Reconnecting With Nature

Take your time, I like being browsed

-Arcane:

Sevika -> domestic soft Sevika

-Life Is Strange:

Safi Fyyad -> My first priority

Marvel

Natasha Romanoff x Black fem!Reader -> THE GIRL OF EMBERS

(On Hold)

Chapter 1 The Girl From Flame

Chapter 2 The Misread Signal

The Pitt

Hello my lovely people, I’ve been working hard to try to write the requests you guys sent in but i feel like I’m doing somthing wrong ever time i write, I don’t wanna leave yall hanging with nothing to read or just waiting for me to post.

Soo I’m gonna take a break for bit to figure myself out because although these are you guys requests you sent in i take my writing seriously i want ever bit of emotion out into a fic and i want you guys to be able to enjoy every moment of the fics i write for you guys, so i’m gonna take this time to bring my passion back into my writing so you all can enjoy a good read, so when i do come back send in all the amazing story ideas yall might have, I am more than grateful for the support and love you guys have shown my other works and the fact you guys wanna see more is encouraging to me so within this break i’ll take i’m gonna educate myself in other fandoms and ways of writing the best fics for you all.

Heeeeeey yaaaa'll...sooo school has been kicking my ass lately, I literally kid you not, been sent to the most fiery pits of hell and back with the amount of exams iv'e took and the ones I still need to take. Buuut besides that, there are so many unfinished fics/chapters that I'm just gonna delete them and start over, so please, please pleaaaase send over any requests you have for me, and I will literally slap the fuck out of the keys on my computer. Thanks for reading my loves xoxo. 💋

I sure am baby I can go ahead and get that started for you right now<3

pairing: Safi Fyyad x Fem!Reader

jealousy, hurt/comfort, angst

Requests are open

a/n: RIIIGHT, trust if I was in that game I would treat her right.

divider by dividers-are-us

You spotted her before she spotted you — or at least, you thought you did.  

But Safi always noticed first.

She was sitting on the quad steps, hood up, shoulders tight, staring at the ground like it had personally betrayed her. The kind of stillness that didn’t belong on her. Safi was motion. Safi was spark. Safi was the girl who filled silence before it had a chance to settle.

This?  

This was wrong.

You walked over slow, boots scuffing the concrete. “Hey, sugar.”

Her jaw clenched. She didn’t look at you. “Don’t.”

That one word hit harder than a slap.

It threw you off a bit, but you eased down beside her anyway. “Alright. What’s goin’ on with you?”

She laughed — sharp, humorless. “You really wanna know?”

“I wouldn’t be sittin’ here if I didn’t.”

Safi dragged a hand down her face, fingers trembling. “I saw you today.”

“You see me every day.”

“No,” she said, voice cracking. “I saw you laughing with Vinh. And then I saw the way he looked at you. And then I saw the way you looked back.”

You blinked. “Baby, I was being polite.”

“Yeah, well, I’m not,” she snapped, then winced. “Sorry. I just—” She shook her head, curls brushing her cheeks. “I hate how my brain works.”

You softened. “Talk to me.”

She inhaled like she was about to dive underwater. “I kept thinking… what if you like him better? What if you realize you don’t need me? What if I’m just—” Her voice dropped to a whisper. “—just another face you’re kind to.”

Your chest tightened. “Safi…”

She finally looked at you, and damn, it hurt. Her eyes were glassy, distressed, like she’d been fighting a storm alone.

“You don’t get it,” she said, voice shaking. “I notice everything. Every smile you give. Every time someone else gets your attention. Every second you’re not looking at me. And I hate it. I hate how much I care. I hate that it scares me.”

You reached for her hand. She didn’t pull away — but she didn’t relax either.

“You ain’t gotta be scared of me,” you said softly.

She let out a bitter laugh. “I’m scared of losing you.”

“You ain’t losin’ me.”

“You say that now,” she whispered. “But people always leave. Or they want something else. Something better. And I can be anything — literally anything — and it still doesn’t feel like enough.”

There it was.  

The real wound.  

The one she never let anyone see.

You slid closer, thigh to thigh. “Look at me.”

She did — reluctantly, like she was bracing for impact.

