#i am ash from your fire
Explore tagged Tumblr posts
Text
@chaos-and-ink your drawing gave me such an itch to sketch this out before I go to sleep. He's just so perfect in big, soft sweaters
#bucky barnes#steve rogers#stucky#stevebucky#captain america#catws#fanfiction#marvel fanfiction#bucky barnes fanfiction#brock rumlow#I Am Ash From Your Fire#fanfic fanart
64 notes
·
View notes
Note
your faithless love's the only hoax i believe in :(
đłïžđ¶đ»ââïž
8 notes
·
View notes
Text
If youâre talented enough, you can fit dead dove and a coffee shop au into a single fic

I donât wanna get too into fandom discourse but this is the funniest, most embarrassing shit Iâve ever read lmao
24K notes
·
View notes
Text
Taylor opening âlomlâ with âWhoâs gonna stop us from waltzing back into rekindled flames/If we know the steps anywayâ and closing it with âOur field of dreams, engulfed in fire/Your arsonâs match, your somber eyes/And Iâll still see it until I die/Youâre the loss of my lifeâ is just so painful.
46 notes
·
View notes
Note
I think I need medical attention I literally just read all of your eris fics in one sitting im like a heroin addict i need my next fix : 3
In the words the great poet DJ Khalid âanother oneâ.
You have fallen into my Eris trap I donât think youâll be able to escape it sorry this is just who you are now.
#ask#I have a follow-up to I am ash from your fire that I need to post so thatâll go up either tonight or tomorrow!!!
2 notes
·
View notes
Text
SCREAMING AND CRYING OH MY GOD AHSGSHSGAJSH IâM ACTUALLY DYING oh my god buckyâs big, pretty eyes and rumlowâs little smirkkkkkkkkk agh oh my goddddddd this is so incredible thank youuuuu
@lavenderpanic
Sending you unsolicited fic pics

26 notes
·
View notes
Text
a little update to the iaafyf sequel if anyone is invested! i have begun to work on the fourth chapter, hopefully to be published sometime soon. my goal is to finish the story by the end of 2025 but who knows, since this will probably be the busiest year of my life to date. i have a super full courseload, two new minors, the LSAT to study for, a vacation to Europe this summer, and law school apps in the fall, PLUS i am juggling several other writing projects amidst all of that. however, i have missed this story dearly and it would bring me joy to continue it so i hope to have a chapter up maybeeee by the end of january. tentatively. thank you guys for holding on for me and i can't wait to dive back into the story!
8 notes
·
View notes
Text
// fixing tags pls hold
#» but your mouth can do it better than some god who don't speak { mythology }#» the gods are such petty fools none more so that me { comics }#» all of me is a prayer in perfect piety { desires }#» i screamed for gods who never really loved me after all. { musings }#» it's not fair it's not fair how much i love you. { fauxbius }#» i am burdened with glorious purpose { pics }#» weâre not doing ' get help ' ... { crack }#» death himself laughed with the cruelty of ancient stars when he stole you away from me because he how much i loved you. { sigyn }#» did you ever love her? do you know? or did you never want to be alone? { sigyn }#» if you break the world whatâll you miss ? { tva verse }#»  youâre a natural disaster; sheâs the apocalypse. { sylvie }#» i've won his favor { grandmaster }#» i hope i was your favorite crime { mobius }#» ash & fire / storm & salt / wine & blood { valkyrie }#» nobody lives forever - your mother said - nobody should live that long { frigga }#» for even kings of winters and wars have hearts / have loves / have summers { fandral }#» i assure you brother the sun will shine on us again { thor }#» he is an apocalypse wrapped in wolf fur { fenrir }#» you could watch the planet spin or you could help set it ablaze { jörmungandr }#theres more but man this is long
2 notes
·
View notes
Text
tag dump uwu
#* v. i donât rise from the ashes; i make them // undecided.#* this is my unfinished symphony // ooc.#* the world is on fire & itâs your fault // aesthetic.#* come closer; play with my chaos // desires.#* clever as the devil & twice as pretty // about.#* but if i choose darkness instead? // self promo.#* iâve always been comfortable in chaos // prompts.#* this is who we are; a product of war // promo.#* i am not afraid of fire; i am fire // answered.#* v. may god have mercy on my enemies // main.#* dirty dark beautiful magic // imagery.#* how many centuries deep is your wound? // isms.#* youâre a little tragedy arenât you ? // edits.#* tasting your blood means i love you // flappervcmp.#* you & i were simply meant to be // lovebraves.#* v. fire consumes you // fox fire.
0 notes
Text
tag dump #3
#ic; where there's smoke there's fire | chris mustang#ic; word on the street | dash commentary#ic; from the desk of roy mustang | answered asks [ unprompted ]#ic; lanterns burning | npc#ic; so light me up | roy mustang#ic; I have the honor to be your obdt. st | answered asks [ prompted ]#ic; snap snap spark spark | silly#ic; watch me shine | vanessa garcia#o for a muse of fire | about#words are only painted fire | aesthetic#people on the streets | anonymous asks#kingâs gambit | dash games#cyrtanthus ventricosus | keepsakes#if Iâm on fire youâll be made of ashes too | meta#phoenix songs | music#I am not throwing away my shot | musings#like a moth to the flame | open starter#thatâs an order from your commander | promotion#orders for the colonel | prompts#unfinished paperwork | queue#blow out the candles | wishlist#I wrote my way out | writing
0 notes
Text
đż My Name is Rola, and This is My Story đż
I never thought I would be writing this. I never thought I would be begging for help just to keep my children warm, just to feed them one more meal. But here I am, reaching out to you, because I have no other choice.
