allaji

[allaji]

Bubblegum and Blade Wounds | A Zoey x fem reader fic

Premise: Some girls get flowers. Some get love letters. Y/n gets patched up by a K-pop idol who moonlights as a demon hunter.

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The smell of antiseptic burned y/n’s nose, mingling awkwardly with the scent of strawberry lip gloss and fabric softener. She sat on the edge of Zoey’s vanity chair, clutching a ragged bandage to her side while trying not to bleed on the rug. Again.

“This is the third time this week,” Zoey muttered, yanking open a drawer crammed full of first-aid supplies, fake eyelashes, and three different brands of Korean BB cream.

“At this point, I should just sew demon-grade Kevlar into your jackets.”

“I didn’t mean to fall into a nest of Venom Imps, okay?” y/n winced as Zoey sprayed something icy against the gash. “They jumped me while I was chasing that fang-faced freak down the alley.”

Zoey clicked her tongue and glanced up, her long lashes batting dramatically. “See, this is why I said we go in pairs. But nooo, Miss I-Work-Alone has to solo it like she’s in a shōnen anime.”

“I am the main character,” y/n deadpanned.

Zoey burst out laughing—bright and musical, like a song that never made it onto an album. “Okay, Naruto. Hold still.”

The pop idol crouched beside her, sleeves of her rehearsal hoodie pushed up to her elbows. Her hands—surprisingly steady for someone who just finished a high-speed dance routine—moved carefully as she cleaned the wound. Zoey hummed while she worked, some unreleased ballad that only a few fans had ever heard during livestreams at 2 a.m.

“You hum when you're nervous,” y/n said softly.

Zoey paused for half a second. “You’re bleeding and joking like it’s a sleepover. What do you want me to do, cry and write a love song about your reckless bravery?”

“…Wait, are you actually going to do that?”

A blush threatened to rise on Zoey’s cheeks, but she expertly deflected. “Only if you promise not to ruin another one of my stage outfits. The last one you got imp goo on? That was Balenciaga.”

“I saved a bus full of kids from that goo demon!”

Zoey didn’t look up. “Yeah, yeah. But did they reimburse me for couture damage?”

There was a beat of silence. Then both of them broke into laughter—the kind that hurt your ribs and made you forget about the sting of injury and the endless battle against shadowy creatures from another realm.

Zoey pressed the final bandage into place, securing it with care. Then she looked up, her expression softened, serious in that rare way that made y/n’s heart clench unexpectedly.

“You’re always running into danger like you're afraid to slow down,” she whispered.

“But you don't have to prove anything, not to me. I already know you're brave. You don’t have to keep getting hurt to show it.”

Y/n’s throat went tight. “I’m not afraid to slow down.”

“Then prove it,” Zoey challenged softly, reaching out to brush a strand of hair behind her ear. “Stay the night. No demons. No patrols. Just you, me, bad K-dramas, and banana milk.”

“…You’re bribing me with banana milk?”

Zoey grinned. “And I threw out all your leather gear. Accidentally.”

“You what?!”

Too late. Zoey had already bolted for the living room, squealing with laughter as y/n limped after her, swearing and half-laughing, half-grimacing.

The chase ended somewhere between Zoey’s bed and a pile of Hello Kitty plushies, with y/n collapsing on top of her, breathless and cursing under her breath. Her bandaged side throbbed, but it was worth it—Zoey was pinned beneath her, hair a glossy mess, cheeks flushed from laughter and mock betrayal.

“You didn’t actually throw out my gear,” y/n said suspiciously.

Zoey blinked up at her, wide-eyed with faux innocence. “What gear?”

Y/n groaned. “You’re such a menace.”

“You’re the one who bleeds all over my carpet.”

They laid there for a moment, tangled in limbs and lazy exhaustion, the thrum of danger outside their walls completely forgotten. Zoey’s room smelled like soft things—vanilla lotion, cotton sheets, strawberry shampoo—and for someone who spent her nights slaying demons, she really had managed to make her space feel like a bubblegum-scented sanctuary.

