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nadvs · 17 hours

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push and pull (part two) (end)

pairing twin!rafe x female reader x twin!zach

summary life felt complicated enough when you started falling for zach. then you meet rafe. he’s the complete opposite of his twin brother, but he captures your attention just the same.

content warnings alcohol use, mental illness, mentions of parental abandonment

» intro post | part one

» masterlist

When Zach wakes up the next morning, he fully understands the term hangxiety.

His temples pound as he stares at his ceiling. At some point last night, he slipped from tipsy into drunk.

Thankfully, he didn’t get so wasted that he’s forgetting anything. But then again, that means every time he made an ass of himself is a memory etched into his brain.

He remembers welcoming his date. Having a decent time with her. Walking her downstairs. Her lips on his cheek when she kissed him goodbye. Feeling like something was missing, and then, that something wasn’t missing anymore when you came downstairs to let him in.

And he remembers looking over at you across the party. Wishing he was next to you. Feeling crappy for thinking about you while he was with another girl. Knowing he was idiot for thinking he could ignore his feelings for you and date someone else.

Talking to you in the elevator. Crap.

He buries his head into his pillow. Why did he blabber to you like that? His brother would kill him if he knew what he said. He probably already wants to kill him for loudly proclaiming how much he loves him in the hallway. Rafe’s not one for any sort of PDA.

Zach picks up his phone to text you: Trauma dumping to you was just a dream I had, right? Please tell me it didn’t actually happen.

You reply minutes later: you mean in the elevator? definitely a dream.

Despite his embarrassment, he smiles at his screen.

He replies: Sorry about that.

You send another text: it’s no problem. i’m guessing you have a pretty bad hangover.

He replies: Everything hurts.

You text back: make sure to hydrate and rest ok?

Zach smiles again. He can’t help but daydream about you coming over, taking care of him, cuddling him.

He’s worried about the consequences of things going wrong if he got into a relationship with you. But God, does he want you.

He replies: Ok :)

When he eventually leaves his bedroom, he sees Rafe lounging on the couch, still in his pajamas. Surprisingly, his brother actually tidied up.

It gives him hope that Rafe really is trying to improve himself. He’s had his fair share of meltdowns and Zach’s had a front row seat to all of them, watching his brother break down into tears, spiralling into his toxic, self-hating thoughts.

Once he calms down, every time, Rafe talks about how he knows he’s not a good person, that he wants to be better. But then, he sticks to his bad habits. He never gets the help he needs, even though Zach encourages him to.

Nonetheless, Zach never saw the bad in Rafe that he’s so adamant is there. At his worst, he can be violent, drunkenly throwing punches at parties, but Zach knows it’s a result of his emotional scars.

“Shit,” Rafe chuckles when he sees Zach. “You’re alive.”

“Barely.” Zach sinks onto the other side of the couch, closing his eyes as he tilts his head back. “You cleaned up for once.”

“Did you just say for once? I’m always cleaning up, asshole,” he mutters, making Zach laugh.

“I hope the neighbors don’t hate us,” Zach says. “The party got kinda loud last night.”

“This guy’s thinking about the neighbors,” Rafe says with a scoff. “The girl you were with looked like she was into you. Bet she would’ve stayed the night.”

“Maybe,” Zach says with a shrug, thinking back to his date.

Then, Rafe says he thinks you might be into him, too, considering he caught you staring. And Zach’s pulse picks up.

He loves and hates hearing that. Because if you really do like him back, it’s exciting, but that makes it even more crushing that he can’t pursue anything.

“Maybe,” Zach echoes.

“The fuck is wrong with you?” Rafe laughs, thinking about how good you looked last night. “I’d jump on that if I had the chance.”

“But you don’t have the chance,” Zach murmurs. “If you love me, you won’t jump on any of my friends.”

Zach sits up and looks at his brother.

“By the way, you never said you love me back last night. I’m still waiting.”

“Yeah,” Rafe snorts. “You can keep waiting.”

────୨ৎ────

On Monday morning, you finally get a response from a student you found online who’s selling a used textbook you need.

You’d rather not go by yourself, so you text the group chat: i need to go to a stranger’s house to buy a textbook tonight. is anyone down to tag along so i’m not alone?

To your relief, Zach texts the group a minute later: I got you :)

That evening, you’re knocking on his front door. Instead of Zach, though, Rafe answers.

“Hi,” you say. “Is Zach around? He’s supposed to come with me to pick a textbook up.”

“Haven’t heard him since he got home,” he says, turning to look up the stairs. “I’ll get him.”

A minute later, Rafe comes down, keys jingling in his hand.

“He’s sleeping,” he says. “I can take you. I was about to go for a drive anyway.”

“Cool,” you say. “Thanks.”

You watch him lean over to slip on his sneakers, his frame broad and tall. It’s surprising that Zach, who’s usually reliable, forgot about your plans. And that Rafe, who you’ve come to known as hot and cold, is willing to help you.

He locks the door behind him before you make your way down the hallway together.

“He must be tired after practice,” you say, well aware of the team’s training schedule.

“Yeah, when he’s asleep, he’s out.”

You smirk to yourself, imagining Zach adorably bundled up in his bed. You already know he’s going to apologize profusely once he realizes he accidentally bailed on you.

“It’s only ten minutes away,” you tell Rafe. “I just wanted someone with me since it’s some random guy I don’t know selling it.”

“Zach didn’t offer to just buy a new one for you?” he asks.

“No,” you laugh, entering the elevator. “Why would he?”

Rafe doesn’t get Zach sometimes. It’s insane that he’s not into you, that he sleeps through plans with you, that he doesn’t offer to buy you something that probably only costs a few hundred dollars.

“Want me to?” Rafe asks. You have to laugh.

“It’s okay,” you say. “I already set all this up. Do you always offer to buy girls school supplies?”

He bites his tongue. If Zach wasn’t so adamant about m not being allowed to try to hook up with you, he’d flirt and say yes, he buys all kinds of things for beautiful girls.

“Not always,” he settles for.

The elevator doors open. You enter the parking garage and follow Rafe to his car, settling into the cushioned passenger seat. He starts the engine, then offers the cable hooked up his radio to you.

“Already know you have good taste,” Rafe says. You smile, plugging your phone in.

You’re Zach’s friend, but he figures you can be his friend, too. Because he wants to get to know what he can about you, to flatter you and joke with you and talk to you, even though the night won’t be ending with you in his bed. He has fun with you. He’ll take what he can get.

He backs out of his parking spot, putting his hand against the back of your headrest as he looks through the rear window. You gaze up at his profile, taking in just how handsome he is, how nice his cologne smells.

Rafe doesn’t know the song you put on, but he likes it. He turns forward in his seat, driving out of the garage.

You chat about your days and even though it’s small-talk, it doesn’t feel like it. There’s an ease with Rafe that you can’t really compare to with anyone else.

Still, he’s kind of intimidating, but you naturally want to keep challenging this way he makes you feel, cracking the wall he has up.

When you reach the house at the end of a dark street, Rafe parks in the driveway, turns his key and takes it out of ignition.

“You can wait here,” you offer.

“Nah,” he mumbles. He unbuckles his seatbelt. “I’m not letting you go alone.”

With Rafe standing behind you as you knock on the front door, the feeling of him protecting you is intoxicating, making your heart pound harder.

The door swings open and you greet the man you’ve been messaging. He’s holding the textbook you need and when you offer him four twenties, he looks through the bills and shakes his head.

“We said $100,” he says.

“No,” you reply. “$80. You said $80 was good.”

“I don’t think so.”

“I have the texts to prove it,” you laugh in disbelief.

“Really, man?” Rafe mutters. “Just give her the book.”

“$100,” he repeats.

“Forget it,” Rafe says. He steps forward, roughly taking your money out of his hand and pulling you by the waist. “I’ll just get you a new one.”

“No, wait,” the guy calls. “$80’s fine.”

“Get fucked,” Rafe mutters. You follow him to the car, still mentally catching up to what just happened. “Trying to scam you over twenty dollars. What a joke.”

You settle in the car, feeling Rafe’s warm, big hand curl your fingers open so he can give you your money back.

He’s fuming, beyond pissed off that someone would try to trick you like that. He’s glad you didn’t come by yourself to have to deal with this idiot alone. And he’s not sure how Zach would’ve handled it.

“How much is a new book?” he asks.

“Like, $250,” you tell him.

“I got it covered, alright?” he says. “Give me your phone.”

You comply, still a little jarred but appreciating how quickly he swept in to help you. You watch him enter digits, call himself to get your number, then hang up.

He returns your phone and takes his out, taps on your number, and quickly opens up a bank app.

“You really don’t have to,” you say.

“It’s fine.”

Within a minute, he sends you $250. It’s bizarre how he’s acting like that much money is nothing. Like he’s giving you change he owes you.

Rafe exhales slowly, starting his car again, coming down from the daze. This happens a lot. It’s like he blacks out when he gives in to his impulses.

But what can he do? He has a weak spot for you and he hates the idea of someone doing you wrong, of him not helping you when he’s totally capable of it.

He scratches his forehead. Zach’s words resonate in his head, telling him he needs to cool down and think before he does things. Sometimes his temper flares with no warning.

He’s sure he came off way too intense. He doesn’t know how to apologize for it. Before he can speak, you do.

“Can you come with me every time I have to buy something?” you say lightheartedly. It eases some of the tension in his chest.

“Was that too much?” he says, tone low.

You smile to yourself. You wouldn’t call it too much. He seems like he’s an intense, passionate person. Beneath the surface, Rafe feels more than he lets on.

“You didn’t let a guy con me, then you bought me a $250 book,” you reply with a laugh. “Trust me, you’re good. Thank you.”

Your phone buzzes with a text from Zach as you back out of the driveway. Crap I’m so sorry. I don’t even remember falling asleep. Did you come over?

You reply: all good! i figured you were exhausted. rafe went with me.

“Guess who’s awake,” you say, the smile apparent in your tone. Rafe glances over at your profile as you text back.

He hates this about himself, the envy that pushes him to be sure that Zach is so much better than him. That every girl, if given the chance, would pick his brother over him.

“So, you were going to go for a drive?” you say, tucking your phone away. Because of his kind gestures tonight, you’re pretty sure that he likes hanging out with you. “Want company?”

Rafe taps his hand against the steering wheel. Even if this is just platonic, he doesn’t want you to leave his car.

“If I can pick the music,” he says.

“You said I had good taste.”

“Mine’s better.”

You laugh, and because he held your waist just a few minutes ago, you don’t feel apprehensive to touch him. You nudge his shoulder. He smirks.

An hour goes by like a minute. When Rafe and you part, your cheeks hurt from how much you’ve been smiling and laughing with him.

You talked together nonstop, touching on the most random subjects, finding similarities and differences. You have a deep crush on him. There’s no denying it.

When Rafe watches you step out of his car, he realizes that this isn’t just attraction like he’s used to. He feels like he knows you. And he likes you. It’s exciting and scary.

When Rafe makes it home, Zach is in the kitchen, the whole loft smelling like delicious food.

“You actually remembered how to get home?” Zach teases over the sound of ingredients sizzling in a pan.

“Lost track of time,” Rafe says. He settles on a barstool as Zach stands at the range, trying not to burn dinner.

Zach is glad his back is to his brother, because when Rafe tells him that he was with you that entire time, driving around and talking, his eyebrows furrow in anger and jealousy before he can subdue it.

“But before you lose your shit,” Rafe adds, “it was all friendly, okay?”

“Right,” Zach mumbles. He stares down at the pan, trying to breathe through his prickly frustration. He’s unbelievably mad at himself for falling asleep after practice.

You can do whatever you want, he knows that, but he feels that even though it’s just as a friend, you’re his, not Rafe’s. And his brother getting to spend time with you feels painfully unfair.

────୨ৎ────

The bright stadium lights pool over the deep green soccer field. It’s a cool evening, perfect for a match.

Cold seeps in through your jeans as you sit on the metal bench on the sideline. You have your phone at the ready to film the team as they rush the field for a home game.

You’ve grown to love your job. You found great friends, the TikTok account is earning more traction, and you’ve started to genuinely enjoy coming out to games and cheering on your school’s team.

It’s been almost a week since your night with Rafe. You haven’t seen him or Zach since. You welcome the distance. Liking them both is ridiculously confusing.

Minutes pass. The crowd is getting louder. The team still isn’t out on the field. Your dad runs a tight ship, so it’s weird that they’re late.

You head into the stadium tunnel towards the locker room, curiosity nagging you. A group of players are standing outside the door and you approach Chance.

“What’s going on?” you ask.

“Something’s up with Zach,” Chance tells you. Alarm rushes through you and you step into the locker room without a second thought.

Zach’s sitting on the bench by his locker, hunched over, surrounded by your dad, the team’s medic, and a few other players.

“Is everything okay?” you ask.

Zach looks up at you. His eyes are sunken, his lips parted. And then, he loses consciousness.

When his eyelids flutter open, the brightness of the room is so painful that he has to squint.

“He’s up,” he hears. It’s you. He hasn’t heard your voice in a while. He misses it.

He slowly comes to, realizing he’s in a hospital bed. You’re sitting to his left. The team medic is standing at the end of the bed with a doctor. He’s hooked up to an IV.

“What happened?” he rasps.

“You’re dehydrated,” the medic explains, leaning over to hand a plastic cup of water to Zach. “You’re at Trinity Hospital. You’re okay. Drink.”

Zach weakly picks it up, downing the cool water, his throat feeling raw. He rolls his head to look at you again. He knows it’s wrong, but he’s relieved that you look so concerned for him. That you’re here.

The doctor introduces herself, then explains that Zach was unconscious for so long that she’d prefer to keep him overnight to monitor him.

The news makes everything in him twist with worry and frustration. He just wants to go home. He doesn’t want Rafe to spiral.

“Okay,” he says. “I’m alright, though?”

“I’m not worried,” the doctor replies. “I just want to be sure you’re in good shape before I send you home.”

Within a few minutes, the doctor leaves the room. Then, the medic encourages Zach to drink more fluids, calls the coach to update him, and asks if you want to head back together now that you’re sure Zach’s okay.

You politely decline. You’re too worried to leave him alone so fast. And shortly after, it’s just you two in the room, listening to the beeps of Zach’s pulse.

“Dehydrated?” you say playfully, but still worried. “What the hell, Cameron?”

“I know,” he says with a smile. He regrets going hard at the gym today. He’s sure that’s what did it. “Rookie move.”

“I specifically told you to hydrate like, two days ago.”

Zach’s laugh is boyish. He reaches for your hand and squeezes. You remind yourself it’s likely nothing more than a friendly gesture.

“That was hangover advice,” he says. His thumb strokes over the back of your hand.

“It was life advice, actually.” You inhale slowly. “I’m glad you’re okay.”

He lets go of your hand, remembering you can hear his pulse right now and not wanting to risk you witnessing it beat faster.

“It was way more than two days ago, by the way,” he says. He threads his fingers through his hair, suddenly self-conscious of how bad he must look right now. “Where’ve you been?”

You look down at your lap. You’ve been declining all the invitations to hang out in the group chat because the past few days have been so confusing.

Seeing Zach with another girl was painful, and then, you realized just how unimportant you felt to him when he slept through your plans, even though it was by mistake. You need time and space to stop liking him before you can hang out again.

“School’s been kicking my ass,” you lie.

“Do you need help?” he asks. He’d do anything to have you around again.

“Leave it to you to be in a hospital bed asking if you can help,” you mumble. Zach laughs. You try and fail not to fawn over his perfect smile.

“Did I faint in front of everybody?” he says, fixing his hair again.

