#//i might be a tad wrong about the height of legs affecting how someone walks so forgive me if i got it wrong in advance

[mechahero]

@5mind asked- describe your muse’s laugh. describe your muse’s walk. character headcanons (accepting)

describe your muse’s laugh.

In one word. Loud. At least, when he isn't carefully monitoring himself and keeping it at an "appropriate" level and really gets to let it loose. It's loud! It shakes his body and peaks right into being a shrill noise at times before dipping right back down into its normal volume.

It's a good thing whenever he gets laugh like that instead of his normally polite laugh he uses outside/around other people.

describe your muse’s walk.

I would say a normal walk? (Whatever that means lol) However, I can also picture him it being slightly off by a bit. One of his legs is somewhat shorter than the other so perhaps that could affect it in some way? On a subconscious note, he favors his right leg (ironically the shorter leg) and always walks right leg first, left leg second.

If he walks left leg first, it feels weird and he's not quite sure why. He just chalks it up some odd thing his brain decides to be picky about.

[twistedmusings]

hhhhiii i see requests are open... can i have azul and riddle with a taller+flirty s/o? fem s/o is much preferred but g/n is also OK!! thank youu i love your writing 😭💞

A/N: I am a very short girl. I am shorter than Riddle. So this...was hard to write. But gosh if I did not love every second of it q wq. Honestly, I feel like these two would benefit from having an S/O who is a lot more open about her love. Dammit now I want a tall girlfriend. 

All the way from the fluff section in our library, let me get that book for you! 

Warnings: None! 

--Everyone make way for the short king. 

--First, he doesn’t know how he fell in love with her. Her flirtiness was known in Heartslabyul and there was not a time that Riddle hadn’t caught one of the students trying to slide a love letter her way. Which was already highly inappropriate; they were having tea for the Queen’s sake! 

--So he scolded her for it, which only made her reply in your usual way. Which made him scold her again and she replied with another flirty comment about how adorable it was that he cared so much about who she flirted with. 

“Am I that distracting?” 

“Yes!”

“So...should I just flirt with you instead?” 

“P--Pardon?” 

--The dorm room celebrates as Riddle announces his relationship a week later, according to the rules, and smiles when his girlfriend bends down to place a kiss on his cheek. 

--And that is when he starts to get confused about how he feels about the situation as a whole. 

--Generally, he liked when people talked to him as if it was normal conversation and no comment was made about his height. Trey spoke to him normally, Cater knew better than to make any sort of comment and Deuce and Ace wouldn’t make a comment to save their lives. 

And she also didn’t make a comment either! It’s just that the more time she spent together with him the more he started to take in the height difference between them. 

--If he was trying to reach for a book in the library he would feel a hand on his back and his beloved coming up behind him and getting the book down for him. He would try and protest saying that she didn’t need to help he could have gotten a stool--! 

--But he almost bites his tongue when she leans in and places a kiss on his forehead, telling him that she just wanted an excuse to kiss him in public. Riddle wants to retort back and says something about PDA not being appropriate but he is met by a pair of lips silencing him. 

“We really shouldn’t--! And in public--!” 

“You didn’t like it?” 

“...I didn’t say that.” 

--Riddle might have a lot to say about PDA when it comes to others, but he is clearly getting spoiled on the sidelines by his girlfriend. And he lives for it. He meets her after classes and offers his arm to her so they can walk together, getting a kiss on the cheek for it. He invites her to several Unbirthday parties and has her sit by his side, which earns him a kiss on the hand. She has trouble studying? Cue tutor Riddle coming in to the rescue, which earns him a bunch of kisses that he would rather keep private as to where they were placed.

--The unspoken rule is that, as long as he is doing something to help her or she is doing something to help him, modest kisses (aka: hand, cheek or forehead) can be given out whenever the other party desires it. 

--Also forehead kisses are his favourite, prove me wrong. 

--As I am writing this I am also picturing them ballroom dancing, like an event in NRC just has dancing involved and Riddle holds out his hand to her and invites her to the dancefloor...only to realize that he kinda reaches up to her neck and he can’t do the usual thing where she would lean into his chest as they slow danced.

--But she kinda beats him to the punch when he tries to pull away, feeling he looks ridiculous. She just presses him close to her and lets him wrap her arms around her waist, smiling as she hugs him close and leans her head against the top of his. People could talk all they wanted but did they have a girlfriend? Riddle thought that probably not. 

“Surely this must not be comfortable.”

“Riddle I’m fine. Besides, I think everyone is a tad jealous right now.” 