A K-drama played on the television in the background. The dramatic violin score swelled as the male lead clutched the heroine’s hand in the pouring rain, declaring his love with the intensity of a thousand slow-motion zoom-ins.

“I swear to God, if she gets hit by a truck in the next ten minutes—” y/n muttered.

“She will,” Zoey said with grim certainty. “Or fall into a coma. Or get amnesia and forget she ever loved him.”

“Why do we watch these?”

“Because,” Zoey said, snuggling closer into her side, “they make our lives seem emotionally stable by comparison.”

Y/n laughed, despite herself. “We kill demons for a living.”

“And yet I’ve never faked my death to test your love,” Zoey said brightly, “so really, I’m the most reasonable woman you know.”

Y/n turned to look at her. Zoey was already staring, her lips parted in the smallest smile, her eyeliner slightly smudged from the earlier chaos. Even without the lights of the stage or the spotlight of a camera, she was luminous in that soft, unrushed way—like the warmth of fairy lights in a room you didn’t want to leave.

“I really like you,” y/n said, voice quieter than she meant it to be. “Not just when you're patching me up or making dumb jokes. I like… all of it. The mess, the mission, the snacks in your bathroom drawer. I like coming home to this. To you.”

For a second, Zoey didn’t say anything. She just stared at her, lips parted, eyes wide in that rare, unguarded way. Then:

“Okay,” she said softly. “But I have to tell you something, and you can’t judge me.”

Y/n blinked. “Alright…?”

Zoey leaned in, voice lowered like a confession. “I ate the last honey butter chip. The one you were saving.”

“…You—!”

“But I felt really bad about it!” she yelped, shielding herself with a pillow. “I even wrote a haiku out of guilt!”

“A haiku?!”

“It was very heartfelt!”

Y/n groaned, collapsing into the couch. “You are the absolute worst.”

But her arm found its way around Zoey’s waist anyway, drawing her in. And Zoey fit there perfectly, like a piece that always knew where it belonged.

After a while, when the drama had moved into its third unnecessary plot twist, and the last light in the room was the blue glow of the screen, Zoey turned her head, lips brushing the curve of y/n's shoulder.

“I like you too,” she murmured. “Even when you're being reckless. Even when you track blood into my bathroom. Even when you're too tired to stay awake, but still try to watch every stupid K-drama ending with me.”

Y/n’s voice was sleepy, drifting. “I’d watch twenty tragic love triangles if it meant ending up right here.”

Zoey smiled. “Gross. That was sweet. Say it again so I can write it in my Notes app like a lovesick teenager.”

“I swear to God, if you turn this into lyrics…”

“I already did.”

“…Of course you did.”

But neither of them moved. The world outside would still be waiting—demons to banish, shadows to chase, pasts to wrestle with. But for now, there was only this: shared warmth, stolen chips, half-watched dramas, and the kind of peace you didn’t realize you were starving for until you found it curled up beside you, humming soft lullabies and smelling faintly of strawberry lip gloss.

[allaji]

Between Patrol and Pleasure 🔞| A Rumi x fem reader fic

Premise: Rumi and y/n go on a patrol but get distracted. They need to figure out a better way to handle things before hunting demons, starts to get dangerous for them.

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Hi guys! I ended up getting a little distracted and wrote this instead of focusing on the series. I was supposed to post it last night but it had an error and deleted itself, I had to rewrite the whole thing because I cut it from my notes instead of copying it (like an idiot 😭). It’s a little spicy but I couldn’t help it, it’s Rumi! Ignore Jinu in the gif, I chose it because it shows her fighting prowess.

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The alley was a narrow, dimly lit corridor, the kind of place where demons liked to hide. Y/n leaned against the wall, her senses heightened, scanning the shadows for any sign of movement. Suddenly, Rumi emerged from the darkness, her steps silent and precise. She was a natural hunter, her instincts sharp and her body coiled with tension.

