WOULD THAT I: PROLOGUE
The Gojo boy doesn't have a soulmate.
When you're both children, you overhear him being referred to as inhuman, between his power and his lack of a mark. The next time you see him, you use a marker to write your name on his skin, too young to understand what it means.
You forget, but Gojo—
Gojo never does.
MINORS AND AGELESS BLOGS DO NOT INTERACT.
masterlist
pairing: gn!reader x gojo
wc: 2.6k
notes: thank you to my beta, as always! especially for putting up with my bratty ass and reading this early so i could post it earlier. this has been a fun fic to get started and i hope you enjoy the prologue!
content warnings: none. see masterlist for series content warnings.
The Gojo boy doesn’t have a soulmate.
You don’t think you’re supposed to know; it’s only ever talked about in hushed voices. The clans all speak like that, sometimes, each word a butterfly’s wing as it flutters from their mouths.
The servants, however, are louder.
One of them has a voice like a lark, a sweet, trilling song. It carries. You learn to hear her coming, to recognize her shadow against the shoji. You know the edges of her by heart. Sometimes she spreads her arms out as she makes her way through the hallway; her kimono sleeves flare out behind her like wings.
“There’s something wrong with the Gojo heir,” she sings one afternoon, her fluting voice half-muffled by the shoji. “Those eyes of his—it’s like he can see right through you. And Fujioka says he doesn’t have a soulmark.”
Another servant hushes her. “Don’t gossip,” she chides.
“It’s true, though!”
“That doesn’t mean you should repeat it.”
She huffs, grumbling something too soft for you to hear anything aside from the melody of it. The other servant laughs quietly before chivvying her forward. You watch until their shadows disappear, leaving only the hallway light to filter golden through the shoji.
You return to your coloring book.
The Gojo boy doesn’t have a soulmate, but that doesn’t mean anything to you.
Not yet.
—
There’s a boy in the courtyard.
He’s hopping from stone to stone in the koi pond, his snow-white hair glittering under the morning sun. He moves like a dancer, each step sure and swift, never once slipping on the wet rock. When he gets to the biggest rock in the pond, he crouches down, his back to you, and drags his fingers over the surface of the water. The koi rise to meet him, firework scales flashing in the sun.
You watch him from the engawa, peeking out at him from behind one of the columns. You’ve never seen him before, and you’d remember him, with his starlight hair.
“Who’re you?” he asks, not turning around.
You stay quiet.
“I know you’re there,” he says. “You can’t hide from me.”
He glances over his shoulder and the world goes blue.
It’s the cold burn of a comet’s tail streaking through the velvet night. It’s oceantide, relentless and unyielding. It’s a slice of the sky brought down to earth, heaven devoured.
Then he blinks, and he’s just a boy again.
“Who’re you?” you ask, stepping to the edge of the engawa.
He lifts his chin. “I asked you first.”
You introduce yourself the way your mother taught you, bowing to him shallowly.
He scoffs. “You’re not even from the main clan.”
“Are you?”
“I’m not part of your stupid clan.”
“Oh.”
He stares at you, his crystalline eyes sharp-edged, all prismatic ice. “You don’t know who I am?”
“Nope.”
He rises to his full height, unfolding like an elegant crane. “I’m Gojo Satoru.”
You tilt your head. The servants’ humming gossip made the Gojo heir sound ethereal, a fallen star that had burned away into human form as it plummeted through the heavens. His eyes are otherworldly, and you can feel the power rippling out from his lean form, as unstoppable as the tides, but—
“You’re just a boy,” you say.
He scowls. “Am not.”
“Are too.”
“I’m Gojo Satoru,” he says again, deeper this time, an intonation, a promise, a curse. His eyes flash, St. Elmo’s fire, a lightning strike of blue. “I have the Limitless and the Six Eyes. I’m not just a boy.”
You would believe him, but the last bit sounded more sulky than anything else. You’re about to tell him so when someone calls your name. You glance over your shoulder, but there are no shadows against the shoji yet.
When you turn back around, there are wet patches shining on the stones in the koi pond, an imprint of the past, but nothing else.
The Gojo boy is gone.
—
Your mother is hovering.
She smooths down your yukata, chasing creases from the thin cotton with trembling hands. There hadn’t been time to change; she’d pulled you out of your lessons and hurried you down the hallways of the estate.
“Bow low when you meet him,” she tells you, though she hasn’t bothered to tell you who ‘he’ is. “Understand?”
You nod.
