#also I’m pretty sure Everett only owns black clothes

[theauthorinblue]

I’m on fire with the drawings these last few days

[alix-writes-things]

Ember’s Story Chapter Three: Spray Paint and Quick Escapes

“Ember, no.” It’s 10 p.m. on Saturday night, and I’m talking to Everett over the phone. “You’re going to get arrested. Or, worse, your parent’s are going to kill you.”

I ignore him and continue getting ready. I’ve decided to get my revenge on Ethan for upsetting me and my friends. I grab the box of non-flammable spray-paints that I keep in the back of my closet for things like this and begin picking out the cans I know I’ll need.

“Ember, you have to listen to me. It’s one thing if it’s on the back of the bowling alley. It is a whole other thing if it’s someone’s house or car.”

“I don’t care. He deserves it.”

“How does Nox feel about this.”

I hesitate before responding, “They’re fine with this.”

“Uh huh. Sure.”

I continue sorting through the box; picking out any colors I might need. “They are.”

“Then you won’t mind me asking them, right?”

I freeze holding a can of red spray-paint. “Well, I don’t think that’s necessary.”

“Oh, yes, it is.”

I groan while he adds Nox to the call.

“Hey,” Nox says.

“Nox,” Everett says, “can I ask you something?”

“Everett, I don’t think you should bother them.”

“Oh, that’s alright. What’s up, Everett?”

“Do you know what Ember is planning?”

Nox sighs. “Yes, I do, and I think it’s a bad idea.”

I can almost feel Everett glaring at me through the phone. I can already tell that I’m never going to hear the end of this. I almost consider not going through with it, but the memory of Nox’s reaction is enough to convince me to do it.

“Nothing either of y’all says will convince me not to do this.”

“You are going to get arrested. Right, Nox?”

“I’m not going to get arrested,” I say, throwing my hands up in the air.

“Ember,” Nox says slowly, “this is a bad idea. What if you get caught?”

“I don’t get caught,” I say.

“That’s what you say every time,” Everett says, clearly annoyed.

They continue to take turns lecturing me about how I’m going to get arrested. I put myself on mute and continue sorting through my box of spray paint. I’m reaching for my bag to add another half-empty can of blue paint when my younger brother, Amias, walks in. Although it’s nearly midnight, he’s fully dressed in a black t-shirt, black skinny jeans, and a pair of beat up, grey sneakers. He has his shoulder-length, dark brown hair that our parents won’t allow him to cut tucked into a light-grey beanie.

“What’s up, dude?” I ask him while continuing to pack my bag.

“I couldn’t sleep. I heard you drag out the paint box and decided I want to come with you,” he says nonchalantly.

I smile at him. He likes to come with me on, what he calls, my “vigilante projects.”

As if on que, Everett says, “you better not even think about dragging Amias into this mess. It’s one thing to take him when you’re tagging the bowling alley, but it’s a whole other thing to take him to vandalize someone’s house.”

I unmute myself and reply, “too bad. He’s fourteen. He’s older than I was the first time I tagged a house. He can come if he wants to.”

Everett sighs and says, “he already asked, didn’t he?”

“Yes, I did,” Amias speaks up, lowering his voice slightly, “I’ll be fifteen soon, and Ember has done way worse at, like, twelve.”

“First off,” Everett says, “Ember has done way worse at ten.”

“Wow. Throwing me under the bus. I see how it is.”

“Second off,” Everett continues, ignoring my comment, “just because your idiot sibling has done worse doesn’t mean you should be doing this. Also, you won’t be fifteen for another five months.”

“Wait,” Nox says, “who’s Amias, and why is he fourteen?”

We all pause before bursting out laughing. Amias and I try to keep quiet so that we don’t wake up our parents, but Everett, whose parents are probably still awake, is the loudest of all of us.

“I meant,” Nox starts to say before succumbing to laughter again.