My name is Rola. I am a mother of two beautiful children, and before October 7th, we had a life filled with love and laughter. We had a home. My children had their own room, filled with their toys and drawings. We would sit together on our balcony, drinking coffee in the early morning light. We had dreams, just like any other family.
But in an instant, it was all gone.


A missile struck. The earth shook beneath us. The air filled with dust and fire. My husband and son ran, stumbling over each other in terror. I stood frozen, the ringing in my ears drowning out my own screams. Our home was shatteredâwindows blown out, doors ripped from their hinges. And when I looked outside, our neighborâs house, a place that once echoed with children's laughter, was nothing but rubble and ash.
That was just the beginning.
The bombs never stopped. Every night, I held my children close as the sky rained fire. The sound of explosions mixed with the cries of mothers searching for their babies in the darkness. I covered my children, whispering words of comfort, but how do you comfort a child who is terrified of dying in their sleep?
We had to leave. We walked away from everythingâour home, our memories, the warmth of our life before. My children left behind their favorite toys, their books, their safe space. Now, we have nothing.


No home.
No food.
No clean water.
No way out.
I went to buy sugar the other day. It cost $20 for just a kilo. Food is disappearing, and the little that remains is impossible to afford. Every day, I fight to find just enough to keep my children alive.
I am exhausted. I am scared. I need your help.
I never imagined I would have to beg for my familyâs survival. But today, I am.
Please, if you are reading this, help us. Help me save my children. Help us find shelter, food, a way to rebuild even a small piece of the life we lost. If we ever have the chance to leave, we need support. If we are forced to stay, we need a home again.
Every donation matters. Every share helps. Every voice that speaks for us keeps hope alive.
đ Please donate if you can. Share our story. Help us survive. đ
5K notes
·
View notes
Text
I never want to be put in charge of people again
#every day I have my team pinging me asking questions#please please cope dear god#like sorry to our new joiners truly welcome to the shit show but you will survive#trial by fire so rise to the occasion and rise from the ashes#and dear god I know I said I am here to support you but I cannot hold your hand all day
0 notes
Text
the 5 times you did (not) love each other and the 1 time you did.

summary. as the title suggests. this one was a request! i hope you enjoyed my version of this anon.
pairing/s. poly!marauders + lily / reader.
wc. 4.1k
tags. hurt/comfort, angst, peter pettigrew mention, not proofread, like seriously, fluff, happy ending.
cws: brief mention of violence and blood.
note: i am alive?? crazy. i began this fic, whilst sick, around august, nursing the worst headache ever. i wrote the middle of this fic, sick. and i think it's only fitting that i finished this fic. sick... honestly, i did not proofread any of this, i just know i lowkey love it. after the first one-thousand words, i just spiral and become delirious, so i don't even know what happened here. my first request finished! yippee! and thank you all for 2k :< i love you all so much.

i.Â
SIRIUS BLACK did not love youânot even close, not even a little bit. Not even at all.
After Peter Pettigrewâs slight against his family, Sirius would never hold warmth or pity for the skittish mouse ever again. He was played for a fool. And, he did not know which betrayal had hurt more. Peterâsâor yours. (Had you known all along of your adoptive brotherâs plans? Did you not think for one second that Sirius would, without a sliver of hesitation, put himself in the way of a killing curse to keep you safe? Heâd have died before ever letting the fire in your eyes wither to ashes. Clearly, you did not share the same sentiment.)Â
He wanted nothing to do with you. Ever. And if the rat-bastard dared to show his face, not even Death would know where to put Peterâs body to rest. Sirius would keep him alive until he begged for deathâuntil the idea of living frightened him more than dying. And for youâbeholder of his heart, captor of his soul, and co-possessor of his mindâhe could only hope that you stayed far away. You had wrecked himâall of them.Â
He wantedâ
He did not know what he wanted.Â
For when it came to you, Sirius Black was reduced to a man wandering the desertsâmistaking clouds for water, and the sands for grass blades. You had ravaged every fiber of his being; consumed his every thought and word. The most ironic part of all was that if you had been the one standing thereâSirius would have let you Avada him. Dumbledore could scold him in the afterlifeâSirius could care less. Heâd have snapped his wand in half and asked someone else to fight you because Sirius had vowed from the moment he met you that he would never harm a hair on your head. He would never be the reason that tears stained your pretty cheeks.Â
Well, apparently, trust and promises were not worth a damn thing nowadays.Â
No, he did not love youâeven as you stood on the steps of Grimmauld, your hair ruined by the downpour of rain. Your lips bruised and bitten from a nervous habit Sirius had yet to break out of you.Â
âI didnât know, Sirius,â you whisperedâyour voice the only sound falling on his ears amidst all the thunder and lightning. He only saw you. âY-You have to believe me. If I knewâGods, I would have told Dumbledore in a heartbeat. Fuck. I thought you knew me better than that.âÂ
He thought so, too.Â
âDid you know?â Sirius began, taking a step forward and into the storm, a demeaning sneer on his lips. âThat when Voldemort stood in our home, your portrait was right behind him? That was all I could look at. If I had diedâyou would have been the last thing I saw.âÂ
You had not replied.Â
Sirius grit his teeth. âGo,â he said, voice hoarse.Â
âGo!â he yelled, grateful for the rain as it masked his own tears as you flinched from the sound of his voice. Not the thunderclap, the lightning strikeâbut it was him who scared you.Â
(But you had done so first.)Â
When you apparated away, Sirius crumbled to the ground and pounded his fists against the asphalts where you were moments ago, screaming and cursing until he saw blood flowing with the rainwater.