There’s a fine layer of sweat gleaming at your mother’s nape as she kneels before the shoji. She reaches out to open it; her kimono sleeve slips down, revealing the elegant curve of her wrist. You focus there instead of the opening shoji, the slow slide of it a hissing snake, coiled to bite.
The shoji clicks, a chime of teeth, its maw wide open. You take in a deep breath and step through, your gaze on the tatami mats. Someone shifts.
“Oh, it’s you.”
You glance up, directly into the gaze of Gojo Satoru. His eyes are as otherworldly as you remember, a crisp, clear blue framed in long lashes, like a snowy-edged mountain lake. He tilts his head as you gape, his hair gleaming bone-white in the sun streaming through the open shoji.
You blink. “What’re you doing here?” you ask, and next to you, your mother hisses in a low, sharp breath.
Gojo shrugs. “Dunno. The clan said I had to come and they caught me when I snuck out.”
The woman behind Gojo clears her throat. “Gojo-sama,” she says, her voice like the shivering leaves when the summer breeze stirs to life, “they’re a candidate for you to train with.”
He eyes you. “Why?” he asks. “They’re not very strong.”
“Hey!”
“You aren’t, though,” he says. “I can tell.”
You throw yourself at him.
His eyes widen, a devouring sea, and he grunts as you make impact. He’s sturdier than you thought; he’s slight, but it’s all lean muscle, even though he can’t be much older than you are. Your mother calls out your name, horrified, but Gojo is already recovering, grappling with you for control.
By the time the adults pull you apart, Gojo is nursing a rapidly-purpling mark high on his cheekbone. Your split lip aches; you tongue at it and wince. You can taste blood, sour and metallic. You glare at Gojo even as your mother bows deeply to the woman.
“My deepest apologies,” she says, tightening her grip on the sleeve of your yukata and forcing you to bow with her. “I don’t know what came over them.”
The woman clicks her tongue. “The child should be punished,” she says, and your mother stiffens. “I would suggest—”
“No.”
Everyone looks at Gojo. He thumbs at a rip in his kimono, grinning widely. It bares his teeth.
“I’ll train with them,” he says.
“Gojo-sama—”
“I said I’d train with them. Now can we go? I want a popsicle.”
The woman sighs. “Yes, Gojo-sama.”
Gojo sweeps by you and your mother. He pauses right next to you. “You’re weak,” he tells you, ignoring the way you bristle, “but at least you’re fun.”
He’s out the shoji before you can respond.
—
Summer settles over Kyoto, a wet lick of heat. Even the wind seems to feel it; it ripples honey-slow through the trees, barely strong enough to stir the air. Frogs move into the koi pond in the courtyard; they sing along with the cicadas’ sawing choir.
“Catch it!” Gojo shouts as your hands spear through the murky pond water. It gushes free from between your fingers as you come up empty-handed, the frog you were aiming for frantically disappearing further below the surface. “You’re so slow.”
“Am not!”
“Are too,” he counters, holding out his cupped hands. A plaintive ribbit sounds out from between them. “I already caught one. It was easy.”
“You’re annoying.”
He stares at you, his blue eyes icy. “You’re annoying.”
“You’re the one who came over.”
He rolls his eyes. “We train at your estate.”
“How come?”
“How come what?”
“How come we train here? Your estate is probably better.”
He shrugs, opening his hands enough to peer down at the frog. It glistens in the sunlight, the same deep green as the lush courtyard. It makes a break for freedom; he closes his hands again, his long fingers sewing the gap shut. “I like it better here.”
You wrinkle your nose. “Why?”
“I just do,” he says, voice flat.
You don’t ask again.
—
“Why are we here?”
Gojo blinks, his long white lashes sweeping over the sweet curve of his cheek. “Why are you whispering?”
Your cheeks heat. The Gojo estate is a sprawling, massive maw; you’ve felt devoured ever since you set foot in it. Even the golden light that slants through the shoji feels cold. There are ikebana arrangements lining the halls, the leggy, deep purple irises sculptural as they rise proudly from the vases, but it still feels like a mausoleum.
“We’ve just never trained here before,” you say, taking care to use your regular voice. “So why are we here now?”
He shrugs. “They insisted.”
“Who?”
He dismisses the question with a wave of his hand, his long pianist’s fingers cutting through the air. You roll your eyes, long used to his occasionally imperious ways. The two of you continue along the hallways, you trailing after him closely, as if caught in his gravity, an orbiting moon.
