrist, sharp and controlled. It’s not enough to break anything, but it’ll bruise. Her face doesn’t flinch as she meets his eyes.

“This is my business now.”

She turns slightly toward you, ready to tell you to go, to let her handle this.

But you’re already moving. You pivot smoothly, heel turning just enough before your elbow drives neatly into his ribs. 

He doubles over, the wind knocked from him in one clean hit. Before he can recover, you step in, hooking your leg behind his and sweeping him down with practiced elegance. 

He crashes to the pavement, groaning.

Natasha blinks.

She wasn’t expecting that. The lines she’d drawn—civilian, protector—blur instantly. 

Maybe you didn’t need saving. Maybe she got involved too soon.

Then your hand grabs hers.

“Come on!” you urge, already pulling her forward. 

There’s no time to ask questions. Not with the club door slamming open and multiple additional shouts echoing faintly behind you. 

Natasha’s instinct kicks in a beat after her mind. Her fingers tighten around yours as she matches your pace, then overtakes it, naturally slipping into the lead.

Together, you dart down an alley, weaving through shadows and empty side streets. She crosses the road without looking, moving like muscle memory is all she needs.

The adrenaline hasn’t worn off by the time she finally slows, stopping in front of a sleek black motorcycle parked neatly at the curb. 

Your hand slips from hers, and Natasha instantly feels the loss of your warm touch against her skin. 

You’re breathless, grinning as your fingers trail along the leather seat with an almost curious awe.

“This yours?” you ask, glancing up at her.

Natasha nods, pride flickering in her expression. It’s quiet. Earnest. This isn’t just a vehicle—it’s hers. One of the first things in her life she’s chosen. Not earned through obedience or mission reports. 

Just hers.

You hum softly, your gaze shifting into something unreadable even for Natasha, as you reach into your pocket.

The soft jingle of metal makes her spine stiffen.

She narrows her eyes as you dangle a familiar set of keys in the air. 

Her hand darts to her jacket pocket. Empty. Her glare sharpens as she realizes what happened. 

You flash her a grin, infuriatingly calm. 

“You really should keep better track of your things.” 

She steps toward you instinctively. The air around her crackles, half-warning, half-challenge.

But you just tilt your head and take a step back, holding the keys out of reach with a taunting ease.

“Mind giving me a ride, stranger?”

She should be annoyed. Honestly, she should just take the keys from your hand and leave from what is clearly trouble.

But instead, Natasha pauses.

The chill of the night presses in again. So does everything she has been feeling—the uncertainty, the doubt, the ache of not knowing if she’s made the right choice, by joining SHIELD, by trying to be someone else.

And here you are. Grinning at her like a dare.

Offering her another decision to make.

She huffs a laugh—quiet, surprised, almost disbelieving. And maybe, in that moment, it’s the clearest she’s felt all night. 

Natasha reaches for the keys again.

This time, you let her take them.

“Get on,” she says.