"Anything?" Rumi asked, her voice low and steady, carrying a hint of exhaustion and something else—something primal and unspoken.

Y/n shook her head admiring Rumi’s responsible nature to take care of patrols no matter how tired she was “Not yet. But we know they're out there."

As if on cue, a demon appeared behind y/n its form flickering in the dim light. Y/n tensed, her hand reaching for her weapon, byeolungeom, but Rumi was already in motion. She moved with a deadly efficiency, her blade on her saingeom flashing over y/n’s shoulder, as she engaged the demon. The creature snarled and lashed out, but Rumi was faster, her attacks precise and brutal.

Y/n watched as Rumi dispatched the demon with a final, decisive strike. The creature dissolved into smoke, and Rumi turned to y/n, her expression guarded but her eyes burning with an intensity that made y/n’s heart race.

"Let's keep moving," Rumi said, her voice neutral, but there was a spark in her eyes that y/n recognized all too well.

Y/n nodded, falling into step beside Rumi as they continued down the alley. The tension between them was palpable, a mix of shared danger and unspoken desire. Y/m could feel the heat radiating from Rumi’s body, the way their shoulders brushed against each other with every step.

As they reached the end of the alley, Rumi suddenly stopped, turning to face y/n. Her eyes were intense, searching, and y/n found herself unable to look away.

"Y/n ," Rumi began, her voice low and serious. "We need to talk about what happened back there."

Y/n raised an eyebrow, a small smirk playing on her lips. "What happened? You mean the part where you saved my ass from that demon?"

Rumi’s expression softened slightly, but her eyes remained serious. "I mean the part where you almost got yourself killed because you were too busy staring at me to focus on the mission."

Y/n’s smirk faded, replaced by a look of disappointed self reflection. "I’m sorry. You're right. We can’t afford to get distracted like that. I should’ve been paying better attention.” An embarrassed flush forming on her cheeks.

Rumi nodded, taking a step closer to y/n . "But why were you so distracted by me in the first place?”

“You already know why, please don’t make me say it.” Y/n said flushing brighter than Rumi’s patterns, she tried to look away but instead her heart raced as Rumi’s hand reached up to cup her cheek, the touch gentle but firm. "I know," Rumi whispered, her voice barely audible.

Rumi leaned in, her lips brushing against y/n’s in a soft, lingering kiss. It was a promise, a declaration of the passion and danger that bound them together. When they pulled apart, y/n could see the desire in Rumi’s eyes, mirrored in her own.

"Let's get out of here," Rumi murmured, her voice thick with need. “We’ve got something more important to take care of at home.”

Y/n nodded, a smile playing on her lips as they turned and walked away, their steps in sync, so fast they were almost running.

As they made their way back home, the tension between them grew. Y/n could feel Rumi’s gaze on her, hot and intense, and she knew that Rumi could feel the same from her. When they finally reached the safety of their home, y/n turned to Rumi, her heart pounding in her chest as she pulled her to her room. Shutting the door behind them.

Rumi reached out, her fingers tracing the line of y/n’s jaw, sending shivers down her spine. "Even distracted you're so beautiful when you fight," Rumi whispered, her voice husky with desire. "It makes me want to fight with you, to feel you against me.”

Y/n’s breath hitched as Rumi’s hand moved to her neck, her thumb brushing against her pulse. “To feel all your focus and attention towards me and only me.”

"Rumi," y/n gasped, her voice a plea. "I need you."

Rumi’s response was a low growl, her hands moving to y/n’s hips, switching positions, pinning her against the door, and pulling her close. "You have me," she murmured against y/n’s skin “Always."

Their lips met in a fierce, passionate kiss, their bodies pressing together as if trying to become one. Y/n’s hands roamed Rumi’s body, exploring every curve of her body and every line her patterns made, while Rumi’s fingers tangled in y/n’s hair, holding her close. The world around them faded away, leaving only the two of them, lost in a dance of desire and need.

