they say before you start a war

you better know what you’re fighting for…

[zmbiedolli]

❝ well baby you are all that I adore… ❞

⠀⠀ ⠀dolli ❀ female — 사랑

⠀⠀🌷┆ 9teen .ᐟ (＠ nightwingsgf )

all rights reserved to (c) zmbiedolli. please do not steal my work or claim any subject from the criminal hearts jjk super hero au. thank you!

tokyo city police department archives. latest scoop! hero’s database… ݁₊ .

🌱 𐔌 INBOX OPEN. send asks or suggestions about the au .ᐟ

[leiaweasly]

—⊹₊⟡⋆ LETS GET PHYSICAL :: george weasley

warning: baby harry-potter fan , might be some errors in the timeline / ooc charcaters

notes: this takes place in a wizarding world were the charcaters greatest threat is flunking out of school. no war. no voldemart shenanigans. everyone lives. + featuring gryffindor [Y/n] with a best friend in hufflepuff.

summary: you want someone to ask you to the yule ball. cedric diggory gets the ball rolling. george realizes that rhat he has to act fast.

George Weasley loves physical touch.

He loves it casually, instinctively—like it’s second nature.

He especially loves when you wear short shirts, baby-doll tees, anything that leaves your skin within easy reach. It gives him excuses to poke, pinch, or brush his fingers against your side as he passes. Always playful. Always teasing. Always pretending it’s accidental when it very clearly isn’t.

***

George Weasley loves physical touch.

The two of you hug all the time, but there’s one hug that stays with him more than the rest.

It happened during a Halloween party.

Someone had brought up Spin the Bottle—a Muggle game—and soon it escalated into Seven Minutes in Heaven. When your names were called, the room erupted into cheers.

Two people, one closet, seven minutes.

Nothing actually happened. At least, nothing you’d admit to. But the two of you decided to make it interesting. You both banged on the door, whispered loudly, and made exaggerated noises until everyone outside was convinced that the two of you were partaking in scandalous activities.

Seven minutes, however, was a long time.

Eventually, the performance dissolved into laughter. Quiet at first, then uncontrollable, until you were both pressed against the door, shoulders shaking, trying not to give yourselves away.

When it was finally time to come out, you rose onto your heels and swept your hands over George’s shoulders, fingers brushing his neck.

“Well?” you asked lightly. “Will you be my Prince Charming and carry me out?”

Your fingers grazed the nape of his neck, slipping into his hair.

George swore his brain stopped working.

He wrapped his arms around you without hesitation, hands settling at the small of your back. Your costume made it far too easy for his palms to rest against bare skin. He hugged like a bear—leaning his entire weight into you—and you shivered, stumbling back and knocking something over behind you.

He leaned into the crook of your neck and whispered, voice low and mischievous,

“Let’s give them a show, yeah?”

Your face burned, but the closet was dark enough that you hoped he couldn’t see it. If he did, he would never let you forget this. Never.

When the door finally opened, George swept you up in a dramatic princess carry. You clung to his neck, raising one arm triumphantly.

“I heard you all making bets that we wouldn’t last,” you called. “Pay up.”

“What’s to say you two actually did anything?” a Slytherin boy asked skeptically.

George smirked. “What’s to say we didn’t?”

***

Fred and George were always surprising you, so one day, you decided to return the favor.

You crossed the courtyard quietly, heart racing, and slipped up behind them, covering both their eyes with your hands.

Leaning in, you whispered, “Guess who.”

“Well, it’s obviously [Y/N],” Fred said easily. “You’re the only one who laughs before you even finish the sentence.”

He pulled your hand down to look at you.

George didn’t.

He stayed perfectly still, caught on the feeling of your hands over his eyes—the softness, the warmth against his lashes and cheeks. He lifted one hand and held yours there, not ready to let go.

“Yeah,” he agreed quietly. “I could tell by your voice.”

Then, softer, almost to himself: “And your hands are really soft.”

You sighed and dropped down to sit between them like it was the most natural thing in the world.

You would have to one up them another time.

***

You once managed to bring a Muggle handheld game to Hogwarts.

After that, George was always pressed against you.

Shoulder to shoulder. Thigh to thigh. Close enough that there was no space at all. He claimed it was so he could see the screen better, but you knew better as you tapped away at the buttons, determined to beat the level.

Whenever you messed up, he’d ask to switch—learning the controls frighteningly fast. Somehow, he figured out how to glitch the game entirely, giving you two hundred extra hearts instead of the usual three.

