╰┈➤ summary : Five Hargreeves isn’t the only one who can break the universe. His twin sister, (Y/N), mastered slipping between dimensions—until one wrong move during their little “save the world” mission sent her spiraling into a whole new reality. Now she’s stuck in her teenage body, with 58 years’ worth of knowledge crammed into her head, reliving puberty like some cruel cosmic joke. As if that wasn’t bad enough, she’s trying to figure out how to extend her powers past their limit restrictions again, dodge existential crises, and, oh yeah, deal with a family of vampires constantly breathing down her neck. Yeah, shit sucks.
(Y/N) walked deeper into the forest, her boots crunching lightly on the dry earth as she pushed past overgrown vines and low-hanging branches. The familiar pressure in her chest hadn’t let up since she arrived in this strange world, the weight of her uncertainty settling in with each step. Every part of this dimension felt wrong, out of place, and the more she walked, the more the sense of being utterly disconnected from everything around her pressed in on her. She couldn’t even get a grip on her own self, let alone find a way back to the life she knew.
The coldness in the air wasn’t entirely from the woods; it was something deeper—an unfamiliar energy that gnawed at her insides. She couldn’t focus on it for too long, though. She couldn’t afford to get lost in her own mind. Not when she had no clue where the hell she was or how she got here.
The trees were growing thinner now, their towering forms becoming a blur against the pale light filtering through the canopy above. She pushed forward, only half-aware of where she was headed, just moving. The sound of her own breathing was oddly loud in her ears, and the silence of the forest stretched on endlessly, punctuated only by the occasional rustling of leaves or the distant call of a bird.
Eventually, the thick underbrush began to thin, and the trees opened up to reveal a small clearing. Beyond the trees at the edge of the forest, a faint outline of buildings appeared—structures she recognized from her brief encounter earlier. Forks, the name lingered in her mind, unwelcome and strange.
Her instincts flared, but her feet kept moving forward. She wasn’t ready to confront whatever Forks had in store for her just yet, but she couldn’t stay hidden forever. And maybe—just maybe—there might be something here that could help her figure out how to leave.
She crept closer, staying to the shadows of the trees, her eyes scanning the town beyond. It seemed eerily quiet—too quiet, in fact. There was something about the atmosphere that was unsettling, as if the place was holding its breath, waiting. Her gaze shifted along the road and the surrounding woods, then froze as something caught her eye. A car. A police cruiser. It was cruising slowly down the winding road, headlights cutting through the dusk, the soft hum of the engine approaching.
She instinctively stepped back into the cover of the trees, but it was too late. The officer in the car had already spotted her. He slowed, his gaze narrowing as he noticed her figure standing at the edge of the forest. She felt his eyes on her, studying her, but she didn’t flinch. She’d faced down worse than curious strangers.
The cruiser rolled to a stop, and a man got out. His uniform read “Forks Police” across the front, the badge glinting under the dim light. He was tall, his build sturdy but not imposing—just a man doing his job. The officer didn’t make any sudden moves, which, in her opinion, was the first sign of a good cop. He simply stood there, his posture casual but alert.
“Hey there,” he called, his voice steady and friendly. “Everything alright?”
(Y/N) felt a surge of irritation well up in her chest. Everything alright? She didn’t even know where the hell she was. But she wasn’t about to tell him that. Instead, she folded her arms across her chest and gave him a look that was equal parts skeptical and annoyed.
“I’m fine,” she replied sharply, eyes narrowing. “Just out for a walk. No big deal.”
The officer raised an eyebrow but didn’t push her. Instead, he offered her a small, reassuring smile, the kind of smile that only someone who had dealt with a thousand strangers in the woods could pull off.
“Well, it’s not exactly the best time of day for a stroll, you know?” he said, gesturing to the dimming light around them. “You sure you’re alright? You don’t look like you’re from around here.”
(Y/N) took a quick look around, scanning the area as if checking for some invisible threat. She wasn’t about to let him know more than he needed to. She wasn’t here to make friends or explain herself.
“Yeah, well,” she muttered, her tone dripping with sarcasm, “I just got tired of the crowds. Figured I’d take the scenic route. A little peace and quiet—don’t get too much of that these days.” She gave a small shrug, as if brushing him off. “I’m good.”
The officer didn’t look convinced, but he didn’t press the issue either. “Alright,” he said slowly, “but if you need anything, just let me know. Name’s Charlie Swan, by the way. I don’t usually see anyone out here, especially not this far from the town. So… where are you headed?”
“Nowhere in particular,” (Y/N) answered, her voice almost bored as she shifted her weight, making it clear she wasn’t interested in an extended conversation. “I’m just… passing through. Got places to go.”
The officer’s brow furrowed slightly, his gaze softening with concern, though still guarded. He seemed like he wanted to say more but held back. “Well, that’s… interesting,” he said, studying her with an air of curiosity that she found unsettling. “You sure you’re okay? I could give you a ride to town. It’s a little dangerous walking around here at night.”