“You don’t have to shift into anybody else for me,” you said. “I want *you*. Just you.”

Her breath hitched. “Why?”

“‘Cause you’re the one I choose,” you said simply. “Every damn time.”

Safi blinked fast, like she was trying not to fall apart. “You mean that?”

“Yeah, sweetheart. I do.”

She swallowed hard. “Even when I’m… like this?”

“Especially when you’re like this,” you said. “Means you care.”

Safi let out a shaky exhale, shoulders finally dropping. She leaned into you — not dramatically, just enough that you felt her weight, her trust, her fear easing.

“You make me feel insane,” she muttered into your shoulder.

“You make yourself feel insane,” you teased gently. “I’m just here.”

She snorted — a real laugh this time. “You’re an ass.”

“And you’re dramatic,” you shot back. “We balance each other out.”

She nudged you with her knee. “Shut up.”

“Make me.”

Safi froze — then smiled, small and dangerous and soft all at once. “Don’t tempt me.”

You squeezed her hand. “You don’t gotta be scared I’ll leave.”

She looked at you like she was memorizing your face. “Tell me again.”

You brushed your thumb over her knuckles. “I’m not goin’ anywhere.”

Safi let out a breath that sounded like relief and surrender all tangled together. “Okay,” she whispered. “Okay.”

And for the first time all day, she let herself lean fully into you — warm, trembling, real — like she finally believed she wasn’t just another face to you.

AYYYYYYYYYY!! sweetheart, thank you for the love.

Yk what? I'm gonna go ahead and get this started for ya'll, but ofc continue to leave requests so I know what you guys want in upcoming fics.<3

Requests are open!!

Heeeeey ya'll, how are we doing? I hope the answer is good.

So I just started playing Life is Strange: Reunion. I think it's really good i like it so far, mostly because I got to see my baby mama, Safi AHHHHHHH I love that girl, although I wish they made her a romance choice.

Don't get me wrong, I love that Chloe crawled out of her grave and all, but damnit Safi, I need her, anyways Iv'e been having some ideas about writing some Life Is Strange fics, IF ONLY ya'll would want that, I am more than happy to write a fic on some of the characters. But that's up to ya'll, to lmk. Love you guys <3

Requests are open!!!

Marvel Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3

Natasha Romanoff x Black fem!Reader  

WARNING: Violence, Torture / Abuse(non-graphic), Kidnapping, Scientific / Medical, Imprisonment / Captivity, Weaponization, Trauma Themes, Mild Adult Language, Mild Spice / Soft Tension, and Slow burn.

a/n: Ik, I have been leaving ya'll hanging as of late, but don't worry, I am back since my break has finally started for me, so I'll be off and on posting on here for the next couple of days. Anyway, I hope ya'll enjoy the show. <3

-----------------------------------------------------------------

PREVIOUSLY ON THE GIRL OF EMBERS

The Hydra footage froze on your face — breath fogging in the cold, eyes glowing like embers, expression unreadable.

Natasha leaned in because she recognized a survivor.

Bruce leaned back because he recognized the way Natasha looked at you.

But neither of them understood what your expression truly meant.

You weren’t searching for rescue.

You weren’t searching for connection.

You weren’t searching for the Avengers.

You were hunting the man who locked the shock collar around your throat — and whatever you planned for him was far worse than death.

Fury laid out the mission. The team split. No one noticed the blinking red light on the screen: the collar’s signal had dropped by 40%.

Hydra was losing control.

Meanwhile, deep in the snow‑covered forest, you moved like a ghost — tattoos glowing, collar dying, fire whispering under your skin. Hydra agents searched not for you, but for him.

You sensed the Avengers long before they arrived — six heartbeats, six intentions. One stood out: Natasha Romanoff. Familiar in a way you didn’t like.

But she wasn’t who you were after.

You followed your prey… until fate shoved you into a clearing at the exact moment Natasha stepped into it.

Hydra agents burst through the trees.

Three forces.

One clearing.

One heartbeat of silence.

Then everything went to hell.

---

CHAPTER 3 — THE CLEARING 

Snow hissed when it hit your skin.