“Not everybody,” you half-laugh. “But, seriously, everyone was really worried. We all care about you a lot.”

His heart warms. He may be in the hospital, but right now, he’s grateful for having people who care about him. It’s all he ever wanted.

“Thanks for coming with me,” Zach says softly. “And for staying.”

You nod. You were so worried that you told your dad you were going with the paramedics when they arrived, not even considering that you had work to do, that Zach was already taken care of.

“Of course,” you reply. “You said you don’t like being alone, remember? In that dream you had?”

Zach huffs a laugh and looks away, embarrassed as he thinks about that night in the elevator, but still appreciative.

“Did anyone call my brother?” he asks.

“I texted him that I’m with you at the hospital. He hasn’t replied yet.”

Zach nods and thanks you. He tries not to fixate on the fact that you have Rafe’s number. He looks at the clock hanging on the wall to see it’s late in the evening. He figures Rafe’s out with friends or with a girl, not paying attention to his phone.

He wishes he could just talk to him. With every second that passes, he worries more and more about Rafe’s reaction to him being here.

“I should’ve grabbed your phone from the locker room so you could talk to him directly,” you say regretfully. “But I told Chance to get your things for you after the game. Is there anyone else I should contact?”

Admittedly, you’re bracing yourself for him to mention the girl from the other night. Or any girl, really. But he only shakes his head no.

A nurse comes in to remind you that visiting hours are up soon. Zach sits up, visibly on edge, asking her when he can have visitors tomorrow. She tells him 9 a.m.

Knowing he won’t be able to see his brother in person tonight makes him anxious.

After the nurse leaves, Zach frantically asks if he can send a voice-note to Rafe on your phone. You open the conversation and hand your phone to Zach, noticing the nervous way he’s chewing on his lip.

“Hey,” he says into the speaker. “It’s nothing. I passed out from dehydration and I’m at Trinity and they’re keeping me overnight just to be sure I’m good, but the doctor’s not worried.”

His eyes flit to you and he swallows hard.

“This is nothing like the last time, okay? I know your mind’s gonna go there and this is not even close,” he continues. “You can come see me at nine tomorrow. And you better bring me food.”

Zach ends the recording, sends it, and gives you back your phone.

“Thanks,” he breathes. You nod, your eyebrows knitting in confusion and worry.

“Sure,” you say. “Is there anything I can do?”

Zach scratches the back of his neck.

“When he answers, please tell him that you saw for yourself that I’m okay,” he says. “He might be a little freaked out.”

You agree, not wanting to pry, and start to collect your things. There’s no television in the room and you feel bad that Zach’ll be left alone with nothing to entertain him. You want to help.

You tell him you’ll be right back, then rush downstairs at a vending machine you saw when you came in. After, you drop by the gift shop. It’s closed, the flowers and balloons locked up, but you’re still able to pick up a book sitting on a rack.

You leave behind more than enough cash for the book on the counter and go back to Zach’s room.

“Snacks,” you say breathlessly when you enter, dropping the bags of chips and candy and the paperback on the bed, “and a book. Hopefully, this’ll keep you entertained. And don’t tell my dad about the junk food. You know how he is about an athlete’s diet.”

Zach smiles at you, his eyes soft. With everything you’ve done tonight, you could simply be showing what a good friend you are, but what if you feel something for him, too?

The mention of his coach is reminder enough of why he doesn’t pursue this. It could get messy. But maybe he should be more like his brother. Taking risks. Allowing himself to do what he wants to do.

“I should go,” you sigh, looking at the clock. “Feel better, okay? We don’t stand a chance of winning without you.”

He laughs, his eyes lingering on you.

“Thanks,” Zach says. You turn to leave. He stops you with a gentle, “Hey.”

You stop, turning back to look at him. Zach takes you in, how good he feels when you’re around, how there’s still a little bit of worry written into your cute features.

He won’t tell you that he wants to you to be his girlfriend. Not like this, when he’s hooked up to monitors, stuck in a bed. He’ll do it when he’s out of here. He’ll do it when he can hold your face in his hands and tell you how much you mean to him.

“Seriously, thank you,” he tells you. “You’re amazing.” You smile at him again. If only he knew how much his words mean to you.

“You’re welcome,” you say.

You’re pacing through the parking lot when your phone buzzes. It’s Rafe calling you. You answer quickly. He says your name, his voice strained.

“I’m here. Is it too late to see him?”

“Yeah, visiting hours are over. I’m just leaving now,” you say, looking around the dark lot in case you can spot him. “But, honestly, he’s okay.”

“Does he…” Rafe pauses. “I think I see you.”

You approach each other under the starry sky, meeting by a line of parked cars.

His eyes are glossy. He’s been crying. No wonder Zach was so worried. He must have known the effect this would have on his brother. There’s more to this than you realize.

“Hi,” you say softly, ending the call. “It’s okay. He’s acting totally like himself.”

“He doesn’t have his phone?”

“No,” you say. “But I made sure someone’ll pick his stuff up for him.”

“What happened?”

“Before the game tonight, he was in the locker room and he looked really tired,” you explain. “He passed out, but he was already sitting and someone caught him, so he didn’t hit his head or anything. They have him on an IV and drinking lots of fluids.”

“Okay,” he mutters. “Fuck. I was at a bar and I wasn’t checking my phone… I got into a cab as fast as I could.”

“It’s okay,” you console him. “He’s good. He was more worried about you than himself.”

Rafe sighs, hands on his hips as he looks down and paces back and forth, hair hanging over his head. You can hear him panting.

“He was worried about me?”

“Yeah.”

“What’d he say?” Rafe asks the question the same tense way he did the night of the party. He’s so closed off, clearly upset at the thought of you knowing anything he doesn’t want you to know.

“I heard the voice-note he sent you,” you admit, “and he said you might be freaked out, but he didn’t tell me anything else. I didn’t ask. It’s not my business.”

Rafe chews on his lip the same nervous way Zach does. For once, you see a similarity between them.

His breathing gets even shallower. He rests his hands on the rear window of the van parked next to him. His body curls forward. His skin is flushed.

You step a little closer, searching his face in the light of the lamps lining the parking lot. He’s distraught.

“Rafe,” you say quietly.

His stare is on the ground, his chest heaving now. Something bad has been triggered in him.

“Hey,” you say.

“You can go home now,” he mutters breathlessly.

“I’m not leaving you like this,” you say. You take a risk, placing a hand on his back, feeling it rise and fall quickly.

“I think you’re having a panic attack,” you say evenly. “I get that this is scary, but I promise you, everything’s okay. Zach is okay.”

Rafe’s chest is tight. His veins are made of ice. He feels like punching something. He hates this familiar loss of control, this shock of the world crumbling around him with no warning.

Yet while he thought that he’d hate someone touching him like this, that he’d hate being so vulnerable, he actually feels a little better.

You continue to rub his back, sweetly and tenderly. The touches he shares with girls are never like this. They’re always superficial, fuelled by lust. But this feels like real, sincere care.

“You took a cab here?” you ask.

“Yeah,” he rasps.

“Did you talk to the driver?”

“What?”

“Did you?” you say. “What kind of car was it?”

It’s all in an effort to distract him, and while Rafe stammers his way through his answers about the driver and the car and the bar he was at, you notice his breathing start to even out.

Minutes later, his heart isn’t racing as fast. His chest isn’t as tight. He can think clearer.

He’s embarrassed, but relieved you were here to talk him down before he ran into the hospital and demanded to see his brother. He now realizes how bad that could’ve gone.

“I don’t…” he stammers. He doesn’t know how to say that this doesn’t happen all that often, that this is a piece of him he typically buries deep from everyone.

“What?”

“You probably think I’m crazy.” Saying the word out loud hurts more than he expected. It’s what he’s felt all his life, that something isn’t wired right in his brain.

“No. I get it,” you say. You shake your head. “I mean, I don’t know what happened, but… I’m guessing he was in the hospital for something before, right?”

Rafe meets your eyes, straightening.

“I get why you’re freaked out,” you say. “I would be, too. Memories can mess with us.”

The way you just calmed him down, the sympathy in your tone, the alcohol swimming in his system are what push him to actually be honest with someone for once in a long time.

“We almost lost him,” he admits. “A long time ago.”

Your face falls in sorrow, eyes searching his face. He looks down at the ground, too uncomfortable to meet your gaze again.

“I almost lost him,” Rafe mumbles, his voice thin. Because, really, he knows he would’ve felt the loss the hardest. His brother is the most important person in his life. Always has been.

And to lose him, someone so irreplaceable, someone he was with from the moment he was a living thing, would kill him. Zach’s right, even though he’s joking, that Rafe doesn’t tell him he loves him enough.

“I’m so sorry,” you say. “How old were you?”

“Fourteen,” Rafe says.

It was mere months after their mother abandoned them, saying she couldn’t stay with their father anymore, that she did everything she could do as a mom, that she was done.

It left a hole in Rafe that he feels every day. If Zach feels it, he does an incredible job hiding it.

He still doesn’t know what the final straw was. Why fourteen years of her sons’ lives was enough for her. How could a parent decide that they had enough of their kids forever?

She wasn’t the best mom, unpredictable and erratic, but he loved her. There had to be something wrong with her mind for her to act like that. To leave. Something that Rafe is sure skipped Zach and was passed on to him.

“That’s so young,” you say sadly.

“He was really sick for a while.” Rafe’s heart twists thinking about it.

How a freak case of pneumonia had Zach bedridden, his lungs fighting to keep breathing. How mad Rafe was at his brother, as if he did it on purpose. How sure he was that in some twisted way, his mother’s sudden abandonment triggered it.

He still regrets how he acted when Zach was discharged. He couldn’t talk to him for days. He was too angry for scaring him into thinking he was going to lose his best friend, his anchor.

“How long?” you ask.

“Weeks,” Rafe tells you. “And you know Zach. He kept telling everyone he was fine. Even as a kid, he didn’t want people to worry about him.”

“He is like that, isn’t he?” you say with a soft chuckle. Since you met Zach, you quickly learned he dismisses any notion of needing any sort of help. “But I promise, this isn’t one of those cases. I saw for myself. He’s good. I wouldn’t lie about that.”

Rafe nods quickly, finally looking at you.

“You’ll see him tomorrow,” you say with a small smile, sad but touched that he opened up to you like this. “Until then, just try to relax.”

Rafe loves the feeling of your hand on him. He can’t remember the last time he loved someone’s touch. If he ever even did.

He’s keeping his promise to Zach. He won’t hook up with you. Because he wants more than that. He wants to know you and for you to know him. He wants you to stay the night, every night. He wants you to be his.

And he needs to be sure you don’t feel anything for his brother.

“Are you and him…” He swallows hard. “Is there anything there?”

Your forehead crinkles in confusion. Zach had told you that his brother was his best friend. You’re sure he would’ve told him if he felt something for you.

If he has to ask, Zach must not talk about you much at all. You’re nothing but a friend to him. Although you do have feelings for him, you were right to be apprehensive from the start. He doesn’t like you like that.

“No,” you finally say.

Rafe nods. At least there’s no unrequited feelings on either side. He must have been reading into things, imagining you looking at his brother a certain way.

“You wanna grab some food?” Rafe asks impulsively.

You agree. Right now, there’s nothing else you’d rather do.

Rafe’s been on a handful of dates before, but sitting across from you at a quiet late-night diner, sobering up, getting to know you more and more makes him feel like he’s living in a dream.

He’s never felt this way about a girl before. Scared in a good way. Slowly, he opens up little by little, peeling back layers of the wall he’s been hiding behind for years.

He shares what happened with his mom. How Zach was the strong one, while Rafe acted out and made his life hell. You take in every word, seeing just how much guilt and shame and pain he carries around.

You open up, too, sharing things you don’t tell many people. He’s a good listener, and the eyes you thought didn’t have much hope behind them at first aren’t cold at all by the end of the night.

It’s one in the morning when you part ways. Rafe shares a cab with you, making sure you get dropped off first, watching you step through the front door.

Everything in him wants to invite you to his place, but things are going to be different with you. He won’t rush into numbing himself with sex like he always does, because he refuses to be numb or absent or checked out with you in any way.

────୨ৎ────

“What kind of grown man forgets to drink water?”

Zach looks up from his orange juice to see Rafe walking into his hospital room.

He chuckles, asking Rafe not to give him shit for this because you already did. The mention of your name makes Rafe’s heart feel lighter in this tense moment.

Because of how good it felt to be so open with you last night, expressing just how important Zach is to him, remembering everything they’d gone through together, Rafe doesn’t shy away from leaning over to hug his brother, who stiffens in his bed.

“Uh, good morning to you, too?” Zach laughs. “Is this a hug? What the hell? Who are you?”

“I love you, too,” Rafe mumbles, pulling back and holding up a paper bag of breakfast for him. “And I got you your food, princess.”

“You try eating hospital food,” Zach replies, taking the bag, feeling ravenous.

Rafe settles on the chair, remembering his brother at fourteen, picking apart at the food they served him with a look of disgust, yet telling the nurses ‘it’s good, thank you’ when they asked if he was enjoying his meal.

Rafe urged his dad to bring his brother home-cooked food almost every day of his hospital stay. It was one of the little ways he showed up for Zach, taking care of him instead of the other way around for once.

“What’d the doctor say?” Rafe asks. “Do you feel better?”

“She hasn’t come to see me yet, but I feel totally fine.” Zach digs into his breakfast. “How are you?”

Rafe looks down at his lap, sighing before he speaks.

“I freaked out,” Rafe admits. Zach stills. “She told me you said I would and you were right. But, man… she knew exactly what to do.”

“It happened when you were with her?” Zach knows what Rafe’s breakdowns look like. He has full-blown panic attacks. He’s nearly inconsolable. He wonders how jarring that must have been for you.

“Out in the parking lot,” he says. “It was just too much. All that shit came rushing back.”

Rafe shrugs, defeated. Sometimes, he’s able to give into the fact that he can do nothing but surrender to the chaos in his mind. He felt safe doing it in front of you last night. He felt safe every second he was with you.

“Are you okay now?” Zach asks. He notices the hint of a smile in Rafe’s face. A brightness he hasn’t seen in him in a long time.

“Yeah,” Rafe says. “I gotta ask you something, though.”

“What?”

“Does ‘off limits’ mean I can’t date her?”

“Date her?” Zach repeats, in disbelief. “You want to date her? Like, commit to her? You don’t commit to anyone.”

Rafe breathes a chuckle, pursing his lips.

“Well, now, I want to.”

“Are you serious?”

“Yeah.”

Rafe looks like he got rid of a ten-ton weight that was sitting on his shoulders. He’s relaxed. He’s content. Zach can’t remember the last time he saw him like this.

Zach became hyperaware of other people’s emotions at a young age. When their parents would argue, he saw what it did to Rafe, who would shut down and lash out. Zach would distract his brother in every way he could.

Then their mom left and it became ten times harder to keep Rafe steady. But Zach did it and he never stopped trying. Because helping others, putting their feelings first, really does make Zach happy.

But right now, he feels really far from happy.

He looks down at his food. He had it all planned out. He’d get in his best clothes, find a nice place to take you, give you a whole speech about how he hasn’t stopped thinking about you for days and how happy you make him and how happy he could make you.

“She feels the same way? Did something happen between you?” Zach asks. His chest is a hole. A pit.

“Nothing happened,” Rafe says, scratching the back of his neck.

It was nearly impossible for Rafe not to give into the impulse to hold your hand in the booth you sat at together last night and tell you how pretty you are and how much fun he has with you.

