Jujutsu Kaisen x Reader Oneshots & Scenarios

M. Fushiguro - Climb

(Medieval type AU. Fushiguro is a royal, you're not. All that.)

The palms of your hands hang on tightly to the shingles, hauling yourself up onto the next highest roof with a grunt of effort. You stand, taking a step away from the edge and brushing your hands on your pants to rid them of the dirt. Glancing at your surroundings, you take in the already fantastic view you have of the town. There were only two more ledges, and you'd make it to the top of the castle.

This escapade was one you made spontaneously, deciding that you wanted to spend your night from the tallest point in town. Maybe it was just you testing yourself on your own capabilities, getting past the outer gates was hard enough.

You catch your breath, hands on your hips as you pace back and forth to get your bearings. Then, you feel your toe hit something dead on, and instead of tripping, the thing you kicked goes tumbling off the roof.

Your hands fly to your mouth, and you jump when you hear a loud crash sounding into the peaceful late afternoon air. You creak forward to lean over the ledge, snorting into your fingers as you see a decimated gargoyle laying on the cobblestone path at least four stories down.

"Who are you?" A voice inquires from behind you, and you spin on your heel to come eye to eye with a young man leaning out of the window.

You didn't even notice there was a window on that particular ledge, and you mentally kick yourself for not pushing along to the next section.

"I'm- uh," you stall, trying to come up with something that doesn't sound like you're going to try and kill the royal family. Which you're not, but subtext is a tricky thing. "My friend dared me to climb to the top. Of the castle."

He stays silent at the confession, eyes narrowing as he takes in your wary smile.

Meanwhile, your own mind is going up in flames; Why did you specify the castle, you fuckwit, it's obvious that it was the castle. Why is he just sitting there? Did he call for the guards and is stalling? It's not like you can go down, and going up won't fix anything. God fucking dammit you're going to die via the hands of rich folk.

"Calm down, I'm not going to tell anyone," he says next, effectively shutting down your inner monologue that was a little too akin to a flock of birds scrabbling over a loose carrot.

"Oh yes," you smirk, bowing a little in his direction. "Thanks for telling my mind what to do for me, for I truly have no control over it myself. What, being a peasant and all."

"I didn't-"

"And also, my good sir, how can I be expected to believe you when all of your type tends to stray a bit on the superstitious side. You don't trust me, I don't trust you," you say, squatting in front of the man so you could speak eye to eye.

"If you would let me get a word in I would-"

"And wow, being this close up to you I can see the distrust already. Think I'm gonna pee in your fine wine? Lick your expensive satin sheets?"

The words come quickly out of your mouth, giving you time to take in the others appearance while he's focused (and probably appalled) by your dialect.

He has messy hair, dark and silky like you'd expect from someone living here, but spiky in a free way, almost uncared for. His eyes were the same, soft around the edges and layered with dark and saturated lashes, but plagued with sharp irises that darted around and caught on things for barely any time at all.

The rest of his face was just about the same, a soft and maintained appearance being cut through with a personality that is so much different. It's interesting, but you know how people like him end up. He'll be just like the rest of them.