(Y/N) felt the urge to roll her eyes but restrained herself. She wasn’t about to let this guy play the hero on her watch. The last thing she needed was someone asking too many questions or trying to force their help on her.
“I’m fine, really,” she insisted, a little sharper this time, her voice clipped. “Thanks, but no thanks. I’ve got it covered.”
The officer’s gaze didn’t leave her, but his posture softened slightly, like he was trying to make her feel more at ease. But that didn’t help her. She wasn’t here to make small talk.
“You sure you’re good?” he asked, his voice dropping just a little, as if he knew something wasn’t quite right. “I could give you a ride to wherever it is you may be heading. It’s not exactly safe walking out here at night.”
She had half a mind to tell him where he could stick his offer. But she didn’t. Not yet. Instead, she shifted her weight, letting her eyes narrow, her voice sharpening just enough to show she wasn’t interested in being babied.
“I’m good,” she said, forcing the words out. “Thanks, but no thanks. I’ve got it covered.”
The officer lingered a moment longer, his expression unreadable. He seemed to want to say something else but held back. Finally, with a small nod, he turned and made his way back to the cruiser. The engine started up again, and the car rolled away, the headlights casting long shadows as it disappeared down the road.
She didn’t move immediately. Instead, she waited, letting the sounds of the cruiser fade into the distance before she allowed herself to relax. For a moment, the weight in her chest lifted, but only slightly. She wasn’t out of danger yet. Not by a long shot.
Turning back toward the woods, she took a steadying breath. There was no time to waste. She needed to keep moving, to keep searching. The answers had to be out there somewhere. She just had to find them.
(Y/N)’s footsteps barely made a sound as she returned to the shadows of the trees, the silence once again wrapping around her like a suffocating blanket. She wasn’t sure where she was headed next, but she had a nagging feeling that something more than just this town awaited her.
Closing her eyes, she concentrated, letting her senses expand outward. The energy she carried—strong, pulsing just beneath the surface—vibrated through her like an electric current. The hum of it was familiar now.
She took a slow, steadying breath and focused.
A shift. A sudden tug, like the world folding in on itself, and then she was gone.
She reappeared a few moments later at the stream she had crossed earlier. The clearing she had found earlier, the one with the faint outline of Forks in the distance, was still fresh in her mind.
The moment she focused, the vision of the stream became clear. Her mind sharpened, the world resetting around her in an instant. She was back at the last place she had truly felt some semblance of safety.
This wasn’t the place she would stay, but she had to figure out what to do next. What to learn.
Her gaze swept across the land. There was nothing but trees and wilderness, a long stretch of forgotten space. But something caught her eye—a break in the foliage that led deeper into the woods. It looked like an abandoned structure. A cabin, long neglected. Perfect.
It could be the temporary shelter she needed.
Making her way toward it, she set her plan in motion. The cabin was cold inside, empty of any life. The floor creaked as she walked across it, her eyes scanning the room for anything useful. A few old, rusted tools. A broken-down table. Nothing that looked worth salvaging, but she wasn’t looking for comfort. She was looking for a way out—out of this dimension, out of whatever trouble awaited her here.
The hours passed as she got to work, her mind whirring with ideas and possibilities. But more than that, it was a question that lingered in the back of her mind: What did her being here mean for everything else? Could her existence here cause a paradox?
She couldn’t afford to ignore the thought. It was a question that would need answering soon.
But not yet. Not while she still had time.
(Y/N) leaned against the cold, dusty window of the cabin, her mind swirling with possibilities. The floorboards creaked under her feet, the silence around her oppressive as she stared out into the darkness of the woods. The moonlight was faint, casting long shadows across the room. It was too quiet here—too still. A far cry from the rapid pace of her old life. The empty cabin was just another shell, abandoned like everything else in this strange place. It was only temporary, a brief stop along her journey.
Her fingers tapped rhythmically on the old wooden table, her thoughts moving faster than she could process them. There were too many things to consider, and the complexity of the situation was beginning to take root in her mind. What had brought her here? Was this dimension her new prison, or simply a detour? Could she even go back to her original timeline, to her old world?
She chuckled to herself, the sound dark and self-assured. Of course she could return. She was brilliant, far more capable than anyone who might try to stop her, and this—this world, this twisted turn of events—was just another challenge to overcome.
But the science, the mechanics, the probabilities—they gnawed at her. There was a part of her that couldn’t help but break down the situation like a complex equation, the solution looming on the horizon, but just out of reach.
“Alright, let’s see,” she muttered aloud, pacing in the cabin’s dim light. “The first thing is obvious. I’m not supposed to be here. I can feel it. The energy is wrong. This dimension, this universe—it’s a distortion. A flaw in the fabric of space-time. If I’m here, something’s gone wrong. And let’s be clear, it’s not me that’s the problem. I’m the solution.”