And for once, Natasha doesn’t need to know where she’s going. Only that, for now, she’s not going alone.

~~~~~~~ ⧗ ~~~~~~~

She was right.

You were trouble.

After the two of you sped off into the night, Natasha didn’t ask where to go. She just drove.

Your arms had slipped easily around her waist, your chin resting comfortably on her shoulder, so natural that nothing about your touch felt uncomfortable. There was a relaxed confidence in your hold, like the chaos you left behind didn’t bother you in the slightest.

​​The city stretched around you, lights glittering like a thousand open windows into lives that made more sense than hers. Cars drifted past in flashes of red and gold. Music spilled from passing stores and venues. 

Even this late, New York refused to sleep.

She weaved through it all, carving her path through the noise.

Then your voice, low, warm, and far too close, broke through the wind and into her ear.

“Stop near that park up ahead for me, would you?”

Another suggestion disguised as an option. She caught the subtle tilt in your tone, the way you made things sound like it was her choice.

And yet...she still chose to turn off the road.

Now, she leans back against the railing of the bridge that cuts through the heart of the park, arms crossed, watching as you balance along the narrow ledge that runs beside it. Water sparkles below, black and still, reflecting the city lights.

You walk the edge like it’s nothing. Like a fall wouldn’t mean a thing. Arms behind your back, gaze light, steps easy.

“You’re not from around here, are you?”

Natasha tenses slightly. The question is not threatening. It’s casual more than anything. Still, instinctively, she considers brushing it off with a lie. 

But then again, she didn’t come to this city just to start another life built on falsehoods.

“Just moved here,” she responds evenly, not a lie but also not the complete truth.

You stop, pivoting on the thin concrete strip with effortless grace. That grin of yours appears again, sharp and knowing.

“Russian, right? Your accent’s subtle, but I can still hear it.”

Her eyes narrow. Not many people notice that. Not unless they’re listening closely.

Too closely.

But you don’t back off. You keep walking the ledge, turning your attention to the stars she can barely see above the haze of city light.

“What brings someone like you to a place like this?” you ask, tilting your head slightly at her. “And sticking your head out for a complete stranger? Trying to be some hero?”

Natsha doesn’t answer this time. Silence wraps around her like a second skin. 

You’re too observant, too casual with truths that cut a little too close. It’s not your charm that unnerves her—it’s the fact that she can’t get a clean read on you.

You don’t press at her silence. You just keep walking, and somehow, she finds herself moving after you, drawn forward by something she’s not sure she understands.

“Let me guess,” you say. “Looking for a fresh start?”

That lands too accurately.

Her step falters. 

You don’t even look back. You just keep talking, your voice calm and sure, like you’re reciting a story you already know the ending to.

“Life didn’t go the way you thought it would. So now you’re here, hoping maybe this place will help you figure out who the hell you’re supposed to be.”

Natasha stops.

And you do, too.

You turn around slowly, meeting her gaze across the short distance. Your head tilts.

“Am I close?”

Her jaw clenches, but she says nothing.

Your smile curls again—quiet, not smug. Like you already know the truth.

You drop into a seat on the ledge, your legs dangling over the water below. The wind toys with your hair as your eyes drift to the skyline.

Natasha studies your profile.

The way your posture is loose, but your eyes are full of ghosts. Something about you doesn’t match the ease in your smile.

Before she realizes she’s speaking, the question slips from her lips.

“What about you?”

You turn to her, the shadows in your gaze vanishing instantly behind your grin.

“Me? I’ve been here all my life. Family’s rooted here. Generations deep. Not much reason to leave.”

There’s a softness to the way you say it. 

But underneath, she hears it—the heaviness. The quiet resignation.

“That doesn’t mean you have to stay.” 

The words are out before she can stop herself.

Your smile shifts—tilting wry and bittersweet. You wave her closer.

And without thinking, she steps forward.

Your hand lifts, hovering near her face. 

Then your fingers gently brush a lock of hair behind her ear as your eyes search hers, and Natasha freezes at the way you look at her, like you can see her entire soul with just a simple gaze.

“You’re the one who should go,” you murmur. 

She frowns, confusion flashing across her face.

You shift over the ledge and stand, and the space between you evaporates. Your bodies nearly brush, your breath ghosting against her skin.

Your hands come up, cradling her cheeks now with the lightest touch, and her heart kicks hard against her ribs.

“Contrary to what people say,” you whisper, “this city isn’t built for new beginnings.”

“Why’s that?” Natasha asks, but her voice is softer now.

You lean in, your lips nearly touching hers.

“Too many temptations.”

And then you kiss her.

Natasha freezes for a heartbeat, caught in the gravity of your touch. 

But then—inevitably—she responds. Her hand slips around your waist, her mouth pressing back against yours with slow, consuming heat.

The kiss deepens as you part your lips for her.

Natasha leans further into you like she can’t get enough of your touch. 

Her breath catches as your fingers trace the line of her jaw, your other hand curling around the back of her neck as she presses you to the ledge, your mouths moving in perfect, fevered sync. 

But then—

You smile against her lips, a slow curve that draws Natasha’s suspicion immediately before you suddenly pull the both of you backward.

The world flips. 

Her gasp is swallowed by the rush of air and adrenaline, and then cold crashes over her like a slap.

The lake envelops you both, icy and breath-stealing.

She breaks the surface in a flash, sputtering, turning in the water in search of you, hair slicked against her cheek as she glares murderously in your direction when she finds you nearby. 

You’re already laughing, wading through the chill with a grin that could melt glaciers. 

“What the hell was that for?” she snaps.

You shake your head, water dripping from your lashes. 

“You looked like you needed to cool off.”

Natasha stares at you—utterly soaked, half-livid, half-stunned—and then, despite herself, her lips twitch.

It’s infuriating.

You’re infuriating.

And it only makes her want you more. 

You’re both still damp and breathless when the two of you stumble through the door of her apartment.

Her temporary home, courtesy of SHIELD, is impersonal and minimalistic in every detail. A bed, a couch, a kitchen stripped of personality. 

But right now, it’s all she needs to have you.

You barely get the door closed before she pushes you against it, her mouth crashing into yours again with wild, wet urgency. Her fingers fumble with the hem of your shirt, and you’re tugging at the zipper of her jacket, laughter mingling with the soft drag of mouths and gasps.

Boots thud against the floor. Socks abandoned. Shirts peeled off with impatient tugs. The slap of fabric hits the ground in quick succession as you trail backward down the hall, bumping into walls and doors, breathless and ravenous.

By the time you hit the bedroom, her damp tank top is somewhere on the floor and your jeans are half undone. 

You push her back onto the bed and crawl atop her, straddling her hips with soaked denim clinging to your skin, your hair dripping trails along her collarbone.

Natasha looks up at you, chest rising and falling, eyes darker than the sky outside. Her hands grip your thighs like she can’t decide whether to pull you closer or flip you beneath her.

But then your hands find her face, cupping her jaw as you lean down.

Your voice lowers into a whisper that brushes her lips again like a warning wrapped in want.

“I told you,” you murmur, “too many temptations.”

Your mouth claims hers again.

This time slower, deeper.

Natasha melts into it. She knows she should think about this more carefully, but she doesn’t, not because she’s careless, but because something in her wants to choose, choose this. 

Just for a night. 

Just long enough to forget who she was. 

To forget who she’s supposed to be.

And with you—unpredictable, wild, impossible—you make her feel like she can.