He grinned at you like it was the most natural thing in the world.

***

George Weasley loves physical touch.

And on cold days at Hogwarts, he’s especially attentive to you.

You forget your cloak more often than you’d like to admit, and George notices every time. Sometimes he wordlessly slips his own cloak around your shoulders, the fabric far too big for you and smelling faintly like smoke and peppermint. Other times, he presses something warm into your palm—a sneaky little heat charm that spreads through your fingers and seeps into your bones within seconds.

But his favorite move?

Coming up behind you and wrapping himself around you completely.

The day was bitterly cold. The kind that seeped through stone walls and settled deep in your chest. You’re standing in the courtyard, arms folded tight around yourself, standing with Leia as you waited for one of your friends. The three of you were going to go to Hogsmeade—after making a stop at gryffindor to collect the coat you forgot.

You shiver.

“[Y/n], just how forgetful are you? There’s literal snow on the ground and yet you still walked out here in just a cardigan?” Leia scolded you, putting on her yellow mittens.

Before you can complain, warmth surrounds you.

George steps in behind you, arms sliding around your shoulders as he pulled you flush against him. It’s immediate—the heat, the weight, and the way he fits around you like he was built for this. He’s solid and warm, all Quidditch-hardened muscle and comfort, and he easily dwarfs you, making you feel small (and warm) in the safest way.

“She’s right, you’re freezing,” he murmurs near your ear, more fond than scolding.

You relax without thinking, sinking back into his chest. His cloak falls around both of you, and his arms tighten just enough to keep the cold out.

“We were going to head back to my dorm to get my coat anyways.” You murmured, taking in his warmth and steady breaths.

He was like a bear. Warm and protective.

Your friend watched the two of you, raising an eyebrow at you. You already knew she was going to tease you for this later.

Your fingers curl into George’s sleeves as you tuck your face into his cloak, hiding away from the cold wind.

“Where are you guys off too?” George asks.

“Hogsmeade,” you say quietly. “A little girls trip.”

George rests his chin on the top of your head, swaying slightly. “Sounds like fun,” he said.

Leia grins. “It will be fun.”

Just then, the friend you were waiting for steps out, apologizing for being late. That’s when George’s presence leaves you, as he pats your head. “Well, Fred and I have detention—a failed experiment damaged school property. See you soon [Y/n].”

You waved goodbye to him as he trudged away in the snow.

“So, you want to tell me why the two of you were cuddling out in public?” Leia asked, you turn away from her.

“That wasn’t cuddling.” You mumble, your face heating up.

“Right… just like that isn’t snow on the ground.” She retorts.

What the two of you shared couldn’t be described as a normal friendship. Especially when it so casually floated across the line of boundaries most people had.

[leiaweasly]

—⊹₊⟡⋆ FIRST MEET :: george + fred weasley

warning: baby harry-potter fan , might be some errors in the timeline / ooc charcaters

notes: this takes place in a wizarding world were the charcaters greatest threat is flunking out of school. no war. no voldemart shenanigans. everyone lives. + featuring gryffindor [Y/n] with a best friend in hufflepuff.

summary: everyone knows you and the weasley twins are inseparable — but how did it get that way?

You were a Gryffindor by sorting, but everyone knew that you spent just as much time in Hufflepuff.

Your best friend—Leia—had been sorted there when the two of you first arrived. Since then, the Hufflepuff common room had quietly adopted you as an honorary member.

You lounged on their sofas, ate their snacks in the common room, knew most of their faces—and, in return, Hufflepuff knew you. Of course, you still had plenty of Gryffindor friends too, which meant that you drifted easily between houses, belonging to both all at once.

That was why things became… interesting when Gryffindor and Hufflepuff sixth- and fifth-years were placed into a joint class.

Two houses. Twice the noise. Absolute chaos.

Professor Slughorn clasped his hands together with a suspiciously cheerful smile.

“You may choose your own partners today,” he announced, before adding, “with two conditions: you must work with someone you have never partnered with before—and your group must include at least one student from the opposite house.”

Uh oh. The two of you were doomed. You always partnered together with Leia—no exceptions.

“We can still make this work,” Leia whispered urgently, already scanning the room. “We just need to find someone you haven’t worked with before… and someone I haven’t…”

You followed her gaze. Most of your usual sixth-year friends—Angelina included—had already paired off. What remained was an unfamiliar group of fifth-year boys clustered together.

Part of you wished that you spent more time getting to know your housemates.

And then—

Tap. Tap.