It was laughable, really. The way he did not love you.Â
It was not love that drove him to madness, pummeling Gideon Prewett into a bloody pulp for mentioning your name during a meeting with the Order. He had presumed you to be a Death Eater alongside your brotherâSirius instantly saw nothing but red. (He condemned Bellatrix, his own cousin, for becoming a madwoman. Yet, here he was, unraveled by the very thought of you. The very whisper of your name.)Â
But whatever it was that had turned him into a fool and a hypocrite all at once, it was not love.Â
ii.Â
JAMES POTTER had no love for youâmake no mistake about that. He loved love, and he did so fiercely and truthfully. But you and Peter had broken his trustâdefiled his loyalty from the moment your brother had brought Voldemort to his doorstep. (Did you know that as he begged and screamed for Lily to hide with their son, Harryâhe thought of you? For a fleeting moment, he saw your face, marked by fear and tear-rimmed eyes. And James knew straight away that he would spit on Tom Riddleâs bare feet if only to keep his family safe. If only to see you once more. Alive and well. But, you must not have thought the sameâif you had conspired with Peter to sell him and Lily out to the Devil reborn.)Â
The thought of you breathing was enough to keep James alive.Â
But, that was not love. It was a mockery of it.Â
No, he did not feel so much as a twinge of emotion for you. Not even as Mad-Eye Moody brought your limp body back to Grimmauld. It was not love that threatened the magic in his beingâthat simmered in his blood until the painted walls saw an indent of his fist. (âPoor thing,â McGonagall cooed as she pressed her palm over your forehead. Despite some of the membersâ growing distrust for you, you still took an Unforgivable in their stead. âWe can only wait. . . Four Cruciatus curses. . .â)Â
What more did James need to want to rip Peter apart limb by limb?Â
It was not love that rooted his feet by your side. Sitting hunched on a chair too small for his height, bags beneath his eyes, and the pale of his lips becoming noticeable to everyone who spoke to him.Â
âIâm sorry,â he whispered to you lovelesslyâhands desperately clutching your own. Sirius stood across the room, arms crossed over his chest, dagger-like eyes waiting for so much as a twitch of your finger. âIâm sorry.â
It was a plea this time.
He only hoped you did not ask him to love you. For James could give you the world, hand-pick the stars, and burrow his body deep beneath the ground if you had asked for itâbut he could not love you.Â
Everyone had told him not to hope that you would wake up. That your pretty eyes would not flutter open, and you would no longer look at him as you had before. But James was stubborn. He was selfish as he was stubborn. He did not love youâbut he needed to hear the sound of your voice. And James would take it any way that he could. The soft cadence of a whisper, or a rough utterance of a single word. Molly Weasley told him to accept reality for what it was. (âYou need sleep, dear,â the matriarch fussed. âThereâs nothing we can do. Look at the Longbottoms. . . We can do no more for this one as we had done for them.â)Â
In the still of the night, he left his reveries on the cold of your skin. âWake up,â he demanded.Â
âWake up or else youâre the traitor everyone thinks you are,â James hissed.Â
But his words held no heatâand his heart held no love for you.Â
Make no mistake about that.
Then, when you finally woke up, disoriented and throat parchedâa hazy recollection of the weeks beforeâJames made sure that no more than four people could enter the room. He did not care if a hurricane, or if Voldemort himselfâJames had faced him once already, after allâthreatened to break the door down. You were theirs to protect.
