buzz in the city


it’s really weird being in brighton. i wouldn’t call myself a country person but even when omitting my anxiety and other issues, the stark contrast between my town’s one bland shopping street and the constant buzzing of a bigger city is overwhelming

Sebastian Stan Romanian interview translation

Narrator: It is 9 A.M. in New York and the city is intensely buzzing. It’s full of people on Manhattan’s streets, an island that has represented the commercial, cultural and financial temple of America for many decades. Millions of souls animated by the noise of the streets, the reflections on the giant buildings and the savor of the coffee sold everywhere flood the arteries of the most cosmopolitan neighborhood of New York. On 428 Hudston Street, a young man is making his way to a coffee shop. (Sebastian saying “Nice to meet you, [formal] hello, Sebastian” in Romanian). He’s wearing a leather jacket but also a cap, to slightly hide his features, and he’s accompanied by a personal assistant. He speaks respectfully and immediately starts a conversation with the manager, an Australian married to a Romanian woman. He introduces himself simply, Sebastian, and he says he lives in the area. (The manager asks Sebastian if he was born in Romania, he says “Yes, I was. I was born in Romania”, both speak English).

Meet Sebastian Stan, the Romanian who, at 34, stars in the coolest Hollywood blockbusters. The world knows him as Bucky, Captain America’s best friend in the superhero trilogy which has brought him a climatic success in the past 4 years.

Sebastian: I like the whole group of people with whom I’m there making the movie very much, because we get along very well and… yeah, what I can say, (in English) it’s a very nice job.

Narrator: In Hollywood, everybody knows he’s Romanian, from his castmates to TV hosts, and everybody he collaborates with wants to hear him speak Romanian. With Sharon Stone, he flirted live in Romanian. He’s sexy, he’s got a million dollar body and he’s pursued by big advertising companies for various spots. In the industry, they say he has a killer smile. Ever since they found out he’s Romanian, more and more people are starting to talk to him in his mother tongue. He has won the admiration of millions of people from around the world, playing the role of the hot, bad guy which confronts almost all American symbols regarding heroes, characters inspired by comics like Iron Man or Captain America. He stars along Robert Downey Jr, Scarlet Johansson, Chris Evans, Hugo Weaving, Samuel L. Jackson and many other famous actors with whom he shares the sets.

Sebastian: Every time I wake up in the morning and I think that this is my work, what can I say, it feels very… unreal, like it’s just a dream, that someone’s paying me to hit someone else all day.

Narrator: He easily finds his words in Romanian while the conversation keeps playing. It’s not easy for him, seeing that he doesn’t have the chance to speak Romanian in either New York or Hollywood, in the fortress of American movies.

Sebastian: I have to thank my mom, because she… if it were me, I don’t know if I would still be able to speak Romanian. Because when you’re a small kid, you come here and you try to assimilate, you don’t want to be different, you want to fit in. So I have her and I have my dad, I also speak Romanian to him.

Narrator: His parents got divorced when Sebastian was 2, and his dad is still in America but on the West Coast. He visits him when he goes to Los Angeles to film, and he says his parents kept his interest for Romania alive.

Sebastian: I have to go back to Romania. I absolutely have to go back.

Rares Nastase: Do you feel that?

Sebastian: Yes, but it’s also about time. Now that I’m 34, it’s like I think a lot and I ask myself a lot about family and other things, and I have some questions about Romania and how it was during my time there. Because I left when I was 8.

Narrator: It happened in 1990. Sebastian was 8 and living in Constanta. Right after the revolution, his mom, a piano teacher, took him to Vienna, where they lived for 3 years before flying over the ocean to the United States.

Sebastian: It was very early, but I have some memories. What can I say about the communists and that situation, the least I remember is New Year’s Eve, when we had the TV on for the whole night, cause otherwise it we could only watch from 8 P.M. to 9 P.M.

Narrator: In front of a coffee with lots of milk, Sebastian says he’s happy about the success of the commercial movies which brought him fame, but he’d also like to play more profound roles.

Sebastian: Working on something which is about people, about family, about life, about what’s happening, that’s why I sometimes like European movies, because they always ask these questions that we have in life and ask ourselves everyday.

Narrators: And on this subject, he tells us that he’s keeping an eye on Romanian productions. He’s watched a lot of awarded European movies and he wants to collaborate with Romanian producers.

Sebastian: I started watching Romanian movies more and what can I say, I was… they’re better than American movies. I mean, directors like Cristi Puiu and the movies I’ve watched… The latest one was Graduation.

Narrator: He praises Romanians who make movies because talk about realities in the Romanian society, which he’s getting to know too. Romanian movies made him recently realize what his mother went through when she decided to emigrate with him thousands of miles from Romania.

Sebastian: Even if I didn’t grow up there, in Romania, if I haven’t known the situation in the past 10 years, I felt something because maybe I understood my mom better because of that film, the sacrifice, what it means for the kid, the ideas that we have at a certain moment and then how life turns out. Yes, I was very lucky, but I forget. When I was 22-23, I don’t think I was thinking about what it meant for her, after the revolution, to get up and go somewhere she can make money, to get us food. I didn’t ask those questions at 22, but now I look into it and I understand.

Narrator: Charm, ambition and talent is what made him star in Oscar movies. In The Martian, he stared alongside Matt Damon, and in Black Swan he filmed with Natalie Portman. He also stared in musicals and Gossip Girl, always in roles of irresistible men. But, in the most recent Captain America movie, he has a main role and he had lines in Romania after speaking to the producers about bringing up a bit of his natal country.

Sebastian: They knew I’m from Romania and that I was born there, so they did me a favor and wrote the scene so that it’d be in Romanian, because they knew I could speak it.

Narrator: After 18, he worked as a waiter in a Manhattan restaurant, in a time when he said every dollar counted. He was serving tables, but he didn’t give up his dream of playing on big scenes. His first casting was in Vienna when he was 10, and ever since then he was hoping to get to  Hollywood.

Sebastian: When we moved to Vienna, I tried to get into movies because I liked to imitate people, my grandparents.

Narrator: He feels strongly connected to Romania, he tells everyone that he was born in Constanta and he lived in an apartment building in a seaside town, which he visited in 2005.

Sebastian: I went to the beach, it was summer, I celebrated my birthday there in august, it was fantastic, it was very cool. I got the chance to see Constanta differently than when I was 8.

Narrator: He mentions a sad moment which has kept him in recent years from coming back to his hometown.

Sebastian: After mamaia [kind of like nana] died, to be honest it was a bit hard for me to go back because I know that if I go, then I have to go to the cemetery and I have to face what happened. It’s a very special situation.

Narrator: He becomes very serious when talking about his memories from Constanta in the days of the 1989 revolution. He was playing outside when the riot started.

Sebastian: I saw a white Dacia [Romanian car from that time] with about 6 people in it and they were yelling, they were about 20-25, and they had a flag with a hole in the middle.

Rares Nastase: And you remember the revolution?

Sebastian: Yes, and when I saw this car driving fast with the flag with the hole there, I felt… I always remember, that something major, very important was happening. I go on YouTube and I searched for Ceausescu [Romanian communist president who was killed after the revolution] and the helicopter came and he was going to run…

Rares Nastase: What did you think of that image?