~~~~~~~ ⧗ ~~~~~~~

The sound of the front door slamming open rips Natasha from sleep.

Her eyes snap open, instincts kicking in before full consciousness. In one fluid motion, she rolls off the bed, her bare feet hitting the floor without a sound. She reaches under the bed frame and pulls the hidden pistol from its holster just as the bedroom door bursts open.

A gun is already aimed at her.

Natasha’s own weapon comes up instantly, sights locking onto the intruder. 

Both women freeze—each assessing the other in a heartbeat.

The woman across from her is statuesque and lethal. Jet-black hair pulled into a tight, no-nonsense ponytail. Sharp features. Her lean build is wrapped in dark tactical wear. Her stance is textbook—controlled and efficient. Professional and deadly.

“Where is she?” the woman demands coldly, voice like ice.

Her eyes flick briefly across the room, noting the bed, the rumpled sheets, and Natasha’s lack of proper clothing. 

But her focus remains unshaken, locked squarely on Natasha with military discipline.

“Who the hell are you?” Natasha shoots back, steady, despite the way her heart drums against her ribs.

The woman’s expression doesn’t shift.

But then the bathroom door opens.

Both women’s attention pivot, eyes tracking the movement.

You step out, casual as anything, still towel-drying your hair. 

You’re dressed in her clothes, Natasha realizes—one of her oversized T-shirts hanging off one shoulder and a pair of shorts that fit just a little too well. 

You pause at the sight of two guns drawn but don’t flinch.