You almost run into him when he comes to a sudden halt. You peek around him—in the last few months, he’s gone through a growth spurt, one that your mother says will come when you’re his age, and he’s too tall to peer over his shoulder—and see a servant bowing low, her ebony hair glinting.
“Gojo-sama,” she says. “Please follow me. The elders are waiting.”
He sighs, a dramatic heave of his chest. “What do they want?”
“They didn’t specify.”
“Ugh.”
“Gojo-sama—”
“I’m coming, I’m coming,” he says. “Go tell those geezers I’ll be there soon.”
You wince right along with the servant. Gojo’s disdain for the elders is not new, but it still unnerves you every time, as if they will come along and smite you down.
“C’mon,” Gojo says to you. “Let’s get it over with.”
The servant clears her throat. “Only you, Gojo-sama.”
He glares, his blue eyes burning, a comet streaking through the sky. “No,” he says. “They’re coming.”
“They cannot.”
“I said they’re coming.”
“It’s okay,” you tell him, eyes wide. “Really.”
Gojo looks back at you. For a second, his mouth is a wound, tender and pink, but in the next breath, it’s gone, frozen under a layer of ice.
“Fine.”
You bite your lip, but he’s already walking away. You catch yourself before you reach for him. He disappears down the hallway, his hair glinting like exposed bone.
The servant turns to you. “This way,” she says, her voice perfectly neutral.
You follow her to an empty room; she slides the shoji shut behind herself as you settle onto the cushion at the chabudai. You gaze around the room. There’s not much to take in; it’s wealthy in a subdued way. You fidget with the hem of your sleeve and then get to your feet.
You slide open the shoji leading out to the engawa; it opens onto a huge, lush courtyard. The plush flowers are weighted down by their own blooms, their stems curving like a dancer’s back. A shishi-odoshi rings out with a hollow thud; a few songbirds scatter, their wings rustling like leaves as they soar towards the sky.
You step out onto the engawa. It’s still early enough that the sun slants onto the wood, warming it. You sit down and bask in it, tilting your face up for the sun’s sweet kiss. You lay back, your eyes fluttering shut.
A voice wakes you.
“He’s an insolent brat!” a man hisses. “He needs to be taken in hand!”
“He’s too powerful,” another man answers. His voice is calm, but you can sense the ripples in it, the thing lurking underneath. “We can only do what we’re already doing.”
You go still. They can only be talking about Gojo. Their footsteps echo; they’re drawing closer and closer.
“It’s not enough.”
“He’s still young. Maybe we can mold him.”
The first man snorts. “You don’t believe that.”
“No, I don’t.”
“There’s something wrong with that boy,” the first man says. “Those eyes—that power—and not even a hint of a mark. He’s barely human.”
Their footsteps are starting to fade; their voices become murmurs. But you still hear it when the second man says:
“I don’t think he’s human at all.”
Then they’re gone, fading from your world like malevolent spirits, dissipating on the wind. You unclench your fists and find that your nails have bitten into your skin, little half-moon curves cutting through the leylines of your palms.
Gojo shows up a mere minute later. He slides open the shoji with a bang; his eyes find you immediately.
“C’mon,” he says, stepping out into the courtyard. His eyes are shadowed; his lips are pulled tight, an unstitched wound. He’s heard them, you realize. You’ve never seen him bothered by other people’s opinions; your chest aches, a pressed bruise. You open your mouth to say something, but you can’t find the words.
He grabs your hand as he passes by you, tugging you along behind him, ignoring your surprised yelp. “Let’s go before those stupid geezers find me again.”
“Where are we going?”
“Away from here.”
“But my shoes—”
He glances back at you and you drown in blue.
“Okay,” you say quietly. “Let’s go.”
He doesn’t answer; he just tugs you along. You stare at the back of his head for a moment, trying to make sense of the expression you’d seen flash across his face before he’d turned around again. You can’t understand it, but you know one thing.
He’s never looked more human to you.
—
The next time you see him, you’re prepared.
You uncap the marker with your teeth. You reach out for Gojo’s arm; he pulls away before you can grab hold, as quick as a darting fish.
“What are you doing?” he asks.
“Give me your arm.”
“Why?”
“You’ll see.”
He eyes you for a moment, but gives you his arm.
You push up his yukata sleeve to expose the tender underbelly of his wrist. You start to write, laboring over each stroke of the marker, keeping it as neat as you can. The silver ink covers the rivers of his blue-green veins as it sinks into his skin, a childish tattoo.
“There,” you say, finishing with a somewhat-shaky flourish. “Now you have a mark.”