It always did — a soft, irritated sizzle, like even the weather knew better than to touch you. The clearing glowed faintly orange around your boots, heat bleeding through the frost in slow, dangerous pulses.

Across from you, Natasha Romanoff froze mid‑step.

Her breath fogged.

Her eyes narrowed.

Her hand hovered near her thigh holster, but she didn’t draw.

Smart woman.

Behind her, Hydra agents crashed through the trees, shouting orders you’d stopped giving a damn about years ago.

Behind you, more agents emerged, weapons raised, collars ready.

And in the middle of it all — you and Natasha, staring at each other like two predators who’d accidentally walked into the same crime scene.

One heartbeat of silence.

Then—

Chaos.

Hydra opened fire first.

Natasha moved like a blade — sharp, fast, pissed off. She dove behind a fallen log, returning fire with clean, controlled bursts. Snow exploded around her boots.

You didn’t move.

You didn’t need to.

A bullet sliced toward your shoulder — and melted mid‑air, turning to steam with a soft pop. Another ricocheted off the heat shimmer around you.

Natasha’s breath caught.

Her mind raced.

She’s not blocking them. She’s not dodging. They’re just… dying in the air.

Recognition again.

You hated that.

You weren’t here to be understood.

-----------------------------------------------------------

Steve heard the gunfire before the comms crackled.

“Nat? Report.”

Static.

He exchanged a look with Sam and Clint. Sam’s wings flared. Clint already had an arrow nocked.

“Move,” Steve ordered.

They sprinted through the trees, snow kicking up behind them. Steve’s instincts screamed that something was wrong — not Hydra wrong, not ambush wrong.

Something older.

Hotter.

Alive.

And when the first wave of heat rolled through the forest, Steve stumbled.

“Cap?” Sam called.

Steve steadied himself. “That wasn’t an explosion.”

No — it felt like a heartbeat.

A pissed-off tension in the air

---------------------------------------------------------------------------

Bruce froze mid‑step as the ground trembled beneath him.

Wanda looked up sharply. “That wasn’t seismic.”

Bruce swallowed. “No. That was… her.”

He didn’t like the way Natasha had sounded earlier. He didn’t like the way she’d looked at the footage. He didn’t like the way she’d walked into the trees like she was following a ghost she already knew.

And he really didn’t like the way the heat spike made his pulse jump.

“Natasha’s in the clearing,” Wanda said quietly.

Bruce didn’t need his powers to know that.

He could feel it.

He could feel you.

And he hated that too.

-----------------------------------------------------------

Tony hovered above the treeline, HUD flashing warnings.

“Temperature spike detected. Rising. Rising. Rising—”

“Yeah, no kidding,” Tony muttered. “Romanoff, talk to me.”

Silence.

He dropped altitude, repulsors whining. Snow melted in a perfect circle beneath him as he landed on a branch.

Then he saw the glow.

A figure in the clearing, flames curling from their hands, tattoos burning like molten gold.

Tony blinked. “Well… that’s not ominous at all.”

He zoomed in.

Natasha was standing ten feet away from you, hands open, calm but coiled.

Tony swore under his breath.

“Oh shit, that’s bad. That’s really fucking bad.”

-----------------------------------------------------------------

A Hydra agent lunged at you with a shock baton. You caught his wrist, twisted, and let a thin ribbon of flame curl around your fingers. It slithered up his sleeve like a living thing.

He screamed.

You didn’t.

You shoved him aside and scanned the treeline.

Where was he?

Where was that mother fu—

A voice crackled through a Hydra comm.

“Subject is in the clearing. Hold position. The Handler is en route.”

Your fire crackled.

Natasha heard it too. Her head snapped toward the sound, eyes flicking between you and the Hydra agents like she was assembling a puzzle mid‑battle.

“Handler?” she muttered.

You didn’t answer.

You were already moving.

You sprinted toward the nearest Hydra soldier, flames bursting from your palms in a controlled arc. He flew backward, crashing into a tree trunk with a sickening thud.

Natasha stepped into your path.

Not attacking.

Blocking.

“Hey—” she said, voice low, steady, like she was talking to a cornered animal. “You don’t have to—”

You sidestepped her.