You turned.

Standing behind you were two identical redheads, matching grins firmly in place. You recognized them to be the Weasley twins. They were Ron’s older brothers and both quidditch players who were a year above you.

And, unfortunately for you, they were completely indistinguishable.

“Hey,” one of them said cheerfully. “D’you want to partner with us?”

“We’d rather not split up,” the other added, nodding in agreement, “but we need someone we’ve never worked with before. And—” he glanced between you and your friend “—someone from Hufflepuff.”

Leia’s eyes lit up. She turned to you with a smile.

“Well, that solves our problem rather nicely,” she said. “Yes—we’d love to.”

You cringed. There was no need for her to sound so eager, but there was no other choice.

And just like that, it happened. You, Leia, and the Weasley twins were partnered together. It had to be a recipe for disaster. Or fun. But honestly, it was probably both.

As the four of you settled at your workbench, you finally asked the question that had been bothering you since they’d appeared.

“So,” you said casually, “which one of you is Fred… and which one is George?”

They exchanged a look. Then their smiles widened.

“I’m Fred,” one said confidently, pointing to himself. “He’s George.”

“No, I’m Fred,” the other corrected instantly. “He’s George.”

You and your friend stared at them for a moment.

“Perfect,” your friend said solemnly. “We’ve met them at a very confused time in their lives.”

You bit back a laugh before adding, “What if your mum forgot which was which one day, and now the names you go by are actually switched?”

The twins paused, looked at each other, then—in perfect unison—shook their heads.

“Never,” they said, brightly.

One of them paused, then grinned. “Although… it’s highly possible.”

You decided it didn’t really matter that you couldn’t tell them apart yet. You had time. What you could already tell was that they were absolutely nothing like Ron.

***

You and your friend whispered quietly to each other as the lesson droned on—until you zoned out for exactly one second too long. Of course, that was when Professor Slughorn decided to call on you.

“Miss [L/N],” he called sharply, “please come up and add the next ingredients to the cauldron.”

You looked up. startled.

“Oh—uh—what?” You panicked, turning to your table for help. “What did he say to add?”

Leia winced. “Sorry! I didn’t hear the last one.”

Seriously?

Before you could scramble your brain, a folded slip of parchment slid across the table toward you.

“Here,” one of the twins whispered. “Take this.”

You glanced down at it. It looked… right enough.

Trusting it (perhaps foolishly), you stood and walked to the front of the classroom, ignoring the scattered cheers from students who clapped simply because someone was being called up.

You selected the bottles listed on the paper and added them carefully to the cauldron.

Nothing happened.

Then—

There was spark, light a fire cracker, followed by a sudden pop.

You stumbled back as luminous blue and violet butterflies burst from the cauldron, swirling through the air in glittering waves. Gasps filled the room.

They were beautiful.

One fluttered close, landing delicately on your finger. You held your breath as the class erupted into cheers—some students assumed it had been intentional. You werent beneath pulling pranks in class.

But this time, it wasn’t you.

“Very interesting, Miss [Y/N],” Professor Slughorn said dryly. “Unfortunately, that is not the desired result. Please return to your seat—and do try to pay attention next time.”

You returned to the bench, brushing past one of the twins and lightly shoving his shoulder.

“Hey!”

“Hey yourself,” you shot back, sitting down. “You gave me the wrong ingredients.”

“Should’ve been paying attention, [Y/N],” one of them replied smugly.

You blinked.

“…You know my name?”

The twins looked at each other—and laughed.

“Of course we do,” one said. “Angelina tells us about you all the time.”

“The honorary Hufflepuff,” the other added.

Oh.

So they knew who you were—while you still couldn’t tell them apart.

‘Maybe I should put more effort into that,’ you thought.

“Honorary Hufflepuff?” Leia grinned. “That nickname is actually adorable.”

The professor cleared his throat loudly. “Table four. I trust there will be no more chatter?”

All four of you straightened instantly.

“Yes, sir.”

As the lesson continued, you had no idea how important this moment truly was.

You had just caught the attention of Fred and George Weasley. And once you entered their hemisphere—their sphere of influence—there was no escaping it.

They’d found their next target.

And they found you very interesting indeed.

