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
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
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
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
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
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
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
Rares Nastase: Is celebrity changing you? Do you have to do
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
Narrator: At his mom’s home, in New York, he always eats Romanian
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
The final night of 96.5 The Buzz’s The Night The Buzz Stole Christmas shows (XXXXmas) featured electro-pop outfit Jaenki as well as smokey indie group Warpaint. Photos from the night curtesy of photographer extraordinaire Anna Selle.
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 there, stripped bare & far too lonely.
The final night of 96.5 The Buzz’s The Night The Buzz Stole Christmas shows (XXXXmas) featured electro-pop outfit Jaenki as well as smokey indie group Warpaint. Photos from the night curtesy of photographer extraordinaire Anna Selle.
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.
Genre: fairy!au, based on @lthyl ‘s request which i delayed for a decade and half :*
Summary: When did we stop believing in fairy tales?
PART 1, PART 2
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
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
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
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
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
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
“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
“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
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
“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
“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
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.
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.
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.
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”
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 taking care of me, for staying, for everything” I looked down again, blushing, before rejoining my lips to his.
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)
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
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
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
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
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
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).”
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
“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
“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’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
“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,
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
Steve gave you a small wave and a bright smile.
Before you could walk out the door, Bucky called out, “I’ll call 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.
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.