Gojo stares at you, his cerulean gaze lit from within, the sea beneath the sun. He covers the katakana of your name with his free hand, careful not to smudge the still-drying characters. Under the shadow, they fade to gray, but they still glint and glimmer the same way real soulmarks do.
You hum, pleased with yourself, cap the marker, and toss it to the side so you can start training.
You don’t know it yet, but it’s your last session with him. He disappears into the dawn like a fading star, spirited off to Tokyo to continue his training. You’ve only spent six months with him. Still, it aches, a pressed bruise, but you’ve always known he would outgrow you; his power is a black hole, always devouring.
Life, ever unmoved, continues on.
The boy you knew fades from your memories, though you never forget him. It’s impossible, with the stories that come out of Tokyo, how he completes missions that no one his age should be able to handle.
Still, you forget things. The tilt of his mouth; the cadence of his voice. He becomes a shadow of himself, a shade with burning blue eyes.
You forget that you once wrote your name on the delicate inside of his wrist.
Gojo, though—
Gojo never does.
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Hello! I am 🫱🏻 anon! Could I request Malleus, Jamil, and Ace with a s/o who fears being separated from them?
➸ Separation Anxiety! S/O; Twisted Won.
Character: Malleus Draconia, Jamil Viper, and Ace Trappola
A/N: These are short, yet sweet (I hope)
Disclaimer(s): Not that descriptive panic attacks? Idk if that's a trigger warning though... meh, whatever you think it is
╔══════════════════════════════════════════╗
╚═════ Malleus Draconia ═════════════════════════╝
🐉 Malleus was clingy in his own ways. It came with being a Dragon-Fae, as they were known to cling onto the things they either found value in or something that they determined to be theirs
🐉 Because of that nature, he was almost always around you, and whenever you were away from him, he'd feel bad. Little did he know, you felt the exact same whenever he had to be away from you for too long
🐉 Your issues with separation was shown when you couldn't find him and hadn't seen him since that morning. You ended up curling inside of his room in a ball crying your heart out
🐉 Malleus appeared and after calming you down, asked Lilia what was up with you having issues with being apart from him. After being informed on your separation anxiety, Malleus began to keep you by him everywhere he went so you wouldn't get upset again
╔══════════════════════════════════════════╗
╚═════ Jamil Viper ════════════════════════════╝
🐍 Jamil isn't that clingy. He's used to not having many things to himself, after all, he does work for the person who considers himself to be his best friend
🐍 When you came into his life and actually got together with him, he became fairly clingy in a different way than what many would believe him to be. He would try to always keep tabs on you to make sure you were okay, he didn't want to come off as obsessed, but to others, he did
🐍 He found out about your separation anxiety when he had to go away to grab something from his home, leaving you with Kalim, who ended up speaking to another one of his siblings. You began to panic, and you ran to the nearest bathroom, curling onto the ground and crying
🐍 Jamil found you and ended up carrying you to his room to keep you calm and away from crying, hearing and seeing you crying just made his heart break. When you do calm down, he does research to keep you from breaking down again
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╚═════ Ace Trappola ═══════════════════════════╝
🪅 Ace is unknowingly clingy himself. He always had an arm around your shoulders as he spoke to the others, and was almost always around you. From the start of the day till the very end
🪅 Because of this, he never had to notice your separation anxiety, as if never became a big problem. But when it did, let's just say he was far less than prepared
🪅 Unlike the others, Ace has no chill when you panic. So, he just kneels in front of you and nervously tries to joke around to get you to laugh off your fear, and when that doesn't work out, he ends up groaning and trying to hug you to calm you
🪅 It took a while, but when you did calm down. He joked about how much he deserved a reward for helping you out of such a sticky-situation. You know he doesn't mean to be mean, so you just chuckle and pat his head as you cuddle up to him
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Hi :)) idk if you’re accepting requests but I was just thinking…
I remembered that Hook canonically went to Eaton College, which is a pretty prestigious university, so he must actually be really fricking smart. I wish I knew what he studied tho :/ So anyway, I was hoping maybe you would write something (preferably x reader?) where he surprises everyone with his intelligence? I feel like the other VKs probably don’t actually know just how clever he is and would be taken off guard to realise it. I don’t have any specific situations in mind but I’d really like to see maybe reader acknowledge and recognise him as more than the pretty rebel he lets everyone see him as
I’m always accepting requests, it’s so fun getting to make things for someone, and it’s great writing practice. I’m almost done with all the ones I have, keep them coming 🩵
I love secretly smart characters, making a right old Evie out of him right now. I love him. (I had so many tabs open to get this right, so so many. I did Chemistry for the gag but it wasn’t worth the gag.)