Her reflection in the cracked mirror on the wall seemed to agree—well, at least, it mirrored her every movement, a perfect imitation of her face. Her sharp gaze, the confident tilt of her chin. But then it did something that made her stop in her tracks. It smiled back at her.
An amused, twisted smile.
“Do you think you’re invincible?” the reflection asked, its voice soft, but laced with condescension. The same voice she’d heard inside her head a thousand times. The same voice that had always been there, speaking her thoughts, challenging her decisions. Her brother’s voice.
“What do you think, genius?” she replied, her words dripping with mock sarcasm. She knew it wasn’t just the reflection—it was him, or at least, an echo of him. Her twin. The other half. The one who had shared her every thought, every plan, for as long as she could remember. Number Five. And, despite everything, he still had the audacity to talk to her.
“Oh, don’t pretend you’re above it all,” Five’s voice echoed from the mirror, as if he were standing right next to her. “You’ve always loved the chaos, the complexity. But this?” He gestured to the room around her with a flick of his head. “This is bigger than you, even you. And you know it.”
She sighed, rolling her eyes, irritated but not surprised. “You’re right, of course. I’m the brilliant mastermind, the tactical genius, the one who always thinks ten steps ahead. But… I’m stuck in a world that doesn’t even belong to me.” She looked away, momentarily lost in her thoughts, before snapping her fingers. “That’s a contradiction. That’s what makes me a paradox.”
Her reflection—the one that was him, the one that had always been there, the one who was her—tilted its head, as if considering her words.
“A paradox, huh?” it said, voice dripping with disdain. “You’re already a paradox. You exist outside the natural order of time. You’ve jumped across dimensions before. But this? This isn’t just another blip in your little adventure. This could unravel everything.”
“Could,” she repeated, as though testing the word. “Could… or will?” Her voice was colder now. She wasn’t talking to him, not really. She was talking to herself. But it still felt strangely… comforting.
“There’s a reason why I’m called a young genius,” she said, stepping closer to the mirror, her reflection staring back with an intensity that mirrored her own. “I’m the one who plans, who analyzes, who always finds the way out. You think I can’t handle this? That I can’t solve it? Of course I can. It’s just a matter of calculations.”
She started pacing again, speaking as though she was giving a lecture to a class, though her only audience was herself—him. “We know time and space are interwoven. The universe, in all its infinite complexity, runs on a delicate balance of forces. And yet, these forces are not as constant as we think. Time is a fluid thing. I’m proof of that. Every time I jump, I alter the very threads of existence. And let’s be real here, I do it better than anyone.”
Her reflection crossed its arms, a knowing look on its face. “Sure, you do it better. You’re always the best. But there’s a reason your existence is a time bomb, sweetheart. You were never supposed to exist this way. You’re a walking paradox.”
The words hit her like a punch to the gut. But she wasn’t shaken. Not yet. She never was.
“You really think I’m a time bomb, huh?” she scoffed, a smirk forming on her lips. “I’d love to see the person who’s dumb enough to try and stop me.”
Her reflection raised an eyebrow, a sardonic expression creeping across its face. “You’re not invincible, (Y/N). Your own existence could undo everything. The ripples of your being here could destabilize the whole timeline. Maybe even the universe itself.”
“Please,” she snapped. “Spare me the lecture. If I were so much of a threat, don’t you think someone—something—would’ve already tried to take me down by now?” She leaned in, her fingers tapping against the surface of the mirror, as though challenging the reflection to come up with something better. “I’m already the key to fixing this. All I need is the right trigger.”
Her reflection mirrored her smirk, but then it straightened up, the look in its eyes sharpening. “You know the risks, though. Your brother knew them, too. And he still chose to stand by you. But this isn’t about him. This is about you—about whether you can control this mess you’ve made.”
(Y/N) stood silently, staring at her reflection as though she were looking at a ghost, or perhaps the future. The mirror seemed to blur for a second, like the fabric of the universe was tearing apart just beneath her.
“It’s a risk I’m willing to take,” she finally said, her voice cool and resolute. “I’ve lived on the edge of existence for as long as I can remember. Time, space—it doesn’t matter. I’ll fix this, and when I do, I’ll be the one pulling the strings, just like always. The universe has no idea what’s coming. They’re all just waiting for me to do what I do best.”
She stepped back, the reflection still mimicking her, still watching. “You’re not a time bomb,” it finally said, though the words seemed more like a challenge now. “You’re a walking weapon. And you don’t even know what it’s capable of.”
“Oh, but I do. I just haven’t decided how to use it yet.”
As the words hung in the air, she turned her back to the reflection and stepped away from the mirror. Her mind was already racing through the possibilities again, the calculations, the theories. Time wasn’t linear—not really. It was a web, a construct that could be manipulated. All she had to do was find the right thread to pull.
The sound of her boots tapping against the old cabin floor echoed in the silence, but there was no turning back.
This world—this dimension—was just another puzzle waiting to be solved. And she, (Y/N), was the only one who had the mind to do it.
