Hey, I dont know if you are currently acepting asks but... Please can you write something with Clockwork/Alfred? I'll give you a cookie?
I really love how you write and i cant find fics with this ship
Danny gets a cryptic message from Clockwork the night that he, Sam, Tucker, and Jazz are supposed to go on a three-week College tour road trip.
A trip that they were going to use to decide where the three graduating students planned on going to college. Jazz was coming along to ease their parents' worry, mainly as a voice of reason. She had taken time off of work and classes just to make this happen.
It had taken months to plan.
So cryptic messages put a damper on the mood. Granted, all notifications from Clockwork were cryptic, but that didn't make this any less stressful.
He had just sat by his bed, leaning his back onto his lower bed frame and mattress, when he noticed the glowing sticker note on the carpeted floor.
"What does it say?" Sam sighs, closing her suitcase. She was kneeling a few feet away from him, double-checking their luggage. "A warning about the trip? Insight of an upcoming trial? Oh, let me guess, one of us is pregnant?."
"It's me, isn't it?" Tuck asks from where he's lying on Danny's bed. He places a hand under his chin with a sigh. "I've noticed a glow in my reflection lately. Danny, you're the Father."
"Shut it, Tuck." Danny laughs, turning the glowing sticky note over. "It just has an address, a date, and a time. Nothing else. I think he wants us to go there when the day comes."
Jazz walks in carrying a tray. She insisted they all take some bedtime tea to help them get enough rest for the drive. She recently started making her own blends after much research and experimenting. Danny loves it and always begs for a jar of her tea whenever he visits her. "What's going on?"
"We have to add a stop to the road plan," Sam sighs. She takes the black mug covered in white laughing sculls, nodding in gratitude to the redhead. "In one week, we have to go to Gotham."
"That's doable. We'll be going through Bludhaven by then. We would use the following two days to go sightseeing a few cities over, but we can sacrifice one of them to head to Gotham instead." Jazz hums, mentally going over their planned-out map that she likely memorized.
Danny groans, carefully resting the black mug with white constellations on the floor beside him. "I really wanted to see the hot springs resort, though."
"Member next time, Danny." Tuck pats his head while his own black mug- this one with little game controllers- is held carefully in his other hand. "After the baby is born, we'll go again."
"Why are you stuck on the whole baby thing?"
"Danny, that's no way to speak to the father of your children, especially while he's carrying," Sam chided from her corner. "The stress is bad for the baby."
"Please stop."
"But Danny," Jazz cuts in, sitting across from him. She crosses her legs underneath her, and her black mug with white books completes the set. "You should be supportive of Tucker in this very delicate time."
"I'm going to Go Ghost and never come back."
"I knew you be a deadbeat dad," Tucker tsks.
The four burst into impish laughter; the ease of the teasing joke and the calming tea rekindled the mood of excitement, even with Clockwork's glowing sticky note being shoved into their luggage to be revisited in a week.
-------------------------------------------------------------------------
"Are you sure this is the place?" Danny asks again, leaning forward to where Tucker is driving.
Jaz looks around in fascination at the large houses and spacious yards they pass while Sam sleeps beside Danny in the backseat. She just finished her turn driving for seven hours and wanted to catch up on sleep.
Personally, Danny thinks she shouldn't volunteer for the first shift- they set out at four in the morning to keep to their road plan- but he knows no one else would do it if Sam didn't.
Neither Fenton works well before nine a.m., while Tucker needs help seeing in the dark, so he always gets the day shift.
Tucker's grip on the steering wheel tightens as he grits through his teeth. "For the sixth time, Danny, this is where the GPS said to go. I am literally staring at the icon move on the map as I drive."
"It's just....look at this place! It's rich people. I think they call the cops on us for driving through here." Danny defends, knowing his consent doubts driving his bed friend up a wall but unable to stop fretting.
"I don't think they call the cops....but I think we should move as quickly as possible." Jazz advised as the houses started to grow in both size and property amount. "We're almost there."
"Why would Clockwork want us to come here?" Tucker hissed as their old beat-up fan made a turn into a road that had the trees cut into arches above their heads. It was so obviously fancy that the three got highly uncomfortable. Even Sam's house wasn't so drenched in wealth, and this was just the front entrance.
"Maybe he wants us to investigate a haunted mansion." Danny offers, "Since we're in the area and all."
Danny leans back in his seat. He glances over at Sam; upon noticing the blanket she was using had slid down, he reaches over to tuck her in.
It's just as he sits back that his enhanced sight catches the faintest outline of a man in the trees, crouched down on a branch and watching them. Danny's heart spams, but he has no time to react further as the van moves on and the man's figure disappears in the floral.
"Holy shit!" Danny swears loudly, causing Tucker to jump and tilt the van.
"Dude!" Tucker hisses, "Don't do that! You scared the shit out of me."
