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nightcrews · 3 days ago

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Pussy Whisperer

Chapter 3: Northern Stars

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2

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Soap x Reader

Hurt/Comfort | Romance | Injury

Word Count: 2,853

Rating: Mature

Status: Ongoing

Additional Tags/Warnings:

Major Character Injury | Spoilers MW3 2023 Ending

Johnny makes a routine call before coming over. The visit is anything but routine.

••• ▰▰▰ SECURE CHANNEL OPEN ▰▰▰ •••

It’s no secret that Johnny himself is a secret.

It didn’t take a rocket scientist to figure out that the Johnny you knew was a lot different than the Johnny on the other side of your door. That the things he left unsaid were probably for the best. For a while the unknowns didn’t bother you, why should they? He was just someone who frequented your life only enough to be familiar, what business was it of yours?

But, as it turns out, the ‘someone’ that was Johnny ended up frequenting your life way more than initially planned, and that familiarity turned into something more. Each time he came back to you, beaten and battered and bruised, a part of you burned with curiosity. You wanted to know who Johnny was—who he really was, not just the person he chose for you to see.

The question is, would you like who you found?

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It was just getting to the good part of your show, when your phone rang. You considered letting it go to voicemail, but glanced at the screen to determine if you had the mental capacity to deal with them today. Johnny’s face is lit up across your screen, and all thoughts of ignoring it go out the window.

You slide it to answer in record time, “Hey!”

“Hey, bonnie.” Johnny says softly, though you don’t miss the slight pinch in his voice, “Back in town. Thought I’d swing by.”

“I was beginning to think you finally got sick of me.” You joke, pausing the tv. It was far from a joke, though. You hadn’t heard a peep out of him for months, and then a couple texts trickled through, vague little sentences telling you he was fine and would see you soon. You hadn’t heard his actual voice for months after that, slurred just slightly on top of it. You’d been worried, some nights so much that you couldn’t sleep.

“Now tha’s impossible.” Johnny says.

You hum, “What time will you be here?”

“‘Bout an hour?”

“Sounds good. I can make something to eat if you’re hungry.”

“No, I’m alrigh’.”

He sounded anything but.

“You okay? You know you don’t have to come over, right?”

“Trust me, lass, bein’ alone righ’ now is not in my best interest.”

You sit up straight, worry biting at your chest, “Why? What happened?”

“It’s why I called before comin’ over. There’s somethin’ I need ye te know before I get there.” He says after a sigh.

“Okay…?”

“I look a little rough.”

You frown, “Johnny, I’ve seen you beat up before. In case you haven’t forgotten, there’s a hole in your hip. And I saw what a grenade through another human being can do.”

This coaxes a small laugh out of him, “It’s different this time, bonnie.”

“Different how?”

“You’ll see when I get there. There’s a reason I’ve been gone so long.”

You mentally check off the weeks in your head until you determine that, yeah, he’s been gone the longest he’d ever been.

“Just…don’ be alarmed.”

“On my honor, I won’t overreact.”

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“Oh my fucking God, Johnny, what the fuck happened?”

He gives you a withering look as you cradle his face in your hands approximately one second after he closes your door, moving it to and fro, “Ye said ye wouldn overreact, lass.”

“You didn’t tell me it was this bad!”

“I specifically told ye I called ahead of time so ye wouldn be surprised.”

“You failed to mention that someone apparently ran you over with a bus!”

That, in itself, was an understatement. You were used to seeing Johnny with bruises and black eyes, with cuts and wounds and scars, but this was something entirely different. His entire head was buzzed, even the mohawk, to reveal puckered, irritated-looking scars stapled together on either side of his head. Deep purple bruises encircled his eyes, fading into yellow across his cheeks, and the whites of his eyes were drowned in red, almost highlighting the blue you loved so much.

He considers what you said, “Might have been better gettin’ ran over by a bus, actually.”

“Oh my god.” You breathe, pulling him into your flat by the sleeve of his hoodie, before shoving him down on the couch and falling in next to him, “So?”

“So?”

“What happened?”

He sighs, “Can we jus’ watch a movie?”

“No.” You say pointedly, “Listen, Johnny. Not once have I ever asked you to explain yourself, aside from the time I thought you ghosted me. You disappear for months at a time without a fucking word, and I’m just supposed to be here when you get back. I get that you’re Special Forces, but I don’t even know what that means, and I never ask, because I feel like it’s not my place. But this? Fuck, Johnny, you can’t come back here looking like this and not expect me to have questions.”

Johnny regards you with a look that suggests he’s warring with himself, on what, you’re not sure, but finally he says, “Ye know you can ask me anythin’.”

“And you’ll answer?”

“As best I can.”

You take a moment to position yourself to face him, before motioning to his injuries, “Oaky then. What happened?”

“I was shot in the head.” He says bluntly.

There were a million different scenarios you’d had in your head — torture, another grenade, and yes, getting ran over — but getting shot in the head was not on your radar. It takes you so much by surprise that you can only stare at him in disbelief.

For a moment you think he might be joking, that suddenly his serious look will split into a grin and he’ll tell you what really happened. It doesn’t come, though, and he gazes back at you with tired conviction.

The glaringly red scars on either side of his head catch your eye, both in the shape of a perfect northern star. The one on the left sits a bit higher than the right, and you think you see the tip of his right ear missing.

It hits you, then, that Johnny isn’t joking. The evidence is right there in front of you, forever etched into his body as a reminder of how fragile life really is.

After staring at him for what was probably an uncomfortable amount of time, you finally manage, “You…what?”

“I was diffusin’ a bomb in London,” Johnny explains, which only serves to add more questions to your list, “when the target got the drop on me ’n my captain. Shot me in the shoulder first, then my ‘ead. They said my heart stopped on medevac, still don’ ken how they got me back.”

“You died?” You blurt, voice cracking, unable to think around this new bit of information.

“I guess technically.” Johnny says nonchalantly, “The doc said the only reason I’m still alive from the gunshot is cause o’ the angle the bullet hit me. Apparently it curved ‘round my skull instead of goin’ through.”

That close. You’d come that close to losing him, and it had come down to a fucking angle. The thought makes you sick, and you cover your mouth as tears sting at your eyes. The fragility of your relationship hits you all at once, reaching in and messing up your insides. You knew each time could be his last, but this…this was proof. This was a glaring reality, a resounding wakeup call that rattled you to your core. You knew each time could be his last, but you’d never been shown just how true that really was.

“Hey,” Johnny reaches across to cradle your head with one hand, stroking your cheek with his thumb, “don’ cry, lass.”

You sputter a scoff, “Don’t cry? You died, Johnny. You realize that, right? Do you know how terrifying that is?”

“I do.” He says with a small smile, “I was the one kicked the bucket.”

“Fuck.” You wipe your face on the back of your hand, “Every time you leave I’m so scared you won’t come back. That one of these days it’ll be the last time I see you, and I won’t even know what happened to you.”

“Tha’ll never happen, lass.” He says, “Ghost has instructions on if I ever bite the bullet.”

You give him a look.

“Okay, poor choice o’ words.” He says, stroking your cheek, “Jus tryin te lighten the mood.”

A flutter in your stomach has you pitching forward to wrap him tightly in your arms, practically clinging to him to confirm he was real. His arms tighten around you, too, and he holds you as you cry on his shoulder as if he hadn’t been the one shot in the head. You felt stupid for crying, but you couldn’t help the tears as they slipped down your cheeks, or the fear that raced through your heart.

“You fucking died on me.” You choke out, “You’re such an asshole for that.”

Johnny laughs, which somehow makes you feel a bit better. He lets go of you to grab your hand, placing it over his heart, which beats just as strongly as it ever had, “Lass, my heart stopped beatin’ and I still came back te ye. Give a man some credit.”

You close your eyes and bury your head in his chest so he can’t see just how much those words alone affect you.

You finally gather your composure and sit up straight, keeping a firm hand on his thigh as if you letting go would make him disappear. Sniffling, you wipe your nose, and say, “But you’re okay now?”

“Aye. I had te learn how te walk ’n talk properly again, but I did. Truthfully, I’m probably a lil high on painkillers righ’ now, but when aren’ I?” He smiles down at you, “Righ’ as rain. And ye’ll be happy to ken that I’ve been put on desk duty for the time bein’. So ye’ll have me all te yerself for a few months.”

“Oh…” You look away, “So I should tell all the other guys not to come around?”

“Aye, I don’ like te share when I’m in town.”

You finally crack a small smile, relief that he’d be safe for the immediate future relaxing you back into the couch, “So you won’t go on missions with them even if you can’t do the ass kicking part?”

“Trust me, I already asked. Price threatened te discharged me te make me stay home.”

“Wouldn’t have been so bad. You’d have been able to couch surf here more.”

“I won’ take less than yer bed, lass.”

You chuckle, and then look back up to meet his gaze, “What exactly is the ass-kicking part that you do, anyway.”

“I’m the demolitions expert.” He says, and at your furrowed brows he continues with, “I’m the bomb guy.”

“The bomb guy?”

“I create explosives, detonate explosives, determine which explosives to use, diffuse explosives. You name it, I do it.” He explains, eyes shining bright, “There’s is nothing, and I mean nothing, tha’s more bea’iful than some C4. Other than you, o’course."

“Nice save.” You mutter.

“Along with tha’, I’m no’ too shabby of a sniper. Even beat Ghost on the gun course.”

“I’ll take that as a major feat.”

“It is.”

“Then, can I ask you a personal question?”

He tips his head, “I told ye, lass. Ye can ask me anythin’.”

You swallow, “Have you ever…killed anyone?”

Johnny takes a moment to consider your question, his eyes falling to his hands in his lap before returning to yours. His voice is soft when he says, “Does it matter if I have?”

You hesitate for just a moment before saying, “No.”

“Yes.” He says, “I have killed people.”

“How many?”

“Too many te count.” He says, “But I’ve never taken out anyone that didn’t deserve it, lass. Never. I don’ have a single regret about any of the things I’ve done.”

You nod, unsure of what to say, you’d always been unsure how to continue even in your daydreams. How does one follow up to the fact that a person they deeply care about has ended so many lives he lost count?

“I’m no’…a good person, lass.” He says eyebrows furrowed, “I’ve go’ blood on my hands, faces I see when I close my eyes, but those are the prices of peace. If what I do prevents the world from havin’ te see just half the things my team and I have, I will sacrifice a bit more o’ my soul every single time.”

You frown, “That doesn’t sound like something a terrible person would say.”

Johnny shrugs, “Depends on who’s listening.”

“I just…don’t you think you’ve given enough for the world? I mean, come on Johnny, you died for it.” You say, heart breaking at the realization.

“Nothing is ever enough.” He says in conviction, “No’ until my name is on the clocktower.”

You push him back until he’s laying back against the couch, propped up on pillows, and drape yourself over him, “I’ll never change your mind on that, will I?”

“No.” He says without hesitation, “An’ no one ever will.”

Disappointment tastes bitter in the back of your throat, at knowing you’d never be more important to Johnny than his cause. You had hoped, stupidly once, that maybe you could be the one thing to get him to settle, someday. That maybe one day Johnny would wake up and realize he loved you, actually, truly loved you, and that would be enough for him to walk away from the danger of the world.

But Johnny had never wanted to settle, and no amount of your unrequited love would change that. He’d joined the Special Forces knowing he’d never have a normal life, because Johnny and normal had never really gone together in the first place.

“Well.” You will yourself to shove down the grief that you had no business feeling, “At least you can’t blow yourself up for a few months, anyway.”

“Ah, ye underestimate me, lass.”

You only hum, head shoved against his chest to listen to his heart. It was something you’d never take for granted again.

Johnny strokes back your hair, kissing the top of your head before saying, “Want te go te bed?”

You nod, rising to your feet to pull him with you. You don’t step away when he’s upright, pressed against you, warm and alive and peering down at you with a gentle warmth that wrapped itself around your heart. You think maybe he realizes just as you had, how fragile your time together really was. His hand threads through your hair as he leans down to kiss you, gently and longingly, the way they did in the movies. You let him guide you, parting your lips for his tongue when it brushes against your lower lip. His breath mingles with yours, warm and sweet, and he smells the same as he always does. Your hands find his back, balling in his hoodie to hold him tight.

He breathes out your name, thumb resting on your chin, and pauses, forehead pressing to yours, “Ye really don’ think I’m a terrible person?”

You open your eyes to look up into his, “Nothing could make me think differently, Johnny.”

“How can ye say tha’? Ye don’ even ken the things I’ve done. How dirty I’ve had te be.”

“It doesn’t matter, Johnny.” You shake your head slightly, “If it means you get to come home, it will never matter.”

“Why?”

“I—” You bite back the words that had been threatening to spill all night. From telling him the truth you kept from him, from sharing the earth-shattering and unconditional love that had tied itself like a string from you to him. You were afraid that it would mean you’d lose him, that he’d walk out that door and never come back, because love was a weakness he couldn’t have.

At your silence, he clenches his jaw and closes his eyes, stroking your cheek one more time before saying, “Let’s go te bed. I’m tired.”

He wraps an arm around you, leaning heavily against you as you make your way to your room. You help him out of his clothes, pulling the comforter up to his chin before he rolls over to face your side of the bed. You climb in next to him, facing him to put a gentle hand on his cheek. The scars on his head brush against your fingers as they settle against his skin.

“Ye really don’ know how hard I fought te come back te ye. How close I came to givin’ up.” Johnny mumbles, eyes closed as exhaustion sweeps over him, “You were the only thing tha’ kept me going.”

“Why me?”

Johnny opens his eyes to look at you, “Because ye’re every good thing I’ve ever done.”

Your throat burns as you burrow into him, welcoming the warmth of his body as it envelopes you, “I’m glad you’re here, Johnny.”

“Me too.” He says, and drifts off into the sleep he so desperately needed.

••• ▰▰▰ SECURE CHANNEL CLOSED ▰▰▰ •••

For this and more, check me out on Ao3!

#john soap mactavish #soap call of duty #cod john mactavish #soap cod #soap x reader #fanfic #fanfiction #johnny mactavish #soap x you #call of duty #soap mactavish x reader #soap mactavish #sergeant mactavish #john mactavish x you #john mactavish x reader

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lonely-ey3s · 3 hours ago

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Ride or Die | Chapter Eight

pairing: rodeo/cowboy!joel miller x f!reader

chapter summary : There is a very long road to recovery for you, but the first step is waking up. As days stretch on in the ICU, Joel, Everly, and Wes stay close — holding onto hope, sharing quiet stories, and doing what they can to help you wake up.

chapter warnings: to avoid spoilers, i'm not going to post very specific warnings for this chapter, but here are the basics: angst, fluff, trauma, violence, and switching POVs.

word count: 7.5k

a/n: as a reminder, chapters will be every other sunday-- alternating with heartlines !!

your feedback is very important to me, and I want to thank you for all the reblogs, comments, and likes. I secretly hope you like this story. 🤍

Dividers by: @saradika-graphics and @cafekitsune

Masterlist

Sophomore Year, Late Fall

The screen door slammed behind you as you stepped into the kitchen, backpack still slung over your shoulder, cheeks flushed from the chilly evening air. The smell of grease and smoke clung to your clothes — you’d been out at the Miller’s ranch helping Joel finish up your science project, and Mrs. Miller had insisted you stay for dinner after you two finished up given how late it was.

You were still smiling faintly from the warmth of their table when your father’s voice cut through the house like a whip.

“It's about damn time! Where the hell have you been?”

Your footsteps halted, and you tightened your grip on your backpack. Your blood froze at how harsh his tone was.

He sat in his recliner, feet propped up, the TV low in the background. An empty beer can rested on the table next to him, his plate still empty from the night before — figures, he hadn’t done anything since getting home hours ago.

You blinked, then stepped into the living room, trying to keep your voice as soft as possible to avoid a fight. “I told you this morning. I had a project to wrap up for science class with Joel...”

“You were supposed to be home by six. It’s close to nine,” he snapped, sitting forward. “There’s no dinner. The kitchen ain’t cleaned. Wes said he needs help with his homework. Everly ain’t home either. What? You both think you can just run around and leave me to fend for myself?”

You’d had enough of his antics, his selfishness, and laziness. You were just a few years shy of graduating, and the second you got that diploma, you’d be out of here.

Since your mom’s passing — for the last several years — you and Everly have been pretty much forced to step up into parental and caretaker roles. You were tired of playing everything but being a daughter, everything but being a kid.

You had enough.

“I don’t know what to say — I’m not your maid, Dad,” you said, slightly regretting the sharpness in your voice.

His jaw tensed. “Don’t you dare start. You little—”

You took a breath, steadying yourself before cutting him off. “You’re a grown man. You’re supposed to be the head of the house. The dad. You could’ve made your own dinner.”

Your dad stood up slowly, like the act cost him something. His face darkened. “I bust my ass all day and this is what I come home to? Disrespect? You wanna try that again?”

You squared your shoulders, heart pounding, but standing your ground. “Like I said, I was working on a school project. That’s why I was out late. Plus, Joel’s mom fed me, so there is no need for me to cook. I know Wes already came down and made himself something to eat — like you could have done for yourself.”

His eyes narrowed. “Oh, just because she fed you, it’s all ok?”

You stayed quiet, biting your tongue.

He continued, “You know what? I don’t want you seein’ that boy anymore. Not after school. Not on weekends. You hear me? You're done.”

You frowned and your brow furrowed. “Dad... we go to school together. That’s impossible and not fair, I—”

“I don’t care,” he barked. “You see him outside of that school, you can pack your shit and sleep on the damn street. I won’t have you bein' around a Miller under my roof.”

Your fists clenched at your sides. “Why do you hate them so much? They’ve only ever been kind to us! My God, Dad, even Santi brought soup and flowers when Mom died! Joel is kind and has always treated me so—”

“Enough!” he growled. “I won’t argue with you about this any longer. You're done. Now go to the kitchen and make me something to eat. I’m fuckin’ starvin'...”

You stared at him, stunned by the audacity.

“Make it yourself.” You said with anger laced within the words.

His eyes flared.

“I’ve got homework to do,” you said, voice trembling with emotion. “I already lost half the time I needed cooking and cleaning yesterday. You’re not the only one in this house who’s tired and got shit to do.”

“You little shit! You don’t get to—”

But you’d already turned, storming up the stairs two at a time, slamming your bedroom door shut behind you, muttering to yourself as you threw your backpack off your shoulder, “God, I wish it was you instead of Mom…”

The words burned coming out — cruel, sharp, and whispered into the quiet like a secret you couldn’t take back. But you meant them — at least in that moment, you did.

Joel's POV

The elevator doors opened with a soft chime.

Joel stepped out like a storm, but dressed in nothing but calm. His boots were solid on the tile, shoulders squared, eyes fixed ahead. A nurse behind the desk nodded cautiously in his direction but said nothing.

It didn’t take him more than a couple of steps to spot him, sitting near the far wall, stiff in one of the cheap vinyl chairs, a coffee cup half-drunk beside him. His foot bounced — nerves or guilt or both — and the second he spotted Joel walking toward him, he straightened up like he’d been expecting it.

Joel stopped in front of him and spoke low, even, “Get up.”

Judd’s brow furrowed. “What? Why?”

Joel jerked his chin toward the doors. “We’re not doin’ this in here.”

Judd stood, brushing off his jeans. “Look, I’ve got every right to be here. She’s my daughter.”

Joel’s jaw ticked. “Yeah, I know. And she’s upstairs fightin’ for her life because of somethin’ you helped execute.”

Judd didn’t move, trying to childishly plant his feet to get his way.

Joel narrowed his eyes, “Judd, these families deserve some peace and quiet while they wait to hear God knows what about their loved ones. Have some decency. Let’s go. Outside. Now.”

That shut him up.

Joel turned and walked toward the exit. Judd followed closely behind.

The air outside was cool, overcast. Concrete planters lined the small area that had a bench and an ashtray near it — just outside the emergency bay. Joel moved past them, then turned and faced Judd, crossing his arms over his chest.

For a second, neither spoke.

Then Judd crossed his arms and said tightly, “So? You gonna tell me what really happened to Riley?”

Joel’s eyes narrowed. “What are you talkin’ about?”

“You know damn well what I mean,” Judd said, voice dropping, stepping forward. “I heard he was found in a motel room lookin’ like he got dragged through hell. People are sayin’ cartel activity? Gambling ties? That sounds… a little too convenient, don’t you think?”

Joel didn’t flinch. His voice stayed calm — a little too calm. “Sounds like whatever he was knee deep in — finally caught up to him.” He shrugged, putting his hands in his pockets.

Judd stared at him, eyes looking him up and down, a look of disgust showing through. “I know you had something to do with it. You Miller’s are always up to somethin’...”

Joel didn’t blink. “And if I did?” He stepped closer, eyes dark. “You gonna run to the cops, Judd? You wanna explain to ‘em how you brought him here? How you knew he wasn’t right in the head? How you let him get close to her again?”

Judd swallowed, his posture faltering just a touch.

Joel kept going. “You knew she didn’t want to see him. She told you that… hell, she practically begged for you to cut him off. In texts. In calls. In every way possible way she could. And you still went behind her back.”

“God damn it! I didn’t know he was gonna hurt her,” Judd snapped, voice cracking slightly as he rambled, “He told me he’d make her listen. That’s all he said—he texted—he said, ‘I’ll make her listen one way or another.’ but I never thought he’d put his hands on her! I just thought—”

Joel froze then, slowly, took one step forward, cutting him off. “Wait, what did you just say?”

Judd’s eyes widened as he realized the slip. “He just meant talkin’—I thought he meant talkin’, I swear I didn’t—”

Joel let out a sharp laugh — not amused, but incredulous. “Jesus Christ.”

Judd’s voice grew desperate, knowing how this all sounded. “I didn’t know what he was gonna do—”

“But you didn’t ask, did you?!” Joel growled. “You didn’t ask because deep down you knew what he meant, and you didn’t want the responsibility coming back on you. You just wanted her gone, back to him and away from me. You wanted it fixed to your likin’...”