But he really does want to be a better person. He wants to think before he acts. And that means checking in with Zach that he’s okay with this, considering how tense he is about Rafe getting involved with his friends.

“But I think she might like me, too,” Rafe says. “And I made sure she’s not into you. I guess I was just reading into stuff before.”

That’s the moment Zach’s heart breaks. He licks his lips, his stare low. So, you would’ve just rejected him.

“You really like her?” he asks after a moment.

“Yeah,” Rafe says.

“Why?”

“Don’t make me be corny,” he groans.

Zach’s head is pounding. He wants to be mad at Rafe. But he had so many opportunities to tell him that he likes you, and he was too chicken to admit it. And now, his brother is falling for you. And he looks so happy doing it.

“You’re gonna have to be corny,” Zach says. “I need to be sure you’re not just messing around.”

Rafe sighs. It’s always Zach doing this, gushing over a girl, freaking out over if she hasn’t texted him back, getting all nervous before a date. Rafe used to tease him about it. He gets it now, though.

“You suck,” Rafe scoffs, tensing up. It’s hard for him to talk like this, but he forces the words out. “I don’t know. I like who I am when I’m around her. And it’s… when she’s in the room, everything’s better, you know?”

“Yeah,” Zach says. He knows. He feels the exact same way.

“Is that corny enough for you?” Rafe says with a scoff. “Are you cool with this or no?”

Zach chews his food slowly only to buy time before he has to speak again. He’s trying to act unbothered and it’s working, considering how in the clouds Rafe seems.

He has no idea that Zach is falling for you. Because he’s too busy doing it, too.

He meets his brother’s eyes. He takes a deep breath. And, because Rafe’s happiness has always been more important to him than his own, he gives him his blessing.

“Go for it,” Zach says. “And don’t hurt her.”

He’s never felt so bitter. He hates that he hopes you’ll have a change of heart. He hates that he feels like he’d treat you better. He hates all of this. But he stays silent.

────୨ৎ────

You’re having a late breakfast when Zach replies to your text asking to keep you updated.

Doctor cleared me. I’m home and I got my stuff from Chance. Thanks for everything.

His message is cold compared to how he usually texts. But maybe he’s just tired from the hospital stay.

You gaze out your window, thinking about everything that happened last night. Rafe isn’t as different from Zach as you first thought. Behind his hard exterior, he’s sensitive and gentle and so badly wants to be loved.

He confessed to feeling like something was missing in him since he can remember. The look in his eyes when you told him that to you, he seems perfectly whole, is one you won’t forget.

Being with him for hours was a wonderful haze. You didn’t want to part. He made you feel heard. It’s a joy that you’ve been lacking for a long time.

Minutes later, Rafe texts you asking if he can take you out to dinner tonight. You smile at your screen. You love how you don’t have to wonder about if he wants you.

The restaurant he drives you to is lavish and elegant. Rafe is unbelievably handsome across the table over the candlelight, his dark button-up making his eyes look all the more blue. Your stomach is full of butterflies, yet a sense of calm fills you when you’re with him.

You pick up where you left off, conversation flowing without any effort. He looks at you like you put the stars in the sky. You’re sure you look at him the same way.

When Rafe pulls the car up to your place, in an effort to keep you from leaving right away, he presses his palm against the back of your hand.

“Did you have a good time?” he asks, tone low, adorably nervous.

“Of course. Did you?”

Rafe chuckles at the question. Good doesn’t begin to cover it.

“You’re…” he begins.

“I’m what?” you laugh.

He squeezes your hand gently, turning it so he can lace his fingers with yours. The contact is warm, his ring hard but smooth against your skin. Your heart pounds in your ears as he stares at you.

“Beautiful,” he says. “In every way.”

His tone is sincere and firm. He says it like it’s a fact.

“And I want to keep doing this,” he says. “Seeing you. If you want to keep seeing me, too.”

“I do,” you say. When he leans forward, his kiss is soft but hungry, making your mind spin.

Zach fakes a headache when Rafe gets home. All he needs to hear is that the date went well. He doesn’t want the details.

────୨ৎ────

You’re wrapped in Rafe’s arms, your back flush against his chest, as music and chatter float through the air around you.

You’re settled on his couch, talking with your friends as the party rages. Rafe’s still getting used to what it means to be a boyfriend, tense and quiet around your friends, but he’d get used to anything if it meant making you happy.

You’ve only been dating a few weeks, but he’s sure if this isn’t love, he’s damn close to it. Aside from his brother, you’re his best friend.

You smile when you feel Rafe’s lips press against the side of your neck. He’s ridiculously affectionate, touching you whenever he can, spoiling you, whispering sweet things to you all the time. He’s completely unguarded.

Zach’s in the kitchen, as far away from you as he physically can be. After the hospital, he hasn’t been himself at all. You can tell he’s trying to be, though, forcing smiles around you.

It makes no sense. He called you amazing that night. But, then, he pulled away. It’s like he’s mad at you for dating his brother, but he refuses to admit it.

You’ve asked him multiple times if things are good between you. He reassured you over and over that they are.

Maybe someone else would believe him, but after you pined for him for so long, you can read when he’s trying to hide that he’s upset. At parties, at casual get-togethers, even at work when you’re making content for the team, he’s absent-minded and disinterested.

And whatever’s wrong, he prefers to hold inside.

Nonetheless, while your feelings for Zach have faded, you genuinely hope he’s happy and that you can be friends with him again one day.

The next morning, you wake up in Rafe’s bed. His arm is around your waist, his breath warm against your back. He’s still snoozing when you slip out of bed to get water.

Zach’s sitting at the kitchen island, staring down at his coffee. It’s almost funny how just over three months ago, you were here for the first time, yearning for Zach to give you a hint that he liked you. Now, you’re falling for Rafe.

“Morning,” you say kindly.

Zach looks up from his coffee. His smile doesn’t meet his eyes.

“Hey.”

You open the fridge, the awful feeling he’s been giving you lately sitting heavy on your heart. He makes you feel unwelcome, which is something you never expected from him.

“Just getting some water,” you say, searching through the shelves. “He’s definitely gonna wake up with a headache.”

Zach tenses. You’re doing for Rafe what he daydreamed you doing for him. Sharing a bed with him, nursing his hangover, touching him and smiling at him and giving him what Zach would die for.

You look so pretty in the morning, your bedhead adorable, your pajamas complimenting your figure. Why won’t his heart just catch up with his mind? He keeps telling himself to get over you.

He notices that you have Rafe’s ring on your finger. He used to imagine you wearing his things. He’d love to see you in his team hoodie. But he never will.

In another world, you’re in this kitchen as his girlfriend, talking about last night’s party, sharing kisses and laughs. But not in this world.

“I never asked you,” you say, your back to him, “how was that book I got you?”

You hope it serves as a reminder for how much you did for him and how much you care about him. It hurts, the way he’s been keeping you at a distance.

Late at night, as your mind drifts away from you when you try to fall asleep, you’ve considered the possibility of Zach being upset because he’s jealous of Rafe and wants to be with you.

But Rafe told you he checked with Zach to make sure your relationship was okay with him and he even said he didn’t feel anything for you. Maybe Zach thinks you’re not good enough for his brother and he’s too nice to actually say it out loud.

“Good,” Zach says.

You grab two water bottles and close the fridge door. One word is all he’s willing to say to you.

You can’t do it again. You can’t ask him for the hundredth time if you did something wrong, just for him to say you didn’t and he’s sorry that he made you feel like you did.

You leave him alone in the kitchen, padding up the stairs. Zach looks down at his coffee again. His eyes are starting to burn with tears.

He wants to remind his brother that they agreed they wouldn’t let people overstay. And you being here for even one night feels like overstaying. He can’t have you and every time he’s reminded of that, it hurts.

He can’t stop thinking about that night in the elevator and wishing that instead of drunkenly rambling about his brother, he rambled about his feelings for you. At least then, everything would have been out in the open long before you really got to know Rafe.

The girl he met through the video messaged him last night, asking if he was up to hang out again. She’s cute and nice. But she’s not you. And it’d be wrong to pursue someone just to numb the pain of not having you.

That’s all he wants. You. And because he was such a coward, he’ll never have you. Maybe at some point, he had a chance. Maybe you would have grown feelings for him if he was honest with you.

But you seem happy. So does Rafe, who actually wants hold you and kiss you in public. He was never like that with any other girl.

Zach realizes that while he was always so sure he coped with everything that life hurled at them better than Rafe, he wasn’t paying attention to how destructive he is to himself. His martyrdom was never a virtue.

He’s too late. He self-sabotaged. He has nobody to blame for his aching loneliness but himself. That’s the most heartbreaking part of this whole thing.

Rafe’s hair is tousled, his smile lazy when you come back to bed.

“Thought you left me,” he murmurs tiredly into your hair, pulling you tight against his warm body. You smile, your cheek pressed against his chest, breathing in his comforting scent.

Rafe’s sure you can feel his pulse on your cheek. He feels like you own every beat of his heart.

“I wouldn’t leave you,” you tell him.

The tension from what happened downstairs leaves your system. You swallow down the tears that threatened to fall when you left the kitchen.

You plant a kiss on Rafe’s chest. You know where you’re wanted. And you’re happiest staying there.

(the end)

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hxney-lemcn · 18 hours

Text

Not so Long Distance — Idia Shroud x gn! reader

summery: with the seconds ticking down, everyone has a certain amount of time before they meet their soulmate, you just hope yours is your online crush.

tw: awkward encounters, reader isn't Yuu.

a/n: I'm in my Idia phase, help. Also, my first soulmate fic I'm proud of.

wc: 2.6k

Master List

The countdown on your wrist that had once been a beacon of hope and excitement slowly turned into one of doom. The idea of meeting your soulmate was terrifying yet exciting. Meeting someone that you fit perfectly with was mystifying, and the underlying fear of rejection scared you, but overall you would accept your soulmates wishes. But now? Something you never even thought of happened.

You’re falling for someone you met online, but your timer is still ticking.

With the internet still being new, and research into how it could affect the soulmate mark is still going on, you’re not sure if you should lose hope yet. For all you knew, the mark didn’t register when two people meet from separate distances…but you felt like you were coping with that explanation. You had met him online months ago, and every bad joke or insult towards a shitty player made you laugh, everytime he laughed at your bad jokes your stomach fluttered. It was embarrassing in a sense, you were falling for someone you hadn’t even seen yet. What if he was tricking you and he was some old man? But you doubted it, he sounded young and the way he talked was even outdoing modern slang. In fact, you even brought up this train of thought one day while you were on a call playing separate games.

“Y’know, for all I know you’re some fifty year old guy,” You said in a joking tone, farming your crops in game.

“Hah?” Gloomuri, or Gloom as you’ve dubbed him, let out a noise of confusion. “Are you really that dumb?”

“What’s that supposed to mean!” You huffed, accidentally hitting a plant that still needed to grow mature causing you a slight profit loss on your farm. “I just mean that I’ve never seen your face. Even though I know you, if I saw you on the street I’d never realize.”

The call fell silent for a few seconds, but to you it felt like minutes. You were propositioning something that felt like crossing a small boundary that was set. A video call. Something you were nervous about as well since that meant showing your own face. But IGloom had snuck his way into becoming one of your top, if not closest friend over the past few months. He’d drone on about some game drama you had almost no idea about, while he’d listen to your ‘normie’ drama (as he dubbed it) about school or friends. Although you’d say the best moments were when you’d both geek out over games or anime together, fighting on who the best character is and what your favorite part was.

“Y-you wanna do a…video call?” Gloom hesitantly asked, you could hear the nerves in his tone which caused you to backtrack.

“We don’t have to if you don’t wanna, I’m not trying to pressure you,” You assured. “I’m just a bit curious.

A few more seconds passed before he spoke up, voice even shakier than before, “Y-you’d show your f-face too…right?”

You fidgeted with your computer mouse, his nerves starting to get to you, “It’s only fair I suppose…” When you clicked on the call, unsure where this was going, you were surprised to see his camera on, but covered. “Wait, you mean right now?” You asked.

“D-did you not mean right now?” He replied back, his voice an octave higher.

“I-I just don’t…I’m not the most presentable,” You muttered back, looking at your reflection in the black of your phone screen. You pushed some of your hair back into place, fixing the collar of your sweater. Oh gosh, you were going to finally see what your crush looks like!

“I don’t either,” Gloom mumbled, continuing to mumble something under his breath that you couldn’t make out. “N-never mind, never doing this-”

“W-wait!” You called out, turning your camera on as soon as you were out of sight. “I’ll do it, just don’t judge me too hard, okay?” Another few seconds before he meekly replied a small ‘ok’. “On the count of three. One…two…three.”

Just like that, your breath got taken away. On the other side of the camera was a pale guy with blue flaming hair and…wait a minute…didn’t someone exactly like him go to your campus? You blinked at him with wide eyes, snapping out of your daze when he shied away from your gaze.

“Do I know you?” You asked dumbly, snapping Gloom out of his own daze. It was his turn to blink at you before he tilted his head.

If he moved his hand away from the bottom of his face you’d notice a sharp smirk overtake his handsome features, “I’d hope so, we’ve been talking for how long?”

“That’s not what I meant,” You huffed once more that night. “You look like a guy that goes to my campus.”

“Really?” Gloom asked, unbelievably skeptical. “‘Cus not many people have blue flaming hair.”

You rolled your eyes, glad that convo was back to your playful banter, “I’ve never actually seen him. Only heard about him once from my irl friends. And yes, he was described as having fiery hair.”

“...Where do you go to school?” He asked, suddenly serious.

You gave him a skeptical look, “And why should I give you my current location? So you can stalk me?”

“I could find out in one click if I wanted,” He shrugged, amber eyes showing he was completely serious.

“Thanks for not doxxing me I guess…” You grumbled, a bit put off. “I go to Night Raven College.” The silence was loud after that revolution before he broke it.

“I guess you do know me irl.”

That call had changed something in your friendship. The space between y’all had seemed to get smaller as you both grew more comfortable with one another, nearly having calls everyday. Now that you knew what eachother looked like, you’d have some video calls sprinkled in, and your raging crush seemed to only grow stronger. Now you had a pretty face to put to his lovely deep voice, and you wanted to strangle him for how attractive he was.

You now found yourself counting down the days till school started, and as you looked down at that damned timer on your wrist you found yourself hopeful again. You had fifteen days till school, and your soulmate timer was down to twenty days. You had been barely getting any sleep due to that, hoping that once you met Gloomuri, who you’ve come to know as Idia, the timer would hit zero. You both just clicked so well in a way you’ve never felt before, you just hoped he had the same numbers lining his own wrist.

…

With how excited you were with meeting Idia, you found yourself getting quickly overwhelmed with school work. The professors didn’t hold back when it came to work, and contact between you and Idia had devolved from video calls into texts. It wasn’t until you woke up the first Saturday of the school year, looked down at your wrist and noticing the time had changed from days to hours. You nearly had a heart attack seeing it, all your anxiety mashing together at one moment. What if you just stayed in your dorm all day? But then that would mean your soulmate was someone in your dorm. But if you went out there was a high chance it wasn’t Idia.

Before the dilemma could get to your head too much, your roommate asked if you wanted to tag along with them to Sam’s shop. Wanting to clear your mind a bit, you agreed, hoping to just ignore your problem instead of overthinking. You both ended up talking about classes, what you predicted you’d struggle in and do okay, who was in your classes and such.

You had to hold yourself back from buying something, though you do have to give Sam props for having almost everything you could think of. All was good once more…until someone with a head of fiery blue hair walked in. It wasn’t Idia though, no, but someone who looked eerily similar if not quite a bit younger. Your friend noticed your attention left them, falling onto the young technomatic humanoid and decided to speak up.