She mirrored you.

You growled — a low, instinctive sound you hadn’t made since you were a child learning to shape fire.

“I’m not here for you,” you snapped.

Natasha’s eyes softened. “I know.”

She didn’t.

She couldn’t.

------------------------------------

Sam burst into the clearing first.

And immediately stopped.

“Uh… Cap?”

Steve skidded to a halt beside him.

Clint nearly ran into both of them.

Because the scene in front of them didn’t look like a mission.

It looked like a myth.

Snow melted in a perfect circle around you. Flames curled from your hands. Hydra agents lay scattered like broken toys. Natasha stood inches from you, calm but tense, like she was trying to soothe a wildfire.

Sam whispered, “That’s her.”

Clint whispered, “No shit.”

Steve whispered, “Natasha, step back.”

Natasha didn’t move.

Of course she didn’t.

----------------------------

A branch snapped behind you.

Both you and Natasha spun.

And there — stepping into the clearing with a tranquilizer rifle and a smile carved from cruelty —

was the Handler.

Your fire roared.

Natasha’s breath caught.

Steve raised his shield.

Tony dropped from the sky.

Wanda’s eyes glowed red.

Bruce’s pulse spiked.

Sam’s wings flared.

Clint drew an arrow.

And the snow beneath your feet melted in a perfect circle as you whispered:

“Found you.”

-------------------------

Hey loves — just popping in to say I am working on more stories like more Sevika/Arcane fics, more of THE GIRL OF EMBERS, and I'm definitely gonna start writing stuff from The Pitt like Mel King, Cassie McKay, Victoria Javadi, etc.

I haven’t disappeared, I’m just going ahead and putting things into my drafts to post and trying to make the next stories/chapters as good as they deserve to be.

Thank you for being patient and so eager with me - I like that. Stay tuned and don’t wander off; the next chapter’s/ fics are almost ready, and it’s written with you in mind.

Oh, and don't be afraid to tap this button right here, request open, or just dm me. I don't bite.<3

Marvel Chapter 1 Chapter 2

Natasha Romanoff x Black fem!Reader  

WARNING: Violence, Torture / Abuse(non-graphic), Kidnapping, Scientific / Medical, Imprisonment / Captivity, Weaponization, Trauma Themes, Mild Adult Language, Mild Spice / Soft Tension, and Slow burn.

word count: 1,226

a/n: requests open. I hope ya'll enjoy because daaaaamn this finna get crazy.

------------------------------------------------------- -------------- ----------

 PREVIOUSLY ON THE GIRL OF EMBERS 

You were born into the Redfang Tribe, a hidden fire‑wielding people deep in the volcanic mountains of New Zealand. Fire was your birthright — a living language that warmed your skin and marked your tattoos with lineage and power. You were loved, protected, and taught to listen with heat and instinct.

Then Hydra stole you at fourteen.

You woke in a metal room, scarred, restrained, and eventually collared when they realized they couldn’t control you. They named you Blazeborn.

You never answered it.

Nine years later, you moved like a ghost through Hydra’s hidden bunker south of New York — restricted, weaponized, but quietly burning Hydra from the inside. Every mission they sent you on, you twisted. You weren’t their weapon. You were their undoing.

Far above you, the Avengers watched footage of you tearing through a Hydra convoy, flames curling from your palms, tattoos glowing like molten gold. Natasha Romanoff leaned forward, eyes narrowing as the final clip froze on your face — breath steaming, eyes glowing like embers.

Not rage.

Not fear.

Recognition.

Fury shut off the screen. “We need to find her before Hydra does.”

Natasha stood. “I’ll go.”

--------------------------------------------------------------------------

The room was still echoing with the last frame of the video — your eyes glowing faintly, your expression unreadable, your breath fogging in the cold.

Natasha had leaned in because she recognized the look of someone who’d survived hell.

Bruce had leaned back because he recognized the look Natasha gave you.

But neither of them understood what that look on your face actually meant.

You weren’t searching for help.

You weren’t searching for connection.

You weren’t searching for anyone else but…

The man who locked the shock collar around your throat years ago.