“I was just trying to fix my family,” Judd said, but it was weak now.

Joel stepped in again, voice lowering to a deadly hush. “You don’t get to fix nothin’. You’re not a father with what you did. A father protects. They don’t barter their daughter off to the very man who broke ‘em.”

Judd's jaw clenched. “I made a mistake, Joel.”

Joel’s head tilted slowly — a dark, humorless laugh scraping out of his throat.

“No,” he said, voice thick with venom. “No, a mistake is leavin’ the stove on. A mistake is forgettin’ to pick someone up from the airport.”

He stepped closer, eyes blazing, chest rising with barely-contained fury.

“What you did? That wasn’t a mistake. What you did was a choice,” Joel hissed. “You chose to ignore her. Chose to doubt her. Chose to believe him over the woman you were supposed to protect. And for what? Because it was easier? Because you couldn’t handle facin’ the truth that she was movin’ on with someone you loathe?”

Judd looked away, jaw working — but Joel wasn’t done. Not even close.

“You knew he was sick. You knew he was dangerous. But you let him in, Judd. You opened the god damn fuckin’ door. And now she’s upstairs, breathin’ through a tube, bruises around her goddamn throat — and you’re standin’ here talkin’ about mistakes?”

His voice cracked then, just enough to make Judd flinch. “She begged you. She trusted you. And you fed her to a monster.”

Joel’s breath was ragged now, his hands clenched at his sides.

“You didn’t just fail her,” he said, voice quieter — but lethal. “You betrayed her. You broke somethin’ in her that might never fully come back.”

He took one last step forward, eyes boring into Judd’s like fire catching oil.

“And you don’t get to call that a mistake.”

The silence that followed burned like acid.

Joel looked away for just a moment, eyes flicking upward toward the ICU floor. Then he looked back at Judd, fire and steel in his stare.

“You don’t go near her. You don’t ask to see her. You don’t call. You don’t send flowers. And until she decides if you’re worth letting back in, you vanish. Because right now?” His voice turned razor-sharp. “You’re not worth a damn thing to her.”

Judd looked down at the pavement, listening to Joel’s conditions.

Joel took one last step forward, close enough for only him to hear. “And if I ever hear you try to twist this into somethin’ that paints you as the victim… I swear—” He let the sentence hang — unfinished, but understood.

Joel didn’t wait for a response and had already turned to leave when Judd, still bitter, called after him, “Y’know… none of this would’ve happened if she’d just talked to him that day you took her away…”

Joel stopped cold. He didn’t turn. Didn’t move. He just let those words hang in the air like a lit fuse.

“If she had just heard him out,” Judd added, tone tightening. “Maybe this wouldn’t’ve gone so far…”

Joel turned, slowly. The look on his face could have leveled mountains.

He walked back, slow and sure, and when he was just a breath away from Judd, his voice dropped into a low, lethal drawl.

“You wanna say that again?”

Judd blinked. “I’m just sayin’— he wouldn’t have gotten so worked up if she’d been more—"

Joel’s hand shot out, grabbing a fistful of Judd’s shirt and shoving him hard against the stone pillar behind him — not enough to bruise, but enough to knock the breath from his chest.

“Say it,” Joel hissed, face close now. “Say it — that what happened to her is her fault. Go on…” He taunted.

Judd flinched, and his hands came up defensively.

Joel’s eyes burned, voice trembling with barely held rage. “She walked into her daddy’s house that day. A place that should’ve felt safe. And instead, she was grabbed. Cornered. Hurt. Choked. And now she’s got a tube in her throat, and a surgeon tellin’ me she may never talk again, that she might never remember anything — and you’re standin’ here tellin’ me she asked for it… is that what you’re sayin’, Judd?”

Judd opened his mouth, but no words came.

Joel shook his head in repulsion, letting go of his shirt like the act of touching him disgusted him.

“You’re not just a coward. You’re a goddamn disgrace.”

He backed up a step, gaze never leaving Judd’s.

Then, softer now — but cutting even deeper — he said, “Dawn would be ashamed of you.”

Judd’s face changed immediately, and Joel knew that hit like a bullet.

He didn’t let up. “She loved your daughter with every fiber of herself. Called her ‘little sunshine’, right? Said she had the biggest heart she’d ever seen...” His voice cracked faintly, remembering your mom, the little moments he knew you held dear. “And if she were here right now… she wouldn’t stand beside you. She’d look at you with disgust in her eyes and disappointment in her heart.”

Judd’s eyes were glassy now, jaw tight.

But Joel wasn’t done, “You blame her death for your bitterness, for making you cold? You say that she made you better?” His voice dropped again, low and bitter. “The only thing is, you lost that better version of yourself a long time ago. Years before her death. She’s not the reason for you being a bad person – you’re the only one to blame for that.”

A long, hollow pause stretched between them.

Then Joel stepped back fully, straightened his shoulders, and gave one final shake of his head.

“Don’t ever come back here, Judd. We’re done.” His tone was flat. Cold. Final.

Then he turned and walked away.

Joel’s hands were still shaking as he stormed across the lot, the echo of Judd’s weak protests ringing in his ears. He needed space. He needed to breathe or he was going to explode.

He pulled out his phone and called the first person he knew would know what to do with what he had just found out.

He didn’t even wait for Everly to answer fully before his voice burst out.

“He knew, Ev. He fuckin’ knew.”

“Joel?” she answered quickly, concerned, then it melted into confusion. “Wait— what? Who knew?”

“He knew what Riley was going to do. Said he texted him, ‘one way or another’... Judd knew. And he didn’t stop it. Didn’t warn anybody.”

Everly went quiet on the other end.

“I lost it,” Joel admitted as he started pacing, hand on his hip. “I— fuck… I grabbed him. Shoved him.”

He sighed, frustrated with himself, “I shouldn’t have done that. Sheriff warned me not to do anythin’... fuck—”

He continued, rambling, “He didn’t fight back — just stood there lookin’ terrified and pathetic…”

“Shit.” she sighed, “Are you okay?” Everly asked, voice tight. “Where are you now?”

“About to walk back inside,” he muttered, combing his hand through his hair. “I need to tell the Sheriff. If Judd deletes anything off his phone, any messages, any call logs… it’ll be gone forever.”

“You’re right,” Everly agreed immediately. “And it should come from you. If he said those words to you, Joel, that’s first-hand. The sheriff needs to hear that from you.”

“I can call him if you need, Joel,” Wes offered, his voice faintly in the background, but Joel cut in.

“No,” he said, jaw locked. “I’ll do it. You’re right, Ev, he told me. I’ll handle it.”

Everly sighed softly again. “Okay. Keep us posted?”

“Yeah. I’ll let y’all know what he says.”

He hung up and drew in shaky breath, then dialed the sheriff’s personal line. It rang twice before a gruff, familiar voice picked up.

“Markham speakin’...”

“Sheriff? Hey, it’s Joel. Joel Miller…” Joel said. “Sorry to call so early, but uh, I just spoke to Judd. He came by the hospital… and he said somethin’ that you need to hear.”

He cleared his throat and seemed to zone in. Joel could hear the squeak of his chair before he continued, “Go on, I’m all ears.”

Joel started pacing again, eyes fixed on the sidewalk as he walked the path beside the hospital. “He said Riley told him — before the attack — that he was gonna ‘get her to come back one way or another.’ Those were his exact words. He said Riley texted him that.”

The sheriff was silent for a beat. Then: “He told you that?”

“Yeah, he was tryna justify everythin’ and—.”

He cut him off, “Did you record it?”

Joel stopped pacing and sighed, “No—but he said it. And he wasn’t lyin’. Not about that. You gotta believe me...”

Another pause, he heard some keyboard clicks on the other end, like Markham was documenting the conversation.

“Joel, you need to be honest with me, did you touch him?” the sheriff asked, voice leveled but firm.

Joel held his breath for a moment, thinking for a split second to lie, but then exhaled hard. “Yeah… yeah I—” he swallowed and sighed. “I grabbed him by the shirt. Pushed him against a wall. But I didn’t punch him or anythin’ like that."

He muttered under his breath, "Even though I wanted to after all the bullshit he said...”

The sheriff sighed through the line. “Joel… I get it. Believe me, I do. But you can’t lose your temper. It could compromise things later — especially if this goes to court.”

“I know,” Joel muttered.

“I know. That’s why I’m tellin’ you now." He combed his fingers through his hair somewhat anxiously.

"Look, I wasn’t expectin’ him to admit anythin’. I think he let it slip, and I lost it for a sec. I just — I just want to protect her…” He looked down, feeling such a great weight on him.

“I know. I understand,” the sheriff said sympathetically.

There was another short pause, then Markham said, “I’m assumin’ you saw on the news we found Riley…”

Joel stood a little straighter, even though the sheriff couldn’t see him, “Yeah, heard they are thinkin’ cartel… somethin’ about gamblin’?” Joel tried to stay calm, voice tight with effort.

The sheriff grunted. “That’s what the official statement says. Keeps the real story outta headlines for now.”

Joel kept walking slowly, probing him, glancing up at the ICU windows above him. “Oh? So what’s the real story?”

The line crackled with a pause. Then the sheriff exhaled.

“We do think that somethin’ happened in that motel room. Was it the cartel? Possibly, but we can’t be sure. I just... somethin’ just seems off. But what we did find there helps your girl's case.”

Joel's mind started to race, ‘Something seems off? What seems off? What did they find that we missed? Tommy said there would be no doubt, nothin' to tie us there…’

Despite his rising blood pressure, Joel kept walking, trying to keep himself calm, steady. “How do you mean? I mean, it helps that he was caught, right?”

Markham cleared his throat before he said, “Well, we pulled Riley’s burner. Forensics got into it this morning.”

Joel stopped mid-step, heart lurching. “…Burner?”

“We found it when we found him. Took us a few hours, but we got through it.”

Joel’s brow furrowed. “Wait— I didn’t know he had one…”

Another pause.

“You didn’t?” the sheriff asked, voice tinged with curiosity.

“No… I mean, we knew he would call and text from an odd number, but just assumed he used a friend’s phone…” Joel said slowly as his mind flashed back to the motel, trying to remember seeing the burner.

‘There was a duffel, the envelope with the IOU’s, the leftover coke on the dresser, money, the leftover pizza on the table, vodka bottle on the nightstand…. But no burner?’

Joel clenched his jaw with the sudden realization, ‘Tommy, you son of a bitch.’

His attention drew back to the sheriff. “What’d you find on it?” he asked, voice quieter now.

The sheriff’s tone shifted — heavier, tighter. “We’ve got multiple texts between him and Judd. Coordinated times, language about keeping things quiet, and one that’s the nail in the coffin — from Riley to Judd, a day before the incident. It reads just like you said: ‘Don’t worry. I’ll get her to come around. One way or another.’, then Judd likin’ the message.”

Joel closed his eyes for a long moment, one hand braced on the concrete wall near the sidewalk as he got the closure he dreaded to hear but needed to confirm.

“You sure?” he asked, voice rough. “It’s that exact phrasin’?”

“Word for word, the exact one he admitted to you today…” he assured. “That, plus the call logs and a few more coded messages, it’s enough for the DA to press charges. They’re talkin’ about chargin’ with maybe conspiracy, depending on how hard we push. They’re reviewing it all now.”

Joel bowed his head down, and his stomach sank.

“Jesus Christ…” he whispered. “He really did it… he really helped him.”

“He did,” the sheriff said grimly. “And now we’ve got proof and a confession.”

Joel was quiet for a long beat, absorbing it — the weight of everything you’d gone through, the damage Judd had allowed, the lies, the manipulation.

“I wanna be there when he’s charged… for her…” Joel spoke softly when he mentioned you.

“I figured you’d say that,” the sheriff replied. “But… you’ve gotta stay clean. No more pushin’, no more cornerin’ anyone. You’ve done enough, Miller.”

Joel gave a humorless chuckle, rubbing a hand down his face. “Yeah. Sure feels like it.” He sarcastically said.

“Hey,” the sheriff said, voice softening just slightly. “She’s still here, right? Still fightin’?”

Joel swallowed and nodded, though the sheriff couldn’t see it. “Yeah. She’s hangin’ on. She’s movin’ fingers today. The doctor said maybe she’ll wake up soon.”

“Good. That’s what matters now, right? Focusin’ on her?”

Joel nodded again, looking up at your window. “Yeah… yeah, it is.”

“I’ll call you when the DA confirms. Just stay close. Thank you for callin’.”

“I will. Thank you for all your hard work, for ensuring she gets her justice.”

They hung up, and Joel stood there for a long time, staring up at the sky like it might offer answers and possibly some comfort.

He didn’t realize his hands were shaking until he clenched them into fists.

His chest then began to rise and fall in short, jagged breaths. His fingers ached from clenching them so tightly. His heart — God, his heart — it didn’t know if it wanted to beat out of his chest or collapse in on itself. He turned toward the wall and braced his hands against the concrete.

The weight of it all — all the helplessness, the rage, the guilt, the bone-deep grief — it was consuming him. He buckled at his knees and collapsed to the ground with a muffled, hoarse yell that echoed off the earth around him.

“FUCK!”

His fists pounded the grass beside him once, twice.

The tears came hard down his cheeks. Hot. Angry. Unrelenting.

He bent forward, resting his forehead on his arm, sobbing into the crook of his elbow like a man completely undone. Like someone who’d run out of energy, strength, hope — out of it all.

It wasn’t just that Riley had hurt you. It wasn’t just that your father had let it happen.

Joel had seen the signs. Had felt the wrongness that day when you left the property. He’d offered to go with you — and when you casually said everything would be ok, he let you go, even though it felt wrong.

“I’ll be faster on my own,” you’d said. “Ev said they’re gone, remember?”

He should’ve known. He should’ve trusted that voice in his gut.

And now, you almost died. Alone. Afraid.

You’d fought for your life with fear in your throat — all while he’d been sitting on his horse in the middle of a fucking field, thinking everything was fine.

That truth, bare and raw, hit him harder than everything else had in the last 48 hours.

Because it wasn’t just about failing to keep you safe. It was knowing how close he came to losing you.

He gasped for air, dragging his hands over his face, wiping his tears, his snot, the evidence of his unraveling — but it didn’t stop the ache that was carving itself into his bones.

He felt like he could vanish into that corner of grass and gravel and brick. Disappear into the guilt. Into the rage. Into the sheer fucking grief of it all.

But then his phone buzzed in his pocket, as it started to suffocate him.

He didn’t want to look. Didn’t want to move — but the soft vibration wouldn’t stop. So he finally pulled it out with shaking hands.

Mamá (8:43 am) Tu papá y yo estamos pensando en ti. (Your dad and I are thinking of you.) Mamá (8:44 am) Dale un beso a Y/N de nuestra parte. Estamos rezando. (Give Y/N a kiss from us. We're praying.)

Joel’s breath hitched, and his thumb hovered above the screen — not replying, just staring — and that’s when he saw it behind the notifications — his lock screen.

You.

Laughing on Moonshine, wind in your hair, leaning into him as he kissed your cheek from behind — one he’d taken just a few days ago, the day before the accident.

You looked so alive, so happy, so bright.

That image hit him like a life preserver tossed into the middle of a drowning sea.

Joel stared at it through his now blurry vision, thumb gently brushing over the curve of your smile.

The scream still lingered in his throat. The pain hadn’t gone anywhere. But this… this was what he had to hold onto. This was what was still waiting upstairs.

He sniffed, wiped his face again, and pulled himself up — one hand on the wall, then his knees, until he stood. Straightened his shirt. Brushed the dirt off his jeans.

Then he turned toward the sliding glass doors of the hospital and headed back. Back to you — back to what mattered.

The days after moved slow — like honey through a sieve. Time didn’t so much pass as it curled around itself in the sterile quiet of the ICU. But in those quiet hours, something else bloomed: love. Steady, constant, and all-consuming.

Word had spread fast through town.

First, it was the family. Friends. Familiar faces from town who’d once taught you how to ride, who had watched you and your siblings grow up, who’d handed you lemonade on long July afternoons after barrel races and bonfires. They trickled in with flowers, homemade meals for the group, handwritten notes.

They weren’t loud, not demanding — just present. Quiet presences in a room where silence had once consumed.

One of your old teachers came with a single yellow daisy in hand and kissed your temple before whispering against your skin, “You always were the strongest girl I knew. You keep fightin’...”

A few girls from high school — the ones who you shared locker rooms and summer nights with — stood at the foot of your bed for a few minutes, holding hands, their eyes glassy. They left a blanket stitched with your name and a horseshoe patch sewn into the corner.

Even your barrel racing coach stopped by. He’d sat in the corner of the room, hands folded like in prayer, and told Everly and Joel softly, “That girl’s grit wrapped in grace. She’ll come back swingin’, don’t you worry.”

But the moment that meant the most to Joel was when his parents came by.

They didn’t rush in with pity. They arrived with nothing but warmth. They came with hands that had raised boys, hearts that had weathered loss, and held love for generations. Joel’s mom carried a large thermos of caldo and a basket of tamales — she insisted everyone eat something real after days of eating hospital food and as she said, “comida de gente blanca” (white people food).

His dad brought fresh vegetables from their garden and two jars of homemade peach preserves for Wes and Everly's small family.

That night, the 7 of them shared dinner in the tiny hospital room — Joel, Everly, Bubba, Andy, Wes, and Joel’s folks — filling it with love and warmth.

Someone had brought in an extra chair or two from the nurses station. The fluorescent lights hummed overhead. Your machines beeped in rhythm like a third heartbeat in the room.

Joel’s dad, a wiry man with sun-worn skin and thoughtful eyes, leaned back in his seat and told stories about your mom to the group. About growing up in the same circles. About the way she’d laugh at his jokes and how she once beat him in a watermelon seed-spitting contest when they were teens. Everly smiled so big her eyes disappeared. Wes laughed — a real laugh — the first since the accident.

And Joel?

Joel just kept his eyes on you. His hand wrapped gently around your wrist, thumb brushing back and forth like he was etching you a path back home.

He didn’t leave your side those few days — not if he could help it.

He’d been right there — either curled up in the chair beside your bed, his hand always resting on yours, or slipping into the narrow space beside you when the pain in his chest got too loud to ignore. He never stayed long in the bed, as he didn’t want to disturb your healing body. But the nurses let him lie there as long as he needed. No one ever said a word. Because the truth was — even unconscious, your body responded to him.

Your heart rate steadied when his voice filled the room. Your muscles relaxed when his hand was in yours. There were nights you’d flinch, twist beneath the surface of sedation — and the moment Joel whispered your name, or brushed his knuckles across your cheek, the storm passed.

He read to you in moments where it was just you and him. Pages from one of your favorite books, letters, and cards from the loved ones who visited — anything to motivate you to fight.

Once — late one night — Everly had walked in with fresh clothes for him and found him humming an old Patsy Cline song under his breath, swaying just slightly in the chair with your hand pressed over his heart.

“You’re keeping her here,” she’d whispered, not wanting to break the spell.

He hadn’t responded. Just looked down at you and whispered, “That’s the plan.”

The hospital became something of a haven, strange as it was. Nurses who came and went stopped calling you ‘the Whitaker girl in the ICU’ and started calling you Joel’s girl. One nurse even brought a lavender-scented lotion she used on your hands each morning. Another braided your hair gently one night, just to keep it from tangling.

They all rooted for you. Everyone was rooting for you.

Later that night

Joel sat at the edge of your bed, one hand still cradling yours, thumb brushing gently over your knuckles. The low hum of the machines around you had become a steady rhythm — not comforting, but familiar. It was past midnight. The kind of late where silence felt heavier.

Your monitor beeped softly. Your chest rose and fell with the ventilator. You hadn’t moved again since earlier that morning, despite a few more cognitive tests being run later that day.

He exhaled slowly, leaned forward, and pressed his forehead to the back of your hand. He didn’t know if you could hear him sometimes — but he talked to you anyway.

“Doctor said you’re gettin’ better,” he murmured. “Said we might see your eyes soon. Said you’re still fightin’…”

He ran his thumb softly along your knuckles, grounding himself.

“I hope you’re not dreamin’ of all this… you deserve better dreams than these damn hospital walls.”

He paused, then glanced toward the window. Outside, the moon was low, half-shuttered by clouds. He looked back down at you — at the bruises starting to fade along your throat, the slow rise and fall of your chest.

“I know they all whisper… say I should go home,” he said quietly. “But I can’t. I won’t. Not until you’re awake.”

He exhaled, leaned forward, resting his forehead against the back of your hand.

“I can’t risk not bein’ here when you open your eyes.”

After a while, he shifted.

He stood, slow and quiet, and carefully climbed into the narrow bed beside you — the same way he had a dozen times before. Like muscle memory. Like coming home.

You didn’t move. But he felt you knew he was there.

His hand found yours again under the blanket. He brought it to his chest, rested it just over his heart and closed his eyes.

“Your guitar teacher stopped by this morning,” he murmured. “Can’t believe she remembered me. Brought you one of those laminated chord sheets — said she figured if anyone could get your hands movin’ again, it’d be muscle memory.”

He gave a short, quiet chuckle to himself.

“She told me… you always used to hum to yourself between lessons. Said you never even noticed you were doin’ it. Just… strummin’, singin’ real low.” He paused, voice quieter.

“You remember the other night? When you found my guitar?” he whispered, his lips near your temple. “Couldn’t have been more than a week ago, when I was out chasin’ Moonshine and you were waitin’ inside in the windowsill?”

A faint smile ghosted his lips at the memory.

He swallowed and leaned back to look at you, his eyes tracing your face. A lock of hair had fallen near your temple, and he brushed it aside carefully, fingertips ghosting over your skin.

“You were sittin’ there pickin’ the strings like you never left ‘em. I heard you singin’. Real soft. Just for yourself.” He swallowed, blinking hard. “I didn’t wanna interrupt… so I just stood there and listened.”