 (But not to love.)Â
âWe need to begin the questioning, James, you know that,â said Kingsley Shacklebolt, almost exasperatedly; weary lines written across his face. James would not allow even a toe beyond the doorway. An interrogation meant you had something to do with the attempted murder of James and his family. Whether or not you were innocent, James did not careâhe just wanted you safe.Â
(And a small part of him already knew that you were not your brotherâs keeper. Just as they had absolved Sirius of his familyâs sins. It would be unfair to not show you the same grace. But before his mind knew that, Jamesâs heart and soul had known the truth all along.)Â
He found Sirius gently tending to your every need, and already James knew that was Padfootâs way of begging for forgiveness. The ebony-haired man hung onto your every word. He winced when you flinched, and pressed his apologies to your forehead, rasping for a kindness he did not deserve. Not after what he did. How he turned you away and cursed your name. How they betrayed you.Â
James did not love you.Â
But what else could he call the manacles that bound his hands and forced him to his knees when it came to you?Â
Not. Love.Â
iii.Â
REMUS LUPIN could not bring himself to love you. But, he could not love Sirius, Lily, and James either. He was undeserving of such a privilege. But he was not allowed to love you; Remus could only hope that you saw even a shred of worth in himâto wrest each word from his lips and every breath from his lungs. But, he did not love you. No.Â
Because loving you meant he was to tell you of your brotherâs crimes. And Remus could not hurt you like that.Â
âP-Peter?â you had asked, wearing the eyes of a fretful sibling. Remus lifted his hand to tuck a strand of hair gone astray behind your ear. Bellatrix had done a number on youâjust as she had done to Alice and Frank. Remus was fairly certain that Sirius was off on a hunt for his cousin, his mind toyed with by the barbarity of war. What they could not do for the Longbottoms, theyâd wring themselves dry to do for you. After the Lestrangesâ attack, you suffered damage to your throat and memories. Remus could not bear to see you in such pain.Â
He could not give you love, but Remus would offer up to you his every limb, and the weary skin upon his bones.Â
âThey. . .â Remus grimaced. How could he act as the bearer of bad news? Heâd rather dive headfirst into shark-infested waters. Be anywhere else but here. In fact, Remus would rather snatch you away from the funereal walls, and hold you in his arms in the quietude of dawn, than be the one to bring anguish to your eyes. âTheyâre looking for him at the moment, love.âÂ
One question lingered in your eyes: Why?Â
Luckily, Sirius was always the better one at sharpening a blunt knife. âHe was a traitor,â he spat like acid. âA traitor to the Order. A traitor to us. Heâs no friend of ours. Not anymore.âÂ
But Sirius knewâbetter than anyone elseâhow difficult it can be to truly hate little brothers, especially once theyâve gone.Â
âNo. . .â You trembled, almost retching as you sobbed into your palms.Â
Remus held you then, the front of his shirt soaked in your tears, eyes firmly shut as you trembled and heaved in his arms. The sound of your guttural screams bounced off the four walls, and Remus had to bury his nose in your hair. You were alive. Safe. Breathing. But you felt cold as ice; an empty husk stripped bare for grief to take over. And Remus could do nothing but hold you. (He just hoped that wherever Peter Pettigrew was, Remus would not be the first one to find him. Otherwise, they would not be able to recover even a fingernail from his remains.)
âHush, love,â Remus whispered into your ear as you cried yourself sick. Mourning the loss of your brother, reeling from the betrayal of a bond that was supposed to be stronger than blood. Remus would make him pay, he vowed as much to you. No, Remus and the wolf in him did not know how to love. But he knew how to hurt. And, that, heâd gladly do for you. His body was for you to use as a shield, his soul for you to strip bare, and his heart for you to thieve and never return.Â
âDonât cry,â said James, a shadow cast over his frames. âNot for Peter. Never. Fucking bastard will get whatâs coming to him.â He laid on the vacant space of the bed, gently untangling your hands that were pressed over your heart. âIâll make sure of it.â
They all would.
But not because they loved you.Â
It was not out of love, Remus had to remind himself in the coming days, when he stayed diligently by your side as you recovered. Daily sessions with the best healer St. Mungoâs could offerâas if James would allow anything else. There were days your eyes would glaze over, your words rough and sluggish, and Remus would try his damndest to make you smile.Â
It was the least he could do.Â
For failing to protect you.Â
But that was not love.Â
(It was hope. Wretched, disastrous hope as he fell to his knees, and your name in between his teeth.)
iv.Â
LILY EVANS was a fighter in all the ways that mattered.Â
And from the very first moment she held Harry in her arms, eyes raking over his wrinkly, bloodied skin; all ten fingers and toes, her soft cries over his loud screamingâLily knew she would trade her life for his in a heartbeat. Little, lovely eyes that would soon see the world in his own time. Lily adored him. Cherished every tear, snore, and giggle. She knew then, that a motherâs love was entirely different from any emotion sheâd ever felt before.Â
This was proven the first time Harry had gotten seriously ill. A few weeks after the attempted murder on the Potters, Harry was ceaselessly cryingâscreaming, even, every nightâred-faced as he fussed every breakfast and dinner. Lily found herself at witâs end. Her protectiveness had gone up a hundred measures; wouldnât let anyone besides family or Madam Pomfrey see Harry. Yet, even with all the draughts and silly-flavoured syrups, Harry wasnât getting better.Â
âLily dear, you cannot actually be thinking about this,â worried Molly Weasley as Lily stood in front of your door, holed away in the room where you had been recovering for the last few days. It would be the first time she saw you since the incident. More than anything she was afraid. Frightened that you would look at her differently. Whether or not that fear stemmed from love, Lily was not concerned. âWe can call for another Healer from Mungoâs to have a look at Harry. . . Who knows what might. . .âÂ
Lily held Harry closer to her, lips firmly pressed, attempting to ignore the way his temperature was unnaturally high. âMight what, Mrs. Weasley?â She knew Molly was only talking out of concern, from a motherâs perspective at least. But she knew you better than anyone else. You would never hurt her, or Harry, that much she was certain of. And if you were the traitor everyone else was afraid of accusing you of, a sentence delivered by association to Peterâthen let the guillotine fall, Lily would carry your crimes for you.Â
She remembered ever-so clearly in her sixth-year, you with dreams glistening in your eyes. (âIâm going to be a Healer, Lils! Minnie said Iâd be a great one. . . I want to protect those I love. . . I know I can do it. . . Oh, I canât wait to tell Peter that Iâve gotten recommendations already to work at Mungoâs after graduation.â)Â
And Lily recalled at that moment, she had felt a different kind of emotion that she had never experienced before. It was not love, of course. Tuney said she was too young and too stupid to know what real love was. But, at sixteen, what else could describe the way her heart fluttered and the way her lips threatened to break out into a smile whenever you lit up talking about your future? (It was just a crush, young Lily told herself.)