[zmbiedolli]

❝ ₊⊹ 𝐓𝐄𝐗𝐓𝐒 𝐀𝐒 𝓉𝒽𝑒𝒾𝓇 𔓘 𝐌𝐀𝐍𝐀𝐆𝐄𝐑 ݁₊ . ౨ৎ sfw ꒰ smau ꒱ ❞

→ PAIRING. jjk!boys x reader

⋮ ⌗ ┆NOTES. jjk college swim team au w/ all the characters aged up/down (19-22) — SUMMARY. being the manager to a chaotic team such as the jmu swim + dive team is sure to have some interesting moments. especially with such a colorful cast of characters!

cw ݁₊ . none

They always stress you out, but at the end of the day, you love them <3

🌱 𐔌 INBOX OPEN. send asks or suggestions about the au .ᐟ

⋆˚✿˖° © 𝐙𝐌𝐁𝐈𝐄𝐃𝐎𝐋𝐋𝐈 do not use my work without my consent.

[zmbiedolli]

Oh my gosh your blog is so beautiful it's TO DIE FOR 🩷🩷🩷

thank you so much!!! 😝😝💕 (I literally spent 2 days and sleepless nights crafting it)

[zmbiedolli]

❝ ₊⊹ 𝐁𝐋𝐈𝐍𝐃𝐈𝐍𝐆 𔓘 𝐋𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓𝐒 ݁₊ . ౨ৎ sfw ꒰ oneshot ꒱ ❞

→ PAIRING. nightwing!gojo satoru x catwomaninspo!reader

⋮ ⌗ ┆WORD COUNT. 1185 — SUMMARY. late night patrols can get a little boring…thankfully (unfortunately) you ran into nightshade—who always enjoys making your day a little better (worse).

cw ݁₊ . slightly suggestive

The rooftop air was thick with heat and humidity, a sticky film clinging to your skin under the night-black suit. Tokyo City buzzed below with a life of its own—blaring car alarms, the distant wail of sirens, and the thrum of neon signs flickering in and out like broken stars. The skyline was a jagged line of silhouettes, painted silver under the glow of the full moon.

Perched like a shadow atop a residential rooftop, you admired the spoils of your nightly hunt. It had been a profitable evening…mostly.

“This one’s a dud,” you muttered, holding a jewel to the light. It shimmered with the elegance of something real—but your instincts and visor confirmed otherwise. It was just a well-crafted fake.

With an annoyed sigh, you flicked it off the edge of the building. It fell silently, swallowed by the depths of the alley below.

Next came a glistening pearl earring. You lifted it into the moonlight, flicking through the AI visor’s settings. A satisfying chime confirmed its authenticity.

100 percent.

Your lips curled into a victorious grin. “Score,” you whispered, tucking it away. That earring alone could give you two months’ worth of loan payments.

But the night was never without interruption.

A subtle change in the wind, and a flicker in your peripheral told you that something was off.

You stilled, one hand on your pouch, ears straining. At first glance, the rooftop was deserted. There was nothing but dusty chimneys and utility wires.

Then came the unmistakable sensation of being watched.

You sprang back instinctively—and landed facing him.

There he was. That familiar cocky silhouette, hair tousled silver in the moonlight, and his two-toned suit clinging to every inch of his lazy confidence. Nightshade.

“Just when I was so close…” he said, his tone teasing. “What are ya up to, kitty?”

You rolled your eyes, groaning under your breath. “Of course it’s you.”

With a sharp turn, you crossed your arms, unwilling to show even a hint of surprise.

“Shouldn’t you be doing something more productive with your time? Like, I don’t know—actual patrols?”

“I am doing my patrol, doll,” he replied, strolling toward the ledge you occupied, as if it were casual. “Got an alert about a break-in from Mrs. Saionji. Says someone stole her family jewels. Know anything about that?”

You shrugged, feeding the vigilante a well-rehearsed lie. “Nope. I’ve been here all night.”

Gojo tilted his head, eyes narrowing slightly behind his mask. “Really? Then what’s in the pouch, Cheshire?”

Your spine stiffened. You swung the pouch behind you, suddenly hyper-aware that you’d let your guard down. You’d forgotten how sharp he was, how easily he could see through things, and how he was actually a threat when he wanted to be.

“Things that belong to me,” you say firmly, stepping back. “Finders, keepers.”

“Yeah…no,” Gojo said, clapping his hands together. “You see, Mrs. Saionji’s a good friend of mine. She’ll definitely want those back.”

A beat passed. A moment of silence. And then—you ran.

Leaping off the building, you danced across fire escapes, ducked under satellite dishes, and sprang over alley gaps like a phantom.

He followed.

You heard his footsteps echoing off the walls, always a half-step behind. The city was a blur beneath you—flashing billboards, rusting vents, broken windows.