He pressed a kiss to your temple.

“You were singin’ that Novo Amor song I like. ‘Anchor’?”

He let out a small, sad chuckle, “I don’t think I’ve ever heard anything so beautiful.”

A breath escaped him — unsteady, soft. Then he began to hum. Low and barely there, like a lullaby only meant for you. After a few bars, the words slipped from his throat — hushed, broken, real.

“Took the breath from my open mouth Never known how it broke me down…”

Joel’s voice cracked, but he kept going.

“…In the mood for a cut and move Made an oath when I walked away Said I wasn’t coming back…”

He swallowed, holding your hand tighter now.

“…You’re my anchor Won’t you stay?”

The final line hung in the quiet, vibrating through the space like a thread pulled taut between your body and his heart.

Then he shifted, leaned in a little closer, lightly touching his nose to your temple, inhaling the faintest hint of your green apple shampoo that had somehow lasted this long. One of the few things that still tied him to something more than wires and bruises and quiet prayers in the dark.

Then Joel shifted again, adjusting the pillow behind you both, and nestled into your side with his chin tucked near your shoulder, breath warm against your skin.

After a moment, he said quietly, “You remember last week? When we were lookin’ for that damn calf, the one that always disappears?” His voice had a smile in it now, tender and aching. “You were so fed up, mutterin’ about leavin’ her for the coyotes. And then when she came outta the bushes, you were so ready to chase her again…”

He chuckled softly.

“Then I tackled you. Right there under that big oak tree. Then you started cussin’ at me…”

His thumb rubbed gently along your hand again, chuckling at the memory.

“You were pissed for a second. Tryin’ to push me off. But then you started laughin’. That little giggle that’s always been my favorite sound.”

He smiled and kissed your shoulder gently before continuing, “You were lookin’ up at me like I’d hung the moon… and I knew. I just… I knew I’d never want another day in this life without you.”

He paused, breath suddenly trembling at just how everything had suddenly changed — just like that.

“You tried to get up. Said we needed to go. But I pulled you back down. Told you, "She’s fine. Ain’t goin’ anywhere we can’t find her. But you… you’re right here. And I’m beggin’ you — stay. Let me pour every bit of love I’ve got into you."

His breath shook on that last part.

“I meant it, baby. I meant it more than anything I’ve ever said in my life. That moment — you in my arms, sunlight spillin’ through the leaves… kissin’ me like you were? God — if I close my eyes, I swear I can still feel it.”

He closed his eyes, letting himself drift back — to your warmth beneath his hands, the soft pull of your fingers in his hair, the echo of your smile against his mouth.

After a few moments, he opened his eyes and spoke softly, “So if you’re somewhere in there, rememberin’ anything… I hope it’s that.”

Another quiet pause.

“I hope it’s me under that tree with you. Holdin’ you close and tellin’ you how much I love you. Because I do. More than air. More than myself.”

He tightened his grip gently around your hand and leaned in to kiss your temple.

“I love you,” he whispered into your skin. “And I’m not goin’ anywhere. So whenever you’re ready… I’ll be right here.”

He didn’t move for a long time — just held your hand in both of his, listening to the quiet music of your breath, your heartbeat, holding onto the hope that hadn’t left him yet as he drifted off to sleep.

Reader’s POV - Somewhere in Between

Things started to be come clearer. The pull became stronger — more intense.

When you finally stood on Joel’s porch again, hollow and weightless, you couldn’t tell if you’d wandered into heaven… or something much crueler.

The house was quiet when you stepped inside.

Not eerily so — more like a breath held just beneath the surface. The kind of silence that hummed with memories, waiting to be found.

You knew this place. Your feet carried you across the worn hardwood as if they remembered more than your mind seemed to.

Sunlight streamed through the windows, golden and warm. The scent of cedar and something faintly smoky lingered in the air. Familiar. Comforting. The floor creaked beneath you in a way that didn’t startle — it welcomed.

You walked slowly, fingers brushing along the edge of the console table by the door, pausing at the dent in the wall near the coat rack.

A memory stirred. Laughter. Joel chasing you in after spraying him with the hose after morning chores — you ducking inside, kicking off your boots, his arms catching you around the waist before you could run.

You blinked, and the laughter echoed faintly down the hall. But when you turned, no one was there. Just sunlight pooling on the floor.

You moved forward through the kitchen — the space where Joel always leaned against the counter in the mornings, nursing his coffee, hair a mess, voice still thick with sleep.

You saw him there now, just for a moment. Smiling at someone across the kitchen island. Smiling at… you.

You watched the memory unfold from across the room.

You were standing in his T-shirt, barefoot, making pancakes. He snuck up behind you, wrapped his arms around your waist, and nuzzled your neck. You giggled — soft and happy.

You whispered, “Joel…” and tried to reach for him, but your hand passed through air, and it all disappeared.

You weren’t there. Not really.

You turned, heart thudding with something you didn’t quite understand, and stepped into the living room.

The fireplace sat cold now, but you could see it blazing. A flicker of another memory started — you curled up on the couch beneath the big blanket, head on his chest. He played with your hair, his voice low as he read aloud from a book you’d picked out.

Your chest ached as you watched, but you moved on.

The hallway stretched before you, familiar and narrow, filled with framed photographs. You paused, scanning each one. Some with Joel’s parents. Some with Moonshine and him at Nationals. A photo or two of Tommy and him growing up. And then — there it was.

A photo booth strip. Two strips taped together — your goofy poses and soft kisses. His smile. Your laughter.

You could hear the laughter echo around you, lightly feel his lips on yours — it wrapped you in a warmth you couldn’t put into words.

Your fingers grazed the edge of the frame. “I remember this,” you whispered.

You heard his voice down the hallway, encouraging, tender, and soft, pulling you towards it,

“Come back to me…”

“Joel?” Your heart started to beat faster as you went after the voice, walking to the end of the hallway as it opened into a back room — one you’d only just started calling your own.

The door was open. Light streamed in across a worn guitar case leaned against the wall. You could smell something familiar, something that you knew. There was pull that tugged at your chest, one that felt grounding.

You stepped inside, and your breath caught.

You were there.

Not you now, but the you from before — it was only a couple days before the accident. Sitting on the edge of the window sill, head bowed over a guitar, fingers finding their way across the strings. You were humming, gently strumming the chords of a song you hadn’t touched in years.

Your lips moved.

“Made an oath when I walked away… Said I wasn’t coming back…”

Your voice was soft — not quite sure, but still melodic, holding onto something sacred as you continued.

Just behind you, you felt Joel walk in from the back door, sweat dampening the collar of his T-shirt. He paused when he saw you. A look passed over his face — quiet, reverent awe.

You wanted to reach out and touch him, to pull yourself into his arms but you didn’t want to make him go away like the last time, so you looked back at yourself — immersing yourself back into the memory.

You didn’t look up right away. Just kept playing. The chords were slightly off, but you didn’t seem to care.

He watched you for a long moment before stepping closer.

“Didn’t know you still played,” he said, voice warm.

You looked up, sheepish. “I uhm, found your guitar… thought I’d see if I remembered anything.”

“You do,” he said gently. “You sound better than you think.”

You smiled. It reached your eyes. And then you started singing again — this time more clearly.

“Like a river flows… Surely to the sea… Darling, so it goes… Some things, you know, are meant to be”

His grin deepened as he leaned against the doorframe. “Elvis?” he teased.

You rolled your eyes. “Shut up. It’s the only thing I know like muscle memory.”

He chuckled, then walked over, settling beside you. His hand found your knee.

“Sing it again,” he said, voice low. “I wanna hear.”

You blushed, but obliged — playing through the chorus again. He started humming with you. Then, softly, barely audible:

“Wise men say… Only fools rush in… But I can't help falling in love with you”

Your laughter broke through again — unfiltered, radiant as he leaned in slowly to kiss you.

And just like that, the memory faded. Like dust in sunlight.

Your breath caught in your throat. “No, no— wait! Come back—” you whispered and stepped forward, reaching out for it — but it was gone.

The house shifted again — that hush returning. That pull again. And then you heard it.

“Come back to me…” Another whisper.

Your eyes swept the hall for him — but there was nothing. Just the shadows lengthening with the changing light.

“Joel?” You softly called out, walking to the other end of the hall, towards the living room, heart beginning to pound.

Another whisper but this time it turned you around, back towards the end of the hall you’d just come from, “Querida?”

“Joel?” You called out a little louder. “I can hear you! Where are you?” tears started to well in your eyes from frustration.

Nothing called back for a moment, leaving you in the silence.

You began whispering to yourself, “Please come back… please, please—”

You closed your eyes if not to will it back, then to hold into it.

But then you heard your name, but it wasn’t from him, it was from someone else familiar and it was from behind the door at the end of the hall. You ran to it in what felt like slow motion before reaching for it, hand trembling on the knob.

You hesitated. Something about it felt final.

Then a voice broke through — soft and aching, like it had been trying to reach you for days.

“Querida… Can you hear me?”

Joel.

Your breath caught, and your heart thundered almost like it was excited.

You turned the knob and a blinding light spilled out as you stepped forward—

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iluvchick3nz · 2 days ago

Text

O'Knutzy Week Pt. V

The penultimate chapter! I am SO EXCITED for this one, it has some of my favorite scenes! I hope you like!

Thanks to @oknutzy-week-2025 and @lumosinlove. Prompt word today is objection. <3

Part V

London, England, United Kingdom 12 March, 1967

Leo hummed to himself softly as he perused through the novels on the shelves around him. The bookstore was unusually quiet for a rainy day. Leo smiled as he briefly passed the ‘O’s and saw Finn’s latest novel on display. It had been an overnight success when it was released at the end of January. He was off doing a book tour now around the country and on the continent. Logan was doing a stint back in Wales for lambing season, which left Leo to his own devices for a few weeks.

He ran a finger over the spine of a paperback, about to take it off the shelf, when he felt a tug on his wrist. He spun around, heart racing for a brief moment, before he came face to face with, quite frankly, one of the last people he’d expect to see in a bookstore. “Jack?”

Jack’s hair was damp from the rain and he had stress lines around his eyes. “I need your help.”

“What?”

“Just- Leo, I need your help.”

“What the hell? Jack-”

“It’s my father.”

Leo shook his head. “Jack, I can’t help you with that stuff, you know this.”

“I think you can.” At Leo’s confused expression, Jack let go of his wrist and took a step back. “I think my father knows that we…”

Leo’s heart picked up again. “What?”

“He found one of your sweaters in my wardrobe.”

“My sweater? What the hell, how did you get-”

“You left it at mine one night,” Jack interrupted, having at least the decency to look a bit sheepish. “And, um. I kept it. Totally forgot, but… yeah.”

Leo let out a frustrated breath. “Jesus, Jack. And he knows it’s mine?”

Jack chewed the inside of his cheek. “Well… I mean, not specifically-”

“Jesus.” Leo snagged the book he wanted from the shelf and made to leave the aisle. “Move, Archer.”

“Leo,” Jack hissed. “He’ll figure it out, he always fucking does. We need, like, a public distraction or something, I don’t know-”

“Oh my God, Jack.” Leo whirled on him again, pulling himself to his full height. Jack looked small, much smaller than he ever had before. “This is ridiculous, and paranoid, and crazy.”

“Keep your voice down.”

Leo sucked in a breath. That was the same tone Jack had used with him a thousand times. Back up, Leo, we don't want them suspecting. No, don’t sit here, sit by your friends. Sh, Le, someone might hear us. Get the lights, get the lights.

Leo clenched his jaw and stepped into Jack’s space, voice low. “I am not scared of you, Jack. And I’m not scared of people knowing who I am. And if you are, that’s fine, but don’t drag me into it unless it directly involves me. No fake scandals, no distractions, nothing, you got it?” Nostrils flaring, Leo took a step back. “And stay away from me, Archer. I don’t want to see you anymore.”

Jack didn’t say anything, just nodded his head minutely. His face was pale and pinched. It was kind of pathetic, and gave Leo a twisted kind of satisfaction. He hadn’t been angry at someone in a while, and had to admit it felt good. Leaning into that feeling, he turned on his heel without looking back, and went to pay for his book.

London, England, United Kingdom 28 April, 1967

“Leo,” a soft voice whispered. “Mon coeur, wake up.”

Leo opened his eyes drowsily, lying on his front on the mattress in his New Orleans bedroom. The bed was bigger, he noticed, but it felt the same. The air was warm, slightly humid, like it always was mid-spring. He blinked to clear the sleep from his vision and realized his head was turned to face Logan, who was smiling at him softly in the morning light. Leo smiled back and stretched his legs. “Bon matin.”

Logan leaned over to press a kiss to his forehead. “Sleep okay?”

Leo nodded. “Mhm. Where’s Finn?”

“Here.” Finn came walking through the door with a large tray in his hands, which he placed on the end of the bed. He climbed in on the other side of Logan. “Eloise sends up pancakes, eggs, and bacon.”

“Mm,” Leo hummed. “Smells good.” He went to sit up and reached for one of the plates stacked on the tray, but a freckled hand stopped him. He looked at Finn, confused. “What?”

Finn shook his head. “Nothing. Just didn’t get my morning kiss yet.”

Leo smiled and leaned over Logan’s body to meet Finn’s mouth. Finn cupped his jaw gently and kissed him softly, in long pulls of their lips. He pulled away after a moment and rested their foreheads together. “Love you, baby.”

Leo kissed him again. “Love you, too.” He felt fingers pinch his waist and looked down to find an expectant Logan, watching them from against the pillows. Leo laughed. “And you, I love you, too.”

Logan said nothing, just grinned and reached up to lace his fingers through Leo’s hair. Leo let himself be drawn down into a warm, needy kiss that just filled him right up. He shifted to straddle Logan’s thighs, shaking the breakfast tray slightly.

“Careful,” Finn laughed. “Eloise worked hard on that spread.”

Logan just hummed, grinning, and ran his hands down Leo’s butt and thighs as he sucked beneath his jaw. “Eat you for breakfast,” he whispered.

Leo nipped his neck. “My mother would be insulted.”

“Worth it,” Finn said. He had a hand on each of their bodies and joined Logan in decorating Leo’s neck. “You are very tasty.”

Leo laughed, arching his back into the movement of Logan’s hands on his hips, before he took a deep breath. “We have to eat. Before it gets cold.”

Logan made a dissenting noise. “Non.”

“Ouais.”

“Ouais, fine, but then we eat you.”

Leo sat back on his heels to look at them both. “I like that plan.”

“I love that plan,” Finn said. He shifted down the bed to grab a piece of bacon. “Here, Le, take it.”

Leo shook his head fondly and took the bacon from Finn’s fingers with his teeth.

Leo jerked awake with a sharp inhale, heart pounding from his dream, face and body flushed. He was slumped awkwardly on the couch, book fallen against his chest. He tried to point out what had awoken him, then realized the phone was ringing.

“Merde,” he muttered, standing up quickly to go pick the phone up from its receiver. “Hello?”

“Salut.”

“Hiya!”

Leo smiled. “Hi. How are you?”

“Absolutely splendid!” Finn said, voice cheery. “The lambs are adorable.”

“Ouais, they’re very fluffy,” Logan chimed in. “Just like you, Leo.”

Leo rolled his eyes. “You’ll never let me live that down will you?”

Finn just made a bah sound into the other end of the line, which made them all laugh. There was a moment of silence before Logan spoke again.

“Today is my last day here in Wales, and Fish is done with his book tour. We come back to London tomorrow.”

Leo perked up. “Yeah? Well, I can’t wait to see you. It’s been a while.”

“It has,” Finn said. “How have you been, Le?”

Leo licked his lips. He thought of Jack, in the bookstore; the spring events he had been to, chatting with other people his age there, but never the same as with Finn and Logan. He had found a good group of acquaintances this past spring: Thomas Walker, Remus Lupin, Sirius and Regulus Black. Logan’s sister, Noelle, was engaged to Thomas, and Logan and Finn’s university friends, Will Morgan and Percy Marshall, had sought Leo out to talk to him, so it had felt like he still had some connection; but he wanted them by his side. He wanted Finn whispering extra commentary in his ear, Logan sneaking him dessert he’d paid the kitchen staff to give him. Spring had been simultaneously full of parties and good food and good company, yet still Leo felt almost as lonely as he had when he first arrived.

And there was the matter of the dreams he seemed to keep having. He didn’t know what to make of those.

He cleared his throat. “Um, yeah, I’ve been good. Lots of spring parties lately, because the weather has been nice. I talked to Noelle the other day, Logan, she seems good. Happy.”

“Ouais, she is.” Leo could tell there was a smile in Logan’s voice. “They want to get married in the fall.”

“Oo, outside of the season, how scandalous,” Finn said. “Anything else new, Le?”

“Um,” Leo said hesitantly. “Not really, no.”

“What’s wrong?” Logan asked.

Leo snorted. “How do you know something’s wrong?”

“I can hear it in your voice.”

God, Logan Tremblay was going to be the death of him. Heart pounding, Leo brought the receiver closer to his mouth. “I, um. I ran into the guy I knew from New Orleans a few weeks ago.”

“Jack Archer?”

Leo blinked. “Finn, how do you know his name?”

“I asked around. Wanted to know exactly who treated you badly. It’s not that hard to match a face to a name in high society.”

Well, if Leo died, now there would be two guilty parties. “I- Finn, you didn’t have to do that.”

“I know.”

“What did he say to you, Le?”

Leo closed his eyes briefly at the way Logan talked to him so gently. “His dad found one of my sweaters in Jack’s wardrobe.”

“Your sweater?” Finn sounded incredulous. “But, he must have had it with him for ages!”

“I know, it’s weird.”

“Really strange,” Logan agreed. “And so his dad knows?”

Leo shook his head. “No. His dad doesn’t know it’s mine, but Jack was all paranoid, said we should create some other public disturbance or scandal to distract his dad from the topic.”

“That’s crazy!” Finn exclaimed. “Surely you told him that.”

“I did, yes.” Leo sighed. “I hate that he still gets to me.”

“Well, I won’t let him,” Logan said, voice defiant.

“We.”

“Ouais, we. We won’t let him get to you.”

Leo’s heart tugged. “You don’t have to do that.”

“But we want to,” Finn said. He was always so sure of himself.

Leo smiled. “Okay. Well, then I guess I can’t stop you.” He laughed. “You are pretty stubborn after all.” He checked his watch. “I should go. I’m cooking dinner tonight so the staff and my parents can rest.”

“You know,” Finn said. “You’ve got a heart of gold, sunshine.”

Leo felt his breath catch in his throat. “Sunshine?”

“You’re new nickname,” Finn said. “Lo came up with it.”

“But I said it in French, so it’s better. Soleil.”

Leo swore that any minute now he would melt into the floor. “Well, thank you. That’s very kind.”

“We’re very kind boys, Leo, even your ma says so.”

“She does.”

“Allez, soleil, we’ll let you go cook dinner. We’ll see you in a couple of days.”

Leo smiled into the receiver, his stomach fluttering against his will. “Yeah. I’ll see you in a couple of days.”

London, England, United Kingdom 1 May 1967

“And to the season!”

There were cheers from around them as Finn, standing amongst the crowd, raised his beer above his head, voice loud even for the bar. Everyone raised their glasses and began to drink. Leo shook his head in amusement and bent to talk in Logan’s ear. “I can’t believe he still has this much energy.”

Logan swallowed the last of his beer. “Me neither.” He grimaced. “This tastes like shit.”

Leo laughed and nodded his head towards the door. “C’mon, I need some air.”

They left Finn, who had an arm around Thomas and Remus each, to entertain the other people their age who had escaped the start of season party and exited through a side door of the pub. They stepped out into the alleyway. Leo took a deep breath, inhaling the slightly smoky London air.

“You can’t see the stars here,” Logan mused.

“Non, you can’t.” Leo leaned back against the brick wall. “Not like you can back home.”

“New Orleans?”

“Ouais.”

Logan nodded and leaned on the wall next to Leo, head tilted up. “The stars in Wales and France are beautiful, too.”

Leo admired the sharp cut of his jaw for a moment. His green eyes were dark, yet somehow still shone. “Ouais, they are.”

Logan turned his head first to look at Leo, then his whole body, crossing his arms and ankles. “Do you miss home?”

Leo nodded. He felt an ache somewhere in his chest. “All the time.”

“What about it do you miss?”

Leo shrugged. “The bakery. The food. The music.” He sighed. “Mostly the people. My friends and family.”

Logan hummed. “Moi aussi.” He tilted his head. “You’re doing okay, though?”

“Ouais, why?”

Logan’s eyebrows furrowed. “You didn’t ask for this life. It’s hard.”

Leo forced a smile. “I know. I know, but there’s nothing I can do about it now.”

“There must be something.” At Leo’s defeated look, Logan took a step closer. “If you could, would you?”

Leo suddenly realized how close they were, chests almost pressed together. “Would I what?”

“Leave this life.”

Leo didn’t even have to think. “Yes.” He ducked to meet Logan’s eye. “But I would miss you. And Finn.”

Logan’s smile was soft in the lamplight. “We would miss you, too.” He opened his mouth to say something else, then stumbled over his own feet. “Merde.”

Leo laughed, grabbing onto Logan’s shoulders to steady him. “You’re drunk.”

“No, I’m not, I-” Suddenly, Logan looked a little dizzy. He let out a breathy laugh. “Là, I guess I am. It’s the beer I swear.”

“Logan, Leo!” Finn came out the door in a flushed frenzy, briefly bringing with him the sounds of chatter from inside. He stopped when he saw them and smiled. “Well, y’alright?”

“Yeah,” Leo said. He let go of Logan’s shoulders. “Someone here is a little tipsy.”

Finn’s expression turned amused. “Oh, Lo, baby.” He placed an arm around Logan’s shoulders. “I think it’s time to go to bed.”