Instead, your voice cuts clean through the tension.

“Vivienne. Stand down.”

The black-haired woman—Vivienne—doesn’t move. Her grip on the gun doesn’t shift, her posture tense with controlled fury. Her gaze flickers to you, then back to Natasha.

You sigh, stepping forward, slow and deliberate, until you’re between them.

Right in the line of fire.

“I said,” you repeat, firmer now, “stand down.”

Natasha’s grip falters slightly at you standing before her gun, but she doesn’t lower her weapon yet. She watches the other armed woman for her choice of action to your command.

Vivienne’s jaw ticks. Her eyes slide between you and Natasha again, and this time she really looks. 

Her expression darkens as she registers your state of dress, the mussed sheets behind you, the intimacy written all over the room like fingerprints.

She knows. She doesn’t say it. But she knows.

The silence stretches thin, tight like wire.

Then, finally, Vivienne lowers her weapon. Slowly. With visible restraint.

She holsters it with a practiced motion, but the tension doesn’t leave her frame. It’s etched into every line of her body. Her eyes never leave Natasha.

You nod, calm but commanding. 

“Wait outside. I’ll be out in a minute.”

Vivienne stares for a beat longer, a final flick of icy disdain aimed Natasha’s way—silent judgment and thinly veiled resentment—and then she turns without a word and disappears through the doorway.

The door clicks shut behind her.

Only then does Natasha lower her gun, though she doesn’t relax.

Her breath leaves her in a slow exhale. She doesn’t look away from you when you turn back to her.

“You want to explain what that was?”

You pause for a second like you’re considering it. Then shake your head softly. 

“No.”

You walk to her slowly, barefoot and still damp, the shirt hanging off your frame as your eyes find hers.

“I told you,” you say, voice quieter now. “This city’s not made for clean slates.”

Natasha doesn’t say anything.

Your hand reaches up, brushing a strand of red hair from her face with a surprising tenderness. Then you lean in and press a soft kiss to her mouth—chaste and final.

“I hope you’ll make the right choice.”

You pull away before she can say a word, leaving only the scent of her own shirt on your skin and the ghost of that parting kiss as you step out the door.

Natasha stares after you, lips parted slightly. She is still gripping her gun like she hasn’t fully decided if she should follow or forget you.

There’s something dangerous about you. Reckless. Elusive.

But she can’t deny the way you’ve gotten under her skin.

What kind of person are you really?

The ring of her phone cuts through the silence.

She tears her gaze away from the door and fumbles for the device on the nightstand.

“Barton,” she answers, voice still edged from the adrenaline.

“Where are you?” Clint’s voice filters through, calm but puzzled. “Briefing started fifteen minutes ago.”

Natasha glances at the clock and swears under her breath.