Y/n’s heart raced as Rumi’s lips trailed down her neck, her fangs grazing the sensitive skin, sending waves of pleasure coursing through her. Rumi’s hands moved to y/‘s waist, lifting her effortlessly and carrying her to the bed. y/n wrapped her legs around Rumi’s waist, pulling her down on top of her, their bodies fitting together perfectly.

"Rumi,” y/n gasped, her voice a mix of need and desperation. "Please."

Rumi’s eyes met hers, dark with desire and something deeper, something that made y/n’s heart ache with longing. "I've got you," Rumi murmured, her voice a promise.

Their clothes fell away, discarded in their haste, and y/n’s hands and eyes explored Rumi’s body, tracing the lines of her muscles, the curve of her hips. Y/n’s touch was electric, sending sparks of pleasure through Rumi's body with every caress.

As Rumi’s fingers found their way between y/n’s thighs, y/n arched against her, a moan escaping her lips. Rumi’s touch was expert, knowing, and y/n could feel the tension building inside her, coiling tighter and tighter with each stroke of her clit.

"Rumi,” y/n gasped, her voice breathless. "I'm so close, please. I need it inside.” Rumi fingers slid effortlessly into y/n, the slick heat of her arousal helping her quicker meet y/n’s desires. Every movement was deliberate, a dance of pleasure that sent shivers through both of them. Rumi’s touch was both tender and commanding, her desire to see y/n unravel beneath her a driving force. Y/n, in turn, surrendered to the sensation, her body aching for the release that only Rumi could provide, needing to come undone at her touch.

Y/n’s whimpers and moans striking deep within Rumi, almost reaching her own peak at the sounds. Rumi’s lips captured y/n’s in a fierce kiss, swallowing her cries as y/n’s body tensed and then shattered, waves of pleasure crashing over her. Rumi held her close, her touch gentle and soothing, until y/n’s breathing returned to normal.

Y/n reached for Rumi, her hands roaming Rumi’s body, wanting to give her the same pleasure. Rumi’s eyes met hers, filled with trust and desire, and Rumi knew that she was exactly where she was meant to be.

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Buy me a coffee? 💗

[allaji]

Ashes Between Us | A Rumi x fem reader fic

Premise:

In the heart of a post-battle Seoul, Rumi and the reader are paired together after a demon ambush nearly wipes out their squad. Rumi, the group's confident and battle-hardened vocalist, is tasked with keeping the reader safe while retraining her to control volatile abilities that threaten the both of them. The two go into hiding where suppressed memories resurface, revealing a past life where Rumi and the reader were lovers that met a tragic end to save the world — Rumi remembers. The reader doesn’t.

Angsty | Bittersweet | Slow burn | Supernatural

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Chapter 2: Lavender and Ash

✧ Centuries Earlier – Early Joseon Period ✧

The sky burned like an omen.

Flames danced along the horizon, mirrored in the rich scarlet tones of the setting sun. What had once been a sacred field—golden with grain and prayer flags swaying in the breeze—was now scorched and blackened, its beauty carved open by demon clawed hands and their blood-soaked soil. Wind swept through the valley carrying smoke, incense, and the copper tang of death.

At the heart of it all, (Y/n) stood among the ruin, robes in tatters, soot clinging to her skin. A talisman dangled from her hand, flickering faintly with the last traces of divine light. The binding spell had held. The demons were sealed. But something inside her had begun to come undone. The cost having started to unravel within her chest.

A few paces away, Rumi knelt, her sword buried in the scorched ground, as if anchoring her to the last remnants of what they had fought for. Her lacquered crimson armor was split at the shoulder, streaked with ash and blood that wasn’t hers. She hadn’t moved—not since the seal completed. Her gaze, when it finally lifted, was shattered glass held in place by sheer will.

"You shouldn't have done it," she said, barely more than breath, but thick with something close to grief.

There were no gentle words that could make sense of what had to be done. But (Y/N)’s voice was steady, soft. “I had to.”