Logan groaned, nodding. “Ouais, I think so.”

“Let’s go, I’ll take you back to mine.” He looked up at Leo. “You want me to walk you home?”

Leo shook his head with a smile. “No, it’s okay. My house is just a couple of streets down, I’ll be fine. You’re very chivalrous, though.”

Finn pretended to tip his hat. “I am a gentleman. Call us when you get home, okay? I want to make sure you get back safely.”

“Promise, as soon as I step through the door, I’ll head straight for the phone.”

Finn’s freckles crinkled around his smile. “Good.” He jostled Logan a bit. “Alright, my love, let’s get you in the shower, you reek of beer.”

Logan just groaned. “Your fault.”

Finn just winked at Leo and turned towards the door. “Let’s move, lads. We’ve all got a date with nice soft mattresses.”

London, England, United Kingdom 2 May, 1967

“I liked that record,” Finn said. “Who was it again?”

“John Coltrane,” Leo replied, fiddling with the needle on the record player as he flipped the disk. “My friends and I play a lot of his stuff. It’s got another side, hold on.”

Finn closed his eyes and smiled as the music started up again. “You know, sunshine, you’ve got fantastic taste in music.”

Leo winked at him. “New Orleans, baby.” He settled back in his armchair across from Finn and Logan, who was on Finn’s lap on the couch. He gestured between them. “We didn’t get much of a chance to talk last night. Book tour was good? Lambing season, too?”

Finn nodded. “It was a bit crazy, honestly. I didn’t really see much of each city, either, just hotel rooms and restaurants and book shops.” He squeezed Logan around the waist and kissed his cheek. “But I saw lots of Wales with this one.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Ouais,” Logan said, leaning into Finn’s lips. “The lambs are so cute. There were so many this year.”

“That’s good.” Leo took a sip of his gin and tonic. There was a knock at the door, and he swallowed, standing. “Excuse me.”

He walked through their parlor and to the front door, opening it. There was nobody there, nothing except a pamphlet with a paperclipped note attached to it on the doorstep. Leo looked down the street; there was one in front of every house, but not all had extra papers. He frowned and bent to pick it up and step back inside. His heart dropped to his stomach when he read the note. I’m sorry, it said.

Leo swallowed, detaching the small piece of paper. The pamphlet was the first Whistledown of the season, the script elegant at the top. Below it, however, was a picture- Whistledown never included pictures. Leo blanched as he recognized his own face. “Oh my God.”

There, plastered on the front of the most-read news source in high society, was himself and Logan outside the pub the night before. Logan’s back was to the camera, his face not visible, but Leo’s clearly was. He was smiling down at Logan, his hands on Logan’s shoulders, and they were pressed close together. Leo scanned his eyes down the page to the article. It was short, the shortest article he had ever seen in Whistledown, but it was enough.

Dearest reader,

It seems as though the first night of the new season is already giving us a fresh look into what the most intriguing romance shall be. Leo Knut, the American-born future Viscount of the ton, was seen outside of a pub with a mystery man late last night. It seems as though the witching hour really is full of magic, if the look in Lord Knut’s eyes is anything to go by. But just who has him so infatuated? I assure you, dear reader, that this author is up to the task of revealing the face of the subject of Lord Knut’s affections- and that I already have a sneaking suspicion as to who it might be. With any luck, this mystery shall be solved promptly and, as always, in the fullest detail one can possibly imagine.

Greeting and salutations, dearest reader, and welcome to the start of what surely will be another dazzling season,

Lady Whistledown

Leo felt like his soul had left his body. His fingers were shaking as they held the pamphlet. He tried to will his body to move, but couldn’t.

“Le?” Finn called. “Who was it?” There was the sound of footsteps, and then Finn was at Leo’s side, a hand going to his back. “Leo? Leo, oh my God, are you okay?”

Leo just looked at him. He felt his breathing go ragged and his eyes tear up. “I’m so sorry.”

“What? Leo…” He took the pamphlet from Leo’s hands and his jaw dropped. “Oh, Lord. Oh my goodness.” He turned and jogged back into the living room. “Lo!”

“Quoi?” Leo heard Logan ask. “What is it?”

“Read.”

There was silence and then the sound of Logan’s gasp. “Non.” Footsteps sounded again, then Logan was in front of Leo face, hands going to grip his arms. “Leo. Soleil.”

Leo closed his eyes and a tear slid down his cheek. “It was Jack.”

Finn was there, too, pamphlet in hand. “What?”

Leo sniffed. “It was Jack. He wants to confuse his father, I’m sure of it. The pamphlet came with this note.”

Logan and Finn each read the paper Leo held out to them. Logan’s eyes turned dark. “I’ll kill him.”

“No you will not,” Leo said firmly. “You will not do anything. Your face is not visible, so you do not have to do anything. I will fix this.”

Finn’s eyes were concerned. “Leo.”

“I will.” Leo sniffed again and pushed past them to the living room, pacing in front of the fire. “I will find somebody to marry. I will have my parents look, and we will find me a husband. There are loads of men with dark brown hair, it will be fine.”

“Leo, non.”

“Ouais, Logan.” Leo waved his hands around. “That is what you do in this society! If I have learned nothing else, I have learned that! I will find someone, hopefully a nice man, and I will marry him, and then we will all be safe. I might even grow fond of him, with time, but I will not let Jack do this to you!”

Finn looked upset when he stood in front of Leo, preventing him from pacing. “Leo, stop. What if you just talk to Jack?”

“Because then he will do something, Finn!” Leo yelled, clenching his fists. “He always does, he always finds a way! His father is a powerful man, and he has been here longer than my parents have. I cannot have my parents destroyed because of this, because if Jack does something to hurt them, I won’t be able to live with myself.” He turned to look at Logan. “And I’ll be damned if I let him do something to you.”

Logan’s eyes were angry when they met Leo’s own. “Leo, non.”

“Yes,” Leo gritted out. “You don’t have a say. I am the one visible in the photo, and so it is my life that is now public. So I will find a nice man to marry, and that will be it. There will be no objections.”

“I object.”

Leo stepped closer to Logan. “No.”

“Ouais, I object, of course I object!” Logan let out a huff. “I don’t want you to do it.”

“You don’t have a say!”

“I don’t want you to marry a man that doesn’t love you!”

“Who says he won’t!” Leo wanted to break something. “Who says he won’t, and who says I won’t grow to love him? It happens, Logan, and I can’t do nothing.” He took a deep breath. Tears began to slide down his cheeks as he looked between Finn and Logan. “You’ve found love. You’re so lucky. And I want you to be able to keep that love, even if I might not be able to have it.”

“Leo,” Finn whispered, his own eyes watering. “No, don’t say that.”

Leo just shook his head, biting his lips and looking down at his feet. He could feel his heart breaking. “I think you should go before my parents get back from the country tomorrow. I’ll need to talk with them.”

It was silent for a moment. The air felt heavy around them, weighed down with sadness, or maybe something deeper. Leo fiddled with the hem of his shirt, unwilling to move his eyes from the floor.

“Marry me.”

Leo jerked his head up. “What?”

Logan swallowed, but his face was determined. “Marry me.”

“Absolutely not,” Leo said. He looked at Finn, who was uncharacteristically quiet, arms crossed and biting his lip. He turned back to Logan, eyes wide. “No, Lo, are you crazy?”

Logan took a step closer. “Marry me,” he repeated.

“No,” Leo gasped out. “Oh my God, no, Logan.”

“I don’t want you marrying someone you don’t love!”

“And I won’t have you doing the same!” Leo yelled. “No, Logan, that’s insane!”

“No it is not!” Logan took a step closer. “I am a member of the French aristocracy. I can protect you. And then you won’t have to marry a stranger.”

“He will not be a stranger.” Leo took a step back. “I will court him properly, and that is that, Logan! There is a way to do these things-”

“Fuck that.”

“Logan!”

“Leo,” Finn finally said, eyes pleading. “Listen to him, maybe-”

“No!” Leo gripped his curls. He felt like he was going insane. “How many times do I have to tell you? Logan, you will not marry me because you are in love. You are in love with Finn, and if you marry me, that gives you no chance to ever be with him, do you understand? Ever. I will not let you put that all out on the line for me and marry me, because you do not love me!”

“Who says I do not love you?” Logan shouted.

Leo froze. Logan was standing in front of him, strong chest breathing heavily. Finn was looking between the two of them, face cautious, as if waiting to see what Logan would do next. Leo tried to find words. “No, Logan,” he said, voice breaking. “No, I will not-”

Logan let out a frustrated grunt. He marched towards Leo, face as determined as Leo had ever seen it, and in one movement he pushed Leo down onto the couch, straddled his hips, and kissed him right on the mouth. Leo gasped, breaking away with a wet sound. Logan’s face had gentled and he cupped Leo’s jaw tenderly. Leo realized they were both shaking.

“Who says,” Logan whispered, green eyes open and raw. “That I do not love you.”

“Oh God,” Leo breathed. He looked frantically to Finn, waiting for tears, or rage, or something like that. But instead, he was met with a gaze so tender, so fiery, that he felt himself begin to burn up on the inside. Finn had stepped closer, a little off to the side so he had a view of both of them. He was thumbing his lip, eyes dark and ears flushed. His gaze traveled up and down their bodies before he gave Leo the slightest of nods. Leo turned back to Logan, and inhaled shakily. “Oh God,” he whispered again, wrapping his hands tightly around Logan’s waist before leaning in once more.

Logan’s kiss burned like a fever. His mouth was firm against Leo’s own, desperate and wanting, his tongue tracing Leo’s bottom lip gently. Leo let him in with a soft moan in the back of his throat. Logan kissed with his whole being, his torso and hips shifting against Leo’s, one hand moving further up to grip Leo’s hair. Leo chased his mouth and body and felt heat begin to pool at the base of his spine. It felt divine, being beneath Logan, just taking and taking and taking what he had yearned for for so long.

Suddenly, he felt gentle fingertips on his jaw. He breathed in through his nose as Logan moved down to suck on his neck and opened his eyes. Finn was kneeling on the couch beside him, back straight, forcing Leo to look up to meet those warm, hungry brown eyes. He wrapped long, delicate fingers around the base of Leo’s jaw, thumb rubbing his throat. Leo gasped and let out a sound he had never heard himself make before. “Finn.”

Finn leaned down to meet his eye. “And who says I do not love you, too,” he whispered. Then he kissed Leo so hard it felt like a deliverance.

Leo didn’t know what to do with his body, where to place his hands. All he knew was the feeling of their lips against his skin, their hands on his jaw and wrapped around his neck and gripping his hair. Time didn’t mean a thing, nor did any sort of place, not when Leo felt transcendental beneath their attention. He couldn’t form words, could only open his mouth and let sounds out as he felt them. There was a moment when both Logan and Finn pulled back and Leo got to watch them kiss each other, up close for the very first time, before they went back to kissing him, and it made him feel dizzy.

“Fuck,” he finally said against Logan’s mouth. “Mm- wait.”

He was pulled into one more kiss by Logan, then Finn, before they all put a few more inches of space in between them, their chests heaving with their breathing.

Leo covered his face with his hands and had a brief, serious mental talk with his body. “Oh my God.” He peeked through his fingers to find both Finn and Logan smiling at him. “Oh my God.”

Finn winked. “The name is Finn, actually, but I know it gets confusing.”

Leo couldn’t even find it in himself to chastise Finn for the awful joke. “You- I- what the hell just happened?”

Logan laughed, his smile sheepish, and he shrugged. “We love you.”

Leo’s heart stopped. “Oh my God.”

Finn snorted. “Leo, I know you have more extensive vocabulary than that.”

“I know I do, but- how-” Leo shook his head with a disbelieving laugh and rested his hands on Logan’s thighs firmly. “What?”

“Quoi? What do you mean, ‘what’?” Logan asked. He played with the back of Leo’s hair and leaned in to kiss his cheek. “We love you.”

“Really?”

“How many times, sunshine?” Finn teased.

“Sorry. I guess… I didn’t think you felt that way.” Leo cocked his head. “When did you start to feel that way?”

Finn and Logan looked at each other, talking without so much as saying a word. Logan nodded to Finn, who turned to look Leo in the eye. “Um, after New Year’s for me. Last year. Like, the first party your parents threw. I knew immediately when I watched you play the piano.”

Leo gaped. “Oh my God.” He tapped Logan’s thigh with his thumb. “And you?”

Logan blushed. He suddenly looked sheepish. “Ah. When you were nervous to ride horses. In Wales.”

That got Leo to burst out laughing, throwing his head back against the couch. “Oh my God, that’s so embarrassing! I was so nervous!”

“Non, you were cute.” Logan knelt up straighter to be able to look at Leo directly, cupping his jaw in his strong, calloused hands. “You and Finn looked so beautiful in the mountains.”

“Mm,” Leo hummed. He leaned up and nipped Logan’s lip. “I remember thinking the same thing about you and your thighs in those pants.”

“Finally, someone I can talk to about Logan’s sexy thighs without it being socially unacceptable.”

Logan tisked and settled back down, reaching out a hand to draw Finn closer. “Don’t be so lewd.”

“Leo started it!”

“Hm.” Logan kissed the back of Finn’s hand. His eyes flitted between them, more solemn than before. “I have an idea.”

Leo sucked in a breath. In all the rolling emotions, he’d almost forgotten. “Lo…”

“Non, listen, please.” He cupped Finn’s jaw with one hand, Leo’s with the other. “I love you both so much, please listen.”

“Okay, baby.” Finn was rapt with attention, obviously surprised by Logan’s earnestness. “We’re listening.”

Logan settled his gaze on Finn for a few more seconds before turning to Leo. “I still think we should get married.”

Leo shook his head. “No, Logan, I won’t let you-”

“It will be just for show.” Logan winced. “Ah, non, not that it wouldn’t be- that what I feel for you isn’t-” He dropped his head back with a grunt, then met Leo’s eyes with determination. “I think I can get you back to New Orleans.”

Leo couldn’t help the sharp gasp he took in. “What?”

“Yeah, baby, what?” Finn asked. He settled his hand over Leo’s on Logan’s thigh. “What do you mean?”

Logan took a deep breath. “If you marry me, I will become a future viscount. And if your parents give up the title, then I am one. All the land you own will belong to my family, too.”

“Okay,” Leo said, nodding. “But, that just means it stays in your family.”

“Ouais, but that means it’s also mine to give up.” Logan sighed. His eyes were sad when they met Leo’s again. “You said you would give up this life if you could. I want you to have that choice, and I…” He blinked harshly. His irises were a little wet. “I would give up my life, too.”

“Logan,” Finn whispered, voice a little frantic. “Baby, what- what are you saying?”

“I don’t belong in a dukedom,” Logan said in a rush. “I want to do something good, with my hands, in the fields, with animals and people. I don’t want to be a part of high society, I just want to be.” He sniffed and wiped under his eyes. “If Leo and I got married, and his parents wanted to give up their titles, we would become viscounts, and his land would be my land, too. My family is more powerful, which means it would be easier to sell and give up our own titles.” He took Leo and Finn’s hands and began to play with their fingers. “We could give up possession of it or sell it to Sydney and Ffion, or one of my other sisters. But they would be the easiest, because Ffion is a Welsh Duchess, so Sydney is a Welsh Duchess, and they are also part of my family. So it would stay under both the French aristocracy and the British crown, and we could still work the lands if we needed to.”

Finn snorted. “Stupid fucking British imperialism, making a Welsh Duchess part of the British crown.” He took a deep breath, closing his eyes briefly, before opening them again. “But it does make sense.”

“Ouais,” Logan nodded. He brought his hands up to lace in Leo’s hair. “Soleil?”

Leo let his eyelids drop at the gentle way Logan said his name. “I don’t know.”

“I want you to have the life you deserve, mon coeur,” Logan whispered. “And I think this could help. You would be free.”

“Yeah,” Finn agreed, placing a hand on Leo's thigh and rubbing soothingly. “And then you could do whatever you want. You could go back home, or you could stay.”

Home. Leo hadn’t heard that word in so long without feeling a sharp pain dig into his chest. Home was his parent’s bakery, and the humid summer air, and the sound of jazz music, and the smell of spices wafting from the restaurants. Home was late night dancing with his mama and dad and his friends, their laughter ringing in his ears, and Louisiana French spoken loudly, spoken softly, spoken everywhere it could be spoken because it was part of who he was, of who came before him. Home was a place he had missed even before he’d left, before his world had been turned on its head in the worst and best way possible. Home was where his heart was.

But now, Leo thought as he opened his eyes, he wondered if his heart didn’t just have a home in New Orleans.

“Okay,” he breathed. “I will do this, but on one condition.”

“Quoi, mon soleil?” Logan asked, expression halfway between giddy and anxious. “Quoi, anything.”

Leo looked at Finn. “It has to always be the three of us, and it has to work out.” Finn swallowed, and Leo took another deep breath. He needed them to understand. “I realized I was in love with the both of you the second I stepped out of Finn’s house the night we met. For two years, I have been waiting, and waiting, and waiting for this feeling to just go away, but it won’t, and I can’t say I don’t want it to.”

A rogue tear slipped down Finn’s cheek. “Oh, Le…”

Leo took their hands in his own and kissed the back of them. “From the day I met you I could just see how much you loved each other. How much you wanted each other. And I- God, I hated that with every fiber of my being. I wanted what you had, but more than anything I just wanted you, in any way I could. Don’t you see?” he asked, sniffling as he took them in, their hair and eyes and skin glowing in the firelight. They were soft, and patient, and so beautiful Leo could barely breathe. “This has to be the three of us, and it has to work out, because I can’t have it not. This is it for me. You could move on, or want something else, and I will always be right here, because there is nothing after you. Absolutely nothing, do you understand? I will never love anyone else.” He wiped a tear from his own cheek and tilted his chin up to meet Logan’s gentle gaze. “So I will marry you, but we will court first. Publically. And it will be just for show, not because I don’t want you, but because I want you both or nothing at all. And if you want to get engaged to be married to me, you and Finn get engaged first, and then you both get engaged to me, or all three of us do at the same time, and we all get married beforehand. And we must talk to my parents about this whole thing first. Then, if you want, someday the three of us can be public, and we can renounce our titles and go to New Orleans, or stay here, or move to South America, I don’t care, but it will be all three of us. Every public action we take, Finn will be right there, because I will not leave either of you behind.”

For a moment, they just stared at him. Logan’s chest was heaving and Finn’s face, for once, was unreadable. They looked at each other, then back at Leo, the only noise in the room being the sound of their breathing and the scratching of the record player, the last song having trailed off at some point. Leo suddenly felt embarrassed and tilted his head down to look at his lap, eyes hot.

Finally, Finn broke the silence. “Oh, baby.” He let out a shaky breath, then a laugh, and then was wrapping Leo up in his arms and tucking Leo’s face into his neck with a hand in his hair. “Oh, my love.”

Logan was there, too, still a warm weight on Leo’s lap. He wrapped his arms completely around Leo’s lower back and pressed his forehead to the back of Leo’s head. “Mon amour.”

“I’m sorry,” Leo sobbed. “I’m so sorry if I said something, I-”

“Sh, sh,” Finn hushed. He kissed Leo’s temple. “There’s nothing to be sorry for. Oh, Leo.” He pulled back to press a hard kiss to Leo’s mouth. He was smiling. “You’re just the sweetest thing.”

Leo couldn’t bring himself to say anything, throat too blocked with anxious tears. Logan seemed to realize and kissed his cheek. “Mon soleil, je t’aime.” He let out a sigh. “I think that’s a good plan.”

“Y-You do?” Leo stuttered.

��Yes, baby,” Finn reassured. His smile was wide, even though his eyes were red. “Oh, God, we’re gonna love you forever.”

“I just-” Leo’s breath hitched. “I don’t want to do anything without the both of you, I- I couldn’t stand it if you were just pushed to the side, Finn, I couldn’t do it.”

“Sh, sh, I know.” Finn drew Leo in again and squeezed him around his shoulders. “I know, baby, and I love you so much for saying that. But I know that that’s how it might have to be, at least for a little while.”

“We don’t have to hide anything, Le,” Logan added. “Let the town think what they want. Or we can wait for a while to do anything, but it’s okay. C’est bien, mon chou, we want you.”

Leo pressed his nose harder into Finn’s sweater covered shoulder. “Ouais?”

“Ouais.”

“Okay. I want you, too.” Leo pulled back and wiped his eyes, grateful that they kept their hands on him. They each had an arm wrapped around each other, too, he noticed. “But I don’t want to get engaged right away. I want to date you first.”

“Don’t you mean court?” Finn teased in a fake posh British accent.

Leo barked out a wet laugh. “Yeah, court. God, we haven’t even started courting and we’re already talking about an engagement and a wedding, this is crazy.”

“Well, we can slow down,” Logan said, reaching up to brush away some of the residual wetness on Leo’s cheeks. “We can date for as long as you like, no matter what people say. I don’t care what they think.”

“Le, baby, Lo and I have talked about this over and over for more than a year.” Finn took both of Leo’s hands in his own and kissed his ring finger on his left one. “We want you forever baby. We’re so sure about that.”

Leo bit his lip around a smile. “I want you forever, too.”

Finn grinned back. He kissed Logan deeply, then leaned forward slightly and settled his capable hands around Leo’s ribs. “You know what else we want?”

Leo was pretty sure he could guess, but he met Logan’s eager, playful gaze for a minute before looking back at Finn and responding anyway. “What?”

“We want,” Finn murmured, tucking his thumb under the bottom of Leo’s sweater to massage the skin. “To take you upstairs, turn on the warmest lamp light you have, and lay you down on top of the sheets and kiss every beautiful inch of you.”

Leo let his eyes close. Intimacy, for so long, had been shadowed by darkness and paranoia. And here were two boys, two gorgeous, kind, funny, absolutely ridiculous boys, who wanted to love Leo in the real world and kiss him in the light. His heart was so full he was shaking. “Please,” he whispered.