“How so?” 

“Well...you are rather close to my chest. Not that I’m complaining, I love it actually~” 

--Riddle hates to say it...but that is a perk that he did not expect and it certainly wasn’t unwelcome. 

--Like I said, make way for our short king. 

--He loves it. 

--Azul sees no downside about not only having a flirty s/o, but having a tall s/o was also what made this relationship so wonderful to him. Why? Two words.

--Power. Move. 

--He didn’t necessarily ask for it but as he is making a deal one day she just walks in and greets him normally, Azul taking the time to lean back and kiss her hand as he usually did but stopping when the girl walks in front of the couch and makes her way into Azul’s lap sitting in such a way that she is now facing the client with her legs crossed while her lips were placed gently on Azul’s temple. 

“Just keep working, I won’t bother you~” 

--Azul normally loves your affection but seeing the student sit up straighter and get visibly more nervous as she played with his hair brought Azul a sort of euphoria he didn’t expect.

--Yes he knew not to get revenge on others for bullying him and whatnot, but the feeling of superiority that came with having an S/O who was so open about her affection with him was a power trip in its own way. 

--She sits in with him with every deal he makes now, Azul talking normally as his hands rest on her legs while playing with his hair and pressing kisses to his cheek whenever she feels like it. 

--Azul at first is a bit embarrassed at the height difference and the almost effortless flirtiness that seemed to come to her so naturally, but he does notice the looks he gets when he walks by which just...makes him hold his head up higher as he walks. 

--One thing he is surprised to like is...the cuddling. 

--As part octopus, Azul’s tentacles will latch to whatever he likes. His girlfriend had only had the pleasure to see him in his octopus form once and was more than happy when he mentioned that fact to her, but he didn’t expect his human legs to carry out the same sort of treatment. This meant that every time they cuddled together, Azul was always the little spoon wrapping himself around her. 

--A fact she never fails to mention when he does it almost without thinking. 

“You really want to keep me here, huh?” 

“Not necessarily. If you need to leave, I am not stopping you.” 

“That’s not what your legs are saying. You have me in a really tight hold, Azul~” 

--Oh my god the tentacle comments. Azul thinks that he can take the height difference between them pretty well but she just takes him by surprise when she comes up behind him and gives him a hug, Azul returning it with a side hug as he is doing his work, but stopping when she leans in close and whispers about how she wishes he would hold just a tad bit tighter. 

“Your octopus form is a lot more honest...you really held onto me tight last time.” 

--What is worse is that the tweels are there for every second of it, their teasing of Azul increasing to a maximum whenever she is around. He sends Jade and Floyd to run and errand with her and just as they are leaving she turns around to wave goodbye. 

“Anything else you want from Sam’s place, baby?” 

“Yeah Azul! Anything else, baby?” 

“Now Floyd, no reason to pester him further. We’ll be going now...baby~” 

--All three run out laughing as Azul throws a pen at the door, catching her blowing a kiss his way. 

--He is still embarrassed, but he makes a motion to catch it and wave goodbye, smiling as he thinks just how lucky he is to get someone like her. 

--And it’s not like he was short, but he certainly looked a lot more intimidating walking with a rather tall drink of water hanging from his arm~ listen I know that is a stupid line even I apologize 

[voiceless-terror]

I have been seeing those posts about ep 40 jon being injured and sleep deprived in the archives interviewing the others. Jon probably hasn’t come down from that getting wormed fear/adrenaline.. maybe he’s about to have a breakdown.. but tims there. Or martin or both. Also thank you for all the good content this year :)

Thank you for the lovely message! Had fun with this one, though I think I made it a tad more angsty than I planned to. Hope you enjoy otherwise, and happy holidays!

“...It’s just pain.”

Pain. That’s all. He can work through that, he’s done it before. The pills are wearing off, his entire body throbbing and wrestling with the feeling of hundreds of frantic, wriggling worms burrowing in and feasting- no, best not to think about that. He’s got to stay in control.

Control. Control is standing in his own office, leaning against his file cabinet surrounded by the corpses of worms with his boss sitting in front of him. His boss who is currently giving him an unimpressed stare, demanding that he go home. But it’s alright, he can do this.

It’s just pain.

Elias recounts what happened when Sasha came up to his office, alerting him to Prentiss’s attack. His voice is measured and controlled, but his face betrays a level of disgust that they all feel, the living reminder of which sits in front of him, bleeding and fidgeting as he tries to stay upright, squirming not unlike the-no. Stop.