Studious
James Hook x VK!Reader
Pronouns used: they/them/theirs
Summary: If it means that much to his partner, Hook can be a bit of a tutor
Warnings: pet names, swearing, sexual references, high school chemistry (Like the actual class that made me cry when I was a student), does sword fighting need a trigger warning?, Or fake moaning? Hook's partner making a joke about him having a thing for Morgie, Uliana almost makes a potion explode
Word Count: 3.5K
Nervous fingers are shuffling through flashcards as the pirate walks into their dorm. His smirk being accompanied by raised eyebrows as he leans on the door frame, taking in the sight. They have their textbook and notebook spread out across the floor, sitting cross legged between the two. Pens and highlighters strewn around them and an empty notebook and study guide directly before them. (Y/n) is staring at them with a pout and wide eyes, huffing as they drop the flash cards beside them. “This is fucking ridiculous,” the words are barely a mumble, popping the knuckles on stressed hands as they say it. They stretch their shoulders back as well before reaching back down for the collection of brightly colored cardstock.
“Since when do you have to study, wizkid?” The words make their head shoot up, staring at the boy they hadn’t noticed had entered. “Since Chemistry is kicking my ass, I have to pass this exam or I’m going to fail the class again. If I fail it twice this year I won’t have enough credits to be a senior next year,” their voice is far too fast, rambling on as they reach back down for their study guide. “I thought you exempted all your exams,” he tilts his head as he speaks, watching them shuffle their cards for the third time since he made his way into the room. “Yeah, well I bombed my last two tests -like fifty-two and thirty-five level bombed- and all the As and Bs I have on experiments can’t save me there. So either I make an A on this exam or I fail the entire class for the second time. I am so royally screwed.” With a sigh, Hook makes his way over to the villain on the floor, falling to sit before them with crossed legs and an outstretched hand. “Give me the cards.” “No, I seriously need to study, James. I cannot go do whatever Uli sent you in here for right now.”
He scoffs, leaning forward to snatch the cards from their loose grip on them. “I can come see my partner just because I want to be around them, you know. I don’t always have to be doing something for the group. I do enjoy your company, wouldn't be your boyfriend otherwise.” Dark eyes widen mockingly with raised brows as he finished the sentiment, head shaking in a near-bratty manner. He flips through the cards, letting his eyes ghost over the words and formulas. This was basic chemistry. He did this his sophomore year, he could probably do it in his sleep. “Even then, James, I really need to study. I cannot fail this again.” He lets his eyes cut up to them, a smirk still present across his pouty lips. “Oh of course you do, I can’t have my partner as a super senior. That’s just embarrassing for us both,” he drops the cards into his lap, reaching over for their study guide. He flips it over a time or two, barely reading it.
“Okay,” they draw out the word, reaching out to snatch their cards back from where they rest on his thigh, “Then let me study. Really, Honey, can’t you go harass Morgie or Bridget or something?” “Why harass them when my favorite person is right here struggling with the easiest subject ever? That’s much better material.” (Y/n) scoffs, looking up at him from their flashcards. James is too busy looking over the back of their study guide to give them so much as a second glance, but his face holds this cocky expression. As if the boy is challenging them to snap back. “The easiest subject ever? As if. I bet you got a B in there at absolute best. I need more than a B on this to pass.” “I actually finished Chemistry One with a perfect score and finished AP Chemistry Two with a ninety-nine percent, since you’re asking.” He drops the papers into his lap, raising an eyebrow with the same challenging look in his eye as when he’s sparring against them. His hand shoots out for the cards again, flipping it from the one that they had been looking at and giving it a sparing glance. Eyes cutting back up to his partner just as quickly as they cut down, “Now, what is the definition of an intensive property?”