Rumi rose slowly, her limbs moving like she was piecing herself back together with each motion. “No. You didn’t. You never had to do it alone. That was never what we promised each other.”

The talisman flickered against (Y/N)’s wrist, catching the last light of the sun as she spoke. “The seal demanded a soul.”

“I would’ve given mine.” No anger. Just certainty. “Without hesitation.”

“I know.” The words were barely more than a whisper. “But I couldn’t let you.”

Rumi’s breath caught. Her shoulders stiffened, as if bracing for an old pain. “You already did. In another life. You've always chosen the world over yourself… over us.”

The words struck, sharp and painfully familiar. Not cruel—just true.

“I didn’t want to,” (Y/N) admitted, and this time her voice cracked. “Not this time.”

The space between them dissolved with each hesitant step. When Rumi was finally close enough to reach her, she didn’t hesitate. Her hand found (Y/N)’s, lacing their fingers together as though it might stitch something broken back into place.

“I needed to make sure you’d live,” (Y/N) murmured. “Even if it meant you wouldn’t remember me. Not in the next life.”

“Next life?” The question wavered in the air.

“If the seal holds… it’ll scatter my soul. But maybe—” a faint smile trembled on her lips “—a piece of me will find you again. In another time. Another war.”

Rumi didn’t respond. She just pulled her close, wrapped her arms around her as if to fuse their bodies into one—to bind her to this moment, this lifetime, by sheer force of love.

“You always say that like you’re sure,” she breathed into her shoulder, voice muffled but trembling. “That you’ll find me again.”

“I am sure.” (Y/N)’s eyes closed as her arms tightened around Rumi’s waist. “We found each other this time… didn’t we?”

Rumi leaned back, just enough to see her face. Her fingertips grazed along (Y/N)’s cheek, brushing away a smear of soot. The firelight turned her gaze gold, casting their shadows long across the field of ash.

“If there’s even the smallest chance… that you’ll come back to me,” Rumi whispered, “then I’ll wait. For as many lifetimes as it takes.”

(Y/N)’s hands lifted, cradling Rumi’s face like a final prayer. Thumbs brushed tears she hadn’t realized had fallen.

“Then remember this,” she whispered.

Their kiss came slow—deliberate. Not rushed. Not desperate. Just full of everything they hadn’t said. Everything they never would. Rumi’s lips were warm, trembling, carrying the weight of goodbye even as she kissed like it was a promise.

When they broke apart, foreheads rested against each other. Eyes closed. Breathing shared. Time slipping like sand through their hands.

“I love you,” (Y/N) said, voice splintered by sorrow.

There was no pause.

“I love you too,” Rumi answered, fierce and fragile all at once. “I always have. I always will.”

But the seal had already begun to glow.

Light bled from the earth, surrounding (Y/N) in a slow-burning halo. Her hand—still clasped in Rumi’s—began to dissolve at the edges, flickering like a flame running out of fuel.

Rumi didn’t let go. Even as her form became weightless, as her presence unraveled into nothing more than scent and warmth and memory—Rumi held on.

And then she was gone.

All that remained was a whisper of lavender and ash—and Rumi’s scream, split raw from her throat, echoing into the stillness left behind.

---

✧ Present Day ✧

(Y/N) woke with a gasp.

The breath caught in her lungs refused to leave, tears streaking down her cheeks before she understood why she was crying. The ground beneath her back was still warm. The moon had not moved. The night hadn’t changed.

But the words lingered.

“I love you too. I always have. I always will.”

Familiar. Unmistakable. A voice layered in time.

She turned toward the sleeping huntress beside the altar. Rumi lay curled in a tight shape, her brow drawn in a frown like her dreams refused to release her.

Had it really been a dream?

The ache still burned in her chest. Too vivid. Too sharp. Not the cold steel of the Rumi she knew now, but the one who once held her like the world had ended and all she wanted was one more second of love.