“Hey Ortho,” They greeted him with a smile. “How’s it going?”

“Hello!” He replied back quickly, “My morning is going well. How about you?”

“It’s been good,” They smiled. “This is my friend.” They introduced you, saying your name. To your surprise Ortho lit up, seemingly recognizing your name.

“Really?” He asked. You hummed while nodding in agreement, heart skipping a beat. Peaking at your wrist you noticed the time was cut down to minutes. Was this it? Was Idia actually your soulmate? Your hope was reignited tenfold.

“My brother talks about you all the time!” Ortho exclaimed excitedly.

“Wait, you know Idia?” Your friend asks, astonished. “The shut-in who uses a tablet to attend class?”

“M-maybe,” You murmured bashfully, crossing your arms as a nervous habit.

“Are you free after this?” Ortho asked, nearly jumping up and down.

“Yeah,” Your friend spoke up before you could. “We just finished actually.”

“That’s great!” Ortho exclaimed, his eyes shining. You were sure if he didn’t have the bottom half of his face covered he’d be smiling widely. “You should come over to Ignihyde, I’m sure Idia would love it if you came to visit.”

“Okay.”

It was out before you knew it, and like a whirlwind, you were suddenly swept to the front door of Idia’s dorm room, his little brother by your side. Before you could lift your hand up to knock, the door automatically slid open after Ortho’s face was scanned. You knew Ignihyde was known for its technical prowess…but this seemed like overkill. You stood outside awkwardly, unsure if you were allowed to step in yet, but you weren’t left to flounder for long as Ortho pulled you in by your hand. You glanced once more at your wrist and you nearly burst into tears. Only a few seconds left. A few seconds left until Idia was your confirmed soulmate and you suddenly didn’t feel as excited. Fear grasped your heart, unsure if he would be willing to be tied to you for the rest of your lives. You didn’t have much time to think of every terrible scenario as you faced the guy you had been fawning over.

As Idia turned to greet Ortho (and grab some snacks), he found himself having a heart attack when he saw your face. He knew you both went to the same school, but he wasn’t prepared to see you face to face…not irl at least. He barely comprehended Ortho’s rambling, too busy trying to hide his visage from your sight. He wasn’t prepared for someone to visit, not to mention you. Everywhere he looked he saw a different mess that would surely disappoint you, dirty clothes that scattered the floor, empty ramen cups that lined his desk, and empty cans of energy drinks that filled his trash can…yeah not the best first impression.

You, on the other hand, anxiously straighten your shirt while trying to not seem like you cared about your appearance too much. You were the first one to speak up after Ortho took his leave (seemingly ignorant of the tense atmosphere).

“Hey,” You greeted, an awkward smile on your lips. Instead of replying, Idia merely gave a weak whimper as he pulled his hood as far as it would go over his head. “I-I’m sorry, Ortho invited me, and I have been wanting to meet you in person, I hope I’m not overstepping too much…” Then, he let out a sudden shriek, causing you to nearly fall over from how loud it was.

“What’s wrong?” You asked, scared he might’ve hurt himself somehow.

“Th-the…y-your…I’m in a dream, this has to be. There’s no way this is real,” He muttered, holding his face in some sort of desperation.

“Not a bad dream I hope…” You chuckled awkwardly, not sure what was going on. Not the cute meeting with your soulmate like you wished, you just hoped this wasn’t him violently rejecting you. Instead of replying, he let out another whimper, and you felt like you’re intruding in something you shouldn’t be. Your awkwardness meter being at its max, you decided you should take your exit and hope he calms down soon so you both can talk the situation out.

“I’ll just…it was nice seeing you,” You stumbled over your words a bit. “I’ll let you uh…I’ll leave you to it…”

“W-wait!” Idia jolts up, eyes erratic. “You…w-we’re…” “Soulmates?” You supplemented.

“Y-yeah…how are you so calm about it?”

“Would…would it be weird if I said I was hoping for you to be my soulmate?” You asked in a whisper, eyes darting around his room instead of meeting his own. Not like he’d be able to make eye contact with you either.

Idia let out a squeak at your reply, his heart beating erratically. He found you too good to be true. You both liked similar games and anime, and when you didn’t play the same game you’d both play your own game while being on call. He found himself looking forward to your calls, something he would have never thought possible (he avoids calls like the plague). He found himself looking forward to something for once, finding solace in something that wasn’t fictional for once, and he wasn’t sure how to feel about that. It was scary, but manageable when you were just pixels like everything else he loved (Ortho wasn’t technically pixels, but he wasn’t human (anymore) either). But now you were face to face in person, and you were so much more attractive when he could see you fully, and gosh he’s not sure how much more he could handle this. Especially not with such bold remarks like that.

Idia never really cared about soulmates. If anything, he loathed the ink that marked his skin. Wished for the digits to just go away. His entire life was a curse, so cursed that he was forced to drag someone down with him. He didn’t deserve it, and no one else deserved his fate. And now, seeing you, a person outside of his family that he managed to grow close to…he felt conflicted. He too was happy you were his soulmate. You were so sweet, but not overly so. Not afraid to snap back at him with your quick wit. His heart would skip a beat when he heard the smile in your voice, or when you’d laugh at his lame joke. He would dream of a future with you when he closed his eyes, allowing him to envision a life with you and Ortho, living happily somewhere like normal people would. He was also guilty, you didn’t deserve a secluded life away from others.

“Yes,” He ended up answering. “That’s like…super weird.”

“Oh,” You felt disheartened. This was totally a rejection.

“You shouldn’t like me,” Idia continued. “Someone like me doesn’t get that ending…”

“Hmm,” You hummed, an idea forming in your mind. Perhaps you just needed to speak his language. “I guess you got the secret good ending then.”

“B-but-”

“No buts,” You tutted. “Now, last time we talked you mentioned that game, why don’t we play it?”

It’ll take a lot of time for Idia to fully warm up to the idea of having a soulmate, truely. Not just some numbers, but an actual person who smiled at him so warmly, like he was worth something. It’ll take even more time for him to warm up to you, your love, your affection…but he found something small burning within him. Like a small spark being lit deep in his heart…hope. Hope for the future, something he’s never felt before.

#twisted wonderland x reader #twst x reader #twst wonderland x reader #idia shroud x reader #twisted wonderland #twst #twst wonderland #idia shroud #x reader #imagine #one shot

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fictionismyreality3 · 3 days

Text

Take a Break

Warnings: hints at smut no actual smut, romance and everything that comes with it

Notes: every so often the need for this man will just suddenly pop up like gOD LET ME LIVE

The fingers you were clenching around your pen were beginning to hurt. Trying to write this essay was making you feel more like a wide eyed freshman than someone aiming to finish senior year at the top of their class. You stared aimlessly at your laptop, your eyes burning from how long you’d been looking over the work you had so far.

Which was only the title.

Just 2 more months. 2 months and then you could graduate, and you’d have your degree, and you could have your dream job and not be cramming book after book in your head, hoping you’d pick up the knowledge when really all it did was make you feel like punching your-

“Darlin’? You doing okay with your homework?” The honeyed voice of your boyfriend echoed around your dorm you, a light breeze the only warning you were given as he appeared randomly behind you.

“Yeah, Jasper. M’fine.” But just looking at his unfairly gorgeous face made you want to punch him instead of your TA.

It wasn’t fair. He got to be stupidly handsome and smart and he could easily ace your classes, probably finishing your degree in a few days with his stupid fucking vampire memory, and everything was so easy for him that you- “Honey, you’re frownin’ at me.” Jasper’s words drew you out of your little thought spiral.

“Yeah, I know, I know.. I’m sorry, I just..” You took a deep breath. “This is making want to rip my hair out.”

Jasper’s face now wore a frown mirroring your own, his gaze ever attentive, searching your face like he was looking for some hidden solution you couldn’t see. He ran his hand through your hair soothingly, his thumb brushing away the crease between your brows. The frustration and self-loathing that was radiating off you had hit him like a thick summer heat, pulling him up to your dorm in an instant.

He didn’t like to see his pretty little mate upset.

You were supposed to be happy. It was the last few months of school and he should have been feeling waves of glee and satisfaction dripping from your pores. Not this. And so, Jasper made up his mind. It wasn’t often that he used his abilities on you, it was something you’d discussed early into your relationship, something you insisted could only be a last resort kind of thing.

But the tears welling in your big eyes made his heart clench, and he found himself layering calm and relaxation over you like a blanket. “Why don’t you take a break, darlin’?”

Your head went all fuzzy, the cotton candy filling your skull making the words on your computer screen seem irrelevant. Blinking slowly, it took you a second to realize what was happening.

“No, no Jas, I have to finish this.” The words of protest sounded funny in your ears, the idea of doing anything but slumping back in your chair seemed exhausting. “No, you need to rest. You work so hard, honey.” Coaxing hands pushed you back in your seat, a sense of lethargy filling your bones as you hazily made out Jasper kneeling in front of you.

“Can’t.. I hav’to.. have..”

A Cheshire grin curled over Jaspers lips as he watched your body grow lax and pliant. Sure, adding little bouts of arousal between the relaxation would be breaking the rules you’d set, but he couldn’t have his mate overworking herself. Ghosting his hands up your legs, he pushed a little bit more bliss into you, enjoying the little whimper that slipped out.

“Don’t worry, darlin, I’m gonna take real good care of you.”

#jasper hale x y/n #jasper hale x you #jasper x you #jasper whitlock x reader #jasper cullen x reader #jasper hale x reader #jasper x reader #jasper whitlock #jasper cullen #jasper hale

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vitalverstappen · 7 hours

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The Tortured Poets Department - D. Ricciardo

summary: snapshots of your relationship with Danny

pairing: Daniel Ricciardo x reader

warnings: smoking, anxiety, self sabotage

word count: 1.6k

a/n: writing is quite literally the only thing getting me through the danny news so enjoy!

It wasn’t hard to figure out that Daniel was into the arts. He constantly had a camera in his hands, he had a .jpeg account, and his favorite dates were always to the local art museum. So it was no surprise that when you first started dating, he started to dabble in writing. What did puzzle you was the fact he bought a typewriter for his endeavors. And that he had a habit of leaving it at your apartment.

“I don’t understand how you keep forgetting this thing. It’s huge” You joked as you flipped your phone camera to show the machine that was collecting dust on your kitchen table. As much as you loved him, you’d never understand why he chose such an antiquated way of putting his stories to life.

“I left it there again?” He asked “Maybe I should just keep it there. We could start a club: The Tortured Poets Department”

“Yeah, good luck with that” You said, a smirk plastered on your face.

The next Grand Prix came quicker than you would’ve liked. You loved watching the race, and loved seeing Danny do what he loves, but you hated that he always ended up self sabotaging. It didn’t matter if it was a race win or if he came in last. He always found something to be upset about.

A frown was plastered on his face as he climbed out of the car. He had gotten fourth, so you would think there was nothing to be upset about, but that’s not how Daniel operates. You were easily able to decode that the finish meant he was either upset that he didn’t get on the podium, or that he didn’t think he deserved to be that high.

“There is no way I actually got P4.” He began

“I don’t deserve that” The two of you said in sync, a playfully mocking tone in your voice. You already knew how this was going to play out, as if it was a show you had watched countless times. You had the dialogue memorized.

A sigh escaped your lips as you wrapped your arms around him, your tone becoming more serious, “Yes you do, love. You deserve that and the whole world.”

“You really mean that?” He asked as he pulled away from you, his arms still at your waist.

“Yes, I fully mean that. You’ve hauled that tractor of a car all the way to fourth. You have incredible talent behind the wheel.” You reassured him.

That night, the two of you returned home to Monaco, where you had a nice, relaxing evening of listening to your favorite songs, smoking, and going through the F1 gossip blogs. It was a guilty pleasure, hearing what everyone had to say about you two. Both you and Daniel didn’t care how everyone felt about you two. If anything, it was funny seeing how wrong the internet was about everything that happened behind the scenes.

“‘I think Danny and Y/N should get a dog. They’d be such cute pawrents!’” Daniel read and then glanced over at you, wiggling his eyebrows “Should we?”

“God no” You laughed “ We can barely take care of ourselves. What makes you think we can take care of a dog?”

Daniel shrugged “True, we’re not Charles and Alexandra. We’re just two idiots”

“You’re gonna love this one ‘Rumor has it that Y/N Y/L/N is leaving Daniel for another F1 driver.’” You read off of your phone “And guess what the attached photos were of?”

“What?” Danny asked as he took a bite of the chocolate bar he had in his hand

You managed to form a smirk with the blunt in your mouth as you tilted the phone for him to see. On the screen was a photo of you in the VCARB garage talking to another man. What the world didn’t know was that the unnamed man was your twin brother.

“Wow, you and Matthew seem pretty close. I heard he’s into you” Daniel joked as he plucked the blunt from your mouth and putting it in his instead

“Oh shut up” You said, the two of you quickly breaking into laughter

The sound of laughter slowly died down as the album that was currently on the record player ended. The walk over to the dresser was like a minefield littered with empty chocolate wrappers.

“How many of these did you have?” You asked, picking one up

“Seven?” Daniel answered, unsure

“Oh my god you’re ridiculous” You chuckled as you threw the wrapper at him, nearly hitting him in the face. “What do you wanna listen to next?”

“Charlie Puth?” Daniel suggested, as he put out the end of the blunt “You know, he should really be a bigger artist”

You thought about his comment for a second as you put one of his old records on, “Yeah, you don’t hear much about him nowadays”

As you climbed back into bed, Daniel rested his head on your chest. Out of instinct, your right hand began running itself through your boyfriend’s curly hair. He took your left hand and started fiddling with the ring on your middle finger - your mom’s engagement ring. Daniel loved playing with it for some reason, but you never questioned why.

His chest began to rise and fall slower and slower, the fiddling stopped, and snoring began to fill the room. Never in your life did you imagine having a tattooed golden retriever of a boyfriend, but you wouldn’t have it any other way.

But the doubts always crept in, and this night was no different. You were awakened by the feeling of Daniel tossing and turning all night, something clearly bothering him.

“You alright?” You muttered, turning to face him

“Wha? Yeah everything’s fine. Can’t sleep that’s all” Daniel spoke

“You usually sleep really well after a race. Something’s up. Talk to me.”

At this point, the two of you were fully awake and sat up in bed. Like you predicted, worry was spread all over his face.

A sigh left his lips before Daniel spoke again, “Is this too much for you?”

“What?” You asked

“The relationship, the media attention. I know there’s a lot that comes with dating me. The cameras, the rumors, me constantly being away. I know it’s a whirlwind that even I can’t keep up with sometimes. Is this all too much for you?”

Silence overcame the two of you as you became deep in your thoughts. It was a lot on you, and he knew that. It was always tough being away from each other, and you never thought your relationship would have a magnifying glass focused on it.

But to you, it was all worth it to be with the one you truly loved. Love was about sacrifices and being there for each other regardless. And that’s what the two of you had done.

“I would be lying if I said it wasn’t a lot to handle” You began “It’s never easy being away from you, or worrying about your safety every weekend. And the constant comments about us aren’t exactly rainbows and butterflies, but honestly? I don’t want it any other way. I chose to be in this cyclone with you. I wouldn’t want it any other way as long as I have you.”

You could hear Daniel release the breath you didn’t know he was holding, “I love you”

“I love you too”

The reassurance you gave that night was all Daniel needed. Once summer break arrived, he insisted on taking you to your favorite restaurant; the same one he took you to for your first date. He had managed to get you a secluded table with rose petals covering the cloth.