It takes us about five minutes, but, eventually, we all calm down enough for Nox to speak.

“I meant,” they say, “why is Ember bringing a fourteen-year-old to vandalize a house, and why have I never met this kid?”

“Amias is my younger brother who likes to go with me to tag buildings. You’ve probably met him before and don’t realize it.”

Our parents don’t let Amias present as a boy or use He/Him pronouns at school which is probably why Nox doesn’t recognize his voice.

“Anyways,” Everett says, “Amias shouldn’t be going with you. You shouldn’t be going in the first place.”

“Give up, Rett.” Everett hates Amias’ nickname for him, so Amias only uses it when he’s trying to bother Everett. “I’m going with Ember, and that’s final.”

“Seriously, dude,” I say, “you’re fighting a losing battle here. I’m pretty sure Nox gave up five minutes ago.”

“Ten, actually,” Nox says.

“Fine. But, when you two get arrested, I’m not bailing you out.”

“Whatever. We need to go before it gets too late. We won’t be back until close to 5 a.m. as it is.”

“Bye,” Nox says, “let me know when you get home.”

“Bye, idiots,” Everett says.

They hang up, and Amias starts going through the box to pick out the paints he wants. I always let him do his own thing when he comes with me, so he tends to pick out his own set of paints.

“Where’s the turquoise?” he asks, searching through the box.

He likes to use turquoise to tag his art, so I always make sure to have at least one can of it in the box.

“It’s probably at the bottom. I bought a new can a few days ago.”

He finds the can at the bottom and adds it to the bag he keeps in my room for when we go on “vigilante projects.” I make it a point to only vandalize buildings that are owned by people who deserve it. The bowling alley is a regular spot of mine and Amias’ because we’ve both had issues with the owner. This is Amias’ first time graffitiing someone’s house, and I can tell he’s both nervous and excited.

Once he’s picked out the paints he wants, we spend a few minutes arranging the cans and random articles of clothing in our bags in a way that will muffle the sound of the cans rattling and prevent the cans from bumping into each other. We can’t risk someone hearing the cans and putting two-and-two together. Not only do I not want to get my brother arrested, but I’d also like to avoid giving Everett the satisfaction of being right.

We start picking our way through the house; avoiding the last step because it creaks, crawling across the furniture in the living room to avoid making noise, and using the back door because it’s on the opposite side of the house from our parents’ and sister’s rooms and makes less noise. We hop the fence because the lock on the gate sticks and makes a lot of noise.

Ethan lives about a mile down the road, so it takes us a while to get there. We stop at a gas station to buy coffee about a half-mile from our house. I have to cross to the other side of the road to wait, but it’s worth it if it means getting coffee.

We walk the rest of the way in near silence. We never discuss our plans for a project, and tonight’s no different. We like to surprise each other with what we come up with.

Before we walk into the neighborhood, we slip on masks to hide our faces from security cameras and to protect us from the spray paint fumes. Ethan and Everett are on the football team together, and Ethan’s parents let Ethan throw parties when the team wins homecoming or championship games which means I go to his house a few times a year. His is the large, blue house at the back of the neighborhood. Even in the dark, it’s not that hard to find.

We get to Ethan’s house at nearly one o’clock. We drop our bags and pull out the colors we want to start with. Amias heads straight for the garage while I walk towards Ethan’s car. It was a sixteenth birthday present, and he treats it like it’s his child. He named it Roxy, so I spray “ROXY” in black on the newly cleaned hood. On the roof of the car, I paint a big, bright rainbow.

I look over to check on Amias and see that he’s nearly done with the outline of his masterpiece. Smiling, I move to the right side of the house. After locating Ethan’s window, I get to work.

About two hours later, Amias comes over to check on me. I’m nearly finished, so I shoo him away before he ruins the surprise. I add the last line and pull out my favorite, blood red paint. I add my tag and pull out my phone to take a picture. I have a password-protected folder labeled “art projects” that I keep the pictures of the work Amias and I do in. I walk over to the front of the house where Amias is to see his creation.