And you weren't gonna just kill him. No not that with whatever was running through your mind..was way worse.

The Avengers gathered around the table as Fury laid out the mission.

“Hydra’s base is here,” he said, tapping the map. “Middle of nowhere. Snow, forest, no roads. They’ve been hiding her there for years.”

Steve nodded. “We go in quiet.”

“Quiet won’t matter,” Natasha said. “She’ll sense us before we’re within a mile.”

Bruce’s jaw tightened. “You sound like you know her.”

Natasha didn’t look at him. “I know what Hydra turns people into.”

Bruce swallowed hard. He didn’t like the way she said that. He didn’t like the way she looked at the screen. He didn’t like the way she seemed… pulled.

But he said nothing.

He always said nothing.

Fury continued. “We don’t know the extent of her powers. We don’t know how much control Hydra still has. We don’t know her intentions.”

Natasha’s eyes flicked to the frozen image of you.

Bruce’s eyes flicked to Natasha.

And neither of them noticed the small red light blinking on the screen — the indicator that the shock collar’s signal had dropped by 40%.

Hydra was losing control.

But no one in the room realized it.

Steve pointed at the map.

Team One — Steve, Sam, Clint: perimeter sweep.

Team Two — Bruce and Wanda: disable the power grid.

Team Three — Natasha and Tony: infiltration.

Bruce frowned. “Natasha shouldn’t be on the extraction team.”

Tony raised a brow. “Why? You jealous Banner?”

Bruce stiffened. “No. I just think she’s… too close to this.”

Natasha turned her head slowly. “Close to what?”

Bruce didn’t answer.

He couldn’t say it.

He couldn’t admit it.

He couldn’t even name the feeling.

But it sat in his chest like a stone.

Meanwhile 

The forest was silent except for the crunch of your boots in the snow.

Your breath steamed in the cold air.

Your braids brushed your cheeks.

Your tattoos glowed faintly beneath your gear.

The shock collar buzzed weakly — a dying thing.

Good.

You tilted your head, listening.

Hydra agents were moving through the trees.

Not toward you.

Toward him.

The man who put this thing on you.

The man who carved into your skin.

The man who told you fire was only useful when it burned on command.

You whispered to the flames under your skin, and it answered.

You weren’t running.

You weren’t hiding.

You weren’t scared.

You were hunting.

You sensed the Avengers before the quinjet even broke the clouds.

Six heartbeats.

Six signatures.

Six intentions.

But one heartbeat stood out — steady, controlled, familiar in a way that made your fire pulse.

Natasha Romanoff.

You didn’t know her.

You didn’t trust her.

You didn’t want her.

But you recognized something in her rhythm — a survivor’s cadence.

Still, she wasn’t who you were looking for.

You turned away from the unknown  presence and followed the trail of the Hydra agent instead.

But fate — or bad timing — had other plans.

Because as you stepped into a clearing, flames flickering beneath your gloves, the snow around you glowing orange…

…Natasha stepped into the clearing from the opposite side.

And behind her, Hydra agents burst through the trees.

Three forces.

One clearing.

One heartbeat of silence.

Then—

Shit went down.

__----_______-----____-_____------_____----------__________------_----_

A/N: Oh my goodness, did ya'll see that coming?????!!!!

For this next chapter and more to come, there will be more drama, more excitement, more of more of more of everything and maybe even a lil plot twist.😌

Just try to stay tuned ya’ll trust it will be worth it.

And heads up don’t be scared to dm me for story requests Ik im writing this but I make time for other stories.

Marvel Chapter 1 Chapter 2

PAIRING: Natasha Romanoff x Black fem!Reader

WARNING: Violence, Torture / Abuse(non-graphic), Kidnapping, Scientific / Medical, Imprisonment / Captivity, Weaponization, Trauma Themes, Mild Adult Language, and Mild Spice / Soft Tension.

Summary: Stolen from a hidden Fire Tribe at fourteen, you spent nine years trapped in Hydra’s hands—experimented on, weaponized, renamed, and restrained. But the fire they tried to control never stopped fighting back. Every mission they sent you on became another quiet act of rebellion, another Hydra asset mysteriously reduced to ash.