“Danny, you didn’t have to do this” You said as he pulled the chair out for you

“Maybe I wanted to” He said as he pushed you in and then sat across

The night was spent talking about anything and everything, from the first half of the F1 season to reminding Daniel why you refuse to eat pineapple on pizza. As the night continued on, you could tell Daniel was getting more anxious about something, but you couldn’t put a finger on what.

“You know I love you, right?” Daniel blurted out

Your eyebrows furrowed “Yeah Dan, I do. And I love you too”

“No, I love you, a lot.” He began as he took your left hand, “More than I thought was ever possible to love somebody. The day I met you I knew I wanted to be a part of your life. I wanted to experience everything that you do. Be there to celebrate your highs and support you through your lows. It has been so much fun getting to live life with you, and I’m so thankful you’ve been doing the same for me.”

Daniel paused as he got up from his seat, his hand still holding yours as he bent down on one knee. As he slid your mom’s engagement ring off of your middle finger, you could feel your heart pounding out of your chest. This was happening. This was real life.

“Y/N Y/L/N, Will you make me the happiest man alive? Will you marry me?” Daniel askes

“Yes Danny. Yes, yes. A thousand times yes!” You answered, the words falling out of your mouth with ease

As you two returned to your apartment, the same typewriter Danny bought all those years ago greeted you on your dresser. Dust covered each of the keys, but it seemed to shine with a new brightness. There was something about the machine that drew you in. So you sat down, as if you were greeting an old friend, and blew the dust off the rusty keys, ready to join the Tortured Poets Department with Danny.

#formula 1 #formula one #daniel ricciardo #daniel ricciardo x reader #f1 x reader #vcarb #red bull racing #red bull #writing #creative writing #f1 2024 #visa cashapp rb #f1 #ricciardo x reader #danny ricciardo #danny ric #dr3

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evanbuckwad · 2 days

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quick little bucktommy story

been thinking about my favorite 911 canon bisexual, his boyfriend, and bobby nash recently so, here's this <3 it's tame btw

Tommy almost thought Evan had trailed off to sleep.

They had curled up on his couch after cleaning up dinner, catching a bit of a movie with buff, shirtless men fighting while Tommy mindlessly trailed his fingers through Evan’s curls. Evan had indulged in his love of Jeopardy! with Tommy-- not that Tommy was at all surprised, what with Evan's unlimited knowledge of trivial information – and, when possible, they would watch it (and compete against each other).

Tommy could feel the way his breath hadn’t yet evened out, negating his suspicion that Evan was asleep. Still, he had trailed off from his earlier tangents from dinner, and was much more attentive to the random movie than he expected.

“Hey,” Tommy nudged his boyfriend slightly. “You okay?”

Evan blinked his eyes rapidly, seemingly coming back to Earth. “Hm? Oh – oh, yeah. I’m good. Just thinking.” He brushed off with a smile.

Tommy felt the corners of his mouth frown. “You wanna talk about it?” Tommy’s dark blue eyes searched Evan’s light blue, seeking out the truth behind the gears churning in his head.

Evan leaned over and kissed his temple. “I’m alright. Maybe we’ll talk about it later. Anyway,” he launched himself over Tommy and grabbed the remote, turning up the volume. “This…is….Jeopardy!” he called, in time with Johnny Gilbert’s announcement on the screen.

Tommy filed his concern away, trusting Evan to vocalize his needs, and knowing he could push if necessary. He settled in on the couch with a smile as Evan started getting excited about the categories of the night.

They climbed into bed a few hours later, languidly enjoying the others’ company. Some nights they spent together were hot and frantic, some were romantic and soft, and Tommy enjoyed every variety they ran through. Knowing neither of them had a shift in the morning, they took their time exploring and touching, neither frantic nor soft, but somewhere in between.

Laying in a hazy, sweaty heap afterwards, Tommy turned his head slightly to kiss Evan’s chest. “You good?”

Evan’s laugh was audible through his chest, and Tommy shifted his head just to catch the smile on his boyfriend’s face. “Tommy, did you not see how much I just came? I –”

Tommy poked Evan forcefully. “I did see that, thank you very much. I would even say I helped that happen.” He laughed at the mumbled reply of “you did.” “You were just quiet earlier.”

“I wasn’t quiet when you –”

“Evan,” Tommy laughed, mixing with Evan’s pleased chuckle, each man lightly tracing over the other’s body with their fingertips.

“Yes, Tommy. I’m good. I’m great, actually. Very relaxed.” Tommy could hear the smirk in his voice even without looking at his face. Evan stretched and curled up slightly, pulling Tommy closer into him. “I might fall asleep.”

Tommy shifted, unable to stop himself from kissing Evan’s birthmark before settling back to his spot. “Me, too. Sweet dreams, sweetheart.”

Evan hummed. “You, too. Love you.”

“I love you, too.”

Tommy settled into peaceful dreams of blue skies and blue eyes…until he was smacked awake by the owner of those very blue eyes not much later.

“Evan, are you okay?” Tommy blinked the sleep out of his eyes, sitting up with his heart hammering in his chest. As his vision focused, he found Evan, seemingly unharmed, looking intensely at him.

“Is Bobby…hot?”

Tommy blinked again, not processing the words coming out of Evan’s mouth. “Are you hurt?”

Evan waved his hand dismissively, seemingly assuaging the concern in Tommy’s voice. “I’m fine. I’ve just been…thinking. And I think…I think Bobby…is hot?”

Tommy smiled, yawning slightly. “Well, yeah,” he started. “Captain Nash is an attractive man. You think Sergeant Grant got with him just for his charm and skills in the kitchen?”

Evan threw his hands in the air like he didn’t know the answer. “I never really thought about it that much!”

“Babe,” Tommy tilted his head. “Is this what you woke me up for?”

Evan got up, a slight jitter in his very being. “I–I mean, I’ve had a few moments like this before, since you kissed me. Maddie even made fun of me that day I told her about our first date, did I ever tell you all that I said that day? I told her I had always been an ally, as you know, and that sometimes I’d check out a hot guy’s ass, but that was normal, and she said it wasn’t abnormal, but like, I don’t know, I’ve been realizing how much I do that, and how hot guys really are and –”

“Babe, breathe.” Tommy crossed to where Evan was and held him by the shoulders. “This is a very normal part of the process.” Tommy gave a small shrug. “Men are attractive. I’m sure glad you think so, too.”

Evan caught his breath and looked deeply into Tommy’s eyes. “But…Bobby?”

Tommy threw his head back laughing before turning around and crawling back into bed. “Yes?”

Evan followed his lead, climbing in after him. His voice was smaller as he spoke. “It’s just…that’s weird.”

“That’s not weird. Captain Nash is hot. And always has been. Don’t forget he was my captain before he was yours.”

Evan’s head tilted at this, his attention honing in on Tommy’s comment. “Did you always think he was hot?”

Tommy hummed as he reversed the positions they had fallen asleep in; this time, holding Evan to his chest. “Well, yeah. I mean, I thought he was nice to look at, but I was still struggling with my sexuality at the time. But it was pretty much confirmed when he took off his shirt that night at the bar," he finished, nodding to himself at the memory.

"Cap–Captain Bobby Nash? Took his shirt off at a bar?” Evan shook his head, trying to understand. “What bar? When? Why?"

Tommy’s eyes focused with a raised eyebrow on his boyfriend. “Should I be concerned you’re so interested in this?”

“N-no!” Evan fumbled over his words in an effort to reassure his boyfriend. “I’m not – it’s not –”

“Baby, relax. It’s okay.” Tommy held him closer. “Settle in, and I’ll tell you about Bobby’s first few weeks at the 118.” Tommy bent his neck to kiss Evan. “And if you’re lucky,” he quietly spoke into his curls. “I’ll tell you about the dream I had that made me start looking at changing stations.”

---

inspired by the buckbobby content uptick recently and the heartstopper "nick realizes he has a crush on david tennant" comic (i can only find it on reddit here) <3 xo

#i didnt really check over this and i havent written in a while but here? lol?#bucktommy #buckbobby #v writes sometimes #uhhhhhhh!!!!#911 fics #bucktommy fics #happy premiere day! lmao

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crowleysgirl56 · 1 day

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Book Omens! A meandering journey to reading Good Omens to my son. The finale!

Well we finished it! Here are some thoughts and observations from both my son and myself (mostly myself actually).

- did I miss something or did Hastur just not do anything further once he got out of the answer-machine and ate all the telemarketers? In the show he manifests in the Bentley then gets discorporated and sent back to hell when Crowley drives through the ball of fire on the M25. But the book just has him coming through the phone line, turning into maggots, devouring the room of telemarketers and then that’s it. Also, it’s been a while since I’ve watched season 1, do they show that the telemarketers are brought back to life because the book has one of them call Newt and then gets annoyed that they’ve lost an entire day because they think it’s still Saturday (assuming this is thanks to Adam putting the world right again). Anyway, this is all to say that I find it odd that the thread of Hastur is just left hanging like that. Which makes me wonder if he was always supposed to have a major part to play in the book’s sequel (and therefore season 3). I recently read an old interview where Pratchett said the makings of the sequel are built into the book. Could this be one of those threads?

- on the subject of Hastur my son said that while he was stuck in the answer-machine Crowley should have just turned him into The Best of Queen, and HOW THE HELL HAS NO ONE THOUGHT OF THAT?! This kid is so clever sometimes he’d make Crowley proud.

- another major thing I noticed and I’m hoping I just didn’t miss something crucial here, is it’s never explained where Crowley got the holy water from. Is it implied it was Aziraphale in the book and I just completely missed it? All of this backstory was of course included in season 1 and I’m wondering if it was included specifically because it was never explained in the book. And again, because there was no explanation, would this have been included in the sequel?

- a sudden though regarding the bikers. There’s never any indication that they were restored. I don’t know if this means anything specifically, but considering there’s the short gag at the end of the book that implies the telemarketers were returned and also the delivery man, I wonder why this didn’t happen for the bikers. Again, is this another thread for the sequel?

- I’ve taken some screen shots below of more passages in the book that made me realise why I never thought Aziraphale and Crowley were romantically coded to each other the first time I read through the book (and I think I might do a deeper dive into these passages in a separate post).

Any thoughts about this is welcome. But again, it seems to be one of those “squint to see the deeper relationship” cases here.

- I will admit however the fact that they had no problem holding hands may have been what gave people pause to think about their relationship. Though could their relationship have been framed platonically, like for example Frodo and Sam in LoTR? (don’t come at me for that comparison. I get that Frodo and Sam are shipped constantly, but Tolkien very specifically said their relationship was about platonic companionship and the type of companionship that hetero men seem to be afraid to show each other in modern times.)

- the last passage involving Warlock was really interesting. Again I couldn’t remember if it’s included in the show, but there definitely did seem to be some kind of implication that there was more to Warlock than him just being the swapped child. Again, was this another thread for the sequel? Was it implied that he would now be the new antichrist? Or could he perhaps be the second coming? Will we see him in season 3?

So, overall impressions. My son liked it but I think a lot of it went over his head (I had to stop and explain a lot of religious canon to him, a lot of the satire, and most of the jokes). He liked Death and the rest of the horsemen and also the bikers. He identified with Adam but still didn’t quite understand why Adam just didn’t use his powers for good (bless him). He didn’t really feel anything in particular for Aziraphale and Crowley (sob!). He also asked me to explain what happened season 2 and why I’m sad about it. He is also now very sad for me, and is very angry with NG.

Maybe one day he’ll read the book again for himself and find the humour much more relatable. He is interested in reading Discworld again and maybe this time will stick it out.

I personally am glad I read it again for myself. And I’m also really grateful for all the fanfic that we have that expands on the story and the characters. Thank you so much to the fandom for your fabulous stories and your love for these characters. And thanks for following along with my ramblings.

#good omens #book omens #crowley #aziraphale #ineffable husbands #aziracrow #good omens fandom #crowley x arizaphale

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kaybreezy3000 · 2 days

Note

that new head Cannon story was so good. Will you do something of a bigger scene of him in the apocalypse suffering or something like with him not okay and hitting like a mental break down and someone needs to help him. Family or whatever makes sense? Your broken season 4 five is amazing./ But anything you want to do would be appreciated

Please Hold me

~A one-shot reader request, rated General, 5780 words, This one for the sake of being different is Season 3 Five and his family, Mega Whump with no warnings other than panic attacks and traumatic flashbacks of the apocalypse

Summary: Set at the beginning of season 3, the pain that had been inflicted on Five mentally and physically up until this point comes to a head. Little did Five know, when the truth comes out and he finally breaks, he is going to get the love and support he was dying for all along.

(~Anon: Thank you for reading my last headcanon s4 story. I am so happy you liked it. I have written so many things with Five dealing with the demons we saw him fighting on the show. I never felt like they gave him his due on screen with that stuff, and then worse, he and his family never came to terms with any of it. It all just got swept under the rug for all of them, so here you go. Here's a little story that hopefully gives you what you were looking for in this request)

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Standing in the lobby of the hotel Obsidian, as Five slowly passed him, looking even more out of it and mad than he did in the park right after they got their asses handed to them by the Sparrows, confused, Luther asked, “Where are you going?”

“I am going to get a lay of the land,” Five mumbled, then without another word, he made his way down the hall behind them, intent on looking for a bathroom. He didn’t feel like he was going to vomit anymore, but at least knowing where he could seemed like a good idea.

Five found his objective not long later. There was a small, very out of date public restroom just off the main foyer. Oddly, it was dark inside as he opened the door. Feeling around for a light switch, he quickly found one, and then just as fast, the brightness was painfully burning his blood shot eyes.

Moving on autopilot, Five used the toilet then found himself standing in front of the mirror, mindlessly washing his hands. When he looked up, he was taken aback.

His young face was a mess of dirty smudges and dried blood. There wasn’t an ounce of color to his skin. His clothes weren’t much better. Looking down, he saw that he was covered in grimy patches of dirt and who knew what else from the floor of Sissy’s barn. Without thinking, he tugged at his shirt, untucking it so he could pull it and his vest up.

His eyes traveled over the maze of purple and black bruises that covered nearly every square inch of his chest and torso. His fingers slowly moved over the darkest areas. There were three, and they happened to be exactly where the bullets had been after The Handler shot at him.

Five winced from the pain as he touched. His labored breathing started to get worse. He was starting to panic. The floor was swaying. His hands frantically grasped for the counter to prevent him from falling.

‘Breathe…just breathe,’ he mentally ordered himself, forcing his eyes to focus on the black and white tiled pattern on the floor.

“You can’t break. Not like this,” he panted as his insides rolled with sickness.

His head spun, but somehow, Five managed to stand up straight again, tucking his dress shirt back in his schoolboy shorts in a somewhat respectable way.

On the way back from the bathroom, he could hear Diego talking to the rest of his family as he sluggishly moved past the reception desk, heading back to the lounge area in the main lobby.

“Apocalypse avoided or not this time. Do you guys really think we should trust Five’s take on all this timeline stuff?” Diego asked.

Realizing they were talking about him, Five slowed his zombie-like pace even more.

“After all these years alone and then the messed-up shit he did after that for the Commission, I am pretty sure it’s safe to say Five is a little out there when it comes to his way of thinking,” Diego continued. “I’m not sure if you guys noticed, but he is not exactly what you’d call stable. Did you see his little moment back there at the Sparrow’s evil lair? I had a hallucination incident too after I got goobered on, but mine was at least awesome and if it had been real, it would have been great way to solve our differences with those assholes. Five was in la-la land.”