“I’ll be there soon.”

~~~~~~~ ⧗ ~~~~~~~

Natasha sits rigid in the glass-walled conference room at SHIELD headquarters, posture straight, eyes forward, but the reprimand from across the table pierces straight through her composure.

“You’ve got some guts, Romanoff.”

Director Fury’s voice cuts through the room like a knife, calm but heavy with disappointment. 

Agents passing by outside slow just slightly, casting curious glances through the transparent walls at the newly turned agent earning a lecture from the director of SHIELD himself. 

“It’s your second week. Second.” Fury’s eye narrows. “You think you can show up whenever it suits you? You think that’s how you prove you belong here?”

Natasha says nothing. She doesn’t flinch. But her silence is tight, clenched in her jaw and the slight twitch of her fingers resting on the table.

Seated beside her, Clint leans forward with a half-sigh, trying to diffuse the tension with a flicker of charm.

“Come on, Fury—cut her some slack. She’s still adjusting. And plus, you weren’t exactly here at the top of the hour either.”

Fury’s gaze snaps to him, unimpressed.

“That’s Director Fury,” he says flatly. “And unless you’ve got something helpful to add, I highly suggest you don’t speak right now, Barton.”

Clint lifts both hands, backpedaling with a wry grin. 

“Just offering context.”

Before the moment spirals further, Natasha finally speaks, her voice firm and low.

“It won’t happen again, sir.”

Fury studies her—long enough to make her wonder if he believes her—then finally straightens, rolling his good eye with a huff.

“It better not. Not if you want to stay here.”

With that, he gestures to the far end of the room.

“Agent Hill. From the top.”

Maria Hill steps forward smoothly, placing folders before Natasha and Clint as she begins the briefing.

“These are the files for your next mission. There’s a shipment coming in—”

The conference room door bursts open with a loud slam.

“You.”

The single word ricochets through the glass like a bullet. Natasha’s eyes flick up sharply, immediately recognizing the man storming into the room.

It’s him—the aggressive one from outside the club. The one you’d refused to go with.

Except now, he’s wearing a SHIELD uniform.

“Agent Grant,” Fury says slowly, brows lifting. “You’re not scheduled for this meeting. Step outside and wait your turn.”

Grant doesn’t move. His eyes are locked on Natasha, brimming with restrained fury.

“You don’t get it, sir,” he growls, stepping closer. “This woman ruined everything. I invested months of setup in this op, and she blew it all to hell in one night.”

Clint’s posture stiffens beside her. He starts to move, but Natasha subtly reaches out under the table, brushing her fingers against his arm to stop him. Her gaze remains cool and even as she regards Grant.

“Explain,” Fury commands flatly.

Grant drags his eyes off Natasha, jaw tightening.

“I’d just been assigned with the target. Working as her bodyguard. I was this close to learning more about the family’s operations. Then she—” he gestures angrily toward Natasha “—intervened last night. She took the girl, and I got fired for losing track of her.”

Fury turns to her now. “Is that true?”

Natasha folds her arms. 

“I didn’t know she was being watched by SHIELD. It looked like she was being harassed. I stepped in.”

“And you left with her?”

Natasha nods once. 

Fury’s tone sharpens. 

“What did you two do after that?”

“We went for a ride. Talked.”

“That’s it?”

Natasha hesitates, her mind briefly flashing with the memory of you under her before turning away and mumbling under her breath.

“Among other things.”

Fury’s expression doesn’t change, but his eye drops to the faint purplish mark peeking out from the collar of her shirt.

A bruise just barely visible against her skin.

“You slept with our target,” he states flatly.

It’s not a question, so Natasha doesn’t dignify it with a response. She simply stares back.

Fury turns sharply toward Hill.

“Pull the file on Grant’s operation.”

“Sir—” Grant protests, already catching on to where this is going.

Fury ignores him as Hill taps at her tablet, sending the information to the room’s display. It flashes on the screen behind her—surveillance shots, field notes, timelines. And you.

Natasha’s eyes land on one of the many images and stay there.

You’re leaning against a railing, hair tousled by the wind, half-smiling like you know something no one else does. The candid ease of the photo of you disarms her, and Natasha forgets, for a second, that anyone else is in the room.

“Months,” Fury mutters as he scrolls through the report. “Months of effort. Asset placement. Surveillance. Of just trying to get someone close enough to her. And you…”

He glances back at Natasha.

“You did it in one night.”

Natasha’s jaw sets, and a flicker of unease tightens the corners of her mouth at his implication. Still, she meets his gaze without blinking.

“That wasn’t the point.”

“It is now,” Fury counters. 

He tosses the physical file onto the table. It lands with a dull thud, opening to papers and photos spilling in front of her.

“Congratulations, Agent Romanoff,” Fury says coolly. “You’ve just been assigned your first official solo undercover op.”

Natasha’s brow furrows, caught off guard. 

“Wait—what?”

Fury nods toward the file.

Natasha glances down. Your photo stares back at her again. She reads the line beneath it, heart skipping once.

Target: Y/n Manfredi.

Daughter of Silvio “Sivermane” Manfredi, the current head of the Manfredi Family and leading contender to take control of the Maggia crime syndicate.