Only to be crushed and cast aside in the face of the war, where fighters took their place at the forefront of the lines, mothers and children hid; healers stretching themselves thin to be here, there, everywhere; where traitors walked in plain sight.Â
âThere is no one else I trust more with my life,â replied Lily.Â
And that was that.Â
Lily skirted around Molly and opened the door to your room, where Sirius, James, and Remus all stood at attention at the sight of her and Harry. She ignored them, and headed straight to your side.Â
âHello, love,â she greeted with all the gentleness she was made of, a smile creeping up to her eyes as Lily watched you turn your head at the sound of her voice. Truth be told, she did not know what her end-goal was in coming here. But being by your side had always made life a little more bearable, like all the illnesses in the world could not bring her down. And so, her magic had instinctively summoned her person to you. She, at least, was relieved to see colour returning to your cheeks, though the red in your eyes had dulled the hues she adored so much.Â
âIs that. . .?â you croaked.Â
Lily nodded. âHarry, meetââÂ
One of the loves of my life, the most loyal and pure witch anyone ever has the privilege of meeting, someone I want to stay in my life forever.Â
Lilyâs smile wilted. âA friend.âÂ
Later, she would place Harry in your armsâher little hope embraced by her dreamâand Lily would wonder if it was by pure magic that Harry calmed in your presence.Â
For if love could hurt and destroy, could it mend and heal the broken as well?
But what a shame, for not one in that room carried an ounce of love for you.
(She would die for Harry, yesâbut she would live for you.)
v.Â
YOU did not love them, either.Â
The very idea, thoughtâinsinuationâwas absurd. (Why, they deserved much better than you, after all.) With hands that failed to protect them, were you even allowed to hold them anymore? Did your heart have the right to breathe for them? You had failed as a sister and a friendâhow much more would you have failed as their lover? Well, youâd never know.Â
Because you did not love them.Â
Merely wished them happiness and for the world to extend them kindness. For the sun to look brightly down on them, and for time to heal their scars and wounds. For if they were in pain, the earth would stop spinning. But such a request was not borne from love.Â
Surely not.Â
Because, then, that would have meant that it was love that teared you apart when Sirius cursed your name, when James turned you away, when Remus could not look you in the eyes, or when Lilyâfor all your history togetherâcalled you a friend.Â
The whole of you was made by the parts of them. Each memory welded into the crevices of your soul. From the moment you had all found each other in the same train compartment, same common roomâthere was a shift in the fates that bound all five of you together. (The ties were red, but the thread was not of love.) You did not believe in Professor Trelawneyâs talks of providence and destiny.Â
Because if you did, then why was the universe so cruel?Â
Fallingânot in loveâfor four people who could very much do without you in their lives. Lacking severely as a sister to the point you had not noticed your brother fading and fading away into the shadows.Â
Was love that unkind? That merciless?Â
Then, you did not want to love at all.Â
Oh, but magic or not, every creature on this earth selfish.Â
You were no different.Â
You wanted.Â
Oh, how you yearned.Â

âI LOVE YOU.âÂ
You barely had enough time to react before Sirius pressed his lips to the side of your head, arm covertly sneaking around your waist. The sound of the train whistling as parents yelled their goodbyes filled the station. You stood in the midst of the crowd, eyes never leaving one window in particular as you waved at Harry, now eleven-years-old and now off to Hogwarts.Â
âQuite a random thing to say, husband,â you murmured, leaning into his warmth. âWhat for?âÂ
âJust because,â he replied in turn with a fiendish grin. âWell, perhaps for choosing us, for choosing me despite all my fuck-ups. For existing. For being the beautiful, wonderful, kind, precious you. I could keep on going, my darling. Shall I compare thee to a summerâs day?âÂ
You wrinkled your nose, eyes rolling from fondness. âI love you too, quite unfortunately.âÂ
He only laughed and pulled you closer to him. âLetâs go home.âÂ
â
âI love you.âÂ
In the house built by new memories, warded by stronger protection charms, and filled with warmth and loveâJames said this to you each morning before he left for the Ministry, promoted after the war as Head of Magical Law Enforcement. Not one foot out of the door until he had showered you in kisses and the symphonies of his heart. James had always been loud, even in his time at Hogwarts. The war had not taken this part of him, and you figured James was too loud to let it be taken from him. He was unapologetically and unabashedly him.Â
And you had loved him fiercely for that.Â
âIâll be home early tonight,â he said, a quiet intimacy washing over the both of you. The early birds of the cottage. âWait for me?â
âOf course,â you answered without an ounce of hesitation, delicately chasing after his lips. âI love you. Be safe.âÂ
-
âI love you.âÂ
âAre you saying that to me or are you reading from the book?â you teased from where you laid on Remusâs chest, hours after James left for work, the afternoon bringing you two together in the living room. Lily was in the gardens, and Sirius was in the shed working on his motorbike. It was perfect. You felt the rise and fall of Remusâs chest beneath you, his heartbeat close to your ear. He was perfect. It was a miracle you had not fallen asleep to the tender lull of his voice.Â
âBoth,â he responded, hand coming up to trace the bare of your skinâa miracle you did not crumble or burn instantly from his touch.Â
You hummed. âThen, I love you, too.â Then, you grinned, lifting your head to stare up at him. âYou have bewitched me, body and soul, and I love, I love, I love you.âÂ
And, oh, how photographs could not capture the beauty in Remusâs smile as his eyes regarded you with such fire.