“Ah-huh… Dance offs are very realistic when trying to stake a claim on lives that are no longer yours,” Allison laughed while looking over at Viktor sitting next to her, who smiled tensely, clearly not doing so great either.

“You have a point,” Klaus said, deciding to chime in since no one else was. Rubbing his chin, his lips pulled to the side. “Our little old guy got all sorts of freaky with his imaginary girlfriend back there. Five’s Dolores thing is just…” He frowned. “I don’t think you can just come back from that kind of thing; he's so attached. Five may be on another level when it comes to brains, but that stuff…” He shook his head. “It did something to him. Bad stuff, like very very bad stuff that ruins you,” he finished, just as Five came back into the room.

Allison’s eyes shot Five’s way, but that didn’t stop Klaus.

Thinking their worried expressions meant that they didn’t understand what he was say, he kept going. “I’m just saying, I don't know about what's going on inside Five’s head or not, but I do know he was totally shaking the sheets with his plastic woman," Klaus laughed. "I mean, who can blame him, really, after all he went through. She’s hot and she doesn’t talk back and Five likes that. And we all know that he still considers Dolores a big part of his life whether she's here with him, or not. And even worse, who knows if Five ever got laid like for real real while he was with the Commission. He has no idea what it's like to have intimacy like that, not in a way that's real anyway. Just look at him now and his cute face always bent out of shape with rage. He’s a ticking time bomb of teenage hormonal insanity.”

Klaus pointed to small boutique across the grand lobby from where they were sitting.

“Someone should probably go tell them to hide their mannequins. We have a horny little monster on the loose,” he giggled, but then, realizing nobody else was laughing with him, he followed Allison’s wide-eyed line of sight straight towards Five.

“Oh shit, I’m sorry, Five,” Klaus tried but Five was already turning. “Why didn’t anyone say he was right there?” he asked, looking at the stunned faces glaring back at him. “Five, wait!” Klaus tried again, but all he got was Five lifting his middle finger as he rushed down the hall he’d just come from.

Once out of sight, Five staggered, tripping over his own feet, frantically trying to get away from them. His head was pounding so hard he couldn’t think.

Falling into the elevator, he slumped against the wall, punching the floor with his room number on it.

Rushing to beat him, Klaus took off, sprinting up the stairway to the second floor. Racing down the maze of halls, he reached Five’s room a minute later, just as he was trying but failing to get his key in the door.

Suddenly, eyes rolling back in his head, Five started to fall. Klaus quickly reached out to balance him. “Whoa there,” he gasped, finally feeling just how small and vulnerable he was and that only made him feel worse about everything he’d just said about him.

Five was not the boy they all saw, but it was hard to remember that when the tormented eyes looking back at them were that of the little angry kid they’d lost so long ago.

Five blankly stared at Klaus, trying to focus, but his eyes wouldn’t cooperate. Klaus took the dangling keys from his finger, opening the door for him so he could help him across the small room. As soon as Five was next to the bunk beds, he slipped sideways onto the lower bunk, crashing into the musty bedding.

“Just stay down man, I’ll be right back,” Klaus ordered.

Five whimpered.

Klaus appeared a few minutes later, skidding around the door frame with a bottle of water and some crackers in hand.

He carefully sat down next to Five on the small mattress, his dark eyebrows furrowing with worry. “Are you bleeding internally or something else awful and not telling us again? Because you don’t look so good, little buddy.”

“No. I’m just sick of all this bullshit," Five snapped, but his normal bite had no bark. "It never stops, and I’m just fucking tired. And don’t call me little buddy ever again unless you want me to strangle you.”

“Okaaay,” Klaus skeptically replied. “Will you eat something?” he asked, offering Five the pile of crackers in his hand. “I can’t remember the last time I saw you eat anything.

Hearing the worry in his voice, Five weakly reached out and took one cracker, but he couldn’t bring himself to eat it. He was too sick to do anything anymore. His body was shuddering and even just the mentioning of food was bringing back memories of burning human flesh and it was leaving a sickening taste of bitterness on his tongue to add to sour taste of failure that was already there.

Five’s revulsion and anger didn’t help the concerned look on Klaus’s face from growing.

“Five, I didn’t mean that stuff I was saying. You know me, I have a big mouth.”

“I know,” Five muttered. He knew Klaus meant it, because it was all true. Klaus just didn’t mean for him to hear it.

“I’m sorry,” Klaus begged.

When Five didn’t say anything, Klaus set the water down on the rickety nightstand.

Wordlessly, he rolled back the bedding and urged Five to roll under it. When he noticed the gun stuffed down the back of Five’s little shorts, Klaus took that too, placing it on the bedside table.

Five didn't have the strength to fight him. Instead, he desperately bundled up under the comforter. Laying there, falling apart as he listened to Klaus get up, a moment later, he felt the bed frame wiggle, then more blankets from the upper bunk fell over him.

“Just try to get some rest, man.” With that, Klaus shut the dingy curtains, blocking out the light and the noise of the city, then the door clicked shut.

Alone and glad not to have his brother looking at him still like he was a puppy that just got smoked by a car, unfortunately the pounding in Five’s head grew worse. When he closed his eyes, the room kept spinning like when he drank too much.

Klaus’s voice in the hall as he talked to who Five assumed was one of his siblings, eventually trailed off.

Five’s mind was as shattered and the phantom pains taking over his body had him to the point that he couldn’t fend off the exhaustion anymore. As the nightmare he was living mixed with the nightmares of his past and his heart sank even more, it hit him that his family didn’t need or want him anymore.

They never did.

With that thought in mind, everything slipped away in the darkness of his dreams.

The inside of his tiny hotel room, everything disappeared as Five lay there, finally at rest but not at all at peace.

Twisting in the blankets, Five’s sore and horribly split feet crunched along on a debris filled road in his boots that were a size too small.

The gloom of an apocalyptic horizon was all he could see for miles and miles.

His insides danced in a flurry of nerves, but there he was, almost certain there wasn’t a trace of fever this time. He hadn't eaten anything that had gone bad.

He didn't know.

He stood, facing yet another burnt building, flinching at the familiar sight of a charred body. His insides clenched from starvation even as the sight of it made him sicker.

That smell…

The smell of burnt flesh, and rot.

His mouth watered. Then he gagged.

He couldn’t…

Never that.

It had been more days than Five could count since he had put anything in his mouth that resembled food. The few canned goods he was able to find in the ruins of a grocery store months ago were long gone. If he was going to find anything salvageable, he was going to have to start digging deeper through the mountainous piles of rubble, but he had almost no strength to do it.

He was so weak. He could feel his own bones rubbing painfully against the tightly notched belt at his waist. He was starving to death, and the fear that he was never going to get out of that place was consuming him as much as his own body was consuming itself.

He felt the ground against his cheek before he even realized he had collapsed.

Then it all went dark.

When he woke, it was gloomier. The usual ominous red in the sky had grown slightly more prominent on the horizon, the only indicator that there was sun still at all. He gingerly pulled himself up to a sitting position, trying to gather his bearings.

It was almost night.

His head hurt more than before. He raised his hand and fingers slowly, inspecting a patch of dried blood at his temple.

“Passed out. Again…” he said, his mouth so dry he could hardly form the words.

He took a deep breath, looking around. His wagon with his meager finds was still only a few feet away.

Dolores looked back at him kindly. ‘It’s not like I can move on my own silly,’ she said, sweetly as she could.

In his head, she sounded like Grace.

Just that alone helped, even if it was in the smallest way possible. Five would never forget the only mother he had and her caring for him when no one else did. Even if she wasn’t a real living thing and she had no choice and didn’t really love him because a robot couldn't love, at least Five could say he had something. Something awful but good?

With Dolores, she was trying to make light of their dire situation. For years, since she’d become something real to him, Dolores had always tried to make Five smile no matter how bad things were.

Wanting to reassure her, Five managed to pull off a weak version of a smile, but only because he knew she was so worried about him.

Pain digging at his insides, Five knew that if he didn't find food and water of some kind, there was little time left and his body would shut down completely. He needed to move, or he was going to die.

Drumming up all the strength he had left, Five staggered to his feet on wobbly, bone thin legs.

“I’ll be back,” he said to Dolores. There was no need to explain that he wasn’t strong enough to pull the wagon or carry her with him. She already knew.

He stumbled along, doing his best not to fall over the broken world in his path. There had to be something left. He was certain when he had come that way two days before, that at one time, this had been a bustling neighborhood, filled with large homes and massive stores. Now it looked pretty much like everything else, and he had yet to find anything.

He walked on. Eventually his eyes grew too tired to survey the landscape, and instead they fell to his feet, but he kept moving.

After walking like that for an undetermined amount of time, Five looked up and realized there was an indication of a partial structure still standing up ahead.

He moved as fast as he could towards it.

It had to have something!

As he moved closer, he could make out signs that it had been a store of some sort.

Oh my God thank you!

Scrambling over the broken walls, avoiding the deathly glass blades still sticking out of the rubble, Five came across what he needed. Canned food, not destroyed, or having exploded or leaked out on the parched earth.

He fell on his knees, immediately tearing through his pack, looking for an opener.

He didn't care what it was, the labels were burned and unreadable if they even had any. He attacked the metal, hardly getting it open before he was desperately sucking the liquid out.

After a minute or two of that, he had forethought to open the can all the way, but his patience wasn’t much better as he dumped the slippery substance down his throat, hardly even taking the time to chew.

It was mistake.

Five lurched forwards, his stomach seizing in pain as his prize splattered to the ground.

“Fuck.” He gasped for air, fighting the sensation of sickness as each wave racked his body.

It had been too long. He wasn’t used to eating that much at once.

“You can’t be so fucking stupid!” he angrily yelled, his voice echoing in the nothing around him.

Five knew he couldn’t afford these kinds of mistakes, yet he kept making them.

He slid back on his butt, moving along the dirt, away from his mess. He fell back against a large piece of cement, thankfully avoiding the sharp rebar sticking out of it. All it would take was one small infection from a cut and he would be gone. He was too weak already.

He looked up at the sky, fighting tears…tears and precious fluid he couldn’t afford to lose.

“Just breathe, breathe…in and out…” he repeated. Gritting his teeth, air moving through his nose much too fast.

He couldn’t stop. He was spiraling.

His mind screamed at him because he could no longer speak. There is no place for this here!

With a deep breath, and then another, the darkness folding in around him eventually withdrew. Five reached over and took the can again. Slowly this time, he pinched a piece of what looked like some type of fruit and brought it to his cracked lips. This time he needed to make sure it stayed in. He let it roll in his mouth as he savored the flavor. It wasn’t ash or flesh and that was all that mattered.

After keeping that in, he kept going, very carefully. He had to stop before he finished a third of the can. Then he closed his eyes. Drained, Five fell asleep, not waking until the world around him was completely dark.

Dolores would be worried. She would be scared, but he couldn’t get back to her like that.

But he would.

He had to get back.

Even though he couldn’t see what he was doing, Five kept trying to finish the can. Eventually he did, even licking every last drop off his filthy, ragged fingers.

“You can’t die here. You can’t do that to them,” he scolded himself.

Finally regaining his senses as he started to wake up, blinking rapidly, Five looked out from under his massive pile of blankets. The room was dim, but the bright light shining in from the crack along the edge of the ugly curtains and the birds chirping outside proved it was morning.

Last, he could recall, it was late afternoon.

Or was it…?

He didn’t know anymore.

Five felt so disoriented while trying to remember what happened. After laying there for probably ten minutes or more, he finally noticed Klaus sitting next to him with a very worried look on his face. Five immediately tried to sit up, but just as fast, he collapsed back into the bed, feeling everything from the sheets to his clothes completely soaked through.

He was still dressed in his academy uniform, minus the ugly bowling shoes. His soiled dress shirt was clinging to his sweaty frame. He had no idea where he was or what timeline it was anymore.

Every bone in his body shook and quivered. Fire felt like it ran through his veins, but his outer core was frozen. The only thing that felt warm was the flood of fresh tears that had rolled down onto his damp pillow.

Seeing his normally put together brother crumbling proved to be enough for Klaus to lean over, hesitantly coming closer.

He raised his arm, resting the back of his hand against Five’s forehead. Five’s jaw set even tighter as Klaus said, “This is not good. You’re burning up.”

His words came out unevenly through chattering teeth as Five asked, “Where am I?”

Klaus’s brows furrowed. “The hotel.” He paused and shook his head apologetically. “Remember? Dad not being all that thrilled to see his long-lost children again, and then the new and improved Sparrows doing their best to kill us?”

Five let his body fall back on his damp pillow.

“We all came back here afterward,” Klaus explained.

It should have given Five some sense of relief to hear that, but it didn’t.

Five shook his head.

“Five, you don’t need to worry. This place is safe. You can take all the time you need. If you feel well enough, maybe you can get cleaned up, maybe eat a little something?”

“I’m fine.”

Fear struck Klaus him even harder, his eyes widening. “No, you are not.”

“Yes, I am.” Five sat up and flung the blankets off, immediately regretting it. The cold air sliced into him, making him shake even harder. He tried climbing off the mattress, only to have his legs give out. Klaus was quick to react, catching him before he toppled into the nightstand.

“Five, you look like shit,” he murmured, flinching a little as it looked like Five might deck him if he could.

“Thanks, everyone keeps pointing that out. I get it. You don’t need to keep reminding me,” Five said in between labored breaths as he lowered his guard and sat back down.

“I can tell you are hell bent on something, Five, but you will be lucky to make it out of this room right now,” Klaus argued, as he smiled.

Five let out a frustrated growl, wiping his face, his fingers looking like he was trying to dig his eyes out as he looked back up at Klaus in defeat. “Help me then.”

“I will. Just lay back down, I’m going to get you something to eat. Just stay here, ok?”

“Ok,” Five replied, pushing back into the mountain of blankets. Klaus looked so relieved. “I’ll be right back.”

He scurried out of the room. Even swaddled tightly, Five could hardly repress his trembling body from full-on convulsing.

He was having a fever. That partly explained why he felt like shit. He knew that but why didn’t he know the rest until Klaus told him?

All at once, he remembered his dream, or better yet, his nightmare based on a very real memory.

He shut his eyes and tried to forget.

He couldn't. He never would.

“Why was this happening to me?” he whispered, his voice cracking.

Five did his best to force them not to, but a stream of more warm tears ran down his face anyway.

His fingers slid under his shirt, over his clammy skin. He searched once again for the torn flesh from my phantom bullet holes but found nothing.

It hurt like a bitch anyway.

Klaus startled him when he came back in, rushing over to set a tray filled with all sorts of things on the nightstand. After that, Five kept his head buried in the blankets as he discreetly swiped away the beads of sweat dampening his forehead, desperate not to show even more evidence of his breakdown.

“There should be something on here that you will like. The buffet here is the best.” Klaus said encouragingly as he tried to bring a cup of juice with a straw to Five’s lips.

“I can do it, I'm not a helpless child,” Five said, blindly taking it from him.

As Five peeked at him through a hole in the blankets, Klaus looked slightly hurt, but he quickly tried to hide it, instead, going about the room, picking up dirty clothes that looked like they belonged to both him and Diego and seeing it all laying there, Five had no idea why.

Had they both stayed with me?

Had everyone come in here?

“I’m going to go out and give you some space. If you need anything, just call.” Klaus smiled, then turned to go but quickly spun back. “Oh, I put some fresh clothes I rummaged up over there. They should work in case you want them,” he offered, pointing to the nearly baren room’s only dresser. “There’s a bathroom down the hall that you can shower up in. It’s a shared sort of situation in there.” He laughed. “Very classy old-school here at the Obsidian.”