Sebastian: I don’t know, but I felt something… I remembered as if the memory was in my muscles, it was in me, it felt like a knife going into me. That voice of his, when I heard his voice, it was… (in English) like it was yesterday. (in Romanian) Like it was the day before yesterday.

Narrator: He is assaulted with love all around the world, and he says he feels his Romanian roots. He’s always funny and careful about public appearances, but he welcomes his fans with smiles, jokes and even hugs. He travels a lot in Europe and Asia and in a lot of American cities to promote his movies. He goes to the gym almost every day, where he has a personal trainer, but he likes to recharge his batteries by walking the streets of New York for hours. He says that the buzzing of the city and the architecture give him a lot of energy.

Rares Nastase: Is celebrity changing you? Do you have to do things differently?

Sebastian: No, I don’t think I have to do things differently, but I realize the idea of time. You feel a bit like you have more responsibility till the end. What are you doing with your time? Okay, you made some money, now what do you do with them? If you want to have fun, you have fun and that’s your life. If you want to do something important, to leave something behind, to have someone ask a question about your work later, after you died… that’s what changed the most, responsibility.

Narrator: Beyond the climatic success, American newspapers have also been talking about his private life, about relationships he’s had. He dated Leighton Meester for a few years, Gossip Girl co-star, then he had a long love story with the Russian Margarita Levieva, with whom he stared in Spread. This summer, however, there were rumors about a breakup between the two of them because of jealousy. Sebastian Stan agreed to also tell us about this aspect.

Sebastian: It’s hard, I mean I always wonder and question how it’s possible for relationships to work in this business. I mean look at Brad Pitt and Angelina Jolie. With all the opportunities, all the money in the world, problems are problems. It’s very hard because you leave for a long time, you don’t film in one location. You film in a location here, then you go to a location there for three months, then again, and it’s hard to maintain a relationship. I certainly want to have kids and to get to a point where I could have a family and work on interesting projects with directors whom I admire.

Narrator: He told us what the latest rumors in Hollywood are about good places to film in Eastern Europe.

Sebastian: Lots of movies were going to Budapest and another place, and now there’s something with a tax and all those movies are going to come here.

Narrator: At his mom’s home, in New York, he always eats Romanian food.

Sebastian: With mititei, mamaliga, sarmale [Romanian foods], every Christmas we have sarmale, Boeuf salad, I can never forget that.

Narrator: At 34, Sebastian Stan is recommended by the whole world and he shares blockbusters with quality stars. From Romania, to the country of possibility. From the years of Romanian communism, to the heights of success, he doesn’t forget to be a good Romanian.

Sebastian: An actor’s life in kind of hard, because you’re responsible until the end about what you do. It doesn’t really feel like there’s enough time on this planet.

Narrator: He’s optimistic about Romania. He trusts that Romanians can do beautiful things. He started from the bottom and followed his childhood dream. He hoped and he didn’t give up. He searched and he keeps searching to prove that he has talent. Sebastian Stan shows the whole world that Romanians are special, that they are smart and beautiful and respectful. That they succeed because they have the ambition to follow any great dream, no matter the obstacles.

Sebastian: Thank you, greetings from New York, I’m very glad that I could speak to all of you today and I hope to see you in Constanta or Bucharest.


Neon lights
   and humdrum
     she buzzes
        fast paced
     and bright
only surface deep,
   And when I wander
   walking an inch of time
under yellow street lamps,
                 the silver fog
    of the night’s breath
crisp on my lips,
    my shadow stretches free
        elongating on walls
around wide open alleys,
    I meet her
        stripped bare
& far too lonely.

© SoulReserve 2016

Every morning when I wake up, my mother sees my dead looking eyes and asks “what’s wrong?”
And every morning I tell her,
“Nothing at all”
After all, nothing is wrong. The moon is still revolving around earth, and earth is still revolving around the sun. The birds are still chirping, this city is still buzzing.
And this is how life is supposed to be isn’t it? Sometimes soul mates aren’t meant to be together, sometimes one becomes unhealthy for the other. So you move on, find new people to love and you never allow yourself to wonder
“will I ever love anyone else I meet the same way I loved them?”
But I’m an over thinker, and that question is always on the back of mind.
“will I ever really be able to move on?”
“If nothing is wrong, then why do you have that look on your face?” my mother asks again.
And I don’t know what else to do except to shrug at her and walk away.
Because nothing is wrong.
Nothing is wrong, but I still wake up half dazed because I would rather be in dreamland than in a reality that refuses to acknowledge my pain.
Nothing is wrong, yet my chest is always tight and there’s a constant imaginary lump in my throat; just on the verge of crying but not quite there.
Nothing is wrong at all, but I suck at goodbyes; and even more so at talking about it.
Nothing is wrong, but nothing is right either.
—  and life goes on, apparently. // a.b

Sebastian Stan arrives at the Big Morning Buzz Live show on February 4, 2014 in New York City.

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when the stars whisper

Originally posted by 1980vibes

Genre: fairy!au, based on @lthyl ‘s request which i delayed for a decade and half :*

Pairings: readerxjimin

Words: 3.5K

Summary:  When did we stop believing in fairy tales? 


There’s something whimsical about tonight. Maybe its  the way the stars appear brighter than usual, adorning the inky night sky like sprinkles of gold dust.

Underneath the vast expanses of the starlit skies, the city hustles and buzzes with life. Jimin watches closely, the way humans scurry around like ants lost in a maze of concrete jungles and streetlights. From where he sits perched at the very edge of a skyscraper, wind blowing his golden hair, he feels a certain longing bloom, unfurling its hopeful petals inside his chest.

 Hope is a treacherous thing and he’s afraid of the dangerous desires brewing deep within him.

It’s funny, he thinks, how humans waste away their lives longing for fairy tales and a life of wandering amongst the stars, but the stars don’t hold Jimin’s attention tonight. The only thing he painfully longs for in vain, is something further away to him than the stars are to the humans on this particularly starry night.


There seem to exist certain blank spaces in between the events that you cannot recall for the life of you, and as you stare at the blossoms of blue and violet underneath the skin that stretches taut across your wrists, you can only hope that the you from the night before hadn’t really been involved in anything life changingly stupid.

Being the ever studious and ever so meticulous university kid you’ve always been, it’s hard to decipher what exactly had possessed you the evening before an extremely crucial test to give in to the whining persistence of your sometimes annoying best friend.  

“You’ve been glued to your desk for days, Y/N!” You remember her complain to you in her chirpy voice over the phone. “You need, like NEED, to blow off some steam before you self implode…  explode whichever.”

You spring off the bed, warily approaching the full length mirror that stands in the corner- it’s metallic edges, glint silver in the bleak morning light that now filters in past your rather translucent curtains, throwing a weak yet mesmerising spectrum of iridescence on your white walls. Giving into her constant whining had obviously been a bad idea when she had waltzed away from your side quite early into the night never to return again. Dancing had never been your scene so you groan somewhat remembering yourself flopped at the bar closest to the dance floor instead, as you tried to hold a pretty slurred and very much one sided conversation with the poor bar tender about the beauty of trigonometry.