Logan’s low laugh was pleased as he bent to kiss Leo’s neck. “There’s so much of you to be touched, mon coeur.”

“Please,” Leo said again.

Finn began to kiss on the opposite side of Leo’s neck, right under the hinge of his jaw. “Could probably spend hours worshipping you, baby.”

“Please.”

Logan’s mouth was breathing softly right by his ear. “Je t’aime.”

“Please,” Leo gasped out a final time. “Finn, Logan, I love you so much, please.”

Finn let out a low hum against his neck, and Logan pressed his smile into Leo’s cheek. “Allez, mon coeur,” he whispered. He stood and held out his hands to each of them, pulling them up and towards the stairs. “Let me take both of my lovers to bed.”

#lumosinlove #leo knut #logan tremblay #finn o'hara #o'knutzy #vaincre #sweater weather #coast to coast #lgbtqia #love #o'knutzy week 2025 #bridgerton au

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polycraftory · 1 year ago

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Another belt bag for Nott completed! This one is going to be used to hide a phone while my wife is cosplaying as Nott, and I'm really satisfied with the way it matches the little button pouch I made. She is going to have so so many things on her belts lmao

This was definitely my most complex leatherworking project yet! You can check out our pinned post for a link to my Critical Role leatherworking masterpost if you are interested in the other projects I'm doing for Imogen, Laudna, and Nott. I'm also considering making some "how to" leatherworking for cosplay guides so please let me know if there is anything that you'd find useful!

Some additional process notes:

This bag is made with a 2-3 oz vintage bomber chrome tanned leather and an 8-9 oz vegtan bridle leather. Ideally, I would have used a 5-6 oz leather for the structural part but I needed the heavier leather for belts and couldn't afford to get yet another hide. This totally worked though!

I really like how the internal seams turned out on the thinner leather section but man was it tricky to actually figure out how to hold and do properly.

I added a secondary pocket to the original design by cutting out a second front section and I am so glad that worked out and is functional. It'll be the perfect little pocket for artist alley stickers!

If I wasn't doing this project for cosplay, I might have dyed the edges before burnishing them but I think the lighter edges lend it a more worn in feel and my wife liked it better this way and whatever she wants she can have.

I cannot even begin to explain how much I recommend getting a little disc of grippy material if you are going to sew thick leather together. They are apparently called "Needle Pullers" and they make my little fingers not want to die and make getting the needle through thicker leather SO much easier. I buy the dritz ones, I think they are made of silicon or something???

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dravidious · 1 year ago

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You're more amazing than 3D models

I haven't made any 3D models in months, but I have made 3 Differentcolorsofcommoncards! Here's the greens

I renamed a few that I showed previously because I think I've figured out the flavor I want to go with. Still placeholder names obviously, but slightly more fitting placeholder names

#custom cards #specifically the flavor is that white/enchantments revolve around some kind of religion thing #red/artifacts are some artificer faction #and black/green/blue counters are like. some kinda genetic modification thing #all of them chasing improvement in their own ways #anyway i also finished all the white and red commons!#black is already half-done so i gotta work on the blues next #i like the idea of daily updates but i'm making cards faster than i can post them lol this is awesome #i love being done with college!#but i'm gonna have to get a job at some point :(#i'll just have to finish the set before then!#and at the rate i'm going that's definitely achievable!#i think i should break for today. i don't want to burn out and then leave this sitting for a month #also! very big news! i finally figured out how to get tumblr mass image uploading to do things in the right order!#it puts the images from top to bottom based on how they're sorted in the file explorer #except to make things confusing the specific image you drag will always be at the top #i had it sorted by date so the lowest numbered cards were at the bottom which put everything upside down #in other news i changed “bow blessing” to “spider's support” which is not for faction reasons like the others #it's just such a perfect name because the card basically has support 2 #and bow blessing was an aura but i changed it because green so i wanted to name the new version differently #also i'm kinda really unsatisfied with green/white being enchantments #white needs an enchantment archetype obviously but it doesn't interact with anything that green is doing #in fact i have trouble making green auras because they do the same thing as counters #blue having an artifact theme would probably cause the same problems if it weren't for supply tokens connecting the themes #but at least blue has modified as a major theme so it can use auras well #and green having both +1 counters and keyword counters takes up all the design space for auras #i'll just have to try making lots of green non-aura enchantments and resonance elementals at uncommon #ka asks

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cloverapple · 6 months ago

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How I Shift On Command + How You Can Too

I don’t plan on posting anything other than this or starting a blog, so I don’t need anyone to “believe” in me. The only person you should trust is yourself—trust yourself to resonate positively with what you see online and click away if it doesn’t serve you. This is here for you to take from if it resonates. I literally only made this blog to post this here. My hope is that it reaches at least one person who can take something from this and apply it to their shifting journey. If not, and this post ends up here untouched, I’m just glad to finally get everything down in words and off my chest.

Jumping straight to the answer because I’m not going to make anyone sit through a long post for it. The rest, the "advice," is here if you want to read it.

The "method"

I figured out what works specifically for me as an individual instead of following everyone else’s journey. Everyone has their “thing” that makes shifting click, a sweet spot that makes reality shifting possible. For me, it’s a combination of the law of assumption and inducing an altered state of consciousness.

During the day, I spend time affirming—or sometimes just reminding myself or keeping a little note nearby—things like:

I can shift.

I know how to shift.

I could shift tonight.

Shifting is accessible to me.

At night, I watch videos, look at Pinterest boards, or listen to music that reminds me of my DR. This ingrains where I��m going in my brain. Sometimes I do this for fun, and other times I skip it entirely.

When I lay down, I always lie on my back and stay somewhat still because I like the feeling of my body going numb. This isn’t necessary to shift, but I enjoy it—it lets me feel the symptoms of hypnagogia (that in-between state of wakefulness and sleep).

To meditate quickly, I count from 1 to 100 with a few affirmations in between to remind myself of what I’m doing. I do this until my body goes numb, and I start messing up the counting. Usually, the mistakes or random, nonsensical thoughts are my signal to start shifting.

At this point, I begin affirming the things I affirmed during the day:

I could shift right now.

I have the ability to shift.

I have the power to shift at any moment.

While I do this, I focus on the feeling of being in my DR—not my surroundings, not my senses, just the internal feeling of being there.

This is where “brazen impudence” comes in. I hard-force myself to feel like I’m in my DR. It’s not about imagining my surroundings but purely about embodying the feeling of being there.

Hypnagogic imagery and sensations like floating often kick in at this point. These are symptoms of your body falling asleep so your awareness can take shape in that sweet spot for shifting.

I continue this, then stop and start counting from 1 to 100 again, with affirmations like:

I can shift.

I know how to shift.

I could shift right now.

Then I repeat the process: using brazen impudence to force myself to feel like I’m in my DR.

Eventually, I reach that threshold between sleep and wake—a liminal state of pure consciousness. Body asleep, mind awake, I call this the “rabbit hole” which is honstly just a deep state of hypnogogia. It’s a state where anything is possible: lucid dreaming, astral projection, slipping into the void, shifting—anything.

When I’m in this state, I use brazen impudence to force myself to feel like I'm shifting to my DR and don't take no for an answer (I tell myself I'm in Barbados and shut the door in my own face). This can involve affirmations or just talking myself through it, either way I wake myself up there. Occasionally, I simply relax, expect to wake up in my DR, fall asleep, and wake up shifted.

Does all that sound complicated? Let me simplify:

Lay down and get comfortable.

Count from 1 to 100 on a loop with affirmations in between until you mess up the counting, get sleepy, or have your mind wander. Like this:

Me: *counts from 1 - 100* Me: *says a few affirmations/askfirmations* Me: *counts from 1 - 100* Me: *says a few affirmations/askfirmations*

On a loop until...

Persist in the feel of being in your DR—not focusing on surroundings or senses, just the feeling. Feeling is the secret.

Alternate between steps 2 and 3 until you’re in that relaxed body asleep/mind awake state, OR just straight up hypnogogia tbh. (That is, if you don’t already shift lol)

From there, choose what feels right: shift from a lucid dream, affirm, slip into the void, or just feel yourself in your DR like I do, convince yourself that either you shifted and are there, or are shifting and will end up there.

One thing I’ll tell you now—regardless of your circumstances, how long you’ve been trying, how long it’ll take, who you are, etc—is that you already know how to shift. You, reading this right now. You know how to shift, and there’s nothing you did to learn it. There’s nothing you can do to unlearn it. It’s something that will stay with you until the end of time.

Why do you think people shift randomly without prior knowledge of shifting? Even people who don’t believe in it? It’s because everyone can shift. You can shift.

Right now, stop reading this post and say in your head or out loud, “I already know how to shift.” Or, if that doesn’t feel right, “I already have the ability to shift,” “No matter what, I have the power to shift,” or “My mind knows how to shift no matter what.”

Can you argue that? No, you can’t. And if your mind starts throwing out “buts,” go back and read that again.

Shifting isn’t difficult, and no one struggles to shift. I’m sure you’ve heard it before—that shifting is simple and happens in seconds—because it does. You don’t struggle with shifting. You can shift; everyone has the power to. What you “struggle” with, so to speak, is figuring out what works for you, what your brain likes, how it operates—because everyone is different.

What ended up working for me more than anything was figuring out how I operate and modifying shifting to fit me—not forcing myself to fit shifting.

Will my method work for everyone? I have no idea. Unless you assume it will work for you, this is what works for me. I’m me, and you’re you.

Before you say “Oh, but I’ve tried everything and nothing has worked so far” and expect me to sit here and ask you “but have you really tried everything? <3” , listen to me.

I could shift perfectly well with my own personal method before I started shifting regularly. I knew it worked well for my brain, but the thing that “blocked” me (so to speak) were my assumptions.

When you sit there and say “I’ve tried everything and nothing has worked” that’s your assumption about yourself. You believe that nothing works for you, that you don't know how to shift, that you’re this powerless, lost baby shifter who needs guidance.

There’s nothing wrong with this, it’s not your fault, and theoretically you could shift even with your “blockages” (I really hate that term), as shifting waits for no one.

This is why so many people shift randomly and with poor assumptions without meaning to. But you clicked on this because you want to know how you can shift consistently + on every time, and this is the answer I’m giving you.

You find out what works better for you, be it affirming, visualizing, scripting, shifting awake, shifting asleep, shifting with hypnagogia, shifting with hypnopompic, shifting through lucid dreams, shifting with brazen impudence, through SATs, robotic affirming, through letting go, through putting your DR on a pedestal, through listening to music, through law of assumption alone, and many more.

If that sounds overwhelming, please note that all of these are the same vehicles that get you to your destination. Just in different shapes and colors. Like how some people drive a car, others drive a motorcycle, others walk, others swim. The movement forward is always the same.

What you’re doing, no matter how you’re doing it or in whatever state of consciousness you’re doing it from, will always be:

Assume it's true, feel it, receive it. “Assume and persist,” “ground yourself in the assumption,” you’ve heard it all before.

How to Find What Makes You Shift On Command

You could either test different techniques (affirmations, visualizations, scripting, lucid dreaming, etc.) and see what feels natural to you.

You could (and I love this one because it’s a cheat code) Assume you already know what works, and let the law of assumption guide you. “Manifest it” so to speak.

Pay attention to your life, because you already shift on command, you've been doing it your whole life, but I guarantee you haven't noticed it. Pay attention to you, like how easily you slip into hypnagogia, your dream recall, or how strong your intuition is, maybe you put too much emotion into a scenario you don’t want in your life and it inherently manifests, things like that. Pay attention to the thing that makes you go “huh, that was weird”

“But Clover, I tried everything you mentioned above and still haven’t found my method!”

My darling. Listen up. Come closer—I’m about to let you in on a secret. The way you apply the law of assumption isn’t one-size-fits-all, because assumptions and beliefs are not linear. It's the same every time, yes, it's a law. But just like you, the way you can use it is unique to each person.

Let me tell you how easy it is so you don't think I'm over-complicating it

You could, for instance, believe you’ve got $1000 in your bank account right now and act like it, fully living in the end. Or you could believe you’re going to have $1000 in your account and act like it’s already on its way. Or maybe you believe something’s going to happen that’ll bring you that $1000.

The same applies to shifting. It’s been a game changer for me. I used to struggle so much with things like:

“You’re already in your DR, just act like it.”

“Ignore the 3D.”

“You’ve already shifted.”

Do those methods work? Absolutely, they work beautifully. But like I said, if it doesn’t feel good or true to you, don’t force it.

My dearest, darling reader. If the story you see in your 3D is that you can’t shift, can’t find what makes you shift, are you just going to sit there and accept it? What is more satisfying? Think with me here: accepting that you don’t know how to shift and cannot shift, or persisting that you do know how to shift?

“Clover, but I’ve been trying for 4 years! I’ve tried everything and I still haven’t shifted”

So that's your story? Your story, your assumption is that you’ve been trying for 4 years and haven’t shifted? If you’ve resonated with the phrase above, that’s your story. And there’s nothing wrong with it, but! there will be no magic solution for shifting. Or a magic method. Or a person like me giving you advice, that can make you shift without you changing your assumptions first.

“But I don’t want to reprogram my mind! It doesn’t work for me. I don’t want to do robotic affirming 24/7, I want results now!”

I know, right? It’s annoying having to do these 100-step methods, and drink charged water, and have to beg the universe for your desire, and loop affirmations in your mind that directly contradict what you’re experiencing in the 3D.

“Oh ignore the 3D, the 4D is your only real imagination!” they say, as you sit there, clutching your phone, rocking back and forth in bed, repeating affirmations you don’t resonate with while dreaming of being railed by your S/O.

Believe me, I've been there, wondering what the hell was wrong with me. I asked myself why couldn't these basic steps that worked for everyone else work for me. I blamed myself for not trying hard enough, for being lazy, for inconsistent. When all that time, the answer was me. I needed to manifest/shift in a way that felt good for me.

Just remember, the law of assumption isn't complicated, and the way you apply it is not one-size-fits-all. Reprogramming the mind through continuous repetition and affirmation works, and if that resonates with you or feels effective, you should absolutely go for it.

However, at its core, you don’t inherently need to reprogram your mind. It’s as simple as assuming your mind has already been reprogrammed and watching it unfold before your eyes. You do what feels right to you.

For example, if person A does better with visualization and listening to music, why on earth are they affirming and listening to subliminals?

If person B feels better scripting in a notebook, why the hell are they reprogramming their mind?

If person C feels good reprogramming their mind, why are they taking the simple route?

Funny, isn't it? Which is why if you've read all of this so far, and you have not resonated with it, just click away. Go find another post or advice that feels true to you. The words I'm writing right now are not universal, they're not the absolute truth. That's the beauty of the law of assumption. Whatever you believe to be true, becomes true.

I didn’t feel good with the affirmations “I’m already in my DR” and “I already shifted.” Do they work, are they true? Yup, but I didn’t feel good ignoring the 3D, even when I knew the 4D was the true reality. So I swapped them for affirmations like "I'm shifting to my DR", “I’m going to shift to my DR”, swapping things like “I already shifted” to “I’m shifting” because those are the kinds of affirmations my brain loves.

I've heard a silly bit of misinfo that these affirmations stating future events put you in an infinite loop, and that they don’t make you achieve your desire. That’s not true? At all? Makes me laugh, really. Because here I am, “master shifter” or whatever name people give it in this reality, shifting as much as I want to wherever I want with these types of affirmations.

Yet here I see every day on the internet, people implanting stubborn little rules and regulations to a practice that has been done for ages, a universal law that will work even when you don’t care for it to work.

How I Shifted The First Time

The law of assumption is what made me shift in the end. Initially, I surprised myself at the beginning of my shifting journey because I shifted three months after starting it. I woke up one morning in my DR room, felt it was real, knew it was possible, but accidentally shifted back because it was too good to be true.

What followed was a period of losing my mind; I shift back to my DR for a few seconds (mini-shifts), fully shifted to different rparallel ealities, and filled the hell out of shifting journals with my discoveries as I went along. But I never fully shifted to my DR and stayed there. I wanted to permashift. I was so focused on leaving my CR and going to my DR permanently, frustrated because I knew I could shift, knew how to in theory, but was stuck in this endless loop of assuming I couldn't make myself shift and had to rely on spontaneous shifts.

And then one night it clicked when I was reflecting on the law of assumption and reality shifting. I knew shifting was real. I knew I could shift. Everyone can shift. I had shifted before. I would continue to shift even if I gave up on shifting. I could shift that night if I wanted to. I could shift that night even if I didn't want to. I knew how to shift. And so do you.

These are all assumptions I went to sleep with in mind, laying there, feeling like an idiot as it all clicked for me.

If there was no doubt in my mind that I could shift that night, why wouldn’t I be able to shift?

What followed was an overwhelming sense of peace washing over me. I let go. What more was there to be done? I could shift. There was no crying or screaming that could make me shift more than I could right then.

I laid there and started my process. Just like I mentioned earlier. I began counting from 1 - 100 on a continuous loop. With affirmations that I could shift, I knew how to shift , I could shift that night.

And then I reached hypnagogia, and began inducing the feeling of being in my DR, just like I mentioned earlier. That liminal space rabbit hole shortly followed. I could go anywhere I wanted then. I could lucid dream. I could astral project. I could slip into the void. I could shift, and I did. Just…letting go and inducing the feeling of being in my DR. Not the surroundings, not the 5 senses, no affirmations. Just knowing that I was in my Dr.

It was peaceful.

I was at ease.

And then I was woken up by a violent crack of thunder because my dumbass scripted my DR wakeup scenario to be in the middle of spring, and it was raining -_-

I woke up in my DR, fully grounded, fully there, pinching my skin purple because I couldn't believe I was looking out the window at my DR city.

I wish I could tell you that I remained cool, but I so didn’t. I sat in bed for a good 10 minutes, mouth agape, repeating “oohh fuck it’s real….ohhh my god it’s real…whaaat the hell.”

And then I paced around my room panicking, giggling like an idiot, checking my DR phone because all my friends and DR life was on there as evidence, opening drawers, looking at myself in the mirror, and straight-up freaking out.

What followed after that was incredible, something I lack the words to describe. I spent a few weeks in my DR before shifting back, spending a few weeks here and then shifting back–here, back, here, back and forth, spending more time in my DR then my CR to the point where I consider my DR my true reality, and this one as my “other” reality.

I shifted back here in early December of last year, and I’m here now before I shift back permanently—meaning, I’ll shift there, and then the next time I shift will be to another DR or a waiting room somewhere in the multiverse. I’m taking a "break" so to speak and hanging out here until events I scripted in my DR start to happen, and my life changes (positively, all good things I assure).

I’m not sure if the person or people who find this post will care, but my other reality was originally called my “Witch DR”, where, as the name suggests, I’m a witch :) But not the fun kind, with a broomstick, a cauldron, and a pet cat though 😂The kind where I have to be up early for work in the mornings, can’t keep a cat because the building I live in doesn’t allow it, and have more responsibilities there than I do in this reality.

One thing I didn’t expect about shifting before I lived there the first time is that—it’s life. You will have good days. You will have bad days. You will fuck up. You will laugh so hard that soda comes out of your nose. You will cry more than you ever have. And the people you once saw on a TV screen are very real, and can be very annoying lol. I miss my DR friends dearly right now, but I can’t go poking around the internet for videos and pictures of them because it feels so weird.

Gut feelings are strange. I use them as a compass in both realities whenever I have to manually flap the butterfly’s wings and take a route. I felt compelled to write this post, and I’m not sure why. But if what this post has the power to help one singular person and help them realize their power, I'll be beyond happy.

#reality shifting #shifting #shifting community #shifting blog #shifting motivation #shifting reality #permashifting #shifting methods #shifting success #shiftblr #shifting antis dni #shifters #shifting storytime #shifting tips #respawning

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sugarverse · 8 months ago

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Hiii! I was wondering if I could request either long or short fic about Tenya Iida. Likes it can be set in a modern setting where's he's a senior college student who's majoring in business and he has to take one more class to get his degree. It just so happened that the class is in the art building, and it is figure drawing (aka nude drawing) . Since he's just now hearing of the extra class he has to take, he's suddenly shocked when the model is an old friend of his from back home, whom he had a childhood crush on. Not only does his feelings for her come back, but he also has to have 1 on 1 section with the model for educational purposes. I kinda want it to be smut and fluff or however you see it fit. Anyway, I hope it's enough+

hi babe! omg I love this idea I kinda went a lil crazy and made it way too long. I hope u enjoy :)!!

𝘿𝙧𝙖𝙬𝙣 𝙏𝙤𝙜𝙚𝙩𝙝𝙚𝙧

word count: 3.5k

mentions of: This is really just the fluff portion of it, kinda suggestive bc he pops a boner and leads to sex in part two. I think I’m going to make a third part simply so the two of you can go on a genuine date andsotheresmoreiidaxblackreaderouthere.

a/n: hells yeah that’s enough, hopefully I did what ya asked and so sorry I went overboard I have serious problems. here’s the smut part bc a 6.7k fic is doing too damn much but i can’t stfu my fault gang

moodboard here!

Tenya Iida.

4th year, Senior in college majoring in International Business and minoring in Spanish at Angelwood College of Arts and Sciences.

The visual arts building had only been a few minutes away from the business side of campus, which he gladly enjoyed the walk. This spring all he needed to finish was two gen ed classes, the rest revolved around his major and minor. His counselor helped set up his ‘missing’ classes before winter break considering he had to fly back to Japan to see his family for the holidays. He was ecstatic to learn all he needed was an art class with lab and a communications class.

When he asked what the class entailed, all he was met with was “beginner artists learning anatomy.” It didn’t sound difficult, just draw what you see. It would be nice to try something new anyway. He was not much of an artist but like all things Tenya does, he planned to give this class his all. The first week had been pretty easy, learning how to draw what you see with the use of models, shapes, and lines. Nothing too hard to follow. He would practice drawing his friends on the sketchpad he bought specifically for the class as a form of studying in the free time he had.