“You never fail to impress me, little dude,” I whisper.

“I know. And, stop calling me little. I’m the same height as you.”

I roll my eyes and pull out my phone to take a picture of the garage. He’s painted a picture of a pride parade that I recognize from his sketchbook. He likes to bring brushes and sponges with him to make things like this easier.

He grabs my hand and pulls me around to the side of the house I was working on. He stops when he sees what I’ve painted.

“Dude,” he says, “that’s amazing.”

I start to point out all the obvious flaws when he clamps a hand over my mouth.

“I don’t want to hear it,” he says, “you took a picture, right?”

I nod, and he removes his hand from my mouth. He stands there for a minute, tracing the painting with his eyes.

“You need to submit this to the art contest next year,” he says.

“I can’t for multiple reasons. Not the least of which is the fact that this is illegal.”

Amias starts to say something but stops when the light from the room above us turns on and the curtains open. We scramble to pick up our bags. Luckily, we’d learned the hard way to only have one can out at a time in case of situations like this. We’re nearly out of the driveway when the front door opens, and someone starts running after us. I start hoping it’s Ethan because he can run fast but not that far, and both Amias and I are used to running for long periods of time.

We’re halfway out of the neighborhood when I hear the footsteps behind us falter. We don’t stop running because we both have too much experience with being chased, and we know it’s possible he’s going to go back to get his car. We run until we reach a 24-hour convenience store we can duck into.

Amias and I are both covered in paint, so we head to the bathrooms in the back. There are only male and female bathrooms, so we both duck into the male bathroom knowing there’s no one except the bored cashier in the store. We head into separate stalls and start changing into the clothes we have in our bags. I take off my mask and the black beanie I used to hide my vividly red hair and change out of my black t-shirt and jeans into a grey hoodie and blue jeans. I reorganize my bag and head out of the stall to wait for Amias.

It’s another five minutes before Amias walks out. He’s wearing a navy-blue hoodie and a different pair of black skinny jeans. Like me, he’s taken off his beanie and has tied his hair into a flat bun at the nape of his neck. He’s slightly panting, and I think I know why.

“How long did you bind today?” I ask him calmly.

He looks at his feet and mumble something.

“What was that?”

“Almost fourteen hours.” His voice is shaking, and tears are falling from his face.

“Okay. Let’s get home. I think it’s safe to walk now. You’re taking that thing off as soon as we get home.”

“Alright. How long did you bind today?”

“About the same.”

He looks at me incredulously. I put my hands up in a defensive gesture.

“I’ve been binding since I was eleven. I can handle fourteen hours every now and then. I’m not saying it’s healthy or that anyone else can, but I don’t nearly pass out after fourteen hours.”

He glares at me and makes me promise to take it off as soon as we get home. I agree to, and we start walking home. It’s almost five a.m., and we have to be home before our parents wake up at six. We’re only a ten-minute walk from our house, so we’re not too worried.

We go back in the same way we left. I stop at the gate to text Nox and Everett to tell them we’re home safe. We have to be up by 6:30, so Amias and I decided on the walk to Ethan’s house that, if we got back with less than two hours until then, we’d hang out in my room. We have barely over an hour until we have to be up, so we head to my room. I open the door and freeze causing Amias to walk into me.

Lying on my bed, fast asleep, is our parents’ favorite kid: our fifteen-year-old sister, Hope. She got most of our mom’s genes, so rather than thick, dark brown hair, she has thin, blond hair. She’s the smaller of the three of us, so her thin, 5’4” frame would have been almost unnoticeable if it weren’t for her bright pink nightgown standing out against my black and blood red bedding. She’s also an incredibly light sleeper, so she wakes up at the sound of my bedroom door closing.

“Well, hello,” she says as sweetly as ever, “if it isn’t my two favorite sisters.”

