Let the Ashes Fall

By Nari Noir

A dark romance about pain, power, and the boy who didn't save her. He claimed her.

Ash knows how to survive. She's learned how to make herself small, silent, invisible. But when she's placed in a new foster home and meets Nick, her distant, volatile foster brother, everything she's buried starts to surface.

Nick doesn't believe in gentleness. He believes in control. In rules. In restraint. But Ash tests every one of them, and something inside him breaks. Or maybe it awakens.

What starts as tension becomes obsession. What hurts begins to heal. Together, they find something twisted and holy in pain, surrender, and the desperate ache to belong, even if it destroys them.

But when the past claws its way back, safety becomes a battlefield. And love isn't enough to save them.

Not when it was never soft to begin with.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Nari Noir
• Release date: Jul 5, 2025
• ISBN: 9798231011575

Nari Noir

Nari Noir writes fetish-fueled romance for readers who crave stories that cross the line and linger there. Her work blends unapologetic kink with emotional depth, offering a space where desire can be as messy, taboo, and transformative as it needs to be. Many of her short stories are based on characters from full-length novels, expanding their worlds through darker, more explicit lenses. With a focus on watersports and other unconventional kinks, Nari's stories are written in the dark but grounded in care. Filthy, but safe. Brutal, but tender. No names, no limits—just what's real behind closed doors.

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Copyright © 2025 Nari Noir

All rights reserved.

No part of this book may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the author, except in the case of brief quotations used in reviews or critical articles.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

Printed in the United States of America

First Edition, 2025

Table of Contents

Let the Ashes Fall

Copyright.

Content Warning

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Epilogue

About the Author

Content Warning (or: Hi Mom, please close the book now)

Hey friend and fellow filthy reader. Let’s get a few things out of the way.

This book is not sweet.

It is not clean.

It is not a step-by-step guide to healthy communication or adulting.

(Hi again, Mom. Seriously. Please stop reading.)

Let the Ashes Fall is a dark romance full of trauma, filth, and emotional whiplash. It's about two broken people who find twisted, healing safety in each other—and yes, they do some very questionable things along the way.

Inside, you’ll find:

Childhood trauma and foster care themes

BDSM, degradation, and shame-based kinks

Water sports... a lot of watersports. But like, the emotionally vulnerable kind. Tasteful piss. Artisan.

Intense emotional spiraling

Power dynamics that toe the line

Aftercare that might break your heart

And a man who’d burn down the world to make one girl feel safe

The characters are considered consenting within the fictional world. Real life? Maybe call your therapist before trying anything in here. Or at least stretch first.

If you’re just here for the smut—you’ll get it. If you’re here for the hurt/comfort spiral—you’ll definitely get it. But if you're my family member, please go read literally anything else. I beg of you.

Read responsibly. Hydrate. Safe words are a thing.

Let’s get filthy.

—Nari Noir

​Set me on fire, so I can rise

​From the demons I’m keeping inside my mind

​Into the flames, all that remains

​Is what I needed to keep on believing

​-Phoenix

​FPX, Christy Costanza

Chapter 1

The car pulls up in front of a modest two-story house, its paint peeling and front yard overtaken by weeds. It has that feeling of desolation about it that so many of these places do. Ash stares out the window, expression unreadable, as the car shuts off.

Barbara, her caseworker, turns to her and rests a hand on Ash's forearm, bringing the girl's attention to her. They have a foster son already. He's lived here for four years. This one will be better. I just know it.

Ash just stares at her with a blank face. Just because the foster son has lived here for a while doesn't mean it will be better than her last placement. She was in her last home for three agonizing years, and it was pure hell. Ash doesn't reply and eventually Barbara removes her hand with a sigh. Honestly, Barbara's probably thankful to be placing Ash. One last problem to deal with.

They step out of the car, swinging her worn duffle bag with her meager belongings over her shoulder as she goes. They approach the house and step onto the porch. The wood groans as they walk across it. Barbara rings the doorbell. While they wait, Barbara says, Remember, if you need anything, just call.

Ash nods, still not replying. She won't call. The system has never helped her. She doubts they would now. They just want to pretend they care after the last situation blew up. The front door creaks opens, breaking the awkward silence that has fallen between Ash and Barbara.

A broad man with a slight beer gut fills the doorway. He's wearing a wife beater under an open flannel shirt, jeans, and a too wide smile.

Hello, are you Mr. Williams? Barbara asks politely.

That's me, he replies. The smile shifts his whole face, softening what would otherwise be a pretty imposing figure. He looks down at Ash. And you must be Ashlyn.

I go by Ash, Ash says, speaking for the first time in hours.