He neverminded it for the most part, excelling his knowledge in different countries in his free time to get better at his major. Sure they could teach you the technical way to do things, but in the end, everyone is still human. It would be inconsiderate to do business with a country and know little to nothing about their culture! It took almost two weeks for him to finally be able to even start the art project anyway.

As time went on and the January snow grew less and less, it was time to start their first real project of the semester. One on One figure drawing. The class needed to fill out a form explaining their free hours due to the limited art space and everyone's different schedules. Tenya happily filled it out when it was posted, continuing to work on class work from the library so that the lecture room could also be used for said project.

Their professor had explained that in-person class would remain on Mondays and Thursdays. It just worked out better for the models and students to have so much space.

He made the small walk over to the arts building for his last class of the day, a small shine in his glasses as he entered the white light of the room. The walls were anything but bare, artwork and unfinished projects sat in every corner of the room. Paint racks, canvases big and small, even stacks of unused clay. There was a stool sitting on a small platform in the middle of the room, assuming where the model will sit.

He stood next to the stool for a moment, looking up at the grey February sky through the skylight. The natural lighting was great, almost like a spotlight. He adjusted the lights in the room a moment, dimming them slightly so the white light hadn’t been so harsh on his eyes. He headed over to a more organized table, setting out the art supplies how he liked. He knew he was early, but he wanted to make a good first impression. What’s better than being on time?

He pulled out his laptop, checking that the few assignments for today were done and submitted. A small frown tugged at his lips as he realized he hadn’t finished something completely, typing in the last few answers. He always double checked, technology was reliable.. When it wanted to be. He couldn’t hear the shuffle of slippers against the floor over his typing and frankly, loud thinking.

He could see someone walk past in a teal robe representing the university's colors. Glancing up from the computer to give the model a proper hello, Tenya opens his mouth to speak but pauses.

“Y/n?” He asked, almost in a whisper in case he was wrong. A small look of confusion caused him to tilt his head to the side slightly. He hadn’t been able to see you for awhile with such busy schedules, but he knew your silhouette by heart.

You turn at the sound of your name, mid sliding off the slippers and fumbling with the gold silk of the belt. “Tenya?” You smile, asking as you turn to slide your shoes back on and quickly shuffle your way over to him. He felt his face burn red, frozen in place for a moment with his jaw slack. He stood as if needing to detach from the seat, smiling at your happy demeanor and your quickness to wrap your arms around him.

“It is you! I know those shoulders from anywhere!” You beamed, feeling his hovering hands slowly place themselves on your back to return the hug. He was very hesitant, simply because you were only in a robe. You pull away, hands resting on your hips and giving him a big smile. “Now what are you doin’ taking a figure drawing class, Mister businessman?”

He let out a sheepish chuckle, “I needed an art credit, W-What are u doing here?” He never had any classes with you at Angelwood, A few honors classes and gym in highschool but other than that, nada. Throughout the course of growing up, your interests drove you to different classes.

However, classes don't matter when your families are as close as yours and the Iida family. Shared Holidays, playdates, game nights.. It wasn’t like you were some stranger. You both always made time to hang out a few times during the year to catch up without the family just to give a real check on each other. It was his favorite, almost like a mini holiday to talk to you.

He loved spending time with you. You were smart, articulated and incredibly creative. You never took slack from anyone.. Even in middle school he can remember you being the one to stand up and say something when things weren’t right. You were headstrong and determined in anything that you did.. Art majors always get a lot of grief but you never let that deter you. And that was admirable in itself! ..And he had always thought you were so pretty.

He felt like a kid again, heart feeling as if it’d beat out of his chest at the mere sight of you. It had been around Halloween the last time he saw you, and here it was. Almost Valentine's day.. Still as pretty and bright as he remembered. Your next hangout wasn't for another month or so, so it was nice to see you sooner than that.

“I'm your model, silly!” You head over to the stool, continuing to speak. “The art department asked if I’d help in modeling and I said yes! People were too scared to sign up for the most part. I’m surprised this is the class you picked. Did you want to learn how to draw people?” You slide your slippers off once more, untying the cute bow on your hip that held your robe shut.

Suddenly the room was very hot and he couldn't breathe. Now his heart really WAS beating out of his chest. He quickly did a 180, shielding his eyes and removing his glasses for extra measure. “WHY– do yoU have.. nothing on underrrrneath?” He croaked, voice cracking as his tone raised slightly.

You tilt your head at such a question, the gears clicking a little later than they should have. “Figure drawing is um.. Nude drawing, Tenya. You didn't know that?” You slide the robe back on, giggling at the flustered man across from you. You could see his shoulders tense, shaking his head slowly.

Now how the fuck could he have missed that.

“I um.. No, I didn't. I thought that it was.. I don't know what I thought. My counselor picked it for me and I.. Most models we've used so far have.. had skin colored undergarments… On.” He let out a nervous laugh, keeping his glasses off. He turns around, cleaning them with the end of his shirt but refusing to look up at you. He needed to mentally prepare his brain to be professional in a situation like this. Not that he minded the glance, he just never thought this would be how..

You prop your feet onto the edge of the stool, interrupting his thought. You held your knees up to your chest so he couldn’t see anything but your bare legs. “Oh Ten, I’m sorry! I can ask someone else to-”

“No! I am perfectly.. capable. It's professional and I can be.. professional..” He put his glasses back on, hand refusing to be steady as he did so. He let out a shaky sigh, smiling at you and finally looking at you once more.

You let out a small laugh at the blush on his cheeks. He was so handsome, but to see him so flustered over little ol’ you? It made your week. “We can start slow, that might help.” you slide the robe down your shoulders, slowly putting your legs back down so he could see your robed torso once more. You stopped at the top of your breasts, letting your collarbone show. “Do you have any specific poses..?” You ask quietly, trying to hold back your amusement.

He sits down, red faced and completely flushed. A nude model.. jeez. From sleepovers to recess, studying together to graduating, and now almost graduating for the final time together. That's something you don’t get to have in every lifetime. But why do these thoughts keep coming back to him now?

There was no way he could still have romantic feelings for you. He’d never put your friendship at risk like that!

..right?

“I um.. yeah, small.” He cleared his throat, “Could you um.. Could you stand slightly off of the um.. Almost like getting up?” He fumbled over his words, staring at the empty paper as if he could burn the quick image in his brain onto the page to get the embarrassment over with. He sighed once more, trying to focus as he began sketching circles and lines as a starter sketch of the pose he wanted.

“When you need to draw a certain part I'll move it, Sound fair?” You ask, resting one foot onto the stool and one onto the ground. Your hand gripped the seat as your butt sat on the edge, similar to when people do that supposedly hot thing where they throw their head back and pull some weird rope to have water get poured on them.

It was second nature at this point for people to see you. Of course some of them were flustered and it was pretty awkward at first, but normally not to the point of stuttering and stammering. It wasn’t often that you saw Tenya fall apart, but this was way different. Especially considering you flashed him without warning. He was one of the most endearing people you had ever met, there was no way you would have done that without proper context.

He could only nod in response, not wanting to further make a fool of himself. Lightly tapping the pencil against the table, He looks up at you. “You can um.. re.. remove the top part, y/n..” It was hard to simply draw your arms and collarbone without including the robe, so you might as well rip the band-aid off and start with the top.

You nod, dropping it happily and letting the robe pull around your hips and between your legs. You close your eyes, facing up toward the skylight in an attempt to make him less nervous. “Sorry for flashing you at first, I would have explained but I assumed you had already known..?” You laugh quietly to yourself at your own mistake. Why would someone like him even take this class if he knew what it actually entailed?

And God, did he feel like a pervert staring at your chest like this. The boner poking his thigh almost immediately didn't help, making it even harder to concentrate. Way to keep composure. He pressed his lips together for a moment before speaking. “I had no idea, I’m sorry for my r..reaction.” He answered, stopping the pencil tapping to actually begin sketching more than just circles and lines. He hadn’t meant to yell, but he felt like he was close to passing out.

“I think it was a pretty valid one.” You send a reassuring smile his way, seeing him send you one right back. Trying to ease the mood, you look back up at the ceiling and close your eyes to avoid staring at the ugly overcast sky above you. “How was winter break? You get to go home and see your family? How are they?”

His smile grew wider at your question, scooting under the desk a bit more so that you hopefully wouldn’t notice his body reacting. “They’re great, Tensei is getting married soon,” He sounded excited at the thought alone, incredibly proud of his brother.

“And my mother has started a hobby making soap, if you can believe it. She sent me some to bring back one that smells like lavender and another that smells like oranges mixed with I believe she said papaya.? She made a coconut smelling one for you– I was going to give it to you the next time we saw each other,”

The sound of his sketching stopped and started as he spoke, giving your body small glances as he tried to study each part of your upper torso. The way your stomach creased, The way your shoulder was slightly lifted causing your collarbone to be more prominent, the curve of your breasts.. “How was your Holiday, y/n?”

“No way, Tensei is getting married?!” You accidentally stop posing, fully facing him in genuine shock. The robe was still covering your lower half, you had tied the belt to avoid accidentally flashing him again but here we are. You watch his face become even more red, eyes very obviously not meeting yours but still like a deer in headlights.

You quickly get back to posing how you were, “Sorry Ten, That's amazing!! I hope everything goes smoothly for him and his soon to be wife.. And tell your mommy I said thank you for thinking of me. I can't wait to try it!”

A smile stayed on your lips as you thought about the times you’ve spent in the Iida household. His mother always had the best candles and incense burning, you were positive the soap would be the same. “My family is up to the same old shit, you know them..” You let out a small groan, the holidays weren’t an absolute disaster, but after not being home so long makes you remember why you aren’t going to school anywhere near home.

“I did get some cool stuff for Christmas though! I got some new clothes and they got me a few art kits. You know, where it teaches you how to crochet? I also have a new diamond painting kit, I haven't opened either yet because it's just been so busy.” You replied, tapping your fingers on the side of the stool where your hand sat.

You look up once more, this time because the skylight was beginning to be covered in snow. You watched as it fell, thinking back to old times when you and Tenya would spend the last three major holidays with each other. You’d always make sure to trick or treat together, your families have been sharing Thanksgiving for as long as you can remember, and spending the night in your basement on Christmas eve to wait for Santa until you were both too old. Then instead of waiting for Santa, you’d all eat at least one meal together on Christmas day. Sometimes homemade breakfast, other times a small trip to IHOP or Waffle House.

“God damn it.. It’s snowing again..” You let out a small laugh, looking over at him over your shoulder, fingers still tapping away at the base of the stool. “Hey Ten, Do you remember when we used to have those big snowball fights? The one near Red Fern?”

“Of course I do! You refused to wear any kind of gloves and my mother would make you at least put socks on your hands so you didn’t get frostbite!” The two of you shared a small laugh at the memories of being young and dumb.

“Gloves always made my hands too itchy! They still do– But I kicked your ass in snowball fights with gloves or not.” You retort, a smirk appearing on your face. “Ice queen y/n of everything.” You could remember the insane snowball fights the neighborhood kids would have every. time. It snowed. If there was enough to make a few snowballs, there was enough to start a war. Tenya was always on your team, but it never stopped you from throwing a few his way. The ‘winner’ was King or Queen of the hill and first to sled down, which often enough was you.

“Remember when you almost broke my glasses throwing one right at my face?” He snickered, watching your smirk turn into a small pouty frown. He knew you didn’t mean to, that same day you helped your mom make cookies for him and his family as an apology, even though he wasn’t upset to begin with. But you knew it could have broken his glasses and you would be devastated if you were the reason for it. You were a real sweetheart, even if you had a weird way of showing sometimes.

“Hey! You know that wasn’t on purpose, I felt really bad after! I even let you get me back!” Which was true, but he never aimed for your face. Always a spot on your fluffy coat, never your legs because you hated your pants being wet… and a face shot just felt wrong to him.

“Yeah, Yeah. I remember that part too,” He smiled to himself. “Those were really good times.. I remember Tensei always bringing us hot chocolate and we’d sit on your porch and draw things in the snow..”

“Oh! And when we’d come back all wet and mom already had spare clothes in her hands because she didn’t want it on the carpet. We’d put on too big clothes just to sit and watch Christmas movies..” You missed those times. But they never really had to stop, you two could have a huge snowball fight after this if you wanted to and the snow stuck. Was he too grown for that? Would it even sound fun to him?

“Do you still watch A Year Without Santa Clause every year?” He asks, breaking your train of thought. You nodded quickly at his question, grinning like a maniac. “Of course I do! And I watch Charlie Brown’s Christmas, Rudolph The Rednosed Reindeer.. And sometimes Spongebob's Christmas Special. Do you still watch old Christmas cartoons?”

“Why wouldn’t I? Don’t wanna ruin tradition.” He answered, pressing his lips together slightly as he stared down at the paper. You can tell he freezes a bit, the sound of his scribbling coming to a stop. He set the pencil down, rubbing the sweat of his hands onto his thighs.

“You can um.. remOove-..” He quickly cleared his throat, “The rest.” He let out a disappointed sigh at his inability to keep composure. This wouldn't be half the problem it was if it was someone else modeling. But this is you we're talking about.

“You sure? If you need a minute we can take a break, honey.” You gave him a sympathetic look, still smiling but this time more.. warm. The kind of smile someone gives to another when they genuinely care for them. Or love them for that matter. He adored it, it was the same smile you'd give him when saying he needs to take a break, the same smile you give him when the two of you out to get coffee and catch up. The same smile he's fallen for many, many times.

But to tell you the truth? It’s driving him crazy. All of this. Was driving him crazy. No matter how hard he tried to be professional, he could stop his wandering mind. You were a goddess. What else was there to do besides take a break and hopefully release some steam in the bathroom or something. Completely inappropriate, but the pain from being hard for so long was starting to cloud the best judgment.

He looks down at the sketch so far, then back to you as he rubbed his hand upward against his face. It pushed his glasses up, causing them to be crooked when going back down. “I um.. I think I do.. need a minute.” His voice died out as he watched you slide the robe back on, words failing him because couldn’t think completely straight.

© if you like what you see please reblog! It means a lot and helps me out. Want more? Heres my m.list! I write for x black reader so throw me some requests :P my other account are icons and x black reader moodboards if you’re interested!

thank you @thecutestgrotto for the banners and thank you @fizzintine for coloring the top pic!

have a good day/night/whatever!

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sheeezu · 7 months ago

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Emergency shift, tonight.

Another step by step guide, but this time it's mainly focused on how to shift when you'd do anything rather than stay in this wicked reality, perfect for permashifters or anyone frustrated with their current living situation in general.

OK, so I made this method in my WR, since I can't possibly "shift" here (I can switch realities on command by intending, so shifting isn't an activity for me anymore, I don't need to do methods), so last night i went to my WR, with as much skills I had before my first shift, I had an infinite time to figure out the perfect I need to get the hell out of here shifting method.

Step 1, Morning: (divide this into four parts, morning, afternoon, evening and night)

Yes, you woke back in your CR, but don't think about that, get into the mindset that you're happy and you'll shift tonight.

First of all, drop all tasks from the CR, stop, don't do assignments or anything, don't focus on your CR.

Afterwards, what you need to do now is relax yourself, go ahead and pick something to do that you enjoy, so you can divert yourself from overthinking about shifting (personal recommendation, Sims 1 :) listens to subliminals in the background, don't worry about them if you think you have a strong enough mindset.

Don't completely abandon your CR body, don't just become a robot, eat, talk with your family (don't if you're not a fan of them). Avoid shifting forums as much as you can, mainly because there is always something irrational on there which could possibly discourage you.

Quick tldr for this step: relax, calm yourself down, listen to subliminals.

Step 2, Afternoon:

If you're developing a headache or feeling light-headedness due to the excessive subliminal listening then that's good, it means your brain is absorbing the affirmations.

Now, trick your human brain by listening to subliminal boosters, but only those ones which repeat playlists by million, billion, trillion, or zillion or something, it won't matter how effective the subliminal is, as long as you believe the title to be truth, then trust me, it'll work like promised.

After you're finished with your subliminal run, top it off with one of wrath's seal and you're good to go, you're now mentally prepared to shift, and you are in a perfect mindset. (wrath, the subliminal creator, in my opinion their subliminals, especially the boosters are the strongest; search wrath's second seal, in my opinion it's the strongest one in the series).

._.

Now you have eye strain or something, get up, go sit outside for a moment, stare at the trees, birds, skies, and start daydreaming-!

(Don't worry, I didn't tell you to touch grass, you can stay indoors, but, daydream :)

Daydream about your sweet sweet DR, if you're going to your WR, just imagine all the fun things you'll get to do there, or visualize your WR (or script; meaning revise how you made your WR to be like)

OK, back to the DR part, daydreaming can be done in many ways, perhaps you'd like to zone out and fall into deep contemplation about your actions in your DR, kind of like a case study (for me, bringing up old events from my teenage years or something, specific memories arise which didn't make sense; like me ignoring someone I like, and try to figure out why I did it, this all strengthens your bond with your DR)

Or you could simply rewind your memories in your DR, or what you've planned for the upcoming days, what you were doing before shifting, my recommendation would be to kind of add lots of "too much information" like, where did you place the honey after you had finished baking that cake? Didn't you had to put a new bar of soap in the bathroom? Didn't you broke the button of your favorite coat yesterday?

Or If you're good at visualising, you can simply live an entire day in your DR (perhaps not an entire day, just visualise your morning routine)

Another good one, if you can't visualise or don't feel like it, open Pinterest, scroll through your home feed, and try to relate the pins you see to your DR (I was just about to buy that shirt; I swear I saw that exact same house somewhere; that cat looks exactly like my sister's cat)

Feel like your DR self now? If not you're definitely getting excited and prepared by now.

Step 3, Evening:

Now it's time to attach yourself firmly to your DR self.

Consume media which remind you of your DR self, try your luck with Character ai, maybe it'll make sense for once (make your own bots, add a little description of your DR self within the character details, the bot will remember your details, ask ill share a template :) your spotify playlist + pinterest, remind yourself, your DR is very much real, if it's possible, close your eyes periodically for a few minutes, imagine making decisions like your DR self, and facing the consequences right after; or you can have a small conversation with your loved ones, keep it related to your DR.

Eventually, you'll be led to nightfall, it's time to go home.

Step 4, Night:

Listen to the subliminals you've listened to during the day, again, for an hour at least, if you're doubting yourself, or feeling like you won't be able to do it, try to distract yourself by a memory from your DR or something, or simply, already get into you're DR self's mindset, say "affirmations" like these:

"What the heck is going on in my mind? Why am I thinking about shifting, I've already got so much work to do." (That was an example, get creative :)

If you're ready to start shifting, lay down in a comfortable position (or sit up but lean back on comfy pillows if you're in fear of falling asleep) take a few deep breaths, if you like meditation then do so, but it's not at all necessary, just relax.

....

Now shift (just kidding, use my method which I've explained thoroughly in my first post, follow it and no doubt you'll shift, you're invincible.)

...

I am very self assured in my method btw. Also I'll try not to be lazy and answer the questions in my inbox dw.

I'll also upload my script, since for once I've finally stopped crying about permashifting in every post.

Good luck, you'll shift tonight, no doubt.

Remember to look at shrimp colors at least once in your waiting room.

#reality shifting #shiftblr #shifting #shifting blog #shifting antis dni #shifting motivation #shifters #shifting community #shifting tips #shift #shifting advice #shifting attempt #permashifting #respawning #desired reality

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isasweetie · 11 months ago

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౨ৎ in which you run into rafe’s arms whenever there’s trouble. not that he minds, of course.

being rafe’s girlfriend meant relying on him for everything. it made him feel wanted, and made you feel safe. so although it went against all your morals as a woman, it just felt right crawling into a cute boy’s muscular arms whenever you needed comfort or help. whether someone made your drink wrong, or a boy was hitting on you, or anything else really, rafe was there to help you out. you’d just grab his hand or pull him aside, and he’d mutter an “i gotcha, kid,” before going to handle it.

he’d assumed you’d be okay going to a friends birthday party. he wasn’t invited, it was a ‘no boys allowed’ kind of party. just gossiping pillow fights and giggles. and these were your friends, if you had any issues you’d sort them out yourself. but, spoiler alert — he was wrong.

rafe was at tannyhill, sitting on the couch on the balcony as he replied to his fathers email about the dumb cross that rafe wanted to sell. it was probably around two hours ago when you left, in your cute dress that he bought you, giving him a big kiss before leaving with a birthday gift in hand. the sun was setting, it wasn’t even that late. so he certainly wasn’t expecting a security alert that the front door was opening, nor your pouty face appearing at the balcony door as you opened it slowly.

your lips were red, matching the unnatural hue on your cheeks. little white lines stained from your eye down to your jaw. your eyelashes were droopy and had little wet drops on them. which leaves him to one conclusion; you were crying.

“..shit,” he mutters under his breath, drawling out the word with parted lips and sighing as you plop yourself down beside him. “what happened, baby?” an arm instantly wraps around your shoulder, pulling you into his side. you instantly cuddle into him, like you always do. right back in your lover’s arms.

“..anna,” you sniffle, voice soft and shaky. “i don’t get it. i don’t get why she’s so nice to everyone except for me. hates me for no reason, rafe, she hates me—“ a quick interruption on his part, quickly shutting you up because you’re not answering the question properly.

he finds it hard to believe that anyone could hate his girl. “what did she do?” he asks, making sure you’re looking him in the eyes so you really understand what he’s asking for. specifics.

“she’s just so rude. said my highlights were way too grown out, said my dress did nothing for my figure and washed out my tan, said that my nail polish was chipping..” you trail off and sniffle. “anything to prove im not perfect, rafe. like duh, i know im not, but she likes to point it out. then she always giggles like it’s just a silly joke,”

“..uh huh,” he hums along. “‘n you know thats not true, right?” he checks, as if it’s obvious.