She adds a heavy emphasis to the last word knowing it’ll bug us. She’s our parents’ favorite because she’s the “normal” one. This means she gets told almost everything and loves to get me and Amias in trouble as often as possible.

“What do you want this time?” Amias asks, obviously annoyed.

“You two snuck out,” she says, clearly enjoying this.

I roll my eyes and say, “okay? What do you want?”

She giggles and hops down from my bed to get in my face.

“You two are so dead when mom and dad find out.”

“You wouldn’t dare,” Amias says, his voice shaking slightly.

“I think I would. You see, mom and dad already resent you because you, Ember, are dangerous. They had to change their whole lives to accommodate a mistake like you. They resent you, Amias, because you take after our sister. You’re stubborn, you break the rules, you’re disrespectful, and you’re trying to reject the fact that you’re a girl. It’s quite fun, really, to watch you two get in trouble. Mom and dad get their revenge for you making their lives miserable, and I get spoiled for a month or two to make you jealous.”

“What do you want us to do?” I ask knowing she’s just trying to exploit us.

“Oh, nothing,” she says sweetly, “I’m just excited to find out what kind of trouble you two are going to be in.”

“You bi-,” Amias starts to say, but I clamp my hand over his mouth to prevent him from making things worse.

Cussing is punishable by getting our phones taken away for a week. Insulting Hope is punishable by being grounded for a week. I don’t know what happens when you combine the two, but I’m not eager to find out.

Hope giggles and skips out of the room. Amias and I turn to each other and question how we’re going to get out of this one. I don’t know that there is a way to avoid what will probably be the worst summer vacation ever, but I don’t voice that concern.

Amias walks into my closet to get changed while I change next to my dresser. When he comes out, we both sit on my bed and wait. He spends a few minutes trying to draw before giving up. Neither of us are feeling very creative at the moment.

He pulls out his phone and starts smiling at something. I look over to see a picture of my painting. What was only a few hours ago now feels like a lifetime ago. Amias gets out his sketchbook again and starts sketching my painting.

“What’re you up to?” I ask him.

“Oh, nothing,” he replies, “just sketching.”

We sit in silence for the next 40 minutes. We both know what’s going to happen as soon as we head downstairs for breakfast, but neither of us acknowledge it. I type out a message explaining how the night went and send it to Nox and Everett. It’s a Sunday, so Everett won’t be awake until around eight, but I’m not sure when Nox is going to wake up.

With ten minutes until breakfast, Amias and I start getting ready. We all have to be fully dressed and ready for the day before we come down for breakfast. Since we’re already in trouble, Amias and I decide to wear whatever we want and face the consequences together.

We start heading down the stairs, and I’m starting to realize where I got the inspiration for my painting. Hearing Hope’s sickeningly sweet voice doesn’t help.

“We are so dead,” Amias says.

I nod my head and continue walking into the dining room. Seeing my sister with a bright smile on her face and my parent’s fuming makes me picture my face in place of randomly mentally generated one I used in my painting. Mentally, I’m bloody, bruised, and crying, but I’m smiling through the pain.

Word count: 3,093

[barnesthesarge]

I Found (Part 3): Sugar Sugar

Bucky X enhanced!Reader

Warnings: Just some slight angst, not really any flashbacks in this one! Lemme know if I need to add something!!

Summary: Summary: as someone trying to get their life together, Bucky understands why you’re not coming around right away. He’s helpful in every way possible but there’s something more to his actions, when you get taken away from him you start to notice that.

The bright lights in the café made Bucky’s eyes appear even more blue, Y/N couldn’t help but think he looked handsome. She had never seen him that way, she tended to avoid thinking of anyone as attractive, it would only make her nervous.

Needless to say, she was nervous. “Do you know what you want?” He asked.

“I think maybe just the cinnamon coffee, it sounds pretty good.” She could barely hear Bucky over the sound of her heart.