"Sorry, sorry." Danny places a hand over his heart, trying to calm the rapid beating. "I think I just saw a demon. Pretty sure that's what Clockwork wanted us to investigate."
"A demon?" Jazz whimpers, eyes flickering all over the trees with unease. "Are you sure it was a demon?"
"It looked liked like a one," Danny responds. "I highly doubt some guy will just go around dressed like a bat for fun."
" Great. Just great. A demon, that's going to be so much fun to deal with," Tucker complains, pressing on the gas more. They don't call him out as the feeling of being watched becomes suffocating.
The sooner they're out of the open, the better.
The end of the driveway opens up to a grand manor that would have made any noble Lord green with envy. Tucker drives around the giant fountain, pulling up to the park in front of the stairway of the main entry.
He squints out the front window as he loops before gasping. "Is that Clockwork?"
The Fenton Siblings each press their noses to the glass of their windows when they come to a complete stop. Both gasped at the exact same time and in the same volume at the man who was casually waiting for them at the door.
It's obviously Clockwork, but he's not in the form they are used to. Not the flouting child, not the sticking middle-aged man, or the aged old entity. No, the form Clockwork uses is a man in his early fifties, with the grace of a sliver fox and, oh, not a ghost.
"Hello, children," Clockwork says, walking down the stairs to meet them. The three are staring at him with slack jaws, half out of their vehicle but lingering in their doors just in case.
Sam snores.
"I'm ever so glad you have come." Clockwork continues, his green eyes flickering with mirth. A smile pulls at his lips, causing laughing lines to appear around his eyes, and it complements his warm bridge skin. He is not blue. "Not a moment too late. Punctual as ever, Jasmine."
"I- ugh, thank you, sir." Jazz shutters before getting her wits about her. "Why did you call us?"
"I will be delaying your trip for the next week." Clockwork lifts up a hand as if to stop any complaints this announcement may cause, which isn't really necessary, seeing as none of them can find the strength to speak. "I will, of course, make it possible to make up the time lost. I just need you four to act as my children for the next week."
"Why?" Tucker's voice is barely above a whisper.
"I can only keep this form for seven days, as I am not a halfa, but in that time, I hope to woo a man. He is a family man through and through, so if I can show him that I am more than capable of caring for a large family, it will help me in the long run." Clockwork then shrugs. "Plus, I need an anchor, and what better than four virgins?"
"Hey!" Danny shouts offended.
Clockwork raises a brow. "Am I wrong, Daniel?"
"No, but you didn't have to expose me like that," Danny grumbles.
"Who are you trying to woo?" Jazz asks, trying to steer the conversation back on track.
Clockwork's cheeks gain a reddish hue, and the three eyes practically pop out of their socket. They never knew the time god could be so...human. It's jarring. "Alfred Pennyworth. The butler of Wayne Manor, four houses down from our manor."
"A butler?" Tucker repeats slowly, "You, the god of time and overseer of all that is, has been, and will be, want to seduce a butler?"
"Yes. He is the love of my core," Clockwork nods determinedly.
Well, who can argue with that?
"Alright." Danny agrees. "So what's our cover story?"
"Yes, my four children- all adopted- and I have recently decided to go learn about our family roots and visit our ancestral home. Only to remodel and check out the family records, we will be out by the end of the week to our next grand adventure. We are old money but one that faded from importance due to lack of contact with the rest of high society. To remedy this, I will be taking you to high-class events." Clockwork sighs dreamily. "We were invited by the Waynes to a gala tomorrow night as a welcome-back party. There, I will see Alfred."
"Alright. And the demon?"
"Demon?"
"A man in the driveway that looked like a bat." Danny helpfully says, even though his voice wavers slightly.
"Oh, you mean Bruce. Yes, that's Alfred's son. Don't worry; he can not cross our driveway. I put a spell that causes humans to forget why they were coming here if not invited by us. Also, he is not a demon. He is a human who dresses like a bat to fight crime. Bruce's children dress like birds to help him."
There is silence that sounds louder than it should as they all take in this information. Clockwork smiles at him, mischievous and graceful in equal parts as they try to make sense of the weird kid Alfred the Butler has.
"I'm going to need a lot of stress-reducing teas for this week." Jazz sighs.
"We can go buy some for you tonight," Clockwork promises, pulling out a black card and grinning with all his teeth. "We're old money now, darling."
"oh my god."
Master Post Link
921 notes
·
View notes
A TRAGEDY THAT'S BUILT ON DESTINY!
I WOULD CHANGE MOST EVERY SINGLE THING. I WOULD LET YOU KISS ME, KILL ME!
synopsis// multiple different universes, but one thing remains the same: geto loves you in each and every one of them.
pairing// suguru geto x gn!reader
word count// 5.8k
contents// different universes, angst, satisfying angst?, hurt/no comfort but also hurt/comfort at the same time, ooc geto?, character death tehe
notes// inspired by everything everywhere all at once and the song kiss me kill me by mest :3 i wrote this SOOOO long ago but u have no idea how much i adore this oneshot. like i think it might be my fav oneshot ive ever written. it is everything to me!! and i did not do the idea justice but u get the point!!