Assessing your haggard reflection, you’re quite surprised that your drunken self from the night before had somehow held enough decencies to have at least changed out of the skin tight dress before losing to the sweet oblivions of sleep. You inspect your skin closely, twirling around in your ivy blue nightie that barely reaches the top of your thighs, and you’re genuinely pleased when you see no other bouquets of shameful violet decorating your skin. But apart from that, you’re a mess really. Your hair’s a hay stack- with your artfully styled curls resembling more of a bird’s nest now, and your eyeliner’s smudged, as if you had been crying your soul out all night. All that remains of your bright lipstick, is the faint residue of dusted rose that sits engrained within the delicate grooves and creases of your lips and you surely look like a character straight out of some low budgeted horror flick.

In that moment, you halt all movement, surprised when in the wake of a very faint memory which is enshrouded in a brilliant brightness and yet too fuzzy and unreal for you to be able to actually focus on. A slight tingle rushes across the plump flesh of your lips and you bring your hands to your mouth, running thin fingers over them, as you feel your heart beat quicken, for well, seemingly no reason.

“Well, well now-” A sickeningly sweet and ridiculously melodic voice, rings out across your room, and you jump, literally jump a mile out of your skin as you whip around.

“How good of a kisser I must be that you’re still feeling the after-shocks of last night, eh?”

Your mouth falls open in silent terror when your wild eyes finally find the boy, the absolute stranger, who lounges lazily on your bed as if he very rightfully belongs there when you definitely remember waking up alone. He stares back at you, a shamelessly wide smile stretching on his pretty lips, and the smile screams trouble and is nowhere close to sincere. You slowly back up against the wall, your trembling knees seeking the support of something stable because they threaten to give in otherwise.

He rakes a hand through his dishevelled hair, golden strands threading in between his slender fingers before slipping through like fine silk and despite the bubbling fear, you feel your heart flutter in a manner so strange that it’s novel. It thumps like a bass drum against your ribcage- and you’re almost certain that none of it is just because of the adrenaline that pumps alongside fear in your veins. You only watch mesmerized- so thoroughly smitten by the strangers beauty that you actually find yourself almost forgetting that you’re, infact, supposed to be scared, and, no matter how useless an attempt you should be desperately yelling for help. 

“W-who-wha-you?” You stammer out incoherently and your voice is an unfamiliar squeak. 

However he seems to understand, smirking devilishly in response as he, without a care, without a shame, locks his arms around the back of his neck only to lean back comfortably against the head board of your bed. His eyes never leave yours the entire while and you find yourself, withering away by the minute under his intense stare.

“So you don’t remember me? I’m kind of hurt here.” He sneers, smirk wiping clean off his face as a feigned hurt takes over his perfectly sculpted features.

 "I’ve n-never seen y-“ you are cut short and your claims still hang in the air with an empty hollowness because just then he moves so fast, you’d deem it humanly impossible.

And within a flash he’s standing in front of you, grabbing at your wrists  the moment you throw your hands up in defence. With an iron clad grip he harshly pulls you towards the bed, all along treating your body as if you were no more than a life sized rag doll. You let out a piercing scream that’s cut short when you stumble, helplessly falling flat on top of the mattress. Air whooshes out your lungs in a loud huff and alarms go off in your head as you take in the predatory stance with which the boy then leans down, hovering on top of you- trapping you like a defeated animal within the cages of his strong arms, effortlessly barring all your escape routes from underneath him.

“Humans are awfully forgetful.” He accuses, voice sounding a bit breathless. A thin veil of nonchalant calmness masks a desperation, an urgency much greater than what he shows. You swallow, shrivelling like a dead leaf under his the venomous gaze. You’re scared out of your mind, finally realizing how utterly helpless you really are. Lying underneath an absolute stranger in your own bedroom which had suddenly started to feel so foreign in his unwelcomed presence, you’re too afraid to envision the various blood stained scenarios that threaten to conquer your consciousness.

You whimper softly, a lone tear leaking down your face before you can even realize. Past your blurry vision you try to read the expressionless mask the stranger wears on his beautiful face, but it gives off absolutely nothing. Seeing your pitiful state, something seems to shift in his gleaming eyes, and appearing almost apologetic he straightens up, releasing you from his stronghold with an exasperated sigh. He’s obviously irritated by your inability to recognize him but no matter how hard you try to reach out for the memories that might hold even a fleeting glance of his face, his presence, you come up with absolutely nothing.You wipe your eyes, roughly with the back of your hands and as your gaze shifts up, you very embarrassingly notice, for the very first time the lack of clothing on the boy. He wears a pair of tight black jeans, hugging his thighs just right and ripped artfully at his knees and thighs, but other than that his lean yet muscular torso’s completely bare. It’s strange but you can’t help but notice the way he wears his own skin, with a kind of poise that makes his part-nakedness appear absolutely normal. Infact he even appears regal.

He begins to pace the room lazily, his hands covering his troubled eyes.

When he pauses for a moment his body facing the window and the streaming sunlight at a certain angle, it is as if you’re really looking for the first time and your eyes land on something you absolutely don’t believe seeing. Shaking your head, you blink rapidly- but they refuse go away; they don’t vanish into nothingness like they should, for there was no way on earth that they were real.

But given the angle they are at, growing like giant petals from his shoulder blades are the two thin membranes, fluttering a mile a minute. The boy cocks his head, turning to look at you over his shoulder, as if somehow sensing your bewildered gaze boring into his back. You find it hard to wrap your head around the fact that, indeed there are wings protruding from his back. W.I.N.G.S you spell out in your head for your sanity’s sake. For a moment they still, letting you see the network of veins running all throughout them like threads which glitter like gold everytime they catch the peeking sunlight.

"What are you?” you ask shakily, after maybe minutes or maybe an hour of being rendered speechless.
“A fairy.” He replies, as if he’s only stating the obvious and as if you're nothing more than one those difficult five year olds who only question the most self-explanatory things.

And then it hits you like a ton of bricks, the memory seeping in behind your closed eyelids like the same golden glow that that had lit up the darkest of alleyways the night before, as if the sun had descended down to the earth, merely to brighten that narrow strip of the world around the two of you. The memory comes with the soft sensation of his plushy lips, gently moving in sync against yours, the motion being so sweet, so full of emotion that you can physically feel the butterflies erupt in your stomach like a volcano. You can feel his harsh grip on your wrists, an action contrary to the ministrations of his gentle mouth and you can almost hear his ragged breathing, the thumping of your hearts. As the kiss gets fiercer with both passion and raw desperation so does the blinding light, which seems to be emanating from him somehow, grows brighter by the minute.

The memory comes to an abrupt end the same way the glowing boy had vanished from underneath your touch the night before, leaving you-reaching out for thin air, only to find nothing but the cool damp brick walls and the eerie darkness of the night.

“You’re the guy from the club last night!” You exclaim, cringing at how loud you were being.

He clicks his tongue, chuckling slightly as he turns to face you. “More like: You’re that absolutely breath-taking guy I made out with last night.” He corrects slyly, watching you become a hot mess with your blushing cheeks and indignant huffs.

 "Who also happens to be a psychopath, who calls himself a fairy.“ You retort.

But then your face is serious again, your eyes wandering over to find the tips of his wings,  rising from behind either of his shoulders, the very reminders of the queer possibility that the boy who stands in front of you might not even be human. "Fairies don’t exist.” you state bluntly, not wanting to believe any of it in fears of losing your sanity the moment you do.