“Go pick out a table for us, I’ll order.” She nodded and found a table in the very back, she set her phone down on the table and checked her father’s Facebook page again.

He had shared a video of her, well somewhat her. It was a news source that had a video clip of her using her powers during a mission. The title of the video was “New Avenger?”

He didn’t say anything about the video but Y/N was sure he knew it was her. She was so absorbed in the video she didn’t even notice Bucky sit down with their drinks.

“You alright?” He asked, sliding hers in front of her.

“Yes.” She said without hesitation, “Thank you.” She tucked her phone away.

“Did you look again?” He sounded disappointed, Y/N wanted nothing more than to get rid of the sad sound in his voice.

“My dad, he knows who I am.” Y/N’s fingers were trembling.

“And how do you know that? What’s wrong with him knowing who you are? You do great things for the planet.” She looked down.

“He shared a video on Facebook of me, he didn’t say anything but there’s no way he didn’t realize it was me.” Y/N took a sip of her drink and smiled, “this is really good. Thank you.”

He smiled in return, “So um, would it be weird for me to try and get to know you while we’re here? I don’t want to say something wrong.”

“Why do you want to get to know me so bad?” Y/N inspected Bucky, his hair was back in a bun, a loose strand pulled back behind his ear.

“It’s been stupid of me to not try and help you. You’ve been here for so long and none of us has tried enough. I figured being around you would make you notice me and talk to me first but after so long it was stupid of me. Everyone was so distant to me when I first got here and at first I liked it. It sucks isolating yourself and I don’t want you to do the same.” He drank his coffee black.

“I guess I understand. Being alone sucks. The day I..disappeared, I was with my friends. There was five of us and we were at the mall, I remember that we were getting clothes for school and my one friend Lindsey drove us all. We got jumped by these huge men, my friends couldn’t fight back well and neither could I, one girl was left there unconscious because she was too small. They knocked us all out with this disgusting gas that I swear I can still smell.” She grimaced, Bucky reached across the table and put his flesh hand on her wrist, cautiously.

“You don’t have to tell me this.” He spoke warmly, he gave her a soft squeeze on her wrist and she felt her cheeks turn bright red.

“What do you want to know?” She asked softly.

“Let’s start with your favorite things? We don’t have to talk about what happened to you doll, it doesn’t define you.” She nodded softly.

“I’ve always loved music. I had a stupid dream to be a musician someday, like singing my own songs to a crowd. I never really mastered them, but I played a couple instruments. My family was supportive and liked to hear me. I don’t know, when things get bad I listen to music from when I was younger.” He grinned, his white teeth on full display.

“What instruments did you play? Can you sing?” She rolled her eyes in response.

“I’m not bad, but don’t you dare think of this as an invitation to hear me. I could play guitar, piano, and ukulele. Not very good of course but I could. Don’t tell anyone or I’ll destroy you with my bare hands.” Bucky smirked and drank the rest of his coffee.

“What’s wrong with people knowing about who you are?”

“Familiarity is not only terrifying but dangerous.”

—————

“Ms Y/L/N, Mr. Stark has requested your presence in his office.” She groaned, she had enough social interaction to last her a lifetime.

“Alright thank you FRIDAY. Call me Y/N from now on. Congrats your on firstname basis with me.” She said sarcastically.

“Yes ma’am, Y/N it’s my job. He wants you to hurry up.” Y/N sighed and put her shoes back on, rushing to the elevator.

Once on the floor, she noticed his door was already open so she walked inside, noticing Bucky standing by Tony’s desk.

“Am I in trouble?” She chuckled and both men shared her gaze in return.

“Close the door and lose your attitude. I have a mission for you two.” Y/N rolled her eyes and shut the door.

“What’s the mission.” Y/N decided to keep her attitude just to throw Tony off.