âMy heart, my light, my desire,â Remus began, one finger ever-so softly tracing the curve of your cheek. âIn vain I have struggled, it will not do. My feelings will not be repressed. You must allow me to tell you how ardently I admire and love you.âÂ
â
âI love you.âÂ
Said Lily as she lied in your shared bed, red-nosed and her cheeks pale, sluggish. The Christmas holiday was generous enough to gift her with an unfortunate cold that had been going around the wizarding world. âBut, please, go,â she commanded weakly, gesturing for you to join Harry who was stood by the door. âItâs a lovely day outside for making snowmen with carrots as noses and snow angels. Not for taking care of poor old me.âÂ
You rolled your eyes as you sat by her side, swiftly pressing a kiss to her forehead. âAnd I love you, which is why I would rather much be here, taking care of the prettiest snow angel to ever exist,â you countered, bringing a spoonful of broth to her lips. âBesides, Harry here has something to tell you. Heâs made friends at school. One of them is Mollyâs little one.âÂ
âOh, you did?â Lily cooed, before sniffling weakly. âThatâs lovely, darling. Tell me all about them.âÂ
âThatâs not all, Lily mine,â you began mischievously as Harryâs eyes narrowed at you through his glasses. âThis friendship apparently formed after fighting a troll.âÂ
âYou what?â Lily croaked, emerald eyes shimmering with concern and near-dread.Â
âDid you really, Harry?â James popped his head in the doorway, clapping his son on the shoulder before ushering him inside the room. A spitting image side-by-side as they took the empty space by the foot of the bed. âGood boy. Father approves.âÂ
âOf course you would,â Lily shot at him weakly, melting when Sirius then entered the room and greeted her with a kiss to her cheek. âAnd where are you all coming from?â
âOutside,â announced Remus, tugging his tie from his neck. âSirius and I took a quick trip to Diagon Alley to get some things thatâll make you feel better, Lily love.âÂ
And as the snow fell outside, lazy winds against the window, your little family gathered in one room, there was one thing you knew for certain.
You loved them.Â
And they loved you.Â

a/n: i wrote all 4k words while sick. crazy. but anyway, i wanted to believe in love again so here i am. thank you all so much for being patient with me. i promise to do even better in the next fics!
#sunny's hp fics#marauders x reader#hp imagine#poly!marauders x reader#hp fluff#james potter x reader#remus lupin x reader#sirius black x reader#lily evans x reader#poly marauders#poly!marauders imagine#poly!marauders fluff#poly!marauders#marauders imagine#marauders angst#marauders fanfiction#marauders x y/n#marauders drabble#poly!marauders x you#x reader fluff#x reader angst#hp x reader#hp angst
3K notes
·
View notes
Note
Go any I am ash from your fire Bucky Barnes headcanons? Silly thoughts about him in your universe youâd care to share?
He loves super spicy foods but he has like no tolerance. He'll be sweating and tearing up and shaking and still absolutely refuses to get something less spicy next time
He's lactose intolerant. Hence the oatmilk ice cream. (His favorite flavor is mint chocolate chip, and he'll fight you if you say it tastes like toothpaste)
He hates a lot of textures. He isn't too fond of the way paper towels feel. He hates the way ice sometimes sticks to your hands when it's really cold. He doesn't like pottery that isn't shiny.
He started growing his hair out because he wanted to look like Anakin Skywalker
His favorite kind of bagel is cinnamon raisin
He loves building LEGO sets. He used to collect them.
He totally steals the blankets from Steve while they're sleeping (and then complains he was too hot last night)
He's a night owl, while Steve's an early bird. He loves waking up to find Steve in the kitchen, just back from a run, cooking breakfast
He hates buying new clothes and will literally wear the same clothing items until they're so frayed and torn up that he literally cannot wear them any longer
His favorite season is autumn
When he and Steve go shopping he always buys the weirdest looking fruits and vegetables because he's scared they'll never get chosen and they'll feel sad
#bucky barnes#steve rogers#stucky#stevebucky#fanfiction#marvel fanfiction#bucky barnes fanfiction#i am ash from your fire#marvel
42 notes
·
View notes
Text
retired pornstar ghost has always been a talker. his voice is deepâ a low rumble like distant thunder. always gets anyone that's under him going.
his voice to his own ears sounds plain, like any other man, really; he doesn't see the appeal. but what he does find appealing are the noises that come from you, his cute co-star when he talks to you, lips dripping with honey.
ghost loves when you clamp down on his cock, squeezing him like a vice when his wicked words sink into your ears. "tight bloody cunt would drive any man wild, love. how lucky i am that it's me getting to fuck you."
"look at you under me," he stills the bucking of your hips with one hand, skin dimpling where his fingers dig into you, "at my mercy, taking my desire."