December 24th
You assume the fight is over because neither you nor Shoko have gotten any more wounded victims. The two of you glance at each other briefly but don’t bother saying anything. What could be said about a full-blown borderline war schemed by your high school best friend and lover? Nothing could possibly be said, so nothing is. The two of you stand there waiting for anything to happen, whether that’s getting called back to Jujutsu High or being brought another victim, and eventually something does happen, and Shoko gets a call. You can’t read her expression for the whole 20 seconds she’s on the phone before she passes it to you. You furrow your eyebrows in question.
“It’s Gojo,” she says blankly before attempting to hand you the phone again.
You hesitate to answer. “Hello?”
“You should get down here,” he says blankly over the phone.
“What? Why? Is everything okay?”
“Um, yeah, just—you know those back alleys by the school?”
“Uh huh?”
“Meet me there.”
“Gojo, you’re kinda scaring me-“
“Y/N, just come; you’ll thank me—I hope.”
You frown and begrudgingly agree, “Okay, fine, yeah, whatever, I'm on my way.”
“Make it quick, alright? I'm serious,” he adds quickly before hanging up.
As you give Shoko her phone back, you roll your eyes at the fact that he didn't even give you a chance to say okay before hanging up.
“What was that about?” she wonders, slipping her phone back into her pocket.
You sigh. “No idea, but he wants me to go meet up with him for some reason.”
Shoko hums curiously. “You should get going then; must be urgent.”
You nod, “Yeah.”
☆。*。☆。☆。*。☆。☆。*。☆。☆。*。☆。☆。
It doesn't take you long to get to the school given how fast you were walking since Gojo told you to hurry it up, the tense anticipation aiding in your speed. It does, however, take you a few moments to find Gojo, but once you do, you find that he's not looking at you, but he’s speaking, and it's not to you either; it's to something—or rather someone—he's blocking with his body.
“Gojo?” you ask once you finally reach him.
Gojo turns to face you, a sorrowful smile on his face, before stepping out of the way to reveal who he was speaking to and the whole reason why he called you here in the first place.
When you see Getou on the ground, your heart sinks into your stomach, and your blood runs cold. You look back at Gojo, who merely shrugs.
“You should say your goodbyes; I already did,” Gojo whispers before leaving you and Getou alone.
Getou lets out a hushed laugh. “That’s a little melodramatic of him, don’t you think?”
The hammering of your heart roaring in your ears makes it difficult to hear what he says. You stand there frozen in what you can only describe as horror as you stare down at Getou, who's missing an arm and is only growing more pale by the second from blood loss.
“Do you plan on ignoring me?” he asks softly, as though he’d understand if that really was your plan.
You blink a few times and shake your head, your tears blurring your vision. “I dont-“
Getou hums appreciatively and smiles up at you, which makes you completely break down, a sob racking through your body so violently that the only thing you can do is collapse to your knees. Getou winces as he tries to sit up straighter, as if he’s going to catch you or crawl over to you. You sniffle, your sobbing uncontrollable, as you crawl to him, and once there, you let your head fall upon his blood-stained chest. Getou immediately places his only remaining hand on the back of your head, as if holding it to his chest, and gently pats your head.
“Are you an idiot?” you snap.
“Might be.”
You sob even harder into his chest. “Why would you do this?”
Your question makes his heart race. “I wanted something better for Jujutsu society.”
You shake your head at him disapprovingly. “Why’d you have to go about it this way?”
“I don’t know Y/N," he sighs. "Does it make a difference?”
You scoff, raising your head to glare at him. “Of course it does, you idiot! You left! and had a hit placed on you! Why couldn’t you have just stayed?” You sob, letting your head fall back onto his chest. “Why couldn’t you have wanted me as much as you wanted this? Why couldn’t... Why couldn’t you have wanted me as much as I wanted you?”
“Y/N,” he coos regretfully, as if he doesn’t know what to say, which he doesn’t. He did want you, and he’d even go as far as saying he wanted a better jujutsu society for you so you wouldn’t have to live your days slaving away for the non-sorcerers. “Y/N, look at me.”
You shake your head and screw your eyes shut, not wanting to look at him. You don’t want to see your first and only love withering away right in front of you.
“Y/N, please look at me.”
“I-I can't."
“Y/N, open your eyes.”
The demandingness dripping from his voice has your head shooting up to look at him and your eyes opening wide, but as you open them, you’re not met with an actively dying Getou; you're met with a sunny and flower-filled meadow? You move to wipe your tears, but your face is dry. You blink a few times, trying to take in your new surroundings, given that a moment ago you were just in a dark alley and now you're sitting on a blanket in a field under a glowing sun.