Mr. William's smile doesn't change. Ash it is. My name is Andrew, but you can call me Drew. My wife, Debbie, is at the store. She wanted to make you a nice dinner as a welcome. His smile dims slightly. And Nick is at school.

The first emotion she's felt all day tries to break through the sea of numbness as Ash realizes that means she'll be in the house alone with Mr. Williams. She shoves the emotion down, keeping the numbness intact. Is that all of your stuff? Mr. Williams nods at the bag slung over her shoulder, frowning faintly.

Ash nods. Wiping the frown off his face, Mr. Williams says, Well come on in. I'll show you the house and the room you'll be staying in.

Before Mr. Williams can head inside, Barbara hands him a folder. Here's your copy of the paperwork. My card is attached if you need anything. Turning to Ash, she says, Looks like you're in good hands. Remember if you need anything to reach out. And with that, Barbara walks off the porch and heads to her car. Like Ash thought before, Barbara is glad to have Ash out of her hair.

Well, come in, come in. Mr. Williams says. Ash steps over the threshold into the dimly lit house. It smells nice and fresh inside, like lemons. Mr. Williams closes the door behind Ash. There's finality to it, like there's no going back. Not that Ash had a choice, anyway.

This is the living room. He waves his arm around the room that houses a sectional, recliner, and large tv in an entertainment center. The whole room is done in dark colors adding to the gloom of the house. There's a set of stairs running along the wall to the right of the room but that's not where Mr. Williams goes.

Drew leads her through a doorway across from the front door. This is the kitchen and dining area. The kitchen is much brighter than the living room. The walls are painted yellow and the sun shines in from the window above the sink. It's not an overly large kitchen. There's a round dining room table to the right of the kitchen area with six chairs set around it.

Mr. Williams points to a hallway that shoots off from the dining room. Through there is my and Debbie's bedroom. There's also a half bath in the hallway as well.

He turns, heading back toward the living room and up the stairs. Ash glances around as she follows, taking in everything in the small space. Once they reach the landing, Mr. Williams points out different doors and explains what's behind them. The door at the very top of the stairs he points to and says, This bedroom is currently empty but if there's another foster kid who needs a place, then this is where they'll stay. He keeps moving down the hall. This is Nick's room, he says as he points at another door. This is the bathroom. He pushes the next door open to show a standard tub-shower combo. Not huge but functional.

Stopping in front of the last door, Drew says, And this one is yours. He pushes open a door to a room that has a full-sized bed pushed against one wall, a desk and chair on the opposite wall, and a doorway that Ash assumes leads to the closet. If you want to decorate it or get a different comforter, just let us know.

Ash tentatively steps into the room, very aware that Mr. Williams is standing in the doorway, her only easy exit point. Ash squeezes the strap of her duffle bag tightly in her hand as she looks around. Mr. Williams clears his throat. I'll let you settle in. If you need anything, I'll be downstairs.

Ash relaxes as Mr. Willams heads down the stairs. She walks over to the bedroom door and shuts it, engaging the lock. She's happy to see there is one but doubts it will really keep anyone out. She walks over to the bed and sets her duffle bag on the white floral quilt covering the bed. Sliding the zipper open, Ash starts to unpack her meager possessions. She finds hangers in the closet, and anything not suited for a hanger gets folded and placed on the shelves inside. Once she's done, she places her duffle under the bed. The last thing she does, is slide her knife under her pillow.

Once she's done, she sits down on the bed, not sure what to do. Her stomach growls, but she doesn't want to go down to Mr. Williams and ask about food. She decides to pull out her phone and scroll on social media to pass the time. One video turns into another, and before she knows it , it’s three thirty. She startles when she hears the front door open.

Sliding her phone back into her pocket, she tiptoes to the door and cracks it open, listening to the noises from downstairs. She can hear low voices, one male, one female. Mrs. Williams must have gotten home from the grocery store. Ash pulls her head back, ready to shut her door, but startles when she sees a shadow at the other end of the hallway. Before she can shut the door, a voice breaks through the quiet atmosphere.

You must be the new foster I've heard so much about. The voice is deep and sultry, sounding like velvet to her ears. Ash can't make him out very well in the low light of the hallway, but then there's a click of a switch and the hallway lights up in a yellow glow from a bulb in the middle of the space.

A tall, imposing man stands at the end of the hall. She thought the foster son was seventeen, but this person does not look seventeen He looks like he's in his early twenties with hair that falls in long, straight sheets that almost cover his piercing gray eyes. Not quite a bowl cut, not quite skater, but something deliberate in its not-caring. He wears a short sleeve dark gray, V-neck t-shirt and ripped jeans. His arms bulge as he crosses them over his chest and leans against the hallway wall, just watching Ash.