"doing so well," he coos.
ghost lets out a sharp exhale through his teeth when your walls begin to flutter around him. "so quick to come, and i haven't even touched," he moves his hand down to your mons, thumb finding your swollen pearl, "here."
the circles he draws there are tight, precise, destructive. he brutally wrenches your orgasm from you, and in your blinding ecstasy, you dig your nails into the side of his proportionately wider waist.
his hips undulate as he fucks you through it while still fucking talking.
"kitty's got claws, doesn't she? i love a littleâ" but the words that were on his tongue crumbled into ash. you'd dragged your nails on his skin in mild annoyance, because how dare he sound so untaxed even though you're still twitching from the aftershocks under himâ
the silence spoke volumes; he'd even stopped moving. you did it again, and this time he had whimperedâ a pathetic little noise that came from the back of his throat.
delicious.
you wonder. this time, your nails score red lines down the front of his chest, grazing a little too close to his nipple and he groaned. loud.
delectable, like thick, molten chocolate.
now it's your turn to do the talking. "the mighty ghost, rendered speechless. have i performed a miracle?"
peering down at you, his eyes hold a deeper shade than usual. you continue to claw at him, this time targeting his unmistakably sensitive nipple. the sight of his eyes rolling back in sheer bliss ignites a fire within you.
"my, oh my," the smug grin on your face perfectly matches your tone. "tell me what you need, ghost. you need me to mark you up? want to see me on you come morning?"
his growl is animalistic, a shiver licks up your spine. he quickly bends you in half, feet dangling helplessly on his brawny shoulders.
"bite."
it's easy to follow his edict when he hits so deeply in this angle that the pain and pleasure blur into one overwhelming sensation. your teeth sink into the thick meat of his barrel chest, and he abruptly stills, a guttural snarl escaping his lips.
he doesn't speak a word until after; when his seed drips from your glistening slit and sweat-slick skin begins to cool down.
"fuckin' hell, love."
#call of duty#simon ghost riley#simon ghost riley x reader#cod mw2#cod mwii#simon riley x reader#simon ghost riley smut#simon ghost riley x you#ghost smut#simon riley x you#simon riley smut#ghost call of duty
5K notes
·
View notes
Text
I am ash from your fire
Summary: Eris retires after a long night to find his mate, the princess of the night court, in his chambers upset.
Authorâs note: Rhys is a jackass in this one. Honestly this was supposed to be Eris comforting reader but idk how it flipped at some point and sometimes you just gotta go with where the story takes you đ€·đŒââïž also Iâm headcannoning that Eris reads anything and everything he can get his hands on
(1k celebration masterlist đŸ)
Eris feels his shoulders sag ever so slightly, allowing the formalities of his stature to soften slightly as he moves further into his private chambers.
The only place in the Forest House he can at least somewhat relax. The hues of brown coating the walls, the paintings of hounds and forests covering the walls have been a comfort since his youth.
It was one of the few places Beron never entered. The High Lord would never sully himself by entering into his childrenâs chambers. No, heâd have word sent to them so they can come to him.
Eris walks towards the bookshelves, long fingers softly gliding over the edges of the leather bindings. His personal library was extensive - books of maps, histories, biographies, all subjects expected of a first-born heir. But also books of poetry, fantasy, and intrigue.
Eris was always a voracious reader, that need for escapism a constant in his life. His hands move on their own accord, searching for something to lose himself in when his ears perk up at a noise in his bedchambers. Unsheathing a dagger from his hip, he moves towards the room, seeing a shadow of movement underneath the door.
He reaches the door, slowly moving his hand to the handle. Once itâs in his hand, he turns it quickly, throwing open the door and pouncing on top of the person in his chambers.
His dagger is held at their throat, determined to find out who sent the risk before disposing of them. A laugh bursts out from under him, his dagger so close to their throat it knicks their throat at their laughs.
âThatâs one way to say hello.â
His grip on the dagger falters momentarily, the sweet sounds of his mateâs voice causing him to loosen his hold. He pulls the dagger back, sheathing it back into his pants.
He brushes the hair from your face, taking in your amused look, his other hand going to inspect the slight knick on your throat.
âMy precious fox.â
The nickname rolls off his tongue, his senses on high alert at your unexpected presence. He can sense something is off with you, and his eyes roam your body for injury.
Coming up short of any injuries sans the knick he just gave you, he sits on his haunches, grabbing your hands, helping you to sit up. You sit on your legs, keeping a tight hold on Erisâs hands, playing with his fingers.
You pull off one of his rings, sliding it on and off your own fingers, the warm metal soothing your cold hands.
He watches you for a moment, watches your fingers play with the rings he wears every day. Heâs never understood your fascination with them, a nervous habit perhaps. He watches as you move the gold ring onto your thumb before pulling you into his arms. The feel of you settles him, and he can finally breathe deeply for the first time in weeks.
He holds you, pressing his face into the side of your neck, breathing in the scent of your hair. He pours what love and devotion he can down the bond, enjoying your presence before he can bring himself to ask why youâre here.
The two of you usually meet in his private cabin, miles and miles from the cruelties of the Forest House. He canât recall if youâve ever even been in his private chambers.
You pull back from him, shuffling around so you can sit in between his legs, back pressed to his chest. You know you have to tell him why youâre here, but you canât look at him while you do it.
Youâre not sure what youâll find from him as you recount your tale.