When the Avengers finally see footage of you—collar sparking, flames trembling, eyes glowing like embers refusing to die—Natasha Romanoff is the first to understand. You’re not Hydra’s weapon. You’re a survivor looking for a way out. And she’s already decided she’s going to be the one to find you.

A girl made of fire, and the spy who sees right through the smoke...

a/n: requests open

word count: 1,078 words

The Redfang Tribe

Long before Hydra ever learned your name, you belonged to a world no outsider had ever touched.

Deep in the mountains of New Zealand, hidden behind volcanic ridges and thick forest, your tribe lived in harmony with the elements. Fire was not a weapon there—it was a birthright. A language. A living thing that curled around your fingers like a curious spirit and warmed your skin like a second heartbeat.

Your people marked their stories in ink and flame. Your mother’s hands guided the needle when you were twelve, tracing the first lines of your coming‑of‑age tattoo along your jaw and collarbone. The ink was dark against your brown skin, swirling in patterns that represented lineage, strength, and the fire that lived inside you.

You grew up running barefoot across black sand, braids whipping behind you as you practiced shaping flame into ribbons, sparks, spheres. Your elders taught you to listen with more than your ears—to feel the world through heat, vibration, breath.

You were powerful. But you were loved first.

And then Hydra came.

----------------------------------------------------------------------------

You were fourteen when the world you knew burned for the wrong reasons.

They didn’t storm your village with armies. They didn’t need to. They waited until you were alone, practicing near the cliffs, fire dancing between your palms. A tranquilizer dart hit your shoulder before you even sensed the danger.

You woke in a metal room. Cold. Silent. Wrong.

They tried to study you. Then they tried to control you. Then they tried to break you.

Your tattoos grew as you did—new lines added by Hydra’s scientists to “track progress,” scars layered over them from restraints, experiments, and the shock collar they eventually locked around your throat when they realized you were becoming something they couldn’t contain.

They named you Blazeborn.

You never answered to it.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------

Nine years later, you moved like a ghost through Hydra’s hidden bunker south of New York. Heavy tactical gear weighed down your limbs, designed to restrict your range of motion. They feared what you could do if you were allowed to move freely—if your fire could breathe.

You hated the gear. You hated the guns they forced into your hands. You hated the collar most of all.

But you endured.

Because every mission they sent you on, you twisted. Every Hydra asset you were ordered to protect mysteriously burned. Every Hydra agent who tried to control you mysteriously vanished.

You weren’t their weapon. You were their undoing.

And they still hadn’t figured it out.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------

Far above you, in a sleek conference room in the heart of New York, Nick Fury pressed play on a video.

The Avengers watched as a figure—you—moved through a snowy forest, flames curling from your palms in controlled bursts. Your braids swung with each step, your dark skin glowing faintly with heat, your tattoos illuminated like molten gold.

Natasha Romanoff leaned forward, eyes narrowing.

“She’s not attacking the convoy,” she murmured. “She’s taking out Hydra.”

Fury nodded. “She’s been doing that for months.”

Another clip played—this time of you dropping to your knees as the shock collar activated. Your body convulsed, flames sputtering out. Natasha’s jaw tightened.

“She’s still under their control,” Steve said quietly.

“Not for long,” Fury replied. “The collar’s malfunctioning. Hydra’s losing their grip.”

The final clip showed you standing alone in the snow, breath steaming, eyes glowing like embers under ash. You looked straight into the camera—straight through it.

Natasha’s breath caught.

There was something in your expression. Not rage. Not fear.

Recognition. Like you were searching for someone.

Fury shut off the screen. “We need to find her before Hydra does.”

Natasha stood slowly, jaw set. “I’ll go.”

Clint raised a brow. “You volunteering for a walking flamethrower?”

Natasha didn’t look away from the blank screen. “She’s not a weapon.”

Fury gave her a long, knowing look. “Romanoff. This isn’t a rescue mission.”

Natasha’s voice was soft but unshakeable. “It is for me.”

a/n: Guys im very proud of this. I used to write all the timeeee on Wattpad, now I get to be on here. I hope ya'll like it. Chapter 2 is coming sooner than you think. <3