“Yeah, the same way your brain doesn’t.” He mocks openly, eyes alight even though his face is deadpan.

“That’s it. Leave now or else I’m calling the police. Hell how did you even break into my room?” You threaten, trying to sound as convincing as possible even though you know your phone’s probably still in your bag which is very conveniently nowhere in sight. You’re sure he senses the emptiness of your threat as well for he shrugs as if to say go ahead, challenging you to do something you obviously can’t do. You don’t move an inch not knowing what to do really. Your eyes keep returning to the wings and you ache to touch them speculating whether they’ll vanish like a dream even with the slightest of your touch.

“What’s holding you back babe?” He asks you the obvious, enjoying your discomfort more than he should. “Just a quick reminder though… most normal humans don’t really see me. Also you should stop staring so much. ” He mutters the last bit and shocked you avert your eyes cursing yourself silently for being so stupid.

“Why do I see you then?” You ask wondering if he was only bluffing you just to keep you from calling for help.“That’s my question to you.” He says in response baffling you even further. “Why do you see me Miss Human.”

You don’t know whether you should laugh, at the sheer absurdity of it all. Not only was a psychotic full grown man telling you that fairies exist, but apparently you were a psychopath as well, seemingly gifted with some supernatural vision of sorts. What were you? A ghost whisperer for crying out loud?

“I’m real” he says, as if reading the turmoil that’s churns loudly in your head, his words looking to reassure to you, your sanity in this absolutely mad scenario. You give your head a shake when you find yourself almost believing him. No way any of this was real.

“Why are you here then?” You ask, standing your ground now more than ever. “Shouldn’t you be fluttering around in some magical meadow tucked away in the forests of never land sprinkling gold dust like confetti?”

“Well, yeah I truly should be.” He replies sounding rather honest, and it takes you aback.  “Also the pollution of the city is affecting my health- I don’t get how you humans live in such filth. Also Namjoon must be missing me.” He completes, saying it all more to himself than to you. You do not understand, neither do you wish to. You were an ordinary girl in an extremely ordinary world. You plaster an awfully fake smile onto your face. “You don’t wish to live in this little pigsty like world of ours, right? Then maybe you should just leave.”

 He chuckles and it’s a rather beautifully troublesome sound.

“Not just yet. This world might be a pigsty but I think I just found my favourite little piggy.”


Time waits for no one.

Neither do you, Y/N- who won’t allow a strange nonsensical fantasy to threaten your very sensible reality. Y/N has never been late for a lecture in her entire 20 years of living and today was going to be no exception.

You storm into your bathroom before he can react, his little term of endearment grating on your nerves as if it were steel wool. You make sure to lock the door behind you (not sure if it were enough to keep a creature like him out though) as you turn on the faucet getting ready to shower. All by yourself, you somehow try to restrain the flurry of emotions threatening to claw out of your trembling heart and driving you berserk. You push fear and logic aside, instead contemplating idly as to what might have lead to you getting caught up in such a sheer misfortune spelled out like a curse on you.  Had you woken up on the wrong side of your bed? Or, had the foolish you assassinated the emperor of a holy land in cold blood sometime in your previous life? Either ways fate had finally latched on to your throat, deciding to make you pay in the most insane and mythic of ways; that was for sure.

Somehow pulling together a somewhat decent outfit and pulling your unruly hair back into a pony tail you stumble back out into your room. For a moment you hope to find the place empty, hope that the fairy had finally crawled back into his fairy tale where it rightfully belonged; but to your disappointment, like an embodiment of every single misery of your own, he stands there, arms crossed across his still very naked chest, in the very middle of your room. The memory from last night trickles into your mind and your heart beat grows erratic once again. An irrational part of you aches to be that close to him once again and that irrational you aches to feel him against you in a way where it was hard to tell where he began and you ended. A shameful blush blooms across your cheeks and you can only hope that it slips his attention. How many eons would it take to grow immune to his obvious good looks?

“Definitely not as sexy as last night but I still approve.” He sings and he seems to be scrutinising you the same way you’re doing him. And the sinister smirk on his astoundingly beautiful face makes the last of pink from your face fade. You literally growl at him in irritation, wondering if a human was strong enough to rip a fairy’s annoyingly pretty head off. However, violence wasn’t an option when your race against time had no intention of losing its pace and if you didn’t hurry you’d be late for your test.

“Go back to your mythical land you useless creature. I’ve got reality to attend to.” You sigh dejectedly, not knowing what to do or expect. How long was he planning on lurking around here? And it’s only for a moment but the smugness falters from his face, and you catch a glimpse of regret and something entirely else through the cracks.

You turn around not wanting to see anymore. Grabbing your house keys from the nearly shelf as you head towards the door to your apartment, you half-heartedly hope that a fairy would have better intentions than burglarizing the flat of an already debt ladden university student. “Well then I hope you enjoy your stay here. Just make sure you disappear by the time I get back.” You say without turning back. Your words are met with silence when you had very much been expecting a lame sarcastic retort and you whip around, your eyes searching for the fairy but finding him nowhere. Maybe you had hit a nerve with your sharp words, maybe you had been a bit too harsh. He was gone.

You should be rejoicing, truly rejoicing. Afterall, you had finally woken up from your rather drawn out nightmare, but you fail to understand why instead of relief your heart gives you a painful squeeze, leaving you slightly breathless and uneasy. You think back to the inkling of sorrow you had witnessed on his face a few moments ago and you find yourself curious as to how devastatingly beautiful the curve of his plush lips lifted into a genuine smile would look like. You didn’t even know his name, that is, if he had one.Guess you’d never know now and maybe it shouldn’t bother you this much. He was gone and this was definitely good riddance.

You’re not convinced.

“What’re you spacing out for?” His voice rings out once again but definitely not from where you expect it to come from, but you feel the cool touch of his hand as it wraps around your own and you almost immediately jerk back in absolute shock, either from the sudden charge that cackles like electricity where his skin’s comes into contact with yours or from the fact that he’s standing outside your door instead of inside your room- a door he had definitely never gone through. Of course you think.

“So where are we headed?” He asks, his mask of smugness back on in full throttle and the mischief in his voice as present as ever.

“School.” You mutter brushing past him as you go on ahead before he notices the way a silly grin almost threatens to break through.

“Also… put on a damn shirt you monster.”


Summary: Lena has a thing for Kara in glasses. Kara notices.

Kara doesn’t need to wear her glasses at home.

She knows this. In the comfort and safety of the apartment, there was no need for her to conceal her identity, and from this high above the city, the buzz of the streets below were rarely enough to bother her even without the lead-lined spectacles.

Yet, sometimes she still did.

Maybe it was because they brought her some small comfort, gave her fidgeting fingers something to adjust whenever her anxiety got the better of her.

Maybe it was because wearing them meant being able to relax a bit, not having to stay alert for robberies or shootings or fires from midair as she often did.

Or maybe, just maybe, it was because she’d noticed Lena’s…affinity for them.

It wasn’t spoken, per se. It was conveyed in the way Lena would find ways to be in near-constant contact with her, the way her heart fluttered slightly when she first noticed that Kara was wearing them. It was barely-there lip bites and the soft, not-quite-innocent press of lips against her jaw. It was neck massages that weren’t asked for (but still readily accepted) and heated glances and the way that Lena would ultimately find herself straddling Kara’s lap before too long.