~~~~~~~ ⧗ ~~~~~~~

a/n : new series release even though I probably shouldn’t 😅 but this has been sitting in the drafts for so long that I just need to get it out so I don’t have to keep thinking about it.

This one’s connected to Chasing Shadows which is technically considered to be the prequel. And I just want to give a heads up about the series, it’s gonna be a little complicated because the story’s going to weave between two timelines, jumping between the past and the present. If it ever gets confusing, I'll add some sort of indication or label in the future.

Thanks again for reading!

notice how most of the successful shifting story times are people saying ‘i gave up and just went to bed’, ‘i just took a nap’, ‘i just affirmed and fell asleep’.

mhm. mhm. fuck methods, all you need is yourself!

s/o motivation (part II)

seeing their eyes light up the second they see you

them cooking (or trying to) their favorite food for you

them talking as fast as they can when you mention one of their interests

dancing in your kitchen together

kissing the bridge of their nose and they laugh

just being the reason they smile and laugh

them stuttering when you walk into a room

wearing their clothes, them complaining about it, but in reality they love it 

them trying to do something by themselves, but then you help them and you look to see them watching you with pure admiration on their face

being each other’s wallpapers

them messing with your hair to help you fall asleep

them never being able to stop talking about you (you’re the same way)

being as weird as possible with each other without feeling embarrassed 

them moving your hair aside to put your necklace on

sharing earbuds

listening to the same songs at the same time while apart

them smiling to themselves but trying not to move when you fall asleep on them

them pulling you into their arms

them not being able to contain their excitement when you open a gift from them 

you not being able to contain your excitement when they open a gift from you 

them tucking your hair behind your ear (vice versa)

tracing the features of their face and they lean into your touch

every time they kiss you it feels like the first time

them holding you hand in the car before an event and fidgeting with your rings

going to look at them but they’re already looking at you

walking together and accidentally bumping each other because you guys can’t walk straight

turning over in bed and they reach their arms out to you and move closer 

them sleeping on your chest listening to your heartbeat

watching a movie and they fall asleep before you, even though they claimed they weren’t tired

you thinking your unloveable but they love you like it’s breathing air 

them being mad but they will never raise their voice or take it out on you 

them randomly smacking you with a pillow because they want attention

not only are they there for you but you’re there for them, when they’re sad and feel as if the weight of the world is falling on them, you get to hold them and tell them you’ll always be there for them 

being loved and in love.

Shifting is guaranteed. I know you hear a lot of people say this, but it truly is. Nothing can stop you from shifting, not even death. The moment you found shifting and decided you want to do it, you already did. There's no hurry, no rush, you just have to wait for it to be reflected into the 3d. And it's 100% sure that it will, so sit back, get yourself a drink (coffee) and watch it come to you!

I SHIFTED IN 2 MINUTES ??

okay listen up. So basically yesterday i didn't do shit during my shifting journey i ain't gonna lie. And recently my parents took my phone away so i stopped listening to subs while shifting. And like i was feeling tired around 22:30 so i went to bed and just put on earplugs or idk how its called cuz i hate noises while sleeping. Then i was feeling sleepy so i thought "why not shift?" but like i didn't wanted to do any methods or stuff cuz im a lazy bitch ain't gna lie and it doesn't stop me from shifting lol ! I just layed down and started making myself feel as if im in my dr not like visualizing the room just feeling like i was there and i was like "oh shit i have a live stream to do tomorrow what will i talk abt to entertain people" and i started planning my day for when i wake up in my DR and didn't thought much of it but like i really felt numb and i was so connected to my DR and then i heard a "fwip !" like you know the sound of the air when you throw something really quickly? But like really loud and i was like "i have earplugs dafuq?" and i opened my eyes and saw a red frisbee getting thrown at me and once i saw it,it stopped itself and fell right in front of me?? (dafuq) and like afterwards i looked around i was on the grass in a sort of playground it was really sunny and i heard a laughter but my heart was pouding so much because of the frisbee attack that i decided to return.