So they’re really doing this? (Y/n) guesses they shouldn’t argue, they do need the help. And if James is anywhere near as good as he says, this might be their best bet. “An intensive property is,” they let their eyes dart around the room, as if the decor on their walls would hold the answer. “Come on now, Love. Don’t draw it out. What’s an intensive property?” They bite their lip, looking down to their empty lap, “An intensive property is a property which does not rely on the amount of matter present.” A golden hook comes into their line of sight, tucking under their chin to lift their head up. When they look at Hook, he’s inches away from them, “Okay, and what are examples of an intensive property?” The hook beneath their chin moves, the sharp edge barely hovering below their skin. No looking away this time, that was a silent command for their eyes on him. “Boiling and melting points, density, and,” they snap their fingers, dragging out the one syllable word as they think. “And? Come on now, you know this.” “And,” they lock eyes with him, by god those brown eyes were captivating. It was like they were electric, sparking with some sense of excitement and pride that they couldn’t understand. Electric, that’s something right? Electricity isn’t a property of something though, but it seemed right. Why does it seem right? What did electricity have to do with intensive properties? “Conductivity,” they subconsciously cross the fingers on their right hand, staring into their boyfriend’s eyes with a longing to be correct. He nods, pulling them forward slightly. James kisses them with a feather light touch, smiling against their lips as they attempt to draw him closer. “See, I knew you knew it.”
They don’t get to respond before he’s drawing back, completely withdrawing his touch as he flips to the next card, dropping “intensive properties” to his lap. “What’s an atomic number?” “What? No, what was that? You barely kissed me,” they’re pouting, reaching out for a jaw that’s pulling away from them. “What’s an atomic number?” He raises his eyebrows as he speaks, pulling further away as they get on their knees to chase his fleeting lips, “If you want to kiss me you have to answer the question.” “The number of neutrons in an atom's nucleus. Now kiss me again,” they’re fully perched on their knees now, leaning over him as he leans back to get away. James makes a loud noise similar to the sound of a buzzer going off, dropping the card in his hand and using them to cover his mouth. “What is an isotope?” (Y/n) falls back with a huff, completely discouraged as they stare with gaped lips, “What? Where’s my kiss?”
He pulls the cards down to smirk over the neon green paper, “I don’t reward wrong answers.” “I wasn’t wrong!” “You were, it’s not the neutrons in the nucleus but what?” A frown crosses the villain’s lips, shoulders slumping as they realize what they’d done. “Protons.” He nods, humming as he raises his brows, “Okay, new question, what’s an isotope?” “You’re awful, this is awful.” “What’s an isotope?” They rise back up on their knees with a smirk, “What about, one kiss when I correct myself, two kisses when I’m right the first time?” He shakes his head, rolling his eyes as he does, “How about you tell me what an isotope is?” “Oh come on,” they’re whining, a hand wrapping around his hook. “Come on and answer the question.” His brows are raised, watching them pout. With wide eyes and batted lashes they let a hand trail up from metal to leather, slowly making its way up to his shoulder. “Captain, won’t you please give me a kiss? I want one so bad. I need your lips.” In any other circumstance that would work, it always worked. But James was already glowing as he looked over notecards, shaking his head with his smirk far more of a smile than normal. “That’s not going to work this time, Love. Now answer the question.” This might just be his new torture method, and by god is it working. (Y/n) was going to go crazy if they didn’t get what they wanted soon.
─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──
As a pirate, Hook was no stranger to drawing out torture, but he couldn’t stand to sit still for long. His love of chemistry and watching the gorgeous villain in front of him squirm could only keep him bound to one place for so long until he felt as if he might be going stir crazy. Which is how they ended up in a clearing in the woods, standing in a wide stance with swords balanced in their hands. Iron making a sharp “X” between them as they press against one another. The ravenous look in (Y/n)’s eyes surely matched the crazed look in his, smirks present on either villain’s lips. They made one hell of a sparring partner, he’d learned that the day they met. Never took much to get the two of them alone like this either, the boy longed for the other villain’s sportsmanship. A worthy opponent was hard to come by outside of Neverland, and his lover looked so good while sword fighting that he struggled to focus. Now though, as he spits out questions they struggle to follow, it seems like they knew how he normally felt.
They might have quick feet and strong arms, but their pretty mind is making them lag behind. Each time their swords would cross, he’d spurt out a new question, holding them hostage until they could find an answer he saw as fitting. Each wrong answer was met with a strike to their left, correct answers with a strike to their right. They’d start a new battle, clashing metal and devious laughter until one of them could find the other pinned once again. It was the most fun he’d had in years, that annoyed little pout on their face with each new question seemed to only make the game all the more fun. “What’s the atomic number of gold?” “Hook,” despite their tense body language, the name comes out on a whine, pout growing more than the boy thought was possible. “It is gold, yes, now what would its atomic number be?” He’s chuckling to himself and he awaits their response. Their eyes flicker around him, lip between their teeth. “Seventy-nine.” He jumps back from them, sword striking out at their right side. The motion is caught by their own sword while (Y/n) lets out a giggle.