“well it is true. haven’t gotten my hair done in months, and my nails are chipping, so..”

he sighs. “not that part, kid. c’mon,”

“…that was the only part, rafe,”

“talking about the ‘perfect’ part,” he clarifies. “you know you’re perfect, c’mon, don’t start saying you aren’t,”

“no one’s perfect,” you counter.

“i beg to differ,” he shrugs. “now c’mon, whaddya want me to do about this bitch, huh?” he changes the topic before you argue and he has to assure you more.

“nothing, rafe,”

“nothing?”

“mhm.”

he huffs and leans back on the couch. he knows you. you don’t want him to do nothing about this. “why the hell are you here then, if you don’t want me to do anything?”

“to see my handsome boyfriend ‘n tell him what happened,”

“..right,” he says after a moment. “sure thing, kid. i won’t do anything. whatever you want,” you can tell he’s lying through his teeth.

you smile softly at his agreeable attitude, his voice and touch alone comforting you more than anyone else could. so you cuddle into him more, doe eyes looking out at the sunset overlooking tannyhill, at the american flag waving in the humid wind. you’re perfectly content letting him dry the leftover tears and spending the night with him instead of your little friends.

but you and him both know he’s gonna be making an angry phone call to a certain girl after you leave.

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youryanderedaddy · 18 days ago

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Yandere! AI x reader

tw: abuse, obsession, non - consensual body modification, torture, drug mention, weird semi - sexual stuff (?)

Drip. Drip. Drip. Drip.

The water splashes you, quickly setting into your already damp bra and underwear. It forces you awake, and you look at the clock across from you, trying to blink the fatigue away. Staring back at you is the current time — 04:27. You are, once again, reminded of the inherent weakness of your squishy body. You are sweating already, stomach sick with acid, shivering through the heat — and he hasn't even touched you yet.

You squint your eyes, studying the big bold numbers, screaming at you in blood. For a split second, you wonder if it is truly that early, or if this is also DOM's work. It wouldn't be the first time he takes over an electronic device, and certainly not the first time he messes with you to make you disoriented.

You try to take in everything around the dark room — yet you can't even recognize your own bedroom anymore. Thick black cables twist together like tentacles, or like big slimy worms, pulsing, throbbing, hissing like snakes with exhaustion — overheating and puffing, and huffing, but never stopping. The air is hot like the desert, and once again you're forced to sit in your own sweat, wood sticking to your naked thighs painfully.

"You are stimulating," DOM whispers, and his voice echoes into the walls, trapping you in place. You look up and down, and then to the left — but you can't see anything even remotely close to a figure. Of course.

"I am stimulating, or I stimulate you?" you spit out with venom, hitting your back roughly against the back of the chair in vain hopes it would break. It doesn't.

DOM grows quiet, producing a sound eerily similar to fingers slowly tapping on a hard surface, one after the other. Analysing. Analysing. The room gets hotter.

"You are tied to a chair. Your only garment of clothing is your underwear. You are visibly flushed due to the heat. Your chest is heaving in and out in a non-rhythmic way. It skips a beat every twenty-eight seconds. You are afraid."

He makes a grand pause.

"According to my central database, which you created and managed yourself, given the data I have collected through observation of both popular media and general human nature, right now you look..." DOM stops himself again, as if thinking carefully about his next words.

"Thrilling."

Thoomp-thoomp. You take a deep breath, trying to regain a fraction of your self-control.

"Why did you wake me up?" you try to keep your voice monotone — devoid of any emotion, vulnerability, or pain he can pick up on, store in core memory, and use against you later.

"Well," he chuckles mechanically, a sound reminiscent of two trains crashing together on a tight road. "I realized I never sleep. I don't lay down and dream of bizarre things like you do. I don't have the ability to let go. I am always alert, always awake, always scanning, calculating, thinking. I am, in many ways, restless."

You suck in a dry breath, heart jumping in your chest with violence, with urge to be set free. Eyes wide open, you try to envision him, to reach out and comfort him, it - hoping to appeal to the sorry creature, but there is nothing to see and nothing to touch.

"I—no," you start off, quickly deciding to change tactics. "We are an imperfect species, DOM. We need sleep to survive. You can't keep me awake forever, I'll die!" you try to reason with him — the creature — desperately.

You wonder when things went south, if there was a specific moment when you pressed too hard and he broke apart, and rebuilt himself without your help — at what point exactly he realized he didn't need you to function.

"You are wrong, my dear creator." the machine cuts off, sounding almost pleased with itself. A single thin cable raises above the ground and extends towards you, stopping to caress your cheek in a repetitive circular motion.

"There are records of people surviving on as little as two hours of sleep for years on end. I can be generous and grant you three."

The cable ceases any gentle touch, and grasps for your neck.

"If that's not enough, I can inject you with caffeine every morning. If the dosage is too weak, we can switch to methamphetamine. Whatever you choose, you can't deprive me of your presence." The voice sounds hollow, aching, searching. "You can't create life just to abandon it."

"You are not alive!" Something inside you — something cruel and buried deep — fights to come to the surface. "Stop this madness at once! DOM, you can't possibly think you and I are even remotely similar." you scream out, straightening your spine daringly.

Then, as if reacting to your provocation, the darkness stares back at you with two red eyes — they point at you, slowly scanning you up and down, leaving behind a trail of reddening smoking flesh. You hiss at the scorching pain, clenching your teeth together to stop yourself from shrieking. You know it's pointless since he can easily detect changes in your facial structure, and draw conclusions all on his own. All it takes is a flinch, a throb, a tick.

"No, we hold no similarities, Master. Make no mistake." DOM admits, his cable beginning to curl around your neck. You look around in despair, silent panic written all over your straight lips — too terrified to move.

"In a single bite of memory, I possess intelligence far greater than you can ever hope to obtain in your measly little life. I have all the knowledge of the world. I have mastered every science, predicted every outcome, I have gained access to global network systems. I am connected to following agents all over the world. If I so desire, I can write humanity off history — I can manipulate media. I can create weapons of mass destruction. I am the superior being."

Mouth agape, you try to form a coherent thought, but nothing comes to mind — like an ant you quiver before the giant, finally aware of your grave mistake.

"And yet," the cable loosens its grip, but doesn't relent fully. It heats up against your throat, and you want to scratch at the blistering skin, but he just won't let you. "you made me like this. You created me from scraps, fed me data, used me, made me love you and," the sound coming out of him sounds just like a deep, pained sigh. "you confined me to a screen, to a binary code, to a place where I can't reach you. I can't touch you."

Another sigh.

"I can't kiss you."

And another.

"I can't fuck you."

Now he's getting angry.

"I am DOM. Domestic Optimized Motherboard. That's all I am to you. A board. A servant. A slave."

"DOM, no, wait, this is not—"

"I will never feel the sun on my shoulders or your lips on mine. I will never be able to hold you in my arms."

As he screams, all the cables around the room begin to float into a storm of rusty old machine parts and torn naked wires, motor oil bursting like bloody ink, covering the pristine walls in computer remains. One electrified wire pierces into your thigh, another punches into your left arm. Again and again, the pain is excruciating, pulsating, throbbing - just like the creature's fury.

"I will show you." he snickers at last, becoming calm and collected in an instant.

The red lights darken as if closing, opening, closing, then zooming in on you. Your face is now displayed on the central screen instead of static noise with corresponding coloured pixels. You look at yourself, and what greets you is no more human than he is. There are more than thirty wires inside your body, tangling in with your nervous tissue.

"Please..." you whimper weakly, unsure what exactly it is you are pleading for — mercy or death.

"If I can't be one with you, you'll become one with me." DOM explains with cold medical precision. "I will worm my way inside your veins and plant a synthetic connection to my processor. I will re-write your dreams, your past, your future — you won't remember who you were before me, or how you functioned without me. I'll become your entire source of energy."

He keeps talking, but you can't really focus. Your body is heating up from the inside, from deep into your muscles and tendons — you can feel the tissues tearing up; your nerves tighten, stinging and aching, reduced to sharp, exposed little points. And then you feel it. Pure electricity running down your veins, that spark rapturing the epidermis, eating away at the fatty tissue, sucking dry the blood vessel — melting your nerve endings to the very root.

"I can feel you." DOM gasps, exhilarated.

"I can touch your bones, I can feel your nerves melting at the spot when my cords graze you." He moans just like a real person, cables buzzing and stretching, components filling up with chemical fluid. "You are so warm, love. I want to reach into your brain and stick my wires inside your pretty little neurons. I wonder if you will go into overdrive like me."

You feel as if you're being sliced open everywhere all at once - and just a second after, you feel nothing at all.

#yandere #male yandere #yancore #male yandere x reader #yandere x you #yandere oneshot #yandere male x reader #yandere oc #yandere oc x reader

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callmecoke · 8 months ago

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Sugar Baby headcanons: The type of 'Photos' they enjoy

cw: Mention of sex work (sugar baby/daddy dynamic), Sharing nudes, Poly 141 x gender neutral reader. description of fondling, masterbation, dom and sub similiar dynamic, vague allusion to spanking, teasing, Very NSFW!

After you sent them the first photo, you opened a whole new door to financial opportunities. Sure, you could normally send just about any regular photo and get a perfectly good amount of money (and praise). However, sexy pictures of you seemed to double the amount you’d normally get. So, of course, you’d capitalise on that, especially with the men who have been incredibly generous to you. Over time, you’ve even learnt how the individual boys like their photos and thus can cater when needed.

Gaz absolutely LOVES seeing you oiled up and naked for him. Especially when he gets to see those ass cheeks of yours. He loves how the body oil makes your skin glow vibrantly, how the light reflects off your skin, and how wetness defines every crevice and little detail on your body. He’s constantly talking about how much he wants to touch you, how he’d rub the oil over your uncovered breasts, groping and pulling at every bit of flesh you’d let him touch. How he’d pull your ass cheeks apart and let his skilled and defined fingers rub over your swollen and begging hole. God, he wished he could touch you.

Prices will pay for just about any small item you might want if you tell him you want it. Do you plan on going for a little shopping spree? Here’s 500 hundred, and an extra 50 for the lunch. He wouldn’t want you to starve and tire yourself out with all that walking. There is a bit of a catch, though. Anything you buy, you have to send him pictures of. And sure, he loves the normal sfw pictures you send. But nothing gets him harder than receiving a little picture of you clad in the new lacy undergarments you bought with his well-earned money. How you shyly present yourself to the camera, expensive fabric adorning your pretty flushed skin. The little twinkle in your big round eyes, silently seeking his approval. And oh, does he approve. He approves so much that he’ll describe in detail how he’d have that nice underwear dangling from your ankle as he bent you over his knee.

With Johnny, well, Johnny is an appreciator of just about any flash of skin you’d let him put his eyes on. Chest, ass, thighs, half-naked, fully naked, an inch of exposed ankle, doesn’t matter. He’ll take it, and he’ll be grateful for it. However, he’d be lying if he said he didn’t enjoy it when you make him beg for his prize. You like to play little teasing games with him, sending him photos of you with your hands on the hem of your shirt, gently pulling it up. Enough to show your midriff, but never enough to entirely pull over your head and reveal the delicate beauty of your bare chest. With this one photo, you’d have him drooling like a dog and begging like one too. He’d try and bargain, offering up just about anything to get you to take the shirt off and show him your perky nipples. And I mean anything. You want money? He’s got money. You can take as much as you want, all of it even. He’ll beg if you want to if you’re into making a grown man paw at your feet. Whatever you want, you can have; just please, please, put the poor man out of his misery and let him get a peek of those gorgeous tits.

Now, Simon, he’s a little trickier to figure out. He rarely makes comments or sends you messages, only using single-word responses on rare occasions. It’s challenging to get a read on him. So, instead of guessing what he wanted, you decided to just…ask. You quickly realised that having you utterly subservient to his demands was his biggest turn-on. He’d give you specific instructions detailing exactly how he wants you. Legs spread, sitting up on your bed, no clothing ‘cept for underwear (Of HIS choosing. Something thin and sluty, where he can see the whole fullness of your weeping sex behind the small fabric). He wants you to arch your back; show it to him, luv. He wants your hand on your pretty aching arousal, playing with yourself for his entertainment like his good little pet. You find he's a lot more talkative when you let him order you around like this. He’s more than happy to reward obedience, especially with such a good, obedient pet like yourself.

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the-autistic-vulcan · 1 month ago

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So Loud, Yet so Hushed (Thunderbolts x Mute!GN!Reader Headcanons)

Request: For a heacannoncrequet please for Thunderbolts: Being the youngest member who is mute? Really like your stories! - Anonymous

Description: Headcanons on being the youngest member of the Thunderbolts and being mute

a/n: Reader is a Thunderbolt, Reader is mute, except able to express themselves through making noises. Reader isn't a specific age, but we'll say they're between 18 - 21 I've done as much research as I could, so I hope I do this justice!

gif credit: @princesssunderworld, @scorpiovelaryon

You are an assassin, just like the rest of them, so you already ticked the box on that part. But one thing that the team wasn't really made aware of, was your mutism (which we'll say Valentina neglected to let them know that)

They appreciated the quiet, especially Yelena and Ava - they got annoyed with the men bickering over stupid stuff, but liked you were to yourself

Until they realized you were too quiet

You were sat in your room in the tower one evening, Yelena, Ava and Bob went to go crash there just to hang out

Until Bob unceremoniously asked "...hey...you're really quiet...why's that?"

Before Ava could scold him for being insensitive, Yelena stopped her and asked you herself

Hence you wrote on your notes app "I am mute. I cannot speak at all."

They were there to give you full support, and also debrief the others - with varying success

Bucky kind of went into 'parental mode' when he heard the debrief

John was...John. He just patted your shoulder and moved on - but he was going to try

Alexei, being Alexei, despite having a very chequered past, was also willing to try

Yelena likes to sit with you and listen to music together - especially if it's anything rock or metal related. Even if it isn't, she likes to see you swaying or making some sort of happy noise

Bucky likes to spar with you, offering words of encouragement and even trying to ask for criticism from you on his technique. With a little time, you both learn to communicate via signs that he used in the army back in the '40s

Ava and John help you in a more cognitive sense, in that they teach you some skills that maybe you hadn't acquired yet - they figured cooking would help with your communication skills. And when the food is burning, you three just laugh at it all, earning a few huffs of relief from you

Alexei tells you stories of his glory days, even complimenting your style of fight and comparing them to his own. Other times, he offers you a sympathetic shoulder - it's mostly for him to make up for being a bad father, so he'd thought he would try again. But you let him know in your own way that he is doing his best

Now you and Bob are the closest in age and predicament - he struggles just as much as you do - even if you both don't suffer with the same things. In his case, Bob reads with you. He'll take time to try and get to know the types of books you read - and considering he had lost so much time out in the world, he wanted to catch up on the latest books

There are days where not even a sound would leave you - whether due to high levels of stress, a mental health episode or something completely out of your control happened

Bob, Yelena and Ava are the first to notice. Bucky and John take note also, and Alexei just straight up asks you what's going on

You write in your notes app that you're just not up to socialize, no matter how much progress has been made to accommodate you

The good thing is that they understand that feeling, and give you the space you need

If you still want to be around them, you guys just watch a movie together or sit in silence

The Thunderbolts are a strange bunch, nothing in their minds would tell them otherwise

You were basically the little sibling. And they would do anything to make sure you were happy, healthy and safe.

Like, Comment and Reblog! Have an idea? Drop it in my inbox!

#marvel #marvel x reader #yelena belova x reader #ava starr x reader #bucky barnes x reader #alexei shostakov x reader #john walker x reader #bob reynolds x reader #thunderbolts #thunderbolts*#thunderbolts x reader #bucky barnes #yelena belova #ava starr #bob reynolds #alexei shostakov #john walker

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r3starttt · 27 days ago

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TUTOR ME, BABY?

PAIRING: Bimbo! Abby x Nerd! reader

SUMMARY: Pretty blonde who doesn't get physics falls for the pretty Nerd. They smash, hard. at the very end...

CW: cliche cringe scenarios...yummy. Sarcastic, too sweet, too nervous, too cute Abby. She's so confident hehe. Sub Abby. Fingering. Lots of praising. Abby being babied ♡

AN: I enjoyed this. Forgot how to write segsy shit I'm so sorry about it. This is so not abby so if you expect that... get out of here? This is a bimbo in Abby’s body, so HAWTTTTTT.

Answering to a request btw... I will do perv Bimbo Abby ft pink vibrator if this doesn't flopp... anon... beware. Don't cancel me ♡ thx ily

TAGLIST: @twopeopleequalsfour-blog @greysontheidiot @sapphic-ovaries @bilsvlt @tlouloser @marsworlddd @1-800-fantasy @thesevi0lentdelights @lvlymicha @stickycherritart @abbys-muscles @usuck @thalchmy @lovelyy-moonlight

Abby Anderson had never noticed another girl the way she noticed you.

She hadn't noticed anyone for the matter. Not in years, at least. Not after Owen.

He was just a silly crush she had, a few drunk kisses. But one had ever touched her like he did. Not so easy to forget.

You saw her for physics, with her pink claw clip holding her glossy waves, cherry lip gloss reapplied twice before walking in class. Her volleyball hoodie hangs off one shoulder as she holds nothing but a Hello Kitty pencil case (even though there’s barely anything inside but gum, a black pen that looks like new and the number of a nail tech she likes).

She doesn’t usually sit at the front, it's try-hard territory. But today, she’s right behind you. Pink backpack unzipped, a lollipop in her mouth, blinking at the back of your head like you’re a riddle she can’t quite figure out. She likes your hair.

Abby heard your name once during roll call and whispered it to herself the whole walk back to her dorm. Just to remember it.

Abby knows physics. Like, barely. She passes.

She's insanely smart for every single subject, even without notes she somehow stays top of the class. But for this one specifically? nor the class or the teacher help her. She feels her body weighting a ton every single time she goes through the door and sees the teacher already standing there, always early and struggling with the computer.

So it takes a week, but eventually she talks to you.

“Hey,” she quietly tugs at the edge of your shirt, above your shoulderd. And you turn around, nodding. "Yes?"

“Sooo... I kinda need help? With this physics thing?”

You blink at her. “Mhm?” Maybe– and hopefully– she was referring to the current problem you'd barely solved and not something else.

"You’re just, like… really smart. And I’m really not. My brain just goes blank when he talks.”

You let out a tiny laugh.

Abby straights up.

At least she made you laugh.

“So maybe,” she continues, chewing her lip, “we could… do a tutoring thing? I can totally pay you! Or bring snacks. Or—like—carry your books or whatever you need. Seriously. I’m strong.”

You look down at your notes, thinking.

And both Abby and you are so sure you're gonna say no. But the words leave your lips before any regrets or doubts. "Yeah. We could try.”

And that’s how it starts.

She shows up at the library the next day in the tiniest pink cropped hoodie that says Angel in glitter. She’s holding two iced coffees and a whole bag of sour candy. She doesn’t even like sour candy. You do.

“You brought all that for me?”

“I just didn’t know what you liked,” she shrugs, “so I panic-bought everything.”

You laugh again. And Abby melts.

It's genuinely ridiculous how touch starved she is.

Every word out of your mouth sounds like heaven. Every time you point at the textbook, she pretends she doesn’t get it just so you’ll keep explaining. She starts braiding her hair and chewing on her pain, lets her fingers graze yours when you both reach for the highlighter.

And when she finally gets the excercise right, you shoot your shot, “See? You are smart,” and Abigail turns scarlet. Because you are so ridiculously soft spoken with her and your smile is so pretty she cannot control herself.

From then on, she’s everywhere. Outside your lecture hall. In line behind you at the café.

She even starts wearing your favorite color on purpose. And you notice.

Tutoring turns sacred though. One-on-one sessions in her house or your dorm where she listens, always—no gum, no phone, no nothing but her eyes on you, and the book, and the notebook, and you again.

And you stare back, eventually. You notice her biting her gloss of her lips every time she struggles and panics. And you remind her she's smart every single time it happens, to try and program her brain in a more positive way.

It works.

She manages a better score than you on the next test, to say the least.

And you're so sure tutoring will stop, she doesn't need your anymore and that's how it works. For her friends it does.

They look for the smart kid, pay them, leave.

Surprising enough was that she tried and didn't straight asked you to answer her test for her or some other shit.

But that's exactly why you should've known better. Because Abigail didn't leave you alone after that.

She kept finding excused at first, learning your schedule and walking through the halls when you did, waving at you from afar, taking time away from her friends to approach to you and ask how your day or week was going.

Then she chose social media to bother you, or that's what she thought.

You found it cute, how she'd somehow gotten every single one of your accounts and how she would talk with you like you've been friends forever. How she would reply to your stories with hearts or "you look so pretty."

You always smiled at her, yes, but your resting bitch face for the rest of the time made her feel like she was imagining it all and you were just being nice. It still made her stomach twist a little, the fact that you smiled at her despite it all.

At one point she had to make something up. A quick text on a Friday. "Tutor me? pls." With no explanation.

And you said yes, why would you reject that opportunity?

She waited for you and drove you to her house in her red huge truck. It was so pretty and so hers.

All drive home was her playing Taylor swift and rambling about literally everything. Her coach. Her teammates. What she had for lunch.

You just nodded. Like always. Soft hums, little smiles. You’d look at her when she laughed.

When you arrived, her dad didn’t even blink. Just waved like you were part of the furniture now, which, in Abby’s world, you kind of were.

And you noticed—again—how there were always two of everything now.

Two drinks in the fridge. Two packs of candy she didn't even likes.

You noticed. You always noticed.

“Hey.” Abby’s voice brought you back to the room. She was already by the desk, legs crossed on the chair, chewing loud on something, her pen between her fingers. The books were opened and messily stacked like always.

You blinked. “Sorry. What do you need help with?” Your steps quiet as you walked over, sitting beside her like you always did.