Anyways took me 2mins and NO efforts. You will shift just like you shifted more than 20 times to similar realities while reading this lol.

emma. quick. short. sweet. baby (literally) steps. how to have an successful shift. now. (handing the mic to you) !

how to have successful shifts , quick. short. sweet. fine. but first we bury the wellness girlies under the floorboards. we're doing this clean.

you decide , not in the hallmark way. not in the "i believe in myself <3" way. i mean you decide. like a court ruling. you don't wait for the "symptoms." you legislate the outcome. this is not poetry . . but policy. you assume , belief is nice. like good weather. but irrelevant. nobody asks the pilot if he believes in turbulence. it happens anyway. what matters is assuming. and you already do. the way your body knows how to flinch before the slap. the way dogs know when someone's evil. you don't have to "believe to assume" in the shift. you are the shift. ignore the 3d , as in: pretend the world is on mute. your current reality is not real if you think it's not. the 3d is just a reflection of your mindset. a card deck. shuffle. you shift because you said so , that's it. no further verification required. you don't need binaurals or scripts or a bedtime routine you just do it.

listen. everyone thinks this is about technique. it's not. it's about authorship. if your thoughts are the script, your assumptions are the director's cut. if your life is a book, you're the editor with the red pen. if you want, you tear the pages out. you burn them. you start again. that's shifting. that's all it ever was. 　and if you want it in baby steps . . .　

　　　decide , assume , persist , ignore , done

　no magic. no candles. just force of mind. force of will.

If it was meant for you, it would still be here.

Remember that.

Everything that ended badly for you — a relationship, a friendship, a job — ended because it wasn’t meant to be. Or because it has already served its purpose in your life.

So grieve it, if that helps. Cry if you must.

But move on, knowing that not even the most powerful person in the world can take what’s truly yours.

The religious call it God’s will. Pagans call it fate. Skeptics call it determinism. The spiritual call it divine timing.

Whatever name you choose for it, it is the great equalizer.

Entire kingdoms can be stolen, but what’s meant for you never could be.

Guide for manifesting weight loss:

So an Anon asked me to make this and here it is, it will help others too.

As we all know that we often struggle with achieving our weight goal,doing workout,keeping a strict diet and eating healthy etc...

All of this was created by man, a man-made creation like Times, Machines, names, studies, science and many more.

And of course this was all coming from the imagination.

But i'm here to tell you that nothing is set in stone, your beliefs/assumption are the true fact.

Don't do things that you don't want to, just for you to loss weight ,because some non loa-believe people told you to.

Do whatever you want! Cause you make the rules and you control your own reality.

And you should be grateful that you discovered loa out of BILLIONS OF PEOPLE that are living miserably, believing that they should work hard to have what they want, following society rules.

Knowing your true power:

You need to understand that you are what we call God ,an Infinite being that could do anything without limitation.

You Can be whoever you want, get anything you want and more, even manifest the most illogical things, and this all because you're a consciousness that Can decide whoever version of themselves is gonna be.

But does God need to follow the rules? Does god need to do method? Does god need to do challenge? NO!! ABSOLUTELY NOT! YOU CAN DO WHATEVER YOUR MIND TELLS YOU TO, HELL! EVEN YOU CAN CREATE YOUR OWN RULES AND METHOD.

YOU ➜ God (imagination) ➜ create your own rules and method and Can manifest anything you want into your reality.

You Can be a model, having that pretty face, being a billionaire, living in that penthouse, having a yacht, fancy car, being with your handsome/pretty SP, having that perfect body. Having superpowers, having a little fairy, having a Magic portal in your room and swimming in money and MANY MORE.

All of that with what? Without even Lifting a single little finger, everything you ever wanted already EXIST, there's many versions of yourself with your desires, and with just that pretty powerful mind of yours.

Understanding the Law:

The law of assumption indicate that whatever you assume to be true will Harden into fact with persistence.

Manifesting your desires into the physical reality just requires you to change your inner self so that the outer World will follow.