To be honest, Lena’s “thing” for her glasses had become borderline pavlovian. Almost consistently, the days on which Kara would slip the frames on in the morning would end with both women spent and slightly sweaty, curled up together in the sheets of their bed.

Today was one such day. It’d been a long week for both of them. Lena had had back-to-back meetings, conference calls, and press conferences almost every day, her feet not crossing the apartment floor until well after midnight each night. Kara, too, had her fair share of irritations over the past few days; between Snapper’s harsh comments and several grueling brawls as Supergirl - the most recent of which nearly caused her to blow out her powers - the stress of the week had eaten away at her sunny disposition, dimming her typically radiant light.

But not today. Lena had taken the weekend off and Alex had insisted that Kara take the weekend off to recuperate, so by the time that Lena strolled out of their bedroom around eleven in heather grey Calvin Kleins and an off-white sweater, she found the Kryptonian curled up in a chair by the long panel windows, a campy scifi novel in hand and glasses perched upon the bridge of her nose.

Lena didn’t want to distract her, for now. She just allowed herself a minute or two of comfortable silence while gazing upon her girlfriend, a smile tugging at the corners of her mouth contentedly. Sitting there, in boyshorts an oversized L-Corp tee from one of Lena’s marketing events a few weeks prior, her legs tucked up text to her in the comfort of the plush recliner, she looked so…Kara.

She emerged from the kitchen a short while later, feather-light pancakes piled high on a large, white plate for Kara and coffee, more cream than anything, in a heavy blue ceramic mug for herself. The clatter of the plate against the coffee table startled Kara, who jumped slightly in her seat, causing Lena to chuckle softly. After gathering herself, Kara smiled warmly at Lena and moved to sit on the large black couch beside her. As Kara ate, glasses still on, her girlfriend - her fiancé, after last night’s dinner - snuggled in beside her, leg pressed against hers and one hand resting innocently on Kara’s bare thigh.

The Kryptonian smiled to herself, knowing where this would lead. Adjusting her glasses, she forked the last of the pancakes, moaning softly as the taste of maple hit her tongue once again.

“Baby, those were delicious,” she said, turning to smile at the CEO tucked securely against her side. Kara smirked, almost imperceptibly, as a plan hatched in her mind.

Swiping her fingertip across the final few droplets of the sweet, sticky syrup, she grinned innocently at the woman beside her, her eyes poorly disguising the desire that threatened to blow her pupils wide. “Here,” she said, bringing her finger to Lena’s lips. “Try some.”

Lena’s gaze was heavy and hot as it locked with Kara’s own, eyes unmoving as the finger slipped between plush lips, the CEO’s tongue swirling around the hero’s fingertip softly. She released the finger gently as green eyes fluttered closed before meeting bright blue ones once again, her token smirk playing on her lips.


A whimper snuck its way out of Kara’s mouth, feeding the growing hunger behind Lena’s eyes. Using her arms as support, she pulled herself up off the couch before settling in the Kryptonian’s lap, one leg on either side of strong thighs.

It wasn’t new to them, this sense of intimacy, but the glint of the rings on their fingers certainly was. Kara thought back to the night before, to the rooftop picnic and soft love songs; to kissing and dancing; to that moment, under the stars, when they looked at each other and felt the world stop spinning; the the one right after when both of them dropped to one knee because of course, of course they would try to propose on the same night, and she smiles.

So when Lena’s fingers carded through her honey-colored hair with a whispered “may I kiss you,” it was all Kara could do to sigh out an “always” before their lips meet.

But a second later, she was giggling against Lena’s mouth. She couldn’t help it, Lena’s fingers had traced the sides of her glasses and confirmed Kara’s budding suspicions about the CEO.

“What’s got you in such a good mood?” Lena asked, her eyebrow cocking up in the way she knew made Kara’s heart skip a beat.

“I’m starting to think you have a thing for me in glasses, Miss Luthor,” the hero teased, trapping her lower lip playfully between her teeth.

“Hey, that’ll be Mrs. Danvers to you soon.” Lena smiled at the thought, caught up in the lovingly playful aura that seemed to surround her beloved. “And besides, what if I do?”

Kara’s hand reached up to cup Lena’s face, thumb brushing softly against her cheek. “I don’t mind, you know. I just don’t understand.” That slightly puzzled, tilt-headed look overtook the blonde, who somehow managed to now look even more like a puppy.

Relaxing her posture a bit, Lena brought her arms to rest upon Kara’s shoulders softly, her head falling to nuzzle into the junction of the honey-haired girl’s neck and shoulder, laying a soft kiss on the skin there.

“I don’t have to share you like this.”

“What do you mean?” Kara asked, brow furrowed. Lena pulled back and pressed a chaste kiss to her lips, one hand moving to gently run through the girl’s hair.

“Without them, when you’re out there as Supergirl, I have to share you with National City, with everyone who relies on you. And I love that, I do. Your heart, your selflessness, is one of the main reasons that I fell for you.

"But when you’re here, away from it all, with those adorable glasses on even though I know you don’t need them…” Lena added, her hand tightening in golden hair and tugging just so, lips pressing hot, open-mouthed kisses to the tan skin of Kara’s neck. “When you’re here, I don’t have to share you.”

She smirks devilishly against the girl’s increasingly warm skin before moving up slightly, nipping at Kara’s ear and whispering. “When you’re here, you’re all mine.”

Kara’s hands flew to Lena’s body, one to her hip and the other on her neck, guiding her towards Kara’s eager lips. When they kissed, it was a clash of lips and teeth and tongues and emotion, a promise and a prayer and a thank you. Warm hands skimmed the hem of Lena’s sweater and tugged lightly before she nodded her permission, their lips separating just enough to allow the garment to slipover Lena’s head and onto the floor.

More skin was revealed as Kara, too, shed her top, leaving the two both very shirtless and increasingly turned on, a tenderness cloaked in heat as lips, teeth, and hands wandered and explored bodies that each knew by heart. Kara kissed and nipped her way down Lena’s neck, her collarbone, her chest until she finally, finally reached her breasts, dipping to capture a pebbled nipple between pillowy lips as the dark haired woman writhed and moaned above her, hands buried deep in Kara’s hair.

“Bed. Now,” Lena managed, and Kara, despite Alex’s orders not to over exert herself, wrapped Lena’s legs around her as she stood and all but ran to the bedroom, her girlfriend’s hot center pressed against ever-rippling abs through the fabric of her underwear.

Kara settled between Lena’s legs after setting her down on the bed, head propped up on a large pillow for more comfort (an unnecessary but tender gesture that hinted at the golden heart that lay within the blonde’s chest, making Lena’s heart flutter even still). Hooking her thumbs under the band of the CEO’s Calvins, Kara looked to Lena with a question in her eyes, one answered by hands in her hair and a half-whimpered plea of “please, Kara.” A second later, the underwear were pulled down ivory legs and discarded somewhere across the room, and Lena felt warm, full lips press a soft, slow kiss to the skin just below her navel.