“Y/N?” Someone speaks from beside you.
Your attention is drawn to the person. “Getou?”
He smiles at you.
“Getou, where are we?” you ask, now starting to slightly panic.
He looks at you in confusion. “We’re on our date?”
Your chest heaves up and down, and you're more confused than ever. “Huh? But- We-“
“We what?” he asks, tilting his head to the side.
“We were just behind Jujutsu High; you were missing your arm, and-"
Getou scoots in closer to you and cradles your face in his hands. The feeling of a warm, full-of-life Getou touching you brings tears to your eyes all over again.
“Woah, woah, love, calm down. What are you talking about? Jujutsu High? Me missing an arm?”
“You don’t remember?” You croak out, distraught, and slightly convinced that you’re going crazy.
“Remember what, love?” he asks softly.
You stare at him in disbelief. “The fight—you wanted a better jujutsu society, and you tried? You lost your arm! You were dying; I saw you! I was there with you! You were covered in blood and-“
Getou gently wipes your tears away. “Love, that didn’t happen. I’m here, yeah? and I have both my arms, and there was no fight for Jujutsu society? Whatever that means..."
You blink at him, dumbfounded. “What?”
“It was probably just a bad dream, Y/N.” He smiles at you reassuringly.
“You don’t know about jujutsu society?”
“Am I supposed to?”
You stare at him in awe. What’s happening? How could he not know about jujutsu society when it was the very thing he was fighting for? But then again, how could he not be missing an arm? And how could the two of you not be in a dark alleyway right now? How could any of this be happening? Maybe he’s right; maybe it really was a bad dream. A very vivid, detailed, lucid, and lifelike bad dream.
“I guess not,” you respond with a frown.
Getou wipes away your last few tears and smiles at you. “You’re okay; I’m okay. We’re okay. It was just a bad dream, love.”
“Yeah,” you say haltingly, "yeah, I guess it was..."
“Are you okay now?”
You nod as you take one of his hands off your face and into your own. “Yeah, I think so... Um, where are we, Getou?”
“On our weekly date?” He answers curiously as he removes his other hand from your face.
You look around at your surroundings curiously. “In the middle of a forest?”
“This is your favorite place, Y/N,” he says, quizically.
As you take another glance around, you hum, not necessarily agreeing or disagreeing. “I can see why; it’s beautiful here.”
He raises his free hand and grips your jaw, forcing you to look at him. “Y/N, are you okay? How come you don't remember?”
You look into his eyes, and something doesn't feel right—as if you're not meant to be here—but you digress and shrug anyway. “I don't know...”
He frowns briefly before leaning in and giving you a quick peck on the lips, and you practically melt, having not felt his lips on yours for far too long.
“That's alright. We can still make the most of the rest of our day, right?”
You nod, and he smiles at your response, letting go of your face and hand to open his arms to you, inviting you into his embrace. You return the smile before laying yourself in his arms, trying to ignore the rising feeling that something is wrong, but you can't because the minute your head touches his chest, you're thrown into a moment, a memory, a dream? where you're back in the alley with your head on a bleeding-out Getou, and it's just for a split second, a flash in time, but it's enough to make you go stiff and your breath hitch.
Getou rubs his hand down your back soothingly. “Hey, what's wrong?”
You swallow harshly and try to concentrate on the green scenery in front of you rather than whatever you keep seeing. “Nothing, I'm fine. It's fine.”
Getou places his head on top of yours. “Are you sure?”
You nod. “I am.”
He hums disapprovingly but doesn't press the issue any further; instead, he just runs his hand up and down your spine in an attempt to calm you down, which works as you begin to relax into his embrace and regain control of your breathing.
“What do we usually do here?” you ask, breaking the silence.
He shrugs. “Usually just talk about our days, our future plans, and stuff like that.”
You hum. “Is it nice?”
“Very nice; I like spending our days together.”
“I do too,” you correct yourself, “or I'm sure I did too.”
Getou doesn't say anything; instead, he lays himself down and, since he's holding you, takes you with him. You sigh contentedly and let your eyes flutter close, the sun and his hold keeping you warm. Suddenly, even with your eyes closed, you can tell it's getting brighter outside, and you groan. You’re about to ask what's up with the sun when a shooting pain in your head causes you to wince. Your heartbeat rings in your ears, and you can feel your hands grow clammy.
You feel unstable, as if you're no longer on the ground being held, as if you're floating through time and space, and the uncertainty forces your eyes open, but you're not met with anything—no, that's not right, you're met with everything, glimpses of time that you can barely make out. One moment you see Getou at an alter, and then you see you and Getou nodding to each other in determination, and the next glimpse is of you, Getou, Gojo, and Shoko laughing about something before you’re hit with another shooting pain in your head. Screwing your eyes shut, you hiss in pain, and all too suddenly, you're back on stable ground, no longer floating, and the brightness you could see through closed eyes a moment ago is gone.