The 3d is a mirror ➜ changing your self (4d) ➜ persisting ➜ the 3d will reflect your 4d ➜ yay! You have your desires in the physical reality.

It is very simple and easy.

All of this just needs discipline and having faith in yourself and your true power as a god.

Now the important part of this post.

How to manifest weight loss while ignoring the 3d:

We do know that manifesting weight loss might seem difficult for the most of us.

While you're manifesting and there's the people that surround you Always ALWAYS complaining and pointing about your appearance, your weight and that might get you very pissed off and angry.

I am myself suffering from this, my parents Always pointing at my appearance,saying that i look fat (and that not true they are just exaggerating things, my Friends told me that i have a beautiful body but i hide it with over-sized clothes cause i'm insecure), and they force me to go workout when i don't want to (cause obviously i hate sport and socializing) and which caused a HUGE ARGUMENTS with them, and i Lost it (cause i have anger issues) but they didn't listen they told me it for my own good🙄 my ass, so i had no choice but to listen to them but i'm DONE FOLLOWING SOCIETY RULES AND BELIEFS.

So yeah i'm not listening to anybody but my personal beliefs cause i'm the only one who knows the truth, the cheat code to life.

you Can eat whatever you want and with the belief that you won't gain a single weight and it's will become a fact.

Your beliefs and assumption matters and don't listen to anybody.

Okay so now you might wonder how to manifest weight loss while interacting with the 3d every single day and it very simple:

➜ firstly choose what desired weight or body you want to manifest.

➜ secondly knows that you do already have it in imagination and creation is finished, you're already that version of yourself that is skinny or muscular.

➜ thirdly you need to keep persisting no matter what the 3d tells you cause that will make the subconscious really believes you're that desired version of yourself.

➜ and lastly dismiss the 3d, if the people surrounding you keep pointing at your appearance just ignore them and affirm in your head that you already have your desired weight or body and knows that the 3d will change.

You really need to throw Logic in the trash , Logic won't get you anywhere but imagination will.

"Imagination is more important than knowledge. Knowledge is limited. Imagination encircles the world." Albert Einstein.

"Logic will take you from A to B. Imagination will take you everywhere" Albert Einstein.

"You believe in God? Believe also in your imagination" Neville Goddard.

You want to have that perfect body? Yes you Can, you want to have that Chinese standard Body? Yes you Can! You want to be muscular and lean? Yeah you definitely Can.

Just pick and choose, fulfilling yourself in your imagination and accepting it as fact and the 3d will follow.

Seriously it is really simple, just don't overcomplicate it.

Just have faith and trust in yourself and you'll definitely do it.

I don't want anybody sending me Ask in my Inbox After this post.

Go apply and you'll definitely thank me for it. (Read this one)

I advice you to read these post they're really Amazing and it will surely make it click for you:

This, and this, this and this, this one, and this one, this, this, this, this,this one, and this, this last one.

And lastly you're the only one that Can change your reality, no one Can do it for you, you're already a master manifestor and void master and you're on the pedestal.

You were meant to change your life and live in happiness and wealth.

_ Xoxo, Eli

© Scentedpeachlandcreator

MAKE PEOPLE DOUBLE TAKE.

꒰ things to script

people always glance back at you as they pass you in the street, astonished by the way you carry yourself.

your style is like no other. original, thought out, and just perfectly orchestrated.

you smell perfect. the kind of scent that makes strangers come up to you just to ask what perfume you’re wearing.

you don’t fit the social standards, but exist outside of them. your beauty is ethereal and cannot be put inside an expectation.

clothes hug you perfectly, as if tailored just for you.

people stay back an extra couple minutes just to hear your voice. the way you say words is just perfect and your timing is just right.

your energy attracts. animals flock to you in curiosity, kids find comfort in you. your energy radiates safety, leaving those around you curious in your story.

people catch your gaze in a crowded room. crushes, strangers, friends. anyone sees you in a crowded place and suddenly the world around them blurs.