“Stakeout, I got a tip from an anonymous watcher I have that this man, Everett Gilbert,” he pushed forward a picture of a middle aged man, “is selling alien tech he’s been stealing. And I want you two to pose as buyers to see what he’s doing. My tip also told me how to get in.”

“Tony, I hardly see how I’m needed for this mission. This is a one man job. Barnes is perfectly capable to do this on his own.” She tapped her fingers impatiently, waiting to be dismissed.

“Actually, maybe you should let me finish and you’ll see your roll, Y/N.” He snapped, “I want you two to pose as a couple, go in there all grossly to distract them from your identity’s, buy something small and let me analyze it, and if it’s what we’re looking for we’ll go right ahead and infiltrate and take everyone down.” She felt her stomach drop.

“I’m not comfortable with acting grossly with anyone. Natasha would be better.” Her Y/E/C eyes stared at Tony desperately.

“Y/N, the sooner you get to doing your job the easier. Barnes, are you rusty at holding hands with people?” He raised his eyebrows at Bucky, who hadn’t said a word.

“I don’t think you should push her on this.” Bucky mumbled, it sounded threatening.

“I want you two on this mission for a reason. I think it would be healthy for her to try and come around to people. That and both of you avoid the public eye so he might not recognize you.”

“Stop talking about me like this, I’m literally right here. I’ll do the mission, but you’ll owe me Tony. This is a lot for me. If I fuck it up, it’s on you.” He cracked a smile.

“Works for me, Barnes?” He looked at Bucky with an eyebrow raised.

“Alright. I’ll look over our instructions.” He took a folder from Tony and left the room without another word.

“How was your coffee hangout, I remember you calling it that and insisting it wasn’t a date.” Y/N huffed.

“Refreshing I guess.”

“You guess about a lot of things.” She chuckled.

“It was nice to talk to someone and not have it be solely about my messed up head. Is that better?” Tony nodded, he handed her a folder.

“Do you want to look over this together? Otherwise I can give it to FRIDAY and she can discuss it with you.”

“We can look over it together sure. It’s not too demeaning, is it? I can barely stand hugging you.” Tony laughed warmly.

“You said I stink. As far as I know James is quite groomed. I don’t think you’ll be hugging him. You just need to play the part I’ve given you.” They sat down on the couch and opened the folder.

“You want me to play as his sugar baby!? Tony what the fuck. I cannot stand you. This is crossing so many lines.” She buried her head in her hands.

“It’s a good thing you’re sitting down then. I think you’ll like it actually, it’s a fun role to play. You just get to mess with him, get to act ditsy, you just gotta cling to his arm and be all affectionate towards him. Look at my notes for you.”

“I fucking hate you.”

—————

Bucky read the notes carefully, his mouth agape and horrified. There was no way he wanted to do this, pretending to be in a relationship with Y/N was bad enough, but from what he was reading, this would strain their relationship.

Sam thought the situation was hilarious, “You get to be a sugar daddy! Hey this might be good, maybe she’ll realize she likes you after this. Play the part well Bucky, you never know!”

“Sam, have I ever told you I fucking hate birds?” Bucky looked at him evilly.

“What’re you gonna do? Kill me for laughing at you?” He smirked and left Bucky to go tell Steve about it.

Bucky left his room to talk to Y/N in her room. He knocked on the door and she opened it, she was sitting on her bed reading their instructions.

“Hey Y/N. You mind if I come in?” She looked up at him with a smirk.

“You just can’t seem to stay away from me, huh?” She teased, “come on in.”

“Are you uncomfortable with-with our mission?” She chuckled.

“Bucky, of course I’m nervous. I trust you and all, which is difficult for me to say. It’s weird. I guess I understand though, Tony is right, the whole PDA thing is distracting and makes people uncomfortable. I can play the part if you can play yours.” He sat down on her bed beside her.

“You don’t have to do this.”

“I know.” She replied. “We leave in the morning, don’t be late.”

Bucky nodded and left her room, going to his to pack up.

—————

A/N: hecc

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