Warm hands ran gently across Lena’s sides, her stomach, her thighs, her skin heated and flushed as she arched, breathing heavily, black hair splayed across the white satin of the pillowcase. She could feel the tender press of Kara’s lips on her inner thighs, the dulled dig of the corner of her girlfriend’s glasses on the flesh of her leg, before blue eyes peeked out from behind false lenses to meet green, and the press was gone.


Lena nodded quickly, desperately. “Good.” She whined as Kara ran her fingertips dangerously close to her center, seemingly absentmindedly “Please, baby.”

Kara chuckled softly before ducking down and capturing Lena’s now-swollen clit in a soft, languid kiss, and a moan tore its way from the back of the raven-haired girl’s throat. Smiling against Lena’s hot center, slick with her arousal, and Kara gazed up at her fiancé, eyes locking as she set a leisurely pace with her tongue.

The moans creeping out from Lena’s throat increased in pitch and volume as she watched the girl between her legs, glasses still on, drag her skilled tongue up the length of her. Lena’s eyes fluttered shut and she arched, head thrown back against the goose down pillow, as Kara’s name passed her lips amongst a string of expletives.

From the quickening of the CEO’s heart, Kara could tell that she was close, even without Lena’s plea for “oh god, more, Kara, please.”  She threaded her fingers through those of Lena’s free hand - the one not currently tangled in long, blonde hair - and brought the others down just below her mouth.

Lena wasn’t expecting the two fingers that slid into her, and they were met by a strangled cry, her grip tightening in Kara’s hair and where their fingers intertwined, pressed against the mattress at her side. “Kara, oh fuck…”

The Kryptonian’s pace, both of her tongue and hand, picked up, fingers curling just so to brush the spot she knew made Lena fall apart. She hummed low when her actions were met with piercing moans from the woman beneath her, the vibration sending an extra shockwave through Lena’s core that was just enough to push her over the edge with cries of Kara’s name amidst praises and, on occasion, an “I love you.”

So maybe Lena returned the favor by letting a still-bespectacled Kara ride her face shortly thereafter.

And maybe Lena has a thing for Kara in her glasses.

But Kara certainly doesn’t mind.

Fire and Ice (Part One)

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Warnings: Angst, Language, Violence

Summary: You have been recruited by Fury to help Tony with some work in the compound. At first you’re closed of from the group, especially with your secret powers. But as time goes by you feel yourself being attracted to the mysterious man called Bucky Barnes. Will you let Bucky in and show him your true self or will you push everything away you come to love?

Word Count: 1.010 

A/N: This is my first Bucky fanfic. I hope you’ll enjoy it and don’t be afraid to message me when you have questions and requests.

Originally posted by bovaria

You have lived in New York all your life and really liked the city life. The constant buzz of people, made you energetic and kept you going. Even after that horrible evening you stayed in the city, even if it was smarter to just leave. That was another thing you liked about the city, the people didn’t judge you.

You sighed as the cab you were in took you father away from the city you loved so much. It had been a hard decision to leave, but you couldn’t let this opportunity go to waste.

You had spend your life on studying genes and at a young age you knew how to manipulate them. You won a Nobel Prize with your research when you were only 20. Even the accident couldn’t stop you from doing the thing you loved. That’s why you couldn’t refuse Fury when he offered you a job at the compound.

Keep reading

hazy mornings in bed with calum and the distant buzzing of the city’s early risers would be drowned out by the sound of calum’s tiny snores as he laid beside you, arms wrapped around you and his head against your chest, and your lips would be pressed against his forehead as you laid drowning in the golden rays of the rising sun. calum would shuffle awake quietly as your fingers played with his tiny curls, and he’d groaningly murmur “hey” with the softest, most beautiful smile his tired face could muster. his lips would graze against your skin as his sleepy eyes gleamed golden in the bright light. he’d shuffle an arm beneath your neck and grab hold of your hip as he pulled your body closer, craving the taste of your lips against his tongue - a pleasure you couldn’t and wouldn’t deny him. after a moment you’d pull back just slightly, smiling as you admired the love of your life. “have i ever told you how cute you look when you sleep?” you’d mutter with a soft voice and calum would chuckle in response as he shook his head. “you watch me sleep?” he’d ask curiously and you’d blush just slightly as you shrugged with a gentle “yeah.. sometimes” in response. calum wouldn’t be freaked out tho, he’d simply connect his lips with yours again before whispering “you’re crazy” with the most gentle, fond voice ever, and you’d just giggle at him and mutter “but that’s why you love me, silly”

Bruce Wayne x reader

Reader tends to Bruce’s wounds after a rough night of protecting Gotham.

The moonlight was casting a silver glow over the room as I gazed out of the window, I always found it difficult to sleep when Bruce was out, fighting crime and saving lives as Batman. I knew I was being selfish when I wanted him to stay, the city needed him and in some ways he needed Batman. I was being lulled to sleep by the rumbling buzz of the city below when I heard Bruce come stumbling into the penthouse. Something was wrong, I could never usually hear Bruce, his years of training making it nearly impossible to detect his movements. I was out of our bed in a second and rushing towards were he was struggling to reach the sofa without collapsing. He bearly had his cowl off before I was frantically assessing his body for wounds.
“M'okay baby, just a scratch” His mumbled words trailed off into a hiss of pain as my hands discovered the wound across his stomach. If this is what Bruce called a scratch I was terrified to think what any other injury would look like. I awkwardly attempted to remove his amour, causing Bruce to laugh at my failing efforts. However, his laughs quickly transformed into groans of pain as I aggravated his bruised ribs with my struggles.
“Sorry, god I’m so sorry Bruce” His gaze softened when he saw how panicked I’d become, the smile of his face should have reassured me but I was distracted by the agony that was present in his eyes.
“S'okay, lemme help” His slurred speech was alarming me even more, the logical side of me knew that he was fine, just tired and overcome by the pain of a wound he could easily survive. But the part of me ruled by my heart was a mess, desperately searching for a way to help him.
Finally I managed to remove his suit with his help, working on disinfecting the deep scratch that ran across the majority of his abdomen. We’d fallen into a comfortable silence as I took care of him and Bruce poorly attempted to conceal his hisses and groans of pain. The noises cause a deep frown to form on me face as I tried to eradicate the source of his discomfort.
“You’re cute when you’re worried” I didn’t even have to look at Bruce to know that he was smirking, finding my frantic reaction entertaining.
“Shut up” Despite my best efforts I couldn’t stop the smile from growing on my face and I felt heat flood to my cheeks from the compliment. This caused a laugh to bubble in his chest and erupt in soft, reassuring sound. This made my smile widen, I loved seeing Bruce happy and relaxed, with the stress of Batman constantly weighing on his shoulders it was rare for him to be able to have quiet moments of comfort.
“You’re even cuter when you blush” He whispered in my ear, mischief evident in his tone. I jumped back in surprise, not realising how close he had become as I was dressing his injuries. I lifted up my head, coming face to face with Bruce and his stupidly sexy grin.
“I thought I told you to shut up” My attempt at a stern tone failed miserably as Bruce released another laugh and moved even closer. Our lips were practically brushing we were so close, eventually I gave in letting my lips press against his. The kiss started off perfectly innocent but the stress of the night’s events made me desperate. My fingers threaded through his soft hair as I pulled his closer. Eventually we broke apart, both of us breathing heavily. He continued to peck at my lips, moving his attention across my face. To my eye lids, my hairline, the tip of my nose and finally back to my lips. I cherished the moment, loving every second that his spent showering me with affection.
“Thank you” His words shocked me out of the daze he’d put me under.
“For what?”
“For taking care of me, for staying, for everything” I looked down again, blushing, before rejoining my lips to his.