Ash stays silent. He obviously knows who she is, so she sees no point in answering. He cocks his head at her, studying her like he can crack her skull open and pull out all her deepest, darkest secrets. After a long moment of silence where neither of them speak, Nick smiles. It's not a kind smile. It's sharp and cruel, a look Ash is very familiar with. I look forward to getting to know you, Ashlyn.

And with that, he turns to head down the stairs. Before he can make it very far, Ash whispers, It's Ash.

Nick pauses, slightly turning his head. Fitting. That's all that will be left of you when I'm done.

Little does he know that she's already been reduced to ashes, Ash thinks as she watches him disappear down the stairs. That's why she chose this name, after all.

Chapter 2

Ahalf hour later, Ash finds herself at the dining room table across from Nick. Debbie and Drew sit across from each other at the ends of the table. There's a seat between Ash and Debbie and a seat between Nick and Drew.

Dinner consists of meatloaf, mashed potatoes, green beans, and rolls. Ash eats slowly but mostly pushes her food around the plate feeling too anxious to eat. Debbie smiles over at Ash. We're so glad you're here. How are you feeling about school tomorrow?

Debbie has light brown hair interspersed with blonde highlights that Ash is sure Debbie thinks make her look younger but just make it look like she's trying too hard. Her skin has an orange tent from spray tan, and she has long red nails on her fingers. Fine, Ash mutters.

Nick hasn't taken his eyes off Ash since she stepped into the room. Ash tries to ignore his hate filled gaze. Debbie pauses like she's waiting for Ash to add more. When she doesn't, Debbie continues, You'll be riding with Nick, since he has his own car and has to go there as well.

If anything, Nick's gaze becomes icier. Ash feels another wave of anxiety threaten to overtake her, but she shoves it back down under the blanket of numbness and just says, Okay.

Mr. Williams tries to engage Ash in conversation, asking her various questions about her hobbies, her favorite movies, her favorite subject in school. Ash gives short answers, and Mr. Williams gives up after a while The table lapses into silence. Ash tries to force down some more food, but her anxiety is making it difficult. What feels like an eternity later, Mrs. Williams stands up taking her plate to the sink. She comes back for Mr. Williams' and Nick's plate. And then returns for Ash's. Are you finished, honey? she asks with her hand outstretched for Ash's plate. She's so close. Ash nearly chokes on the smell of her floral perfume.

Ash nods, handing over her plate. When Mrs. Williams turns away to take the plate to the sink with the others, Ash lets out a sigh of relief. Not wanting to get off on the wrong foot with this family, Ash asks, Do you need help cleaning up, Mrs. Williams?

Mrs. Williams waves her off. No thank you, hun. And you can call me Debbie. No need for all the formality.

With her offer turned down, Ash leaves the kitchen and heads up to her room. She closes and locks her bedroom door, relaxing slightly at the barrier between her and the rest of the people in this house. Walking over to her bed, Ash drops down and pulls out her duffle bag. She tugs out the one thing she didn't unpack, a worn and battered copy of the first Harry Potter book.

It's the only thing she kept from her mother and her old life. Staring down at the cracked paperback, she runs her fingers over the grooves she's memorized. Ash stands and slides onto her bed, cracking the book open and beginning to read the words she has memorized by heart. She's read this book more times than she can even count. Escaping into a world filled with magic where there's the possibility of someone coming to save you from an abusive home is her only solace in life.

She reads until her eyes become too heavy to stay open. She places the book back into her duffle bag, tucking it under her bed. She puts on pajamas, flips off her bedside lamp, and slips into sleep.

The room is shrouded in darkness as Ash's consciousness is jerked into awareness. She lies perfectly still as she hears the soft opening of her bedroom door. Her fingers tighten around the handle of her serrated switchblade. Those fingers are the only movement she makes. Otherwise, no one could tell she wasn't fast asleep.

Ash keeps her breathing steady as she feels a presence moving closer to her bed. Whoever entered her room makes no noise as they move, but she can feel the air shift as they move closer. The presence stops right beside her bed, looming over her still figure. Once there, they don't move. They just stare at her. The anticipation of what will happen next is almost too much for Ash to handle, but she manages to keep her breathing steady.

That's when she feels the movement of a finger tracing her face. It doesn't touch her but is as close as it can be without making that contact. It moves over her cheek, traces the outline of her slightly parted lips, and finally moves to run down her neck. That's when goosebumps break out unbidden across Ash's skin. She can almost feel whoever it is smiling at the reaction.

The finger continues to hover over her throat for the longest time. At last, the finger pulls back, but the presence doesn't immediately leave. It just backs up a few steps and leans against the wall between her bed and desk. The room is filled