“I got it right!” They use their sword to force the tip of his away, turning their body to the left as they strike out above his left shoulder. “That you did, Love,” he swings to the right with a smile, bringing his sword up to push against theirs. He twists his body, gaining the upper hand as he pushes against them. (Y/n) is cringing, realizing how close they were to being cornered by him again. How could they let themself get so distracted? He’s pushing them back, and though they push forward, their sword slides down again, both villains ending up eye to eye with a new iron cross section between them. “You made that too easy,” James smirks, looking them up and down. “I didn’t, you just, that question threw me off. I don’t even know how I knew the answer.” He shakes his head, “You can’t let yourself get thrown off in a sword fight love. Your other opponents might not be as forgiving as me.” He leans over the swords for a moment, pecking their lips before he squares his shoulders back.
Hook’s resistance was always strong and unforgiving in a fight, even when he allowed himself a moment of calm in the storm he created. The boy pushes harder on their swords, smirking at his lover as he raises an eyebrow. “What’s a homogeneous mixture?” There’s this flicker of something in his partner’s eyes. A giggle escaping their lips as they smile at him, head tilting to the side. “Isn’t that what you and Morgie are?” He pushes rougher against them, feeling the way their laughter shakes the sword in their iron grip. “Very funny, Darling. Now answer the question, unless you want to walk the plank,” he’s stepping closer, their swords sliding ever so slightly straighter against each other. “You wouldn’t dare, you love me too much.” He hums, shaking his head, “Positive? According to you, I love Morgie, so which is it?”
─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──
“You two are late,” she doesn’t look up from her cauldron as she speaks, Uliana automatically knows who’s wandering in by their footsteps. The sounds are perfectly in sync, heavy pairs of boots falling in time as if they moved as one. When the two become visible in the hideout, their faces are red with a sweat sheen across their foreheads. Hook’s arm adoringly around (Y/n)’s waist as they lean against him, the clothing of both teens ruffled from the movements they’d made while jousting. It’s cozy, needy, and the couple’s appearance quickly attracts the attention of Morgie and Hades. Both boys look to their friends with a smirk, cutting each other a sparing glance before turning back. “What have you two been up to?” Hades gives them a once over taking in how Hook’s shirt had come untucked and the wrinkles in the hem of (Y/n)’s top. “Been helping (Y/n) study for chemistry,” Hook shrugs, falling into a chair and pulling his partner down into his lap. Warm arms encapsulate the villain as they lean into his touch, smiling as his head settles on their left shoulder. A kiss being pressed to the shell of their ear earning the boy a hum.
The sound of Hades laughing fills the room, his eyes rolling in their sockets, “Yeah, I’m sure you have been.” Hook can tell where this is going from a mile away, especially with the gorgeous look of exhaustion taking over his lover’s face. Relaxed muscles that are hidden behind heat blushed flesh. Sweat shines on their forehead and neck while their eyelids hang lower than normal. (Y/n) always looked tired and blissed out after a good duel, smiling lazily as they cling to him. He knew how they looked, and with the genuine topic at hand it definitely seemed like Hook had done nothing more than making an innuendo. If he was honest, part of him hoped that the boys thought it was an innuendo, tutoring just wasn’t his style. “We were, Hades. Excellent study session, actually. Of course, (Y/n) has always been the smartest person I know.” The god raises his brows, smirk growing as he turns to Morgie, “You don’t say. Morgie, I bet you overhear a lot of those study sessions, don’t you?” The sorcerer smirks right back, an evil glint resting in his eyes, “Oh yeah, I think the last one was English though. Studying a poem maybe?”
(Y/n) feels Hook’s hand sneak onto their thigh as the boys talk, an amused smirk resting on their face. He lets his fingers spread, taking up as much of the plush part of their leg as he can. “Really, Morgie? Why would you say that?” Hades is letting his eyes flicker between the overly cozy couple and Morgie as he speaks, watching for tell-tale signs that the villains were flustered. “Oh you know, I just recognized the opening line,” his finger taps his chin as he speaks, “What was it again? Oh yeah!” Morgie’s face falls to mimic a blissed out expression, hand gripping on his chest as he speaks on a nearly pornographic moan, “Oh Captain, my Captain!” Hades and Morgie fall into each other’s sides laughing, the noise they’re making earning an annoyed scoff from a preoccupied Uliana. “If you two idiots could make yourself useful, that would be great,” she’s turning, grabbing a vial of rattlesnake venom from a shelf.