Pictures of You (Reader x Bucky) (1/?)

I’m trying my hand at a series. Hopefully I’ll be able to post regularly as well as make the occasional drabble/one-shot. Feedback is appreciated! Enjoy!

You’re a writer that moves to New York in hopes of finding inspiration when you meet Bucky Barnes. (AU!Bucky)

Warnings: none.

Maybe it was the buzz of the city, but something about New York City that just filled you with inspiration. It was possible that you genuinely could finish your book here since you used your book advance to get you up north.

As much as you loved Texas, inspiration ran dry after living there all your life. Of course leaving your life behind there was bittersweet but after 23 years there, it was time for a change.

Sitting in a taxi, you stared out the window and the bright lights of the city intimidated you slightly. The sun had begun its descent across the sky when your plane landed and now dusk was settling over the bustling city. You were like a child in a candy shop staring in awe of the sheer size of the city and noticing the landmarks you had only seen in film and tv. You had a condo set up already in the city that was already furnished. The plan was to stay in New York for three months; just after the new year.

The taxi driver dropped you off at the steps of your condo. the sidewalk of your street had trees outside every condo and, with the holiday season, each of them were wrapped up with twinkling lights and lit the sidewalk. You grabbed your small duffle bag and walked up the steps into the condo. upon unlocking the door, it opened to a short hallway with two open door ways to your left and one door leading to the guest bathroom. The open door ways led to the living room and kitchen, respectively. At the end of the hall was a set of stairs that led to the master bedroom which was open to overlook the kitchen and living room. This was the main thing that sold you on this place.

You tossed your duffel bag near the door, kicked off your boots and decided that unpacking your clothes could wait for tomorrow.

You collapsed onto the love seat in front of the large flat screen television and gave yourself a moment to think over the last few hours.

You knew absolutely no one in the city, aside from your publisher. You were a complete stranger in a new city and part of this excited you; this was a chance for a clean slate, a new start.

A quickly google search led you to a small coffee shop near your place. You managed to fall more in love with your new environment on the walk over. Since it was the middle of fall, the trees were changing colors and fallen leaves crunched beneath your boots. Being in New York finally gave you a reason to wear your winter gear that had been neglected in Texas. You were comfortably warmed by a thick scarf and beanie, courtesy of your best friend back home.

You arrived at the café which was small and located in the middle of a busy shopping area. Luckily it was pretty empty for early evening. You pulled the door open and was immediately met with the warm aroma of coffee and sweet pastries. The whole café was decorated with holiday cheer. Holographic garland hung from the counter and Christmas trees sat in every corner.

You cradled your hot coffee in your hands while you settled into your small booth near the window. A soft voice cooed over the entire café and every other booth or table was taken by people in pairs or groups. Minimal talking was happening when the door to the café opened once more and two large figures walked through.

“I love the fall!” A voice boomed out. You looked over to the door subtly and saw the voice belonged to a broad shouldered blond. He only wore a crew neck sweater and jeans which immediately made you conclude he was born here. “The leaves, the cold weather, it’s all just so great. Right, Buck?” He turned to the man than followed him in.

As you looked to the man behind him, your eyes widen slightly in surprise before staring down at your coffee cup. He was absolutely gorgeous; from what you could tell. You peeked up through your lashes to study his sharp features once more. His hair was slightly longer than his friend, a lot shaggier and darker. His jawline stood out as his hair curved towards it. His lips were full and curved into a shy smile. You made the mistake of glancing up at his eyes and made a strange sound at the back of your throat that you didn’t recognized as your own. They were unmistakably blue and lined with full, thick lashes. You could drown in those blue eyes

“Yeah, yeah, punk. I just want my coffee not a whole story.” His voice was smooth and deep-it made you blush right away.

The pair continued to chat animatedly and rather loudly across the café from you. You had to admit that Bucky, whose name you figured out from eavesdropping a bit, inspired you and you had to write everything down. Reaching into your side bag you pulled out your small journal and opened to a fresh page and started writing down every detail of his face. You wrote out the details of his hair that he would constantly push back, how muscular he looked as his long sleeve shirt stretched across his broad chest, and his eyes to the best of your ability.

You were so engrossed at your task at hand that you weren’t aware that the very blue eyes you were trying your best to describe were glancing at you. Those eyes took note of your legs that were crossed under the booth and your leg shaking at a constant tempo as you scribbled into your journal. They were curious as they swept over your features and took note of your furrowed brow and pursed lips.

“Who are you staring at?” The blond turned around and looked for the source. His friend was zoning out and completely ignoring the story he was telling.

The brunette’s eyes snapped back to his friend and he gave an easy smile, “Oh come on, Steve. We both know that you’ve told this story to me more than once.”

“Are you staring at that (Y/H/C)? The whole writing in the journal?” He asked in an accusatory tone and pointed over his shoulder with his thumb.

Bucky gave a soft laugh and slunk back into his chair slightly, his cheeks turning the slightest shade of pink. “Well now you and everyone in this café knows.”

“You should go talk to them. Looks like your type.” He suggested as he turned to stare st your form again.

“Um, nah. I’m fine. How’s work?” He was desperate to change the conversation since he knew his friend too well. He was all for jumping in head first and completely against taking your time when it came to love.

“You’re not getting off the hook that easily, jerk.”

“Punk.” He responded automatically.

“Go talk to them.” He urged again, more gently this time.

Bucky put his head down, fidgeting with his coffee cup and shook his head slightly. He didn’t see you stand to toss your empty cup away, but Steve was quick to notice and stood suddenly to meet you at the bin.

Bucky looked up to see his friend walk away and groaned inwardly. Of course he would.

You saw the blond headed towards you and you tried your best not to stare. He was just as handsome as his friend but his features were much friendlier, more open and far less brooding.

“Hello! I’m Steve, Steve Rogers.” He greeted and extended his hand.

You glanced at his hesitantly before placing your hand in his. “Hi, Steve.”

“I’d just like to apologize really quickly for my buddy over here. I’ve realized he’s been star-“

Steve was cut off by a hand slapping down onto his shoulder and a tight voice, “What are you doing, pal.” The brunette was just behind him with a tight smile and his face was flushed.

Your face began heating up as you held onto your journal and was reminded of the contents within.

“Oh, I’m just meeting someone new. Spreading my horizons.” Steve continued and maintained eye contact with you. His eyes were just as blue and mesmerizing. He moved a bit to wrap his arm around his friend and slapping his chest a few times. “This is here is my best pal, Bucky.”

You gave him a small smile, “Hi, Bucky. I’m (Y/N).”

Bucky’s eyes softened at your voice, “It’s great to meet you, (Y/N).” He cleared his throats and ran his hand through his hair. “So is this your first time in this café?”

“We’re regulars here.” Steve added.

“Well, yes. It’s my first time in New York, actually.”

“Where are you from?” Bucky asked.