You still hesitate to open your eyes, unsure of what you'll see, but when you can just barely make out that you're not where you were before, your eyes shoot open. You're now standing in the doorway of what appears to be the room of two teen girls, and Getou is sitting at a vanity staring at you; his hair and make-up are done, and he's frowning. Despite your confusion about where you are, you can't help but burst out into a fit of laughter.
He sighs and rolls his eyes. “Oh haha, yeah, keep laughing.”
You slap your hand over your mouth in an attempt to stifle your laughter. “What happened?”
He crosses his arms over his chest and looks away, mumbling, “Our daughters thought I would make a very good model, apparently.”
You go to laugh again, but it hits you, and you look at him like he's crazy. “Sorry, daughters?”
He returns the look. “Yes? Our kids?”
You look away, muttering to yourself, “We have kids...”
You didn't mean for him to hear it, but he does anyway and instantly stands up and makes his way toward you. He grabs your shoulders, drawing your attention to him, and when you look at him, he's staring back at you in concern.
“Y/N, are you okay?”
You want to take him seriously, but truthfully, you can't when he’s wearing bright pink lipstick and bright pink eyeshadow. He does look cute, though. You try to bite back a smile.
“I'm sorry, but I can't take you seriously when you look like that.”
Getou sighs. “I know I look amazing. Can you try to ignore my beauty for like five seconds and tell me why you’re acting like you don't remember our kids?”
You frown. What are you supposed to tell him? That you're apparently having nightmares upon nightmares about different lives with him? And now you're not sure what's real and what's not? You can't say that, so instead you shrug and merely mutter, “You do look amazing like that, though.”
His head drops to the side at the same moment that his smile fades. “Y/N.”
“I don't know.”
“You don't know?”
“Some really weird shit is going on, Getou,” you breathe out heavily.
He doesn’t say anything, instead grabbing your hand and leading you to one of your apparent kids' beds, where he sits you down.
“What’s going on?”
“I don't know, and you wouldn't know either so,” you explain vaguely in frustration.
He gives your hand a squeeze. “Maybe I would?”
You shake your head. “I don’t wanna waste time on that; I don't know how long I have here.”
“What?” he asks blankly. “What do you mean you ‘don't know how long you have here’?”
“Getou,” you whine, not wanting to think or talk about it because you wouldn't even know where to start; all you want is to learn about this new nightmare and what it holds.
He relents. “Okay, I won't ask.”
You smile at him and let a moment of silence pass before asking, “What are they like?”
“Huh?”
“Our kids—daughters.”
Getou hums. “They’re great; we raised them well.”
“They are especially great at making you a model, huh?” you snicker.
He laughs and rolls his eyes. “Oh whatever, you're just jealous they never make you model.”
You shrug. “What are their names?”
“Well, we were gonna keep the names they had when we adopted them, but they ended up not having any names at all, so we settled on Nanako and Mimiko.”
You stare at him in awe. “Did you pick the names out?”
“We both did,” he recalls fondly and vividly, as if it were just yesterday that the two of you were picking out names.
“And we are...?”
He kisses your cheek before answering, “Married—we’re married.”
You hum and raise your left hand, your gaze fixed on your ring finger. “I don't see a ring?”
He hums curiously. “You were wearing it this morning? Maybe you dropped it somewhere?”
You nod. “Yeah.. Maybe..”
Getou doesn’t say anything; he doesn’t know what to say. What could he? His partner of multiple years suddenly has some form of amnesia and can't remember that they have kids, let alone that they’re married to him. You turn to face Getou. He looks like Getou—like the Getou you know, who apparently was merely a nightmare. Besides all the makeup and stuff, he looks like Getou. He says he’s Getou, but something just feels off.
“Are you real?”
He nods. “Very real.”
You look around the room, taking in the messy vanities, the messy beds, and the drawers stuffed with clothes. “Are our kids real?”
“Extremely real.”
You study his face for any hint of uncertainty, and when you find none, you ask, “Am I real?”
He narrows his eyes at you and hums curiously. letting go of your hand only to bring both hands up to your face and start smooshing your face together, pushing and pulling at the flesh on your cheeks.
“Getou,” you mumble.
He hums approvingly and nods, letting his hands fall back to his sides. “Yep, you’re real.”
You smile at his idiotic antics but appreciate them nonetheless. And although you can touch him and feel him, and he is real, as are you and your kids, it still doesn't seem real. And then, all too suddenly, your head starts throbbing again.
“Fuck no, not again,“ you panic.
“Y/N? whats wrong-“
You can't hear what he’s saying anymore; it's like you've gone underwater and he's speaking to you from the surface. Another shooting pain in your head has your eyes screwing shut, and you know you're fucked when all you can hear is your heartbeat ringing in your ears and feel your hands grow clammy all over again. You’re back to feeling unstable, drifting between time and space once more, and just like last time, the uncertainty of the feeling forces your eyes open, and you're faced with everything again—more glimpses in time that you can barely make out.