“Study session isn’t over, Love,” Hook’s voice is soft, plush lips moving against the shell of their ear as he whispers. His words lead to them whining, head falling back against his shoulder as they pout. “My head is too full, Baby. I’ve had enough.” He chuckles, kissing their cheek as his finger moves across their thigh in an “S” shape. “Tell me the element,” he whispers, repeating the shape across their leg. “Sulfur,” they mumble, eyes focusing in on the way Uliana moves. He kisses their shoulder, “Good job.” He draws a circle next. “Oxygen.” Another kiss falls on their shoulder. It becomes a pattern. He’d draw the symbol of an element on their thigh, they would tell him the name of it. The shape repeats until they get it right, ones they got correct on the first try lead to them being rewarded with a kiss to the shoulder or neck.
Somewhere, though it’s partially tuned out by the pirate and his lover, Morgie is explaining what Uliana is up to. Something about making a potion to sneak into Charming’s food, apparently he spilt Uliana’s drink all over her when she was leaving a coffee shop. Some sort of spell to make the boy clumsy enough to spill everything on himself for twenty four hours. (Y/n) can’t focus on that, not with the way that James is tracing a “Y” on their inner thigh. What element’s symbol was “Y”? “You’re making that up,” they mumble and he shakes his head against them in response. “Think harder.” “It’s too hard to think when you’re doing it there,” the words come out in a hiss, eyes cutting over their shoulder to see the smirk on his face. “Try harder then, Love.”
Maleficent makes her way past them, holding a little vial of something as she does. “It took forever to find this shit in the AP Chem room, just so you know. Better be worth the trouble.” Uliana scoffs, reaching an arm out for it, “It will be.” Hades and Morgie stand up to follow the dark pixie, the god cutting James and (Y/n) a look. His eyes zero in on Hook’s hand, laughing softly, “God, Hook, you are just insatiable.” The pirate winks at him over (Y/n)’s shoulder, kissing their shoulder as they softly mumble, “Yttrium.” “Good job,” he coos, letting his eyes follow the other villains. Maleficent said she’d taken something from the chem room, what is it?
“What you got there, Mali?” She turns to smirk at Hook, “Finishing ingredient to the potion. Though, it looks like we could have just got it off of (Y/n). What have you been doing to them to have them sweating like that, Hook?” His brows furrow, looking at the vial of powder in Uliana’s hand as she stands dangerously close to the fire-heated cauldron. They could get it from (Y/n)’s sweat? What could she be- his blood runs cold as Uliana goes to pull the stopper out of the bottle.
“Uliana, don’t!” He’s throwing a very startled (Y/n) off of his lap as he jumps up, running towards the group. “What, you have a soft spot for Charming now?” He’s shaking his head furiously as he reaches out for the vial. “You can’t put that in there right now. It needs to cool.” Her arms cross, holding the vial away from his panicked hand. “What are you talking about?” Dark eyes stay trained on the vial, shaking his head as he speaks, “That’s sodium, right? That’s what the joke about the sweat means?” She nods, a brow raised as she waves a hand for him to hurry up and explain himself. “So, you cannot add heat to sodium.” “People add heat to salt all the time, Hook. We’ll be fine.” She’s not listening, she never listens.
“It’s not salt, Uli. Sodium is only half of salt.” “The other half is chlorine,” (Y/n) calls out from the other side of the room. And Hook smiles slightly, giving them a thumbs up behind his back. “So what, you’re saying that I can’t use it?” Uliana is obviously growing tired of him, but there seems to be a gear turning in Maleficent's head. “Not with heat, unless you don’t like having eyebrows,” Hook shakes his head, an arm once again reaching out for the vial. “Are you threatening me?” He groans, dragging his hand down his face, “Fine Uliana, add heat to Sodium and make it explode. Explode with it for all I care. It’s your funeral.” Hades looks between the two, watching Hook storm away from them as he extinguishes the fire under the cauldron. “Uliana, just let it cool. Hook, you two were actually studying chemistry?” He scoffs, waving him off, “I am more than a pretty face, Hades.” “But, you were all tired and sweaty?” “Made me answer questions while we were sword fighting,” (Y/n) shrugs. “But, his hand moving on your inner thigh?” “Tracing atomic symbols on their thigh,” Hook shrugs, reaching out for his partner who walks into his arms with a giggle. They were actually studying? Who in their right mind studies like that? Not that Hades has ever thought the couple were in their right mind.
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