You take in a breath, deciding to tell him what happened instead of letting him wait.
âRhys found one of your letters,â you say, not able to look at him. âI was called away while I was reading one of them. It was foolish - I always hide them before leaving my room.â
Something warms in Erisâs chest at the thought of you, courts away from him, pouring over every word in the letters full of love youâd exchange between each other.
Much like he did every night.
âWe got into a big fight, and he uh-â
Eris watches the tear slip out, sliding down your face.
âHe told me I was no sister of his.â
Eris canât help the snarl that comes from him, and you gingerly place a hand on his thigh, a motion he knows is grounding the both of you.
âWhat did his little lackeys have to say?â He spits out, unable to hide his contempt for them as he asks.
His dislike of Cassian and Azriel was no secret, but it took you a long time to coax out of him what about them he disliked.
âTruthfully, I found out how Illyrians treated females and it left a foul taste in my mouth,â he had told you once. It was all you could coax out of him, and perhaps thatâs all there was to it.
At his core, Eris defined males by how they treated the females in their lives. Perhaps he assumed that Cassian and Azriel were the same as the other Illyrians and did not want to press further.
âThey uh werenât there,â you reply, âno one else was there. Perhaps he sent them all away so he could throw a fit.â
You laugh a little, thinking of just how red Rhysandâs face had gotten during your fight. You feel Erisâs head lay against your own, his fingers tangling into the strands of your hair.
âHe was yelling, screaming about how I was defiling the family name by being with a Vanserra.â You sigh. âThen he began screeching about how youâre awful, youâre terrible, and âwhat about Morâ and blah blah blah.â
âHowâd you respond?â Eris asks, hands idly moving to hold onto yours in a soft grasp.
âI told him to ask Mor about what actually happened that day.â
He hums, allowing you to absentmindedly play with his fingers as you speak.
âHe said that Mor would never lie to him. That she would never lie to any of us.â You blow out a breath, âthen he said I had been cursed by the Mother to be mated to you.â
Eris knew the words were not your own, but the sound of them on your lips still stung deep in his chest.
âThatâs when I told him to fuck off.â
Eris looks down at you as you peer back up at him, adoration, love, and a hint of sadness shines onto you through his gaze.
âWe fought back and forth for a while after that. Then, after realizing I wasnât giving up so easily, he gave me a choice.â
âMy family name, my title, my claim to the throne, or you.â
Erisâs grip tightens. You two had spoken about what the worst outcomes would be if you were found out. Neither of you had ever expected Rhys to disown you.
Rhysand, who adored his little sister more than anything. Rhysand, who insisted you were an integral part of his life. Rhysand, who constantly ensured you were safe and happy.
He threw all that away the second he said you would never give up your tiara collection for Eris.
âOh, my little fox.â
He peers down at you, your eyes wide as you peer up at him, your face upside down.
He knew heâd never get to love you wholly, unabashedly, publicly. He always knew something would come between you. He lets his gaze linger, memorizing the slope of your nose, the curve of your cheeks. His fingers move and, without his prompting, they start gliding across your face. They move as if he were studying it, preparing himself to have to recognize you in blindness.
To only see you in the darkest hour of the night, when his fingers can retrace these patterns, and pretend youâre next to him again.
He could, he thinks. Heâd recognize you anywhere. His breath is shaky, knowing he will have to wait until you two are gone from this world to be together.
He would spend the entirety of his afterlife searching for you, in whatever form you took. If you were nothing more than stardust, a gentle whisper on the wind every Starfall, his flame would burn higher that day, reaching out for you one last time.
He resigns himself to these last few minutes with you, but he doesnât feel the despair in his heart mirrored in your own.
You feel hopeful. You feel open.
He canât ask, but you know he needs to hear it.
âI am no longer the Princess of the Night Court.â
Hot tears pour down his face, and he struggles to keep his mouth closed to keep from gasping at your decision. A tear falls onto your face beneath his, splashing across your cheek.
âI am officially without a name, without a home, and with no title,â your voice full of more determination than Eris could imagine, âI humbly ask if you could provide these things for me.â
A strangled sob breaks from him, and you twist in his arms to hold him. Surprise takes over your face, utter shock cascading through the bond before you can stop it.
Eris Vanserra, heir to the Autumn Court, a master of masks and facades, always playing the sly courtier three steps ahead. Never in all the years have you known him have you ever seen him so emotional.
Eris looks to the ceiling as you throw your arms around him, embracing him tightly. The heat from his hands was clawing at your back, but it didnât burn.
You shushed him as he continued crying into your hair, the sight of him becoming undone such a shock to your system.
âI apologize, my love, deeply and truly.â
His hands stay on you, every inch of you needing to make that contact with him.
For so long, his life revolved around choices he was not privy to, choices that were not his. He was a pawn in an ever tiring game, one he was trying to make his way out of.
He presses you into him, unable to believe that someone, anyone, especially you, would choose him.
You chose him. You chose him the day the bond had snapped, and you chose him now, when everything was on the line for you.
He knew that he would make the same choice, putting everything on the line for you, preparing to finally take down Beron.
âI choose you too.â
#eris x you#acotar fanfiction#eris vanserra x you#eris vanserra x reader#eris x reader#eris x y/n#eris vanserra x y/n
2K notes
·
View notes