And maybe… some part of her had loved her long before this war. Before this life.

And never stopped.

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Hiiiii I apologize for changing the perspective, I’m trying to see what works better. I’m going to edit it in the first chapter to third person, unless you guys like it being in your perspective better. Then I can just edit this chapter. Thank you for your patience with me 🥺

Buy me a coffee? 💗

[allaji]

Ashes Between Us | A Rumi x Fem Reader story

Premise:

In the heart of a post-battle Seoul, Rumi and the reader are paired together after a demon ambush nearly wipes out their squad. Rumi, the group's confident and battle-hardened vocalist, is tasked with keeping the reader safe while retraining her to control volatile abilities that threaten the both of them. The two go into hiding where suppressed memories resurface, revealing a past life where Rumi and the reader were lovers that met a tragic end to save the world — Rumi remembers. The reader doesn’t.

Angsty | Bittersweet | Slow burn | Supernatural

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Chapter 1: What Was Left Behind

The city of Seoul was eerily quiet. Smoke clung low over the crumbling skyline of Seoul’s downtown district, thick with the metallic stench of scorched steel and the bitter rot of demonic blood. Somewhere in the distance, a weakened structure groaned before finally giving way, collapsing into itself with a dull roar that barely interrupted the stillness.

(Y/n) pressed a hand to her side and coughed, the taste of soot still clinging to the back of her throat. Her ribs throbbed with every breath. Sparks danced along her fingertips—a raw, unstable energy that hadn’t yet settled.

Just beyond the threshold of their makeshift shelter—an underground temple half-swallowed by ivy and time—Rumi sat beside an ancient altar, winding the last knot on the bandage around her waist. Her expression was unreadable, even with a streak of dried blood painting her cheek.

“You lost control again,” she said, gaze fixed forward.

(Y/n) grimaced, pulling herself upright against the cracked stone wall. “Yeah. Thanks for the reminder.”

“I’m not judging.” Rumi’s voice was low, but sharper than usual. “If I were, I’d probably mention that you nearly fried me—and the last working summoning seal we need to not die tomorrow.”

A breath escaped from (Y/n) before she could stop it. “Okay. Now you’re judging.”

Something flickered across Rumi’s lips—a twitch, almost a smirk—but it vanished as quickly as it came.

She stood, movements careful, her uniform dirtied and torn. Dusting off her hands, she didn’t look back when she said, “We’ll train again in the morning. You need to ground yourself. That storm inside you—it’s not just magic. And if you don’t learn to control it—”

“Everyone dies. Got it.” (Y/n) turned away, jaw tight. The pressure behind her ribs made it harder to meet Rumi’s eyes.

“Not everyone.”
There was a pause. Then softer—almost too quiet—
“Just you.”

“Again.” Rumi whispers this last part.

That silenced you.

Not just the words. It was the way Rumi said it—like she was speaking through you, not to you. Like she was remembering something you didn’t. Like a secret between the Huntr/x that you haven’t been let in on.

Again.

The word settled like ash in your chest. Heavy. Familiar. Not just from dreams, but deeper than that—like muscle memory you couldn’t explain.

Lately, sleep had become a battlefield of its own. Flickers of something older kept surfacing, fragmented and surreal: a burning field. The feel of a hand in yours. The weight of a sacrifice made.

And always, her voice.

“I love you,”

Not now. Not here. But somewhere. Long ago.

The words echoed like static through your thoughts. A phantom whisper, laced with heat and sorrow.

You blinked hard, clearing the image from your head.

Without another word, you helped Rumi back toward the altar. She leaned heavier on you than expected, her usual strength dimmed. You didn’t say anything—afraid if you opened your mouth, the wrong name would fall out.

She eventually drifted into a shallow sleep, curled on her side, one arm draped over her bandaged waist. Her breath rose and fell with measured effort.

You stayed up.