One moment you think you see yourself back at the beginning on Getou’s cold chest, and then you see yourself and Getou covered in blood, and you're not sure if it's yours or someone else's, and the next glimpse you see is of Getou on your cold chest, like your roles had been reversed, before you’re hit with another shooting pain in your head. Screwing your eyes shut, you wince in pain, and finally you're back on solid ground again, no longer floating, and the brightness you could see through closed eyes a moment ago is gone. This time you don't hesitate to open your eyes, and you find yourself in a cemetery.
You look around curiously, trying to assess your surroundings while simultaneously trying to recover from whatever just happened. But you're starting to realize something now. All of this is real. You laying on Getou’s chest was real; having a picnic with a perfectly fine Getou in a world where curses apparently don't exist was real; having kids and marrying Getou was real; and all of those little bits of time in between each new life were real. All of it was real—is real; all of it happened—is happening; it just didn't happen to you specifically. Not this version of you, at least. You’ve realized that you’re experiencing different universes and living alternate lives of your own. You didn’t think alternate universes existed, but it's not too hard to accept when the world you live in—the world you belong to—is riddled with curses and sorcerers. You are not above believing in alternate dimensions.
Finally over your sudden epiphany, you're able to realize that you weren't immediately met with Getou like you had been the past two times you got transported into another dimension. As you put the pieces together, a grave feeling washes over you—no Getou, and you’re in a cemetery. You swallow harshly.
No, no, no.
You start running around the cemetery, inspecting each and every headstone, and praying to the universe(s) that you aren't about to find one that reads his name.
No, no, no.
You keep running, the cemetery seemingly interminable, until you run up behind someone who looks suspiciously a lot like Getou, and when you hear him murmur under his breath, you sigh heavily in relief that it is him, but why is he here? You tilt your head and try to look around him to read the gravestone.
“What the fuck?” you exclaim, stunned.
Getou spins around faster than you can even blink, and he almost chokes on his spit. “Y/N?” His chest heaves up and down as he shifts his gaze between you and the gravestone. “But-but-how-you’re-“
“Dead apparently,” you say, finishing his sentence as you stare at the gravestone that reads, "HERE LIES L/N Y/N."
He stares at you, completely bewildered, and you can see him trembling. “How—how are you here?”
Will something bad happen if you tell him this isn't your universe and there are actually multiple universes out there? Who knows, but you’re about to find out.
“I'm not, well, I'm not supposed to be.”
He shakes his head and closes his eyes. “I'm just hallucinating; you’re not real.”
His reply breaks your heart. “I am real.”
“You’re not.”
You step forward, taking his hand in yours. “I am.”
He finally opens his eyes back up, and he stares at you through tears, completely amazed that you're here, that you're actually touching him, and that you're actually alive and real.
“I don't—I dont understand—you're dead!” He stammers, yanking his hand from yours, and as he breaks out into full-on sobs at this point, he’s reminding you an awful lot of yourself in your own world.
You nod slowly. “In this universe, it seems so... how?”
“What?” he stutters. “This universe?”
You ignore his question. “How did I die, Getou?”
He shakes his head sternly. “No, I'm not saying anything until you explain what you meant. What if you’re a curse? What if I cursed you, holy fuck? Fuck!”
“Okay, curses still exist in this universe; good to know,” you acknowledge with a nod.
Getou snaps, “What are you talking about!?”
You flinch, which only makes him sob harder.
“I'm sorry, I didn't mean to snap—I'm just so fucking confused; you're supposed to be dead,” he bawls as he falls to his knees.
You take another step closer and kneel down, drawing him into your embrace and letting him sob into your chest for as long as he needs, ignoring the horrible feeling of deja vu crawling all over you like worms.
“Shh, you're okay,” you whisper, soothingly brushing your fingers through his hair.
He finally starts to calm down after a few more minutes of whispering sweet nothings to him, and once he’s no longer sobbing, he pulls away.
“Answer my question, and I'll answer yours,” he says through sniffles.
You nod.
“What were you talking about, universes? How are you here, Y/N? You’re dead—or you’re supposed to be...”
“Do you believe in alternate or multiple universes?”
He shrugs and wipes away any remaining tears. “I don't know; I never really thought about it.”
You hum and nod. “Right, so, uh, they exist! There are a lot of universes out there, actually." You let out an uneasy laugh.
He stares at you curiously.
“Obviously, I'm not from this universe.”
He continues staring at you.
“Oh, cmon, curses exist, but you draw the line at alternate dimensions?”
Getou frowns and says, “I guess you’re right... So you’re from a ‘different dimension’?”