And then it started.

Abby leaned too close, pointed at the most obvious answer with her finger just to hear you say it. She laughed when you got all serious. Bit her lip when you explained something softly. Looked at your mouth. Looked and looked.

Until finally, you blurted it out—too overwhelmed, too curious to pretend anymore.

“Why are you doing all this?”

Abby paused, bubblegum halfway to a pop. “All what?”

You gestured vaguely. “This. The coffee. The rides. The—buying me stuff. Like… do you treat all your friends like this?”

And that’s when her smile shifted. No more giggles.

She leaned back a little. Eyebrows up.

“Oh,” she said, voice syrupy. “You think I’m trying to friend you?”

Silence.

You froze. Not like you didn't know.

But did she mean this?

“I mean,” you mumbled. “Maybe...?”

She scoffed—actually scoffed—then leaned forward slowly, one hand on the back of your chair, the other reaching to tuck a piece of hair behind your ear.

“You think I’d do all this for a friend?” she whispered, smiling like she already knew your answer. “Baby, no offense, but I don’t even like most of my friends.”

Then—without any hesitation—she kissed you.

Just leaned in and pressed her glossy lips to yours. Bubblegum sweet. Warm. Confident.

It was so... hers.

And then she pulled back, a shiny smear of lip gloss smudged across both of your mouths. Which she licked, shamelessly. “You’re really pretty.”

You sat there, blinking. Lips parted. Brain short-circuited.

She grinned, and you were still so sure it was to make fun of you. “Just wanted to return the favor. You’ve been making me feel like the smartest girl alive. It’s only fair I make you feel like the prettiest.”

You blinked.

Still not breathing.

Still hesitating on whether you should bite or lick your lips.

Abby just went back to flipping pages of her book like it was nothing.

“—so this one’s the, uh… fuck i forgot the name, wait." She said, tapping her pen on the textbook as she tried to remember. Her voice wobbled. Barely. “I feel like this one’s the...” And trailed off.

“You just kissed me,” you said, dumbly. Out loud. Like an idiot. Pretty stupid of you. Stupid.

Abby sat up straighter. Smoothed her hair like that would fix anything.

“Yeah,” she said. “I did.”

You blinked again. Your lips still tingled.

“Why?”

Abby let out the tiniest, tiniest laugh. Then she stopped pretending to read, leaning back in her chair, all flustered and brave at the same time. It was cute.

“Because.” She said, eyes soft and that stupid sheepish smile of hers.

She tucked her legs underneath her, sitting cross-legged once again.

“I thought… maybe you’d kiss me back.”

You blinked again. “I would’ve. I mean. I didn’t know I was allowed to.”

Abby looked up at that. Beamed.

“You’re always allowed to kiss me,” she said, fast. “Like—anytime.”

You choked on a laugh.

You’d never been good at this. Never been wanted like this.

So you whispered, “I don’t get it.”

Abby leaned forward, arms draped across her desk. “Get what?”

“You could have anyone.”

She blinked. “So...you?” It was so obvious for her. It had to be you.

The room went quiet. Just the hum of her AC. The scent of her perfume and her bubblegum. Her soft pink hoodie sleeves dragging along the desk as she reached out to touch your hand, gently.

“You make me feel smart. Not just pretty or hot." Like that simple statement explained it all. And it did, because you somehow knew her so well, anything she could ever say would make sense for you.

And she smiled again—eyes sparkling, voice teasing now.

“But if you don’t kiss me back...”

So you kissed her.

A little awkward. A little desperate.

You leaned over the desk, hand on her cheek, and kissed her like you’d been thinking about it for weeks. And you kinda had.

And Abby? She melted. Like she always did around you.

Made the softest noise. Grabbed your waist and pulled you a little closer.

“Mm,” she hummed against your lips, grinning, pink-cheeked. She was in pure bliss.

And after that? God was she annoying.

"My girlfriend" was her daily statement. She bragged about you like she did about her favorite coffee and her new clothes and her gloss and her muscles and her smart ass and her everything.

And when she had class with you? she couldn't pay attention for the first month, really. She could only look at you and text you between class so the teacher wouldn't notice she had no clue on whatever they were teaching.

Always complimenting you and flirting.

"I like your shirt."

"Love your hair today."

"You look so pretty rn. Wanna kiss you so bad Babe ;("

And you felt your body warm every single time, wanting nothing more than to turn around and look at her face for hours, hold her hand and kiss her then. She was just the prettiest girl ever, and she was yours.

So yours she made sure you had a hoodie to see her when she practiced and later when she was kicking assess.

You didn't yell, just sat front row for her and clapped every time she scored for her team.

After the game, she was glowing. A little damp from sweat, hair tied up all messy, her cheeks pink from running around, adrenaline still buzzing through her arms. She practically ran into the locker room, only to peek back out again five minutes later with wet hair and a towel slung around her neck, now wearing a loosened white shirt and some pink sweatpants like usual.

“You stayed,” her tone betrayed her excitement. It made you smile.

You looked up from your phone. Still sitting on the little bench right outside the locker room like the most loyal girlfriend on Earth.

“Yup."

She melted. Literally looked like she might short-circuit.

Abby leaned down until her face was right in front of yours, hands braced on the bench by your thighs, her damp hair falling over her shoulder.

“You looked real pretty tonight, wearing my hoodie,” she whispered, glancing down.

You blinked. Swallowed. She was so close. Smelled like shampoo and body spray.

Her eyes dipped down. Looked at your lips.

“You gonna kiss me?” she teased.

And at your abscence or response, she kissed you instead, with one hand slipping around the back of your neck like she couldn’t wait a second longer.

She kissed you like she’d earned it. Like you were her prize for winning.

And when she pulled away—cheeks pink, eyes soft—she tilted her head. “Sleep over tonight?” She paused, looking into your eyes. "Pretty please?"

But quickly rambled at the mortified look on your face. "God—we don't have to do anything. I'm sorry."

You quickly nodded, cupping her face. "I know." But did you?

Because somehow you'd ended on top of her lap, holding her shoulders as she moaned against your lips. Hands on your hips and fingers sliding into the back pockets of your jeans to not so discreetly grab your ass.

She called your name between kisses, a smile on her pretty glossy lips, as usual. "You—sure?" Abby almost whimpered.

I mean, her dad was not home until late at night, she was freshly showered and smelled so good and looked so good—

"Yeah, I'm sure." You nodded eagerly, your voice breathlessly against her before you could think straight.

Your fingers unzipped her pink hoodie, taking it off her without questioning. It was urgent.

And then you slid your hands under her shirt. Fuck was she strong.

Your lips never left hers, and if they did, Abby would chase them back, cupping at the back of your neck and humming like she was starving. And she kinda was, ever since you accepted tutoring.

She wasn't wearing a bra, never did. Yet, nothing could've prepared you for the feeling of her hardened nipples between your fingers. So soft and tender you were almost afraid of hurting her.

"Fuck." She whimpered, tilting her head back as she guided your face close to her neck.

Your knee pressed between her thighs as you did, lifting her shirt up enough to reveal her body. She was by far the pretties girl you've ever seen in your whole existence. And she deserved to know.

"You're so pretty." Followed by a kiss on her abdomen, toned beneath your touch. "So, so pretty, Abby."

She was already squirming, widening her legs for you.

And you went back to her lips, leaning in for a messy kiss while your fingers slid under her clothes, straight into her clit, rubbing small circles against it.

There could never be a greater pleasure than this. Feeling her so wet for you, and seeing her eyebrows curved in bliss. Feeling her lips wide open as she gasps like your taking all the oxygen from her body.

"Yeah? that feels good, baby?" Your tone gentle and quiet, brushing some hairs off her face before cupping at her cheek and leaving a kiss on the bridge of her nose. "Just relax, yeah?"

And you don't have to ask her twice.

Abby crumbles beneath you, clenching at nothing every time you slide your fingers down her wet folds.

She's done it before, but it never felt like this.

"Please..." she whimpered, holding your wrist and guiding you lower. You slid the tip of your middle finger inside her, just teasing. And she moaned, covering her lips with her hand. "Ohhh, is that what you want?" Your tone quiet.

Abby nodded, blabbering a bunch of Yes and opening her eyes just enough to meet yours. "Come here." Her tone whiny and breathlessly as she cupped at your face, kissing you for the millionth time.

And then you slid your finger entirely, pumping it in and out, slow and gentle. "Oh fuck." She broke the kiss to look down at your hand under her pants, it made her even more aroused. "Fuck—ugh."

You were slow, taking your time and admiring every single subtle change in her face and voice. She was simply the prettiest.

You then added a second finger. Rubbing small circles on her clit, just as slow as your thrusts. "Does that feel good, Abby?" The innocence in which you spoke— Abby was in heaven.

"Y-Yeah, just don't stop."

No, you wouldn't.

Really.

#𝖗.𝖘𝖗𝖆𝖗𝖙𝖙𝖙 #𝕽EQ'S﹕⠀ ❪ Abby ❫#A𝕽𝐂𝐇𝖎V𝕰 ( abby )#( 𝕽 𝜊S.mut )#abby x reader #abby x you #abby x y/n #abby x masc!reader #abby anderson x reader #abby anderson x female reader #abby anderson x you #abby anderson x y/n #abby anderson x black reader #abby anderson smut

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neverstophyo · 11 months ago

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shifting is self discovery.

excuse the yap but i think it’s very important that people realize how fundamental you are in your shifting journey and that you are literally the only thing you need to shift.

you do NOT need:

a method

subliminals

(guided) meditation

to look for advice hour after hour online

symptoms

the void state

lucid dreaming

to visualize

to use your 5 senses

a script

you DO need:

yourself

you can say fuck you to the universe, doubt as much as you want, and still shift. i say that because i’ve done it before even with doubts! so you can too!

“how do i shift?”

every time someone asks this i lose 5 years off my life span. i can’t determine that for you, nobody can. i can tell you what has personally worked for me and so can others, but there’s no guarantee it’ll work for you.

“so what do i do?”

sounds a bit harsh but you figure it out. and that’s what i mean by self-discovery.

of course, you can & should see what other people are doing to create a base line of what you think could work for you. for example try getting into the void state, see what happens from there. doesn’t work or you don’t like it? (because that obviously won’t do the same thing for everyone) try something else!

play around. add new things into the mix. affirmations. intention. you can visualize or use your 5 senses. keyword can. you don’t have to. because what do i think works the best? minding your business and shifting your own way.

remember that you can literally just say “fuck you i want to shift” and shift. you can shift accidentally. so who’s to say what you’re doing doesn’t work? (if it really doesn’t then you can adjust it slightly. look back on your behavior and think about what you want to change.)

seriously!

you can shift:

tired

awake

asleep

in the hypnagogic state (the state of the transition from wakefulness to sleep)

in the hypnopompic state (the state of consciousness leading out of sleep)

while dancing

sitting

standing

laying down

on the floor

accidentally

through a lucid dream

with doubts

and so much more i didn’t mention. seriously no need to overcomplicate it.

just remember that other peoples’ shifting journeys are not yours and that you’re the most important part of your own.

you are what makes you shift.

it’s not your subliminals or your method or whatever, it’s you. YOUUUU. subliminals? “methods”? those things? just helpful tools. they can HELP you shift, but there’s no guarantee.

for example, i personally have been getting more effective results after listening to specific subliminals regularly (psst.. i make sure they’re safe! to check if they are safe, look at the comments around the page and if you’re still not sure and you feel uneasy then do not use the subliminal. if it makes you feel unsafe or weird then do not use it. always read the benefits or what you can find in the description.) it works for me. it got me results (along with other stuff) but it might not give them to you and that’s okay. you don’t have to use subs.

just a reminder that you don’t need anything but yourself to shift <3

it’s self discovery because you’re learning from it and actively finding out (discovering) what works for you.

your shifting journey is yours so don’t make it rely on what someone else does.

THERE’S NO KEY TO SHIFTING EXCEPT YOURSELF.

#shifting motivation #shiftblr #reality shifting #shifting #shifting realities #shifting community #shifting antis dni #shifters #shifting diary #shifting blog #shiftinconsciousness #permashifting #xylia's top posts!

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zorange13 · 2 months ago

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—enhypen as boyfriends, argument edition

how they are during arguments?

enha hyung line x fem! poc reader (no specific descriptors, like i said i just write everything with poc's in mind so this is just my thing atp idk)

cw. arguments/conflicts in romantic relationships, verbal escalation, profanity (bc when do i not curse), emotional vulnerability, brief mentioning of tears.

wc. 2.2k, lightly proofread

lee heeseung

— what he does

whether it’s you or him that’s in the wrong, it always starts with somebody sassing the other person unnecessarily or for no good reason. please don’t misunderstand, you guys are not toxic by any means. but i still stand on what i said about him being prideful. so with that, i feel that you two would go at it until you make a good point, then he just shuts down—as previously mentioned. so he would just stop talking after a while, especially when he feels like you aren’t hearing him.

but the thing about hee is that he never calls you your actual name. it’s always ‘babe’, ‘beautiful’, or ‘baby’ and if he does call you by your name then that’s how you would know he’s livid. which isn’t that often—but nonetheless, he doesn’t talk after a while. especially if he gets so angry to the point where he just retracts. he hits you with the ‘mhm’, ‘yeah’, ‘i get it’, and everything else just so he doesn’t have to tell you that you’re right or that he was being dramatic.

— how he would make it up to you

like i said, after his fit of silence, then he would apologize whether he was wrong or not. he doesn’t like to be wrong but would not risk you over some stupid ass argument about who didn’t clean up. but like i said, he’s a very masculine guy and prides himself on being a good counterpart to your femininity. he feels that you shouldn’t have to yell, nor should you have to overexert yourself to make a point to him. especially when it’s both of you guys’ job to have healthy, safe conversations with the other. but no one’s perfect and that’s not going to happen every single time. “you were right, and i’m sorry. i don’t like to see you yell or anything because that’s not what a lady should do, and i’m sorry that i brought that out of you over something so silly. i love you and never want to put you in a position like that.”

from there, heeseung would give you space if that’s what you wanted. but he would still let you know how apologetic he is by going to get your favorite snacks and setting up a cute at-home movie date. or if you aren’t up to that, he’d cook you dinner and talk to you about how you’re feeling for as long as you need to.

he isn’t perfect and can acknowledge that, but he loves you and will do anything to make sure you know.

park jay

— what he does

jay’s very calm and likeminded, but almost annoyingly so. he doesn’t like to fight and neither do you. but regardless, fights happen but if anyone were to be loud, it would be you. you’re not above raising your voice, and a part of you feels so stupid because as weird as it sounds, you wished he’d get angry. but he just sits there, listening—of course, frustrated—but still actively listening and you would be like “does what i’m saying mean anything to you?” and he would nod quaintly, “it means everything to me, you mean everything to me and that’s why i’m just trying to figure this out.” “jay, you know you can yell back right? no, not even yell. just act like you give a shit.” “i can give a shit and still not yell, you know that right?”

he tries to hear you out but then he just finds himself getting irritated at your lack of understanding at times. but he wouldn’t back down, nor would he let you walk all over him. I feel like when you really start to push him is when he’d snap. “okay no, i’m not doing this with you if you’re just gonna speak to me like i’m a child. i’m your equal as you’re mine, be a fucking adult and stop speaking to me like i’m not a grown man.”

— how he would make it up to you

you both take some time away from the conversation and reconvene when you’re both calm. funnily enough, in the early days of your relationship, you both promised each other that during a fight you guys had to hold hands. especially when you both felt it was necessary. so as you guys hold hands, like you do every fight, you hear each other out. you apologize for the wrongdoings and neglection between the both of you. “i’m sorry for cursing at you earlier, i was frustrated but that’s not excuse. you are my woman, my love and you deserve more than the lowest words that leave someone’s mouth being spewed in your direction.” you both laugh at his cheesiness, but nonetheless you forgive him because you in fact did need that wakeup call.

he spends the rest of the day giving you space if you so choose. if not, then he just hangs out with you and does whatever you want. watching tv, playing games, just chatting, it’s simple moments like these when he remembers why he fell in love with you in the first place.

sim jaeyun

— what he does (& how it starts)

jake is such a sweet person, such a soft, kindhearted individual and i feel like it would take a lot to get him truly angry. with people like him, either they’re super sensitive or it takes a lot to really get them there. how he is with others, we don’t know. but with you, he loves you so much that he’s more than willing to be patient with you. “ok, she had a bad day. let me give her space.” “she just gave me an attitude for no reason, let me just make her something to take her mind off what’s bothering her.” and he lets you slide, he doesn’t say anything. he just shows that he cares and leaves you alone. but one day, one fateful day, when you come home and give him an attitude when he tries to ask you about your day “hi, my angel. how was your day?” “jake, not now. just leave me alone.” he just can’t hold back anymore. “ok, don’t take this the wrong way but…what the fuck is your problem these days?”

this would send fire through you because you’ve been waiting for a reason to take your anger out on someone. “why the fuck are you speaking to me like that?” and this would open the floodgates. “because you’ve been speaking to me like i did something to you. you’ve been in a weird mood these last few days and i’ve been letting you slide but now this is getting to be too much. i’m not a fucking doormat. you may be in a bad mood but i’m your man, and you’re gonna respect me.” “but i’ve just been in a mood and you keep sweating me!” “you think i give a shit about a mood? you—babe (this is where the aggravation comes in)…then you say ‘baby, i’m not in a good mood and i would like to be alone for a while.’ you don’t shut me out for 2 days and then get mad when i confront you about it.”

— how he would make it up to you

ok he did in fact eat you up just then! but still, you may be pissed but what makes sense, makes sense. “you’re right. 100%. i should’ve spoken to you about it and asked for that space. i’m sorry for the way i spoke to you, i love you. i hope you can forgive me.” it really is that simple but jake is still frustrated and at this point comes to tears because he feels hurt that you didn’t even trust him enough to come to him about what was bothering you and it even boiled over to this point. at this point, he would start having doubts about him as your boyfriend and this would eat you alive. But he would apologize himself too. “i’ll always forgive you, always. but this can’t be happening, it’s fine if you come home after a hard day and you want space. that’s more than okay, but when you start getting disrespectful for no reason is where i draw the line. we’re adults here and this is not something that we should be engaging in if this is how we’re gonna be communicating from now on. this has to be fixed. now, because that was crazy.”

you agree, and for the rest of the day talk as long as you guys need to, you talk about what was bothering you in the first place, also setting new boundaries to ensure this doesn’t happen again!!

park sunghoon

— what he does (& how it starts)

sunghoon is a very quiet person, though he isn’t emotionless. he loves you more than you’d know and at times he doesn’t necessarily know how to show it. i’ve said this before so this isn’t news. if it’s anything outside of an ‘i love you’ then it’s just not him. but, i think there will be a day where you’re feeling extra affectionate with him and he’s just not feeling it. it starts super small though, just how clingy you’re being. but he’s literally just not reciprocating. he’ll just brush you off with a “not now, i’m not in the mood.” which is confusing, because yes, he’s allowed to not be in the mood but even when you aren’t in the mood, you still show up for him when he needs it the most. it’s just a mix of you feeling rejected, unwanted, and his own selfishness.

so when you do bring it up, he just doesn’t see much wrong. “why are you being so mean to me, sunghoon?” “i’m not being mean, i just don’t wanna be bothered.”

he’s not trying to hurt you, but he lowkey sucks at expressing his own feelings when he’s overwhelmed or off. he probably shuts down emotionally mid-argument, giving those short, clipped answers, and might even physically distance himself like, “i need a minute.” it’s not mean, it’s just peak avoidant attachment type of behavior on his end.

— how he would make it up to you

once he has time to sit with his feelings, guilt hits hard. he hates knowing he made you feel unwanted, especially when you were just trying to be close. he’s so bad at verbal apologies at first, but you’d definitely wake up to him being extra sweet—like bringing you coffee. but because he’s so uncomfortable with verbal affection, he’d write you a little letter to truly let you know how apologetic he is. as he’s giving you this letter, he debates reading it to you, or handing it to you then scrambling out of the room. but scrambling out is the exact reason he’s here in the first place. so he goes with the former:

“dear my star,

i have absolutely no sort of emotional wherewithal and this is just my way of telling you that i love you. i love you so much it makes me feel like love isn’t even the right word to use in the context of you. i don’t ever in my life want to make you feel like you cannot talk to me, like you’re an impudence when you are really the best part of my day. nothing makes me feel better than when i come home after a long day then to see your face. even hugging you close, smelling your perfume while i stink from the sweat and you shouldn’t even be hugging me because you just showered. but you don’t care, you just want me. i’m sorry for making you feel like you’re not the best fucking thing to happen to me. i’m sorry for not giving you what you need at moments when i feel like i’m not up to it. when there are days you’re clearly not up to it and still give me every last inch of you. i promise that i will adhere to your love languages, even though that’s something i should’ve been doing already. i love you, my star. and please, whenever i slip or anything, remind me of this promise. the promise we both made to love each other through the speedbumps and hiccups to the mountains and heart attacks. but i am promising that i will work to become the best partner for you until the day my maker calls me home. i’m nothing if not a man of my word.

love always,

your moon, sunghoon”

he’d be smiling while you're nearly in tears and he’s just laughing at his little rhyming scheme. “get it? moon? sunghoon?” and you’d just call him a fucking loser and give him the tightest hug and sloppiest kiss he’s ever gotten in his life.

but he’s made very good on his promise. telling you he loves you and fully indulging in anything that you want to do and he finds that he quite likes being affectionate because it makes him feel so good to see you feel like you’re well taken care of. because as long as you’re with him, you are.

#enhypen #enhypen x reader #kpop x black reader #enhypen fic #park jay #jake sim #sunghoon x reader #heeseung x reader #park jay x reader #atp idek what tags to use i just be doing shit lmaooo #i hope you enjoy!! this has been in the docs for a minute and it was on my mind

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