“Thank you, Klaus. I am fine. Despite what you see, I can take care of myself,” Five assured, attempting to sound like his self-assured normal, all so he didn’t look so damn pathetic, but then as he tried to sit up again, his vision spun, and he ended up slouching on the pillows instead.

Klaus wasn’t buying it. He quickly came back over, taking the cup from his brother’s hand before it spilled. “I’m staying,” he said, as he parked himself in the torn dressing chair that he already had pulled up next to the side of Five’s bed.

After that, Five hazily remembered talking with Klaus while he helped him eat. Then he knew that he must have dozed off again, because when he awoke, the room was dark, and he was alone.

His burning fever had let up. He felt considerably better than before. He rolled over towards the faint light coming from a lamp on the dresser. Through the curtains, he could make out the faintest lights sparkling in the cityscape.

He’d slept the entire day. The clock on the old nightstand said nine-thirty.

Five heaved the mountain of blankets back, pulling his legs around to the side of the bed. His empty tray was still where Klaus had left it. He had stayed long after Five finished every last bit of food, and Klaus pretended to be resting after that as he tried to sprawl out in his tiny chair, but Five knew he was just staying to make sure he was ok. He was so scared to take his eyes off of him that he didn’t even get up on the top bunk.

Thankfully he didn’t, Five thought. If he had, the whole thing may have come crashing down on him.

“What a shithole,” Five breathed.

Five wasn’t going to admit it, but Klaus at least found somewhere for them to go when he’d had no helpful suggestions. And knowing Klaus was there with him when he was so out of it was probably half the reason he was able to let go and rest again, otherwise, with the little energy the food had given him, he probably would have laid there not letting his guard down as he ruminated on the endless supply of nightmares, he feared were waiting for him.

Further surveying the room, Five noticed there was not much to it, and he remembered Klaus saying the bathroom was down the hall. Trying out his legs, he was happy to find out they weren’t nearly as weak as before.

He made his way across the room, and sure as he promised, Klaus had laid out what appeared to be some very fitting old guy clothes, weird multipocketed fishing style jacket, and plaid fedora included. Holding them up, the pants and shirts looked like they would fit him, and at the moment, Five didn’t care whose clothes Klaus had stolen for him.

Nothing in him wanted to join them, but knowing at some point he had to, and that he needed to clean up, Five sighed. Breathing in, he realized that he smelled horrendous.

He stole a quick look in the dressing mirror and got confirmation; yup, he still looked like shit smeared with shit.

Once inside the large community bathroom that was thankfully yet oddly empty, behind the dressing curtain of one of the showers, Five worked off his soiled clothes, throwing them in a heap.

He couldn’t remember the last time had time for a proper shower. It hadn’t been in this scrawny pubescent body, that was for sure. He had been wearing most of the same clothes he had on when in the 60’s, he’d gotten tricked into taking out the board of directors.

Sickened all over again as vision of their terrified faces slitting open under the blade of his ax, it dawned on Five that not all the blood and grime on him was from the fight at Sissy’s farm.

He was disgusting and his clothes needed to be burned.

In a daze, Five reached in the shower and after several attempts, he managed to get the water hot enough. After that, he stepped inside the spray and completely zoned out.

He didn’t know how long he’d been in there. Well after the shampoo and suds were gone, he stood there, letting the hot water cascade down his face, as if he could somehow wash away his sins and the events of the last two weeks.

Once again, his ignorance had put all of them one step closer to fucking everything up.

Five felt so empty, so worthless.

His dizzying array of questions and self-loathing were cut short when he closed his eyes. In the darkness that surrounded him, the steam of the shower that had felt so soothing on second, suddenly seemed to be smothering him.

He couldn’t breathe!

All he could see was the smoke and ash, feeling the scorching heat against his back and the crumbling cement under his hands as he tore through the ruins trying to unbury his family.

It was too late…

They were already gone but Five didn't care. He wanted them back so fucking badly.

He wanted to be back with them. But he wasn’t. Not really. They were right.

His eyes flew back open, panic arresting all his senses. The limited space of the tub closed in all around him. His chest heaved as he tried to take in air, and his abdomen throbbed even though the wounds that his mind told him were covering it weren’t even there. The pain sent him crumpling to the ground as he tore the shower curtain open and stumbled out. He barely managed to fasten a towel around himself before he fell to the floor, failing to stifle a loud sob.

Someone called out, their voice echoing through the silence of the large bathing area outside the dressing curtain, but Five couldn’t speak. He couldn’t even move. He curled over and began sinking to the floor when he heard something pop.

Bullets popping off in a barrage of gunfire filled his ears as his eyes darted around the small shower stall.

“Fuck, fuck, Fuck, FUCK!” he panted, hyperventilating.

Five’s breathing was nothing more than insufficient gasps as shoes like bullets clipped quickly in his direction.

Please stop, just make it stop!

His low line blurred vision had him seeing a pair of knees, and feet, but he quickly recognized the unlaced combat boots, and that gave him some hope of escaping his waking nightmare.

Klaus suddenly pushed the curtain out of his way and helped Five up so he could sit on the edge of the dressing stool, then he knelt in front of Five, his eyes running over his almost completely exposed body. “Just breathe, Five. What happened?” he asked, his voice sounding so scared that it only scared Five even more.

Forcing himself to look up at his brother, the air was still too suffocating in there for Five to think. He tried to say as much but found himself instead stumbling out of the shower. The immediate drop in temperature between the small mildew filled coffin trying trap him and the grand vaulted ceiling of the bath area was a blessing, but it still wasn’t enough.

Five staggered over to the doors leading out in a desperate attempt to escape, and on his tail, Klaus caught him just as he blinked.

“Five, what are you doing?” Klaus cried out, clinging to Five’s damp arm as they both fell out of his portal onto the roof, but not answering, like a wild animal, Five wrestled out of his hold and bolted.

Almost fully naked and totally out of his mind, Five didn’t make it farther than the edge of the building, stopping at the sight of the six-floor drop. It hit him like a slap in the face.

Wheezing he pulled in breath after breath of the cool night air. The wind was strong, whipping Five’s dark wet hair in his face. The feel of it chilled his entire body even more. The sounds of the horns honking in the traffic were like voices yelling at him, slowly helping to ground him in the now.

It was letting go, the pain…all of it. All the death, but every time Five so much as blinked his eyes, all he could see was concrete, rot, and ash and blood.

The painful toll of reliving this was becoming more and more evident each day. Five knew his mind was slipping away from him, but he didn’t know what to do to stop it. The visions were happening more and more often. His family wasn’t wrong.

He wasn’t okay.

From behind, Klaus carefully reached out, but Five suddenly cowered. Out of instinct, he raised his small arms, readying for a fight.

Looking from his balled-up fists, then back at his brother, Five was even more disgusted with himself.

He sobbed, dignity be damned, letting his body slowly sink to the black tar slicked roof under his bare feet.

A warm embrace suddenly cradled around him despite his sopping wet frame. “You’re okay. You’re not alone. It’s ok…” Klaus soothed.

He was right. The moment his brother’s arms held him, the pain in Five’s chest let up some, and so did the visions. But no matter how good it felt to have someone caring enough to touch him like that, Five couldn’t stop shaking his head. He couldn’t stop sobbing.

“You’re okay. Just breath, keep breathing, man. Slow and steady…”

Five choked in the air as he tried to pull it in slower, forcing myself to calm down and come back all the way.

He squeezed his eyes shut and flashes of cement and ash and broken bodies flew before his eyes, wooden planks smeared with Diego’s blood as Lila she looked at the Handler, seconds away from her heartbroken eyes becoming as blank as the rest. All of it was making an almost blind panic seize Five all over again.

“Everyone’s gone,” he sobbed. “I fucked up…I got you all killed. I got you all killed again!” His whole body shook, and Klaus wrapped himself around him tighter.

"How-" Klaus started but Five interrupted.

"I turned it back."

"What?"

"Time!" Five shouted as his small body rocked and Klaus rocked with him. "I turned it back to stop it from happening," Five whispered, burying his face against his arms.

"You had to save us again? God, Five... I am so sorry," Klaus breathed, his chin resting in the wet matt of hair on the back of his brother's head.

Five said nothing.

“Look,” Klaus said, “Open your eyes. I’m here, we are all here. It’s ok. Just keep breathing, it will stop. You’re having a panic attack. Just keep breathing slowly. Everything is going to be ok.” His voice came in waves and he kept repeating it, working it into Five’s mind the guiding light of love he needed more than anything and had for so long.

Five opened his eyes, seeing his long white toes lined up next to his brother’s big boots as their legs stretched out in front of them. Slowly Five turned his head to face Klaus just a little. “Thank you,” he quietly breathed, squeezing his hand tight, scared of letting it go when normally he was scared of being touched at all.