You point a finger at him, narrowing your eyes. “Don't air-quote me like you don't believe me; how else would I be here right now if I were supposedly dead?”
“I don't know; that's what I'm trying to figure out!” he exclaims, gesticulating wildly.
“Can you just humor me and hear me out?”
He takes a deep breath before ultimately agreeing, “Okay, fine.”
You clasp your hands together. “Okay, um, in my universe, you’re dead.”
“What?!”
You shake your hands and your head. “Ok, no wait! You’re not dead yet, but, uh, you were like on the verge of death when I got put into another universe.”
He looks at you in disbelief. “And you just left me?!”
“It wasn't on purpose! Why would I want to leave you when you’re dying? I don't know how I ended up here! or in the last two other universes!”
He stops you and asks, "Okay, okay, wait—how am I dying?”
You look away awkwardly. “You wanted to change jujutsu society in… a not-so-friendly way... And, um, you were willing to die for your cause.”
“I'm dying the same way you did?”
You return your attention to him. “What?”
Getou nods. “Yeah.”
You shake your head. “What do you mean you're dying the same way I did?”
“In this universe, you’re the one who wanted to change jujutsu society in a... not-so-friendly way,” he explains sheepishly.
“Holy shit,” you mutter to yourself.
He nods again. “So, in yours, our roles are reversed.”
“And I'm dead already? I didn't even last as long as you?”
“Well, yeah, I guess," he shrugs, "but it worked; there hasn't been a curse, at least not a special-grade one, since you died." His eyes gleam as he looks up at you. “Did I succeed?”
You bite the inside of your cheek anxiously and shake your head.
“I'm dying for nothing, then?”
You look away and mumble, “My Getou is okay with it; he knew he might fail—he knew Gojo was the only one who could probably change anything—but he still wanted to try.”
“Okay, well, this—” he gestures to himself, “Getou isn't okay with it.”
You roll your eyes. “Yes, well, you’re also still alive, so it doesn't really affect you that much, now does it?”
“Still! You just told me one version of myself is dead—or dying—and I'm supposed to be chill with that?”
You stare at him blankly. “Your version of me is dead.”
Getou grows quiet, and you can almost physically see how his demeanor wilts away.
“Sorry.”
“It's fine,” he says, shaking his head. “You said you were in two other universes before this one, right?”
You nod.
“What were they like?”
You smile as you think back on the previous universes: “We were both alive and happy, and we were together in them.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah... and curses didn't exist either.”
“Huh,” he says ambivalently, like he's not sure whether to be happy for his other selves or be bitter that that isn't him. “Tell me more?”
“In the first one, we were actually on a date in some forest that I apparently loved.”
He stares at you wide-eyed, completely engrossed in your retellings.
“In the second one, we were married.”
A smile tugs at his lips. “Really?”
You nod. “We even adopted two daughters.”
“What were they like?” he wonders, enamored by some alternate universe of you two.
“I'm not sure; I didn't get to meet them,” you confess meekly. “But I know their names were Nanako and Mimiko, and they loved doing your hair and makeup. You adored them, and I'm sure I adored them too.”
He nods wistfully. “In your universe, were... were we together?”
“For a bit.” You look away sadly. “We broke up when you, uh, went off and wanted to-“
“Change jujutsu society,” he chimes in.
“Yeah... How'd you-“
“Same thing here, just roles reversed, remember?” He laughs sadly.
You nod. “Did you still love me? even after I'd gone off and did what I did?”
“I did. I do,” he quickly corrects himself. “Did you?”
“I still do.”
The two of you sit looking away from each other in glum silence. It's hard to stay upbeat about your happy alternate selves when your actual selves are currently dying or dead.
“Kinda feels like we got the short end of the stick, don't you think?” Getou mumbles softly.
“Huh?”
“Well, I mean, there are no curses in those universes, and we’re both alive and happy, but in ours we’re dead?” he elaborates.
You nod reluctantly. “Well yeah, but I don't know; I guess it's kinda nice to know that it worked out in at least one universe.”
“Don't you wish it worked out in ours?”
“Of course I do, Getou; what kind of question is that?" you scoff. "You think I want to go back to my universe just to watch you die?”
“Well,” Getou pauses, turning to face you, “what if you don't go back?”
Your gaze zeroes in on his. “What?”
“What if you stay?…”
You abruptly stand up and chuckle uncomfortably. “Getou-“ your sentence is cut short by an echo of your name that only you seem to hear because you're the only one gazing in the general direction it seemed like it came from.
Getou joins you on your feet and follows your stare, but when he realizes you aren't staring at anything, he returns his sight to you.
“Think about it.”
His voice snaps you out of your trance, and you look back at him with a small frown.
“I'm practically dead in your universe, and you're dead in mine, but we’re together right now!" he says, taking your hand in his. "Maybe the universe put you into mine for a reason— so we don't have to go back to one where we’re not together…”
You struggle to swallow; your mouth suddenly goes dry as Getou stares at you in full, unadulterated hope, and you can't bring yourself to say anything to crush that.