Cross-legged at the edge of the ruined courtyard, you sat in silence as the temple hummed faintly with residual magic. The night was still. No sirens. No traffic. No wind. Just the drumbeat of your pulse, echoing in your ears like a countdown you didn’t understand.

Your fingers traced idle lines into the dirt, the motion soothing in its rhythm. Sparks trailed after every swirl, faint and golden.

“I still love you.”

Not a voice from the room.

A memory. A dream. A hallucination?

The words weren’t hers. Not really. They came like a ripple through time—like a thread unraveling inside your chest.

You swallowed, hard. “No,” you whispered. “That wasn’t real. That’s not her.”

Every second awake was spent trying to outpace the voices that chased you when your guard was down. Now they were leaking into your daylight. Into her voice.

“She keeps saying it,” you murmured to the sleeping huntress, your voice cracking in the middle. “And every time, I want to believe it’s you.”

You glanced at your hands. They were raw—callused, bloodied, flickering with magic that never felt like it fully belonged to this life. Like you were carrying someone else’s fire in your chest, one you couldn’t put out.

And yet…

Every time your eyes closed, you returned to the same place.
Ash choking the sky. Her voice in the smoke.
The end.

Was it really just a dream?

You exhaled and slowly laid back, letting the coolness of the stone beneath your spine ground you. The weight of your limbs, your breath, the faint hum of a warding seal pulsing nearby—it was all you had tethering you to now.

“Maybe if I let it play out this time… I’ll wake up before it ends.”

(Y/n)’s eyes eagerly slipped shut.

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I really hope this came out okay. This is my first fanfic so please don’t be too overly harsh. I love Rumi so much, and I hope I captured her the best I could in this small interaction!

[allaji]

hickeys are so hot like having proof that you are someone’s fuck toy and getting marked up so everyone knows who you belong to is so fucking hot oml

[allaji]

Who the Hell Is This Person Talking to Me and How Exactly Are They Related to Me: The Chart, just in time for your Thanksgiving gathering.

(Source: Apparently commenter “Platypus Man” from this Lifehacker post)

[allaji]

wah

[allaji]

[allaji]

Hot people on tumblr are even scarier than normal people because you know something has to be wrong with them

[allaji]

I love you, Mr. Murderbritches.

[allaji]

ok but i genuinely don’t understand why they deleted this scene like i know it doesn’t rlly add much to the storyline but nat always wanted to stay in Ohio and i think it would’ve been rlly sweet to get to see her go back home again and ACTUALLY SMILE and BE HAPPY before infinity war and endgame and ya. I also think it nicely shows the wider impact the avengers have rather than just the gov and media organisations slamming them and the destruction they cause lmao. like let’s be real what little kid doesn’t wanna be natasha romanoff or a genius-billionaire-playboy philanthropist or have a rlly cool shield or hammer or bow

alsoooo… I adore nat with kids. Given her childhood was essentially stripped away (grrr red room) I think she finds a lot of comfort in witnessing and even contributing to the fun experience youth provides. she’s also obviously soft for kids as we saw with the limited scenes of her interacting with clints family or even Morgan. (when she calls herself auntie Nat and scoops Lila into her arms and then gets given that painting my heart ahhdhjdj like that literally brought her out of the distress she was in after reliving her own childhood) but back to the deleted scene, LITTLE NAT SEEING REAL NAT AND THEIR INTERACTION PLS IM NOT CRYING U R. THAT WAS SO ADORABLE AND HER LITTLE SOUND AFFECT LIKE SHE KNOWS SHE JUST MADE THAT KIDS ENTIRE DAY. anyway yeah im not over black widow and i need more content of Nat and kids.

side note: nat riding the motorbike and taking off her helmet and shaking her hair pls im so gay

[allaji]

What would you do if you were scrolling through recommended tumblr posts and one was from someone you don't know and it was just a picture of your dad captioned "fucking hate this guy" and it had hundreds of notes

[allaji]

whats ur filthiest fantasy?

That someone actually stays in my life and loves me unconditionally lmao

[allaji]

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Designing A World

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