“I can do this all night, sweetheart!” he called, voice annoyingly cheerful.

You groaned, vaulting a railing. “I hope you know you’re annoying!”

Through an abandoned apartment, out a shattered window—you landed on a narrow balcony, searching for your next move. Up. There was no other way but up.

“Thank you!” Nightshade’s voice came too close. You turned just in time to see him on the same balcony.

Startled, you leapt. But instead of grabbing a ledge, your fingers clutched a loose satellite dish.

“Shit—” The rusted metal groaned under your weight. You kicked off it just as it tore free, tumbling down with a crash that shattered the balcony.

“Nightshade?” You coughed through the debris cloud, peering over the ledge. You couldn’t see anything.

Suddenly your heart skipped, and worry overtook you. ‘No way…’

“Miss me that fast?”

You jumped at the voice. A gloved hand gripped the ledge, and you watched as Gojo pulled himself up, dust trailing behind him, his grin undisturbed.

“It’ll take more than a rusty satellite to get rid of me.”

Relief flickered through you. Even though Nightshade was a nuisance, you didn’t want him to die. Especially not like that.

“Yeah, that would’ve been an embarrassing way to go.” You say with a grin, deciding not to run away, but step closer.

Gojo blinked, his eyebrows lifting in surprise.

Your mentor once told you that the best way to beat the enemy is to confuse them—and sure enough—Gojo fell right into your trap.

He lunged forward, unleashing a pulse of cursed energy. You ducked, claws swiping at his utility belt, as you swept under him. A pouch clattered to the ground.

“If you wanted to be under me so bad,” he started, his breath warm as he caught your wrist and spun you around, pinning you against him, “I could’ve arranged that.”

Your chest was pressed against his, instantly causing your breath to shorten. He smelled nice, like soap, musk and expensive cologne. Every part of him buzzed with power.

Dangerous, cocky, and infuriating power.

“Cute trick,” he whispered, his breath warm against your ear. “But now I’ve got you.”

You felt the tug as he unfastened your pouch—and you let him. What Gojo didn’t know was that you had already slipped something from his back pocket.

“Oh, sweetie…” your voice purred, “you never had me.”

Your knee jabbed between his legs—not too hard, but just enough to startle. You twisted, rolled him onto his back, and brought him into a straddle.

The rooftop gravel scraped beneath your boots as you held a clawed finger to his throat. His mask shifted with a grin.

“If you wanted to be on top of me so badly—” You pressed the claw against his neck, mimicking his earlier words. “You should’ve just asked, baby blue.”

His laugh was low, hungry. “I think I want a lot more than that, doll.”

You leaned close, breath grazing his cheek. You felt his arms ghost by your side—almost hesitant to hold your waist. And that’s when you retracted.

“Well, that’s too bad.”

In a flash, you flipped backwards onto your feet and leapt off the building. Gojo scrambled up, rushing to the ledge in pursuit—only to find nothing.

Except a sticky note taped to his chest:

“Thanks for the gear, lover boy. Can’t wait to pawn them to the highest bidder! 💋”

His head snapped down, and sure enough all of his pouches were gone. All of them, except the one you’d let him take. The bag of Mrs. Saionji’s jewels.

Gojo blinked, then laughed through an exhale, raking a hand through his silver hair.

“Damn cat.”

What he didn’t see, was that two rooftops over, you paused to watch him. A smile played on your lips, with your fingers still tingling from the shared moment.

🌱 𐔌 INBOX OPEN. send asks or suggestions about the au .ᐟ

⋆˚✿˖° © 𝐙𝐌𝐁𝐈𝐄𝐃𝐎𝐋𝐋𝐈 do not use my work without my consent.

[zmbiedolli]

tokyo city police department archives ₊ ꒰ᐢ. .ᐢ꒱

❝ ₊⊹ 𝐁𝐋𝐈𝐍𝐃𝐈𝐍𝐆 𔓘 𝐋𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓𝐒 ݁₊ . ౨ৎ sfw ꒰ oneshot ꒱ ❞ → PAIRING. nightwing!gojo satoru x catwomaninspo!reader

❝ ₊⊹ 𝐓𝐄𝐗𝐓𝐒 𝐀𝐒 𝓉𝒽𝑒𝒾𝓇 𔓘 𝐌𝐀𝐍𝐀𝐆𝐄𝐑 ݁₊ . ౨ৎ sfw ꒰ smau ꒱ ❞ → PAIRING. jjk!boys x reader