“Texas. So this cold weather is very new to me. We don’t get much of a winter in Dallas.”

Bucky nodded at the information while Steve’s eyes shot up. “No kidding. Buck and I were born and raised in Brooklyn. We’d love to show you around some time.”

“Oh, that’s very thoughtful of you. But I mean, we’ve only just met. Not too sure I should trust you…” You teased.

“Ah, well there’s always a chance we could be serial killers.” Steve joked and nudged at his friend to encourage him to join in on their banter.

“Well serial killers make up 1% of cases so I could have very well gotten that lucky.” You noted and fidgeted with your journal. Both of them laughed in response.

“What’s that you got there? Journal or sketchbook?” Steve motioned at the journal in your hands.

“Journal. I’m kind of a writer. I moved here for some inspiration on my next book.” You said shyly, tucking your hair behind your ear. Bucky still hadn’t said anything, you figured he was shy and continued to be the center of Steve’s attention.

“Oh really? What genre?”

“Well my first one was a romance novel. I’m very embarrassed of it but it was a hit. I’m very grateful but I’m trying my hand at crime thrillers.”

“That’s a dramatic turn.”

“Yeah, well I have a degree in criminology. Figured I could put it to some use.”

“Well I hope you figure it out. I’m an artist myself. I love sketching. Anything and everything. Buck here is real good with a camera.” He gestured to his friend who has yet to say anything.

You almost thought he didn’t like you but with the way he was studying you made you think otherwise. Throughout the conversation with Steve you had to mentally remind yourself to look at Steve while he spoke to you.

“You’re a photographer?” You finally made eye contact with Bucky and you nearly melted at his shy expression.

“Yeah. Mainly landscapes but occasionally portraits.” He finally said.

“Well I’m in need a new cover picture. Think you could help me out?” It was a risk but you couldn’t help feeling a bit confident after the way he stared at you.

Bucky blinked at you for a moment and was nudged again by his blond friend. “Y-yes! I can…I can help you out.”

You smiled at him and opened your journal to rip a piece of paper. “Here’s my number. You can call me whenever you’re available to shoot. Or even show me around.” You tried to sound as nonchalant as possible, praying that your voice didn’t sound too eager or high pitched. You wrote down your cell number along with your name before handing It over to Bucky.

He grabbed it happily. “That sounds great. I’ll be sure to, (Y/N).”

You could honestly listen to the man say your name all day.

You bit your lip and looked between the two men. “Okay, well I’m headed out. It was great to meet you guys.” You say as you head towards the door.

Steve gave you a small wave and a bright smile.

Before you could walk out the door, Bucky called out, “I’ll call you!”

You smiled to yourself and thought that New York was looking even better.


The Somali capital, Mogadishu, is hosting an international book fair, the first such event in the city in more than two decades.

Authors, playwrites, poets, artists and musician have travelled from across the world to attend the three-day event that was also guested by the Somali President Hassan Sheikh Mohamud.

“We are holding this fair to revive the culture of writing and reading in our country. Another aim is to connect local writers with their counterparts from abroad so they can exchange ideas.” Mohamed Diini, the event organiser, told Al Jazeera by phone from Mogadishu.

More than 30 writers are gathered here. We brought 3,000 books to the event including three books written by an extremely talented 16-year-old author.”

The fair in the seaside capital is expected to attract more than 1,000 people on each of the three days.

“There is a beautiful buzz in the city. Everyone I met is inspired by the event. I met young people who were asking me how they can publish their first books. It is inspiring to see the next generation of Somalis talking about books and the future looks great.” Mohammed Abdullah Artan, a publisher who travelled from Leicester in the UK, told Al Jazeera from the event.

"It is my seventh time in Mogadishu,” Mohamed Omer, an inspirational speaker from Hargeisa in the northern region of Somaliland, said, “This time it is different. So much creativity and talent displayed in one place. Everyone is happy and smiling. It is beautiful being here.” Omer added.

Somalis on social media have also been caught by the buzz, sharing photos and terming the event “books over bullets” and “Somalia rising”.

Organisers told Al Jazeera the book festival will be an annual event.

"Next year will be bigger and better, God willing.” Diini, the organiser, said.

Reunion (superflash)


“Hey Kara.”

“What are you doing here?”

Kara Danvers, aka Supergirl, landed softly on her feet in the same spot she’d first met Barry Allen, aka the Flash. The DEO had given her intel of a red blur buzzing around National City and she’d known who it was and followed him to the secluded area. Barry pulled the mask down from his face and she noticed he wore the same apparatus as last time. “Not that I’m not happy you’re here! It’s just a surprise!”

“I’m just happy you remember me.”

“Why wouldn’t I?” she asked, noticing his solemn face. “Barry? What is it?”

“I… I changed things. On my Earth,” he said, looking up at the night sky, reveling in the lack of light pollution that had him seeing millions of stars. The lack of air pollution was appreciated as well, so when he took a large lungful of air, he didn’t feel like he was going to choke on car exhaust. “The timeline I mean.” At Kara’s confused look he continued. “I traveled back in time, and changed an event that occurred.”

“You can travel through time? That’s so cool!” she said, beaming, yet when she saw his pinched face her expression fell slightly. “I mean… Not cool?” She reached out, placing a gentle hand on his shoulder. She remembered a time when she’d been down and he’d been there for her. Now, it was her turn to be there for him. “Talk to me, Barry. We might not have known each other long, but I’m here to listen.”

Barry told her everything. Everything about Zoom, his father dying, going back to save his mother, then having Reverse Flash go and kill her again… And how that wasn’t enough and that things were still different. Worse than what they’d been before. By the end of it, he was rubbing his tired eyes and fighting off frustrated tears and so Kara hugged her friend and he returned her hug as tightly as he could.

“I don’t know I just… I guess I wanted to come here and make sure I didn’t mess things up here as well. That my visit here wasn’t changed or…”

“Not that I know of,” said Kara.

“You wouldn’t know,” he said, eyes now pleading. “Tell me?”

Kara gestured down to the ground and together they sat in the tall grass, the wind making her hair and cape flutter as Kara told her version of what she remembered happening during Barry’s visit. Thankfully, everything she said matched up to what he remembered, and his shoulders sagged in relief.

“Good. That’s good,” he said. “Well, at least I didn’t mess up your life.”

“You have a lot of people mad at you, don’t you?” she asked, meeting his eyes, a look of sympathy on her face because she knew what it was like to have close family and friends upset with her.

“Some still don’t talk to me in the way I’m used to. Like… There’s this invisible wall and no matter how hard I bang on it… It won’t break. I can’t get through it.”

“I’m sorry, Barry…” said Kara, hand now on his shoulder, and he nodded while placing his hand over hers in thanks. “So… How long do you want to stay?”

“I… I don’t know. I just told everyone I was visiting a friend. I just needed a break. You know? Not long. Maybe just a day. Or two.”

“In that case… Want to go get some donuts?” she asked. “The perfect mood-booster food alongside potstickers.”

“Sounds like a plan.” He pulled his mask down and the both of them stood, brushing off the seats of their suits in the process to get the dirt and flecks of grass off. “I remember where the shop is. Race you?”

Within ten minutes the patrons of National City’s best donut shop, were in awe as Supergirl and her friend Flash exited the shop with a box of donuts each.