“You’re safe. I’ve got you this time. We all do,” Klaus whispered. “Just keep breathing… Stay with us, Five.”

~~~~~~~~~~

Okay, there it is. For those that have read my first series, some of this might have seemed familiar. As I said, I have written so many things with Five breaking down and his family being there for him in ways they never were on the show, so I borrowed a little of the dream and his shower break down from things that happened in part three of that story, but hopefully this season 3 adaptation I changed it into worked for you.

I know I sure could have seen this version happening to Five, especially since right before landing in the Sparrows house when he had the shit beat out of him by Lila, frying pan to the head and all, right before a chimney crushed him and then he was shot by the Handler and had to reverse time. He never even told his family he did that as far as how the show went down. So... yeah. Five deserved more and thank you for asking for it.

Link to my Tumblr story and art posts

Link to my Master List

Link to visit me on A03

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swiftiethatlovesf1 · 4 hours

Text

Toto's obsession p.4

Hey guyss, I hope you enjoy this part and if you've missed part 3 or here it is or if you want to read it from the beginning here's my masterlist :)

The noise of the garage buzzed around you—mechanics shouting instructions, engineers focused on their screens, the hum of engines readying for another practice session. You stood near the back, just out of the way, eyes drifting toward George’s car as he climbed in. Your brother barely looked in your direction, his face hard, focused solely on the task ahead. It had been hours since the fight, and the chasm between you two felt deeper than ever.

You sighed, arms crossed over your chest, feeling more alone than you ever had before. Every time you glanced at George, that knot in your stomach tightened. You missed him. The playful, protective older brother who had always looked out for you was now distant, angry, hurt by something you weren’t sure you could fix.

Lost in your thoughts, you didn’t notice Lewis until his hand gently rested on your shoulder. Startled, you looked up to see his warm, concerned eyes peering down at you.

“Hey,” he said softly, his voice low, kind. “You alright?”

You forced a smile, trying to shake off the heaviness of the morning. “Yeah, I’m fine,” you lied, though your voice wavered, betraying the truth.

Lewis tilted his head slightly, clearly not buying your answer. “Doesn’t look like it.” His eyes followed yours, catching the way you kept glancing at George’s car. “Something going on with George?”

You hesitated for a moment before nodding, your shoulders slumping as you gave in. “We had a fight. A really bad one.”

Lewis’ face softened with understanding. He knew how protective George was of you—everyone on the team did. But there was something deeper in your voice that made him pause.

“I’m sure he’ll come around,” Lewis said gently, his hand squeezing your shoulder. “He’s just… George, you know? Stubborn as hell, but he’ll always come back to you. You’re his sister.”

You blinked back the tears that threatened to spill over, appreciating his words more than you could express. “I hope so,” you whispered, your voice thick with emotion. “I hate being like this with him. We’ve never fought like this before.”

Without saying another word, Lewis pulled you into a comforting hug. His arms wrapped around you tightly, and you leaned into the embrace, allowing yourself to feel a small bit of comfort. It wasn’t like the warmth you felt with Toto—it was different. Familiar, friendly. Like the support of an older brother you could lean on when things felt too heavy to carry alone.

“You two will be fine,” Lewis murmured into your hair, rubbing your back softly. “Just give him some time to cool off. He’ll come around, I promise.”

You nodded against his chest, appreciating his kindness more than you could put into words. “Thanks, Lewis. I really needed that.”

Meanwhile, unbeknownst to you, Toto had just stepped out of his meeting. His eyes scanned the garage, searching for you. When he finally spotted you, his gaze immediately hardened. There you were, in Lewis’ arms.

A surge of possessiveness shot through him. His jaw clenched, and his eyes narrowed as he watched the two of you. Lewis was hugging you—his arms wrapped around you far too intimately for Toto’s liking.

Toto’s hands curled into fists at his sides as he started walking, his long strides purposeful, controlled—though the jealousy simmering beneath the surface was anything but.

As you pulled away from Lewis, offering him a small, grateful smile, you had no idea what was unfolding behind you. “I’ll talk to him later,” you said, your voice lighter now. “Thanks again.”

Lewis nodded, giving your shoulder one last reassuring squeeze. “Anytime.”

You turned to leave, making your way back to the hospitality area, missing the icy exchange that was about to happen behind you.

As soon as you were out of earshot, Toto approached Lewis, his face an unreadable mask but his eyes sharp. “Lewis,” he said, his voice low and controlled, though there was a distinct edge to it.

Lewis straightened up, sensing the tension immediately. “Toto.”

Toto’s gaze flicked briefly in the direction you’d gone, then back to Lewis, his expression hard. “I know you were just trying to comfort her,” he began, his tone deceptively calm. “But be careful.”

Lewis furrowed his brows, confused. “Careful?”

Toto took a step closer, his height and presence imposing. “She’s George’s sister. Everyone is very protective of her—myself included.”

Lewis blinked, taken aback by the sudden change in tone. “I know that, Toto. I was just—”

“I know,” Toto interrupted, his voice lowering, though the steel in his words was unmistakable. “But I wouldn’t want something unfortunate to happen to anyone who got too close. On or off the track.”

Lewis’ eyes widened slightly at the implied threat, his confusion turning to disbelief. He opened his mouth to respond, but Toto cut him off with a pointed look.

“I’m just saying,” Toto continued, his voice still calm but deadly serious, “it’s best for everyone if boundaries are respected.”

Lewis’ face hardened, a flash of something like anger or defiance crossing his features, but he didn’t push further. Instead, he nodded slightly, his expression tight. “Understood.”

With that, Toto turned and walked away, his jaw still clenched as he set off to find you. His mind raced, jealousy and protectiveness mingling as he thought about what he had seen. You were his—there was no doubt about that. No one else, not even Lewis, would come between the two of you.

When he finally caught up to you, you were sitting alone, staring out into the paddock, your thoughts still preoccupied with George. Toto’s heart softened as he watched you, the possessiveness simmering down for the moment, replaced by something deeper.

He approached you quietly, his hand resting on your shoulder. You looked up, startled at first, but relaxed when you saw it was him. His eyes, though still intense, softened as they met yours.

“Come with me,” he murmured, his voice low but gentle, a stark contrast to the cold tone he had just used with Lewis. “Let’s get away from all of this for a while.”

You nodded, standing up and slipping your hand into his, letting him guide you away, unaware of the confrontation that had just taken place behind your back. All you knew in that moment was that, with Toto by your side, you felt safe—despite the storm brewing around you.

#f1 #f1 imagine #f1 x reader #formula 1 #toto wolff #toto wolff imagine #toto wolff x reader #toto wolff x y/n #lewis hamilton imagine #lewis hamilton

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theheartnexttophan · 3 days

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Ok, so I’ve not seen anyone else talk about this, but I think it’s really cute, even if it’s a really small thing that required a LOT of investigation and explanation. So here is my

Black Jumper Theory

Obligatory disclaimer: I can’t prove this to be 100%-beyond-a-reasonable-doubt-definitely-true, but I feel like the jumps I had to make were reasonable enough to claim this as a theory

So first off, in Keeping or Yeeting My Entire Closet With Dan, Dan mentions several times how Phil has a lot of sparkly black jumpers (he says things like “you have 10 of them and they’re all identical,” “he has so many identical sparkly black jumpers,” and “sparkly black jumper number 510.”) But when Phil puts on this zebra print jumper, while debating about whether to keep it, he says “you bought this for me, Dan.”

We know Phil got the zebra print jumper for Christmas in 2016, because in his first video on AmazingPhil in 2017 (2017 WANTS ME DEAD), he’s wearing this jumper and mentions how he got it for Christmas. He talks about a bunch of his Christmas gifts in the first part of that video, (including a deer candle from Dan) and for everything he shows, he mentions who gave it to him, EXCEPT this jumper; he doesn’t say who it was from. As of the Keeping and Yeeting video, we know it was Dan.

But looking at Phil's first videos in other years, we can see that he also wore a sparkly/patterned black jumper in his first proper AmazingPhil video in 2016 and 2018 (so three years in a row.) In 2016, he does talk about Christmas presents, but doesn’t mention the jumper. He does show a blobfish plush and say that Dan got it for him, but considering how we know Dan got Phil a candle AND the jumper in 2017, I think it’s plausible that Dan got Phil both the blobfish and the houndstooth jumper he’s wearing in that video. In 2018, Phil doesn’t mention Christmas gifts or the jumper at all. (Also, I did look back on videos and Instagram posts, and didn’t find any time Phil wore any of these jumpers before their respective Christmases as far as I can tell.)

So based on all this evidence, I think it’s a reasonable jump to guess that from 2015-2017, Dan had a tradition of giving Phil a black jumper for Christmas.

Which leads us to January 11, 2018, when Phil posted this selfie on Instagram wearing the sparkly jumper, and said he wants to legally marry it. Which is SO CUTE considering Dan probably gave Phil that jumper.

BUT for even more evidence, Dan liked this Instagram post, and at the time, they didn’t really like each other’s Insta posts, even ones they tagged each other in (unless they had a specific reason to, like promo posts, and not even all of those). You can see this in my terribly screen recorded video of the posts before and after this one. (Interestingly, it was right around the time that Phil changed his hair to the quiff that they started liking each other’s posts consistently.)

So, when Phil posted that he wanted to marry the jumper, I can’t help but think of how Dan probably gave him the jumper, and how Dan also liked this single post, when that wasn’t a typical thing for him… maybe Phil wanting to marry the jumper wasn’t about the jumper at all… (pharriage hill)

But like I said, that’s just a theory… a phan theory

(Not that I’m necessarily saying there was actually anything wedding/engagement/whatever happening at the time, it’s more just the sentiment of it)

#Pharriage hill #<3 #Dan and Phil #Phan

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thespiritssaidso · 2 days

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Emotional Support Psychic

Summary: Lassiter had no clue what touch-therapy was, let alone that it even existed. That is, until he saw an ad for one in the newspaper.

Shawn had been hired to be a ‘professional cuddler’ — his words — as a side job when Psych was running low on cases and money.

Notes: thank you psych discord for this idea. Needed to write myself a pick-me-up and you guys came in clutch <3

Also I should say right now that I have no idea where Lassie lives in season 3. I have no clue if he actually does live within a mile perimeter of the station. But it’s whatever, y’know. This is fanfic. So, enjoy lol

Word count: 2,472

—————

Shawn spun around in his rolly chair, legs tucked up against his chest as his hands did all the work, pulling at the desk every once in a while to regain lost momentum. He’d wobbled a few times, but would quickly right himself every time. He hummed a tune under his breath that sounded suspiciously like ‘Around the World’ by Daft Punk.

“Shawn, if you keep doing that, you’re going to puke.” Gus, who was sitting calmly in his own chair, reprimanded. He himself was on his computer, checking emails to see if he’d missed anything from his boss or coworkers.

“My stomach is made of steel, Gus. It’ll take a lot more than this to make me throw up.” It was true. The only times Shawn ever vomited was when someone else did it right in front of him. And even then, it was still a 50/50 chance of him reacting to it.

Gus just rolled his eyes. He knew that Shawn was telling the truth. But just watching him spin around like that was making him feel dizzy and lips tingly with nausea.

A ding from Shawn’s phone startled them both. Well, only a little bit. But that was enough to unbalance him and send him to the floor in a heap. He wasn’t deterred, however, and hopped right up and resituated his chair as if nothing happened.

A quick glance at his screen told him everything. “Ooo, finally!”

“What? What is it?”

“You remember that uh… that hug-therapy thing I put out an application for and got hired?”

“Yeah. And I still don’t get why you did that. Touching random strangers isn’t exactly something that sounds the most exciting. Kind of the opposite, actually.”

“First of all: don’t say it like that. It makes me sound like a prostitute. Nothing against them, that’s their choice of work.”

“Well, you are technically selling your body to people you don’t know.”

Shawn ignored that comment. “And B: That’s where you’re wrong, Gus. All kinds of young, touch-starved hotties who grew up unloving homes need hugs. I’d say that’s not very boring.”

“So, you’re taking advantage of someone in need.”

“Quit twisting my words around, man! You know what I meant.”

Gus clicked his tongue. “Whatever. Why’re you bringing it up, anyway?”

“I just got my first assignment! But it’s anonymous. They’re probably embarrassed about getting a professional.”

“Now look at who’s making it sound weird.”

Shawn just waved him off. “They’ve booked a thirty minute session at their place.” With an address listed, of course. In fact, that was all that was in the small text he’d gotten. No name, not even a gender. Only a time and place. A little weird, but hey, who was he to judge? He was the one that basically signed up for this.

“I don’t like this, Shawn. What if it’s a serial killer?”

“Chill out, Gus. If it is a serial killer, then they’d have to be the dumbest one in the history of ever. The address they gave me is like, four blocks away from the station. If they pull a knife on me I can just run out and grab Lassie or Jules. Or even Buzz, if neither of them are there.”

Gus didn’t look very reassured. “Maybe that’s why they chose that spot. Because no one would suspect somewhere so close to the police.”

“You’re so clinical. You know that, right?”

“You mean cynical. Clinical wouldn’t make any sense in that context.”

“I’ve heard it both ways.”

———

Shawn sped down the road on his motorcycle (Gus refused to let him use the Blueberry). Buildings were a blur, meshing together in his peripherals. As he drove, he checked his watch. 7:13 p.m. Yeah, he was gonna make it.

It was still a little odd to him that the client gave no details other than when and where they wanted the session to take place. Shawn was no expert when it came to this, but he knew some people would at least put in a comment or two about themselves. Heck, maybe even just if they had some topics they wanted to talk about or movies they wanted to watch during their session. He seriously didn’t expect his client to want to just sit there in awkward silence as he snuggled up to them.

So, as he rode, he tried coming up with topics. 80’s movies or shows, if the topic came up. Pineapple? Maybe put that one on the back burner, as a last resort.

What if whoever it was asked why he’d chosen to be a touch-therapist?

He could make up some sob-story about how his parents never gave him enough love as a child and now he wants to give others cuddles so no one would have to feel how he’d felt.

It… actually wasn’t totally far from the truth. He did in fact sign up to work as a touch-therapist as a way to satiate his own touch-starve-ingness. Maybe he should go with that. Makes for a good sob story. But he wouldn’t admit that to Gus, or his dad, or anyone he knew personally, for that matter. All it would do was just open up a whole discussion that he definitely didn’t want to have.

Besides, Shawn didn’t just want this, he was built for this. The stockiness of Shawn’s body didn’t come easy, no sir. It took a lot to go from eating only when he was hungry, to eating regularly scheduled meals and when he was hungry. If that made sense. And it worked, too. He’d gone from being called a twink by random people at bars while he was on the road, to being… healthy. Not so much of a stick, or a walking skeleton. It was also probably how he’d gotten hired so easily, given his extensive resume.

Shawn parked his bike on the curb next to the house. It was nice, the paint was a pretty shade of green, single story but wide enough to look like it could easily house two people with space for other rooms. The yard was decently sized, and the grass wasn’t overgrown. It was all painstakingly tidy. Whoever lived here was probably the biggest neat freak ever-

Then he noticed the red Crown Vic parked in the driveway.

No way. No way. Lassie? Lassie had called and scheduled an appointment with him? The Carlton Lassiter had scheduled an appointment to be cuddled by the fake psychic?

Well, not with him specifically. All assignments were at random, unless special requests were made by the clients. So that meant Lassiter, Carlton Lassiter, had either made a request with such specific details that made Shawn the only candidate, or he just hadn’t cared and Shawn was chosen by some weird stroke of fate.

Either way, Shawn needed the money. And he definitely wasn’t going to turn down the chance at being able to — professionally — cuddle up with Lassiter. This was his dream, since… well, since he’d been manhandled by him during the missing ring case. He just didn’t expect it to come so soon. Or like this.

With that, he shoved his helmet under his arm and walked up to the small porch. Five knocks later, and he heard the sound of footsteps along with Lassiter's voice, muffled by the door that stood between them. “-know I didn’t put a lot of information, sorry about that. Thanks for coming anyways-” The door opened, and there stood Lassiter, in all his two-piece suit glory. Seriously, why was he still wearing that? He stopped mid sentence when he saw who was at the door. “Spencer? What the hell are you doing here, I’m expecting… someone….”

Shawn ignored Lassiter and the look of realization donning his face. “You know, you could’ve just asked if you wanted to snuggle up with me. Not sure why you had to go around this way.” He put on his award winning smile that always made the ladies — and sometimes the guys — swoon.

It had… some effect on Lassiter. It at least made his cheeks go bright red. “No. No no no no no. No way-”

“Wow, I feel so cherished right now Lassie.”

Lassiter’s mouth opened and closed, searching for the right words to say. “Since when do you work for-”

“Since last week. Cases weren’t coming in and Gus and I were running out of money. I saw the ad and went ‘Hey! That’s a job I haven’t done yet!’”

“Doesn’t Guster have an actual job?”

“Yeah? What does that have to do with anything?” Sure, Gus had him claimed on his taxes. But he didn’t rely on him for everything. He used the money they earned on cases to pay for not only part of the rent on the psych office, but also to pay for the rent at his apartment. Or at least, the apartment he was currently living in.

“Well, I can’t have you as my touch-therapist, so you can kindly turn around and pretend this never happened.”

“Okay, ouch.” Lassiter went to close the door, but Shawn quickly stuck his foot in between, jamming it open.

“Spencer, get your foot out of my door!”

Shawn didn’t do that. He continued, “But! But the way I see it, you either kick me out and get assigned with a random stranger. Or, you could let me in and we cuddle for the allotted 30 minutes you’re paying for.”

The door stopped pushing against his foot and was opened once more. Shawn could see the gears turning in Lassiter’s head. On the one hand, Lassiter didn’t look like he wanted to snuggle up to his rival — harsh — but on the other he also didn’t seem too keen on meeting with a stranger. He knew how this worked. Although Shawn had the advantage of knowing the detective, Lassiter was painfully easy to read.

Finally, he gave in. “Take your shoes off, I don’t want you tracking dirt inside.”

As soon as Lassiter’s back was turned, Shawn pumped his fist.

First impression of Lassiter’s house was about the same as his impression of the outside. Extremely tidy, very minimalist. A painting of a gun sprouting roses hung up on the wall caught his eye. Shawn couldn’t help the grin. That painting was so Lassie.

“So.” Shawn averted his eyes from the decor and over to the detective himself, who was sitting awkwardly on the couch. “How… How does this work?”

“I dunno. This is my first session, too.” He didn’t feel too proud admitting that. “But! I have had many a cuddle session with other partners. So this shouldn’t be too difficult.”

“Wait. Partners? Why didn’t you just say girlfriend?”

“Well, just saying ‘girlfriends and boyfriends’ seemed kind of like a mouthful.”

Lassiter didn’t say anything to that, simply nodding thoughtfully.

“Alright. Scooch over, gimme some room.” Shawn moved to push him but was stopped by Lassiter slapping the hands away. Not harshly, but enough to let Shawn know not to do that. He was being paid to cuddle with him, nothing more nothing less.

Slowly, Shawn lowered himself into the cushion next to Lassiter. He was close enough he could feel the detective tense at the contact. This wasn’t going to work. “Okay, look Lassie. I can’t really work my magic with you if you’re gonna sit there all rigid like a stick.”

“Oh, I’m sorry.” Sarcasm dripped from Lassiter’s words.

“Just- loosen up some man! This is a two-person exchange, both parties have to participate.”

Lassiter grumbled before complying, ever so slightly relaxing his tensed up muscles and leaning just a bit into Shawn’s side.

“There you go, Lassie!”

“Don’t demean me, Spencer.”

“I wasn’t! I wasn’t.” Shawn had an idea. Gently, he raised his right arm up and over Lassiter’s shoulder to bring him closer.

Of course, he tensed up again. But after a moment he settled down once more.

“So. Did you have anything you wanted to do?”

Lassiter looked over at Shawn, confused. “What do you mean? I’m paying you to… to uhm…”

“Cuddle. You can say cuddle, Lassie.”

“Mmm yeah, that. I’m not paying you to do anything else.”

Shawn snorted. “What, you thought we were just going to sit here, doing absolutely nothing but snuggle?”

“Yeah, something like that.”

Shawn could only look at Lassiter incredulously. He was being serious. Dead serious. “Wow. Uhm, okay. Hang on, gimme a sec.”

“A- To do what?”

“Trying to think of something to talk about. I am not going to be sitting here in silence. That’s torture.” He sat for a moment longer, searching for a topic he and Lassiter could both relate to. What would that even be? So far, all Shawn knew about the detective was that he liked his job just a little too much to be considered normal, along with a love for firearms. Two things that he didn’t exactly feel like talking about.

Wait, actually…

“So, remember when Gus and I went down to Camp Tikihama?”

Lassiter furrowed his eyebrows. “Yeah, didn’t you have to call O’Hara because there was a serial killer? That happened yesterday, of course I remember it.”

Shawn smiled to himself. Perfect. He had something to talk about now. “Well…”

———

Light streamed through the Psych office windows as Gus walked in, carrying his case full of experimental medications. Shawn had told him they had finally had a case, and he was on his way over with the file he’d gotten from the chief.

Gus set his case down next to his desk and sat down, opening up his laptop. Might as well check his emails while he was waiting for Shawn. The fake psychic was notorious for being later than he said he would be. Unless that thing included food. Shawn would always make an exception for food.

But he found himself unable to stop looking over at his friend’s desk. The clutter was really getting to him. He hated that Shawn couldn’t just pick up after himself. There wasn’t really any point to it, anyways. It just looked messy and made stuff get lost.

He could just… organize it. Not much, only a little bit. Maybe straighten up the newspapers into a neater pile and line up the small toys Shawn kept. Nothing too serious.

So that’s exactly what Gus got up to do. But of course, he was stopped by the sight of a check of all things sitting dejectedly and slightly covered up by a newspaper from last week. One glance at what was written on the check was enough to get Gus to grab his phone and dial his friend’s number. “Shawn, why do you have a check written out to you for ‘Services’?! And why is it from Lassiter?! What services did you do for Lassiter?!”

—————

Notes: ughhhh this was so cute and i had fun writing this.

Ao3 link

#shawn spencer #carlton lassiter #burton guster #Shassie #psych #psych 2006 #psych usa #psychusa #psych tv #psych tv show #psych show #psych fic #psych fanfic #psych fanfiction #toast tries to write

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