“Y/N, wouldn't that be nice?”
You nod and murmur, “It would.”
“Then?” he asks expectantly.
Someone calling out your name echoes in your head again, and you quickly look down the street to now see a small, bright light in the distance, and you know your time here is soon coming to an end.
“I... I can't stay, Getou.”
His voice cracks as he panickedly asks, “Why?”
"Because,” you explain with a shake of your head, “I'm not your Y/N, and you're not my Getou.”
“I could be,” he says confidently, or he would have if it weren't for the way his voice trembled.
Your vision goes blurry from the tears welling up in your eyes as you shake your head.
“We could try!”
You sniffle and reiterate, “I can't stay.”
“Please,” he begs through his sobs. “Please, we can make it work.”
You look away from him, trying to fight back your tears, but it's futile; you’re a complete mess, just like he is now. “No.”
His hands shake as he grips your face and forces you to look at him. “Y/N, please, I'm begging you.”
“I cant.”
“Don't leave me again.”
The same voice calling out your name echoes in your head again, this time louder, and the bright light is getting bigger and closer.
“I don't want to go back to a universe where you’re just gonna leave me either, but,” you sob, weakly clinging onto the wrists of his hands that are still on your face.
“So stay.”
You shake your head and take his hands off your face. “I won't.”
Getou’s head goes limp and drops as sobs shake his entire body, and you can't help but think that's exactly how you'll look when you return to your universe and have to deal with the death of your Getou.
“Please,” he pleads.
You're both in tears as you lift his head up by his chin to look at you. The voice calling your name echoes even louder, and the bright light is getting closer by the second.
“You’re not my Getou, and I'm not your Y/N.”
He nods reluctantly. “I know, but...“
The bright light is only a few feet away at this point, and the voice echoing in your head is so loud that it's giving you a migraine—you know this is your last few minutes, if that, in this universe, so you lean in and take Getou’s lips into yours—a goodbye kiss for a Getou who you'll never see again, a goodbye kiss for a Getou who desperately needs one when he never got one from his y/n. You pull away and cradle his cheek gently.
“I have to go say goodbye to my Getou now; I think he’s waiting for me.”
He nods. “If he’s anything like me, he’ll want a goodbye kiss too.”
A faint smile tugs at your lips. “I know.”
Getou doesn't get the chance to respond when you're suddenly gone—completely vanished right before his eyes.
You, on the other hand, are back again, feeling unstable as you float through time and space, and again, the uncertainity of the feeling forces your eyes open, but this time you're met with only one thing—the image of you on your Getou’s chest. With every passing second, it grows closer, as does his voice calling out for you, and before you know it, you're back in your body, looking up at him with a gasp.
“Y/N?” he asks weakly.
You're still in tears from the previous universe as you now pull him into your embrace.
He winces, and you quickly let go of him. “Sorry.”
He smiles at you with blood in his mouth and teeth. “It's okay.”
You have to force yourself to look away to try and choke back a sob, but Getou notices immediately and slowly lifts up his remaining hand to cradle your cheek.
“It’s okay, Y/N.”
You nod. “I know.”
“You’ll be okay.”
“I know,” you croak out.
“Kiss me?” He asks out of breath, knowing he doesn't have much longer.
You don't hesitate to lean in and kiss him, ignoring how it tastes like blood and tears as well as how cold his lips feel. You ignore it because he's kissing you back. He’s kissing you with all the power his frail body can muster, and it makes up for all the years, months, weeks, days, minutes, and seconds that your lips haven’t touched. But just as quickly as he kisses you, he stops, but it's gradual; he gradually stops kissing, moving, and breathing. It doesn't take long for it to get to that point, and even when he's not kissing back, you still kiss him with some fairy-tale hope that it will bring him back, that your kiss will somehow save him, like he's Snow White and you're Prince Charming. But it doesn't.
It doesnt.
You pull away to look at Getou, whose eyes are glazed over but not closed. You sob as you reach up to close his eyes, only to let your head fall against his chest. He’s so cold. Too cold. That's why you have to stay there on top of him to keep him warm. You'll stay there all night if you have to. But you don't even get the chance to stay there for longer than a few minutes when someone suddenly pulls you off of him, and you look over your shoulder to see Gojo, who's crying as well.
“He’s gone, Y/N.”
"I know," you sniffle, “I know.”
Gojo helps you up to your feet, his hand on your waist to keep you steady as he leads you away from Getou’s body. The further you get from it, the harder you cry.
But it's okay. It’ll be okay because, even though you lost Getou in this universe, you’ll eventually be able to come to peace with it knowing that in a hundred, a thousand, and even a million other universes, you and Getou are living happily ever after.
©TODAYISAWTHEWHXLEWXRLD
435 notes
·
View notes