He wishes he had the tape, but Sasha lost it in the confusion. This second-hand retelling is stale and hard to swallow. Elias sounds perfectly reasonable, as always, apologizing to Jon for taking too long with the CO2 to which Jon only replies “It’s fine. We’re alive.”

Just barely.

But then he talks about the scream. And Jon hears it all over again, that impossible sound of agony and rage that sung out as his world faded to black. And then Elias talks about how he stumbled upon them, compared them to fucking swiss cheese and he’s got to stop him, raising a trembling, still-bleeding hand. He doesn’t need to be reminded of that. No, Prentiss is gone. What he needs to focus on now is Gertrude- how she died, who killed her. If the person who did it was sitting in this very room. If he’s going to be next.

He imagines his body, lying forgotten in the tunnels as Gertrude’s did all those months. No one looking for him, no one caring. He’ll never get his answers, he’ll just lie there and rot like all those worms-

Elias gives no more useful information, repeating the story as if Jon’s being irrational and urges him to go home. You can barely stand. It’s true. But if he sits, he’ll have to look Elias in the eye instead of standing over him, grasping what little high ground he can. 

“Martin finding her body in the tunnels is as much a mystery to me as it is to you.”

Is it? 

He sighs, succumbing to exhaustion and sinking to his seat.

“Can you send in Tim?”

________

Tim’s voice is strange and detached. He sounds...traumatized, which is of course to be expected. 

He’s probably still high, too. 

It’s odd, how these things affect them. It’s sharpened all of Jon’s edges to an untenable degree, every movement a sharp agony of tangled nerves that sends his mind spiraling. But it dulled Tim, left him foggy and so unlike himself. He stares blankly somewhere to the left of Jon, as if meeting his eyes and seeing his own injuries laid out before him like a warped funhouse mirror would be too much, would undo this strange facsimile of a workday that Jon’s tried to conjure. Just the two of them in his office, discussing a case. Pay no mind to the dead worms or the blood coating the ground and the desk and his arm and his leg and-

“...I mean, I went full Gas-Rambo.” Tim. That sounds like Tim. His voice may be wrong but the words are there, teasing and familiar. He comes back, clears his throat and nods. But then Tim keeps going, slides back into his memories and makes them lucid for Jon.

“You know that worm smell? That earthy, rotten smell?”

Oh, yes. 

It’s still there, cloying and wretched reminder that it is. Elias told him to leave the basement, told him that he and Tim needed fresh air. But Jon wouldn’t listen, he never listens. And that’s why they’re in this mess.

But the why is bigger than that, too. He needs to know why Gertrude was in the tunnels, why she was killed, why these statements disturb him so and why the Archives feel wrong, like an intruder’s in their midst. He thinks he knows where he can find the answers. 

“Could you...describe the tunnels?” Tim sighs, but Jon presses on. Perhaps through someone else’s eyes he’ll find the one detail he missed, the one thing that explains it all and gives him peace of mind.

It’s quite the opposite. 

Because the worms down there, in that room Tim found, weren’t trying to attack anyone. They were crawling, wrapping around each other to form a ring- no, a doorway. Jon’s mind fixates on the word and Tim stares resolutely ahead, looking weary and drained. He has to hold it together, just two more interviews and he can go home and rest (and think and weep and scream). He clears his throat, lowers his voice to the register he finds most authoritative and tells Tim to go home and get some sleep. Tim rolls his eyes at the action, but gets to his feet, slow and pained.

“Yeah. Sure.”

He starts to shuffle towards the door but something twitches out of the corner of Jon’s eye, a tiny, jumping movement like...like a worm. He lets out a whimper as his mind shuts down, starts tearing at his arms, ripping at the bandages because something’s still there, burrowing deeper into his skin and soon it’s going to hit bone and where’s the corkscrew, where’s Martin’s steady hands and strong grip, he needs help-

“Whoa, there!” Tim’s coming back but he shouldn’t be, not when there’s worms all over his desk, crawling and jumping and devouring.

“She’s- she’s still here, can’t you see?” Jon’s tripping over words, stumbling out of his seat as he tries to avoid the writhing mass he sees below him. “Get h-help, we need- Martin! Martin, are you there?” It’s hard to walk, hard to move but he does it anyway, grabbing at the wall for balance as Tim backs away- good, go, get out, get help-

 Rapid footsteps sound and Martin appears in the doorway, his eyebrows knit in concern. “What’s- oh Jon, you’ve ripped your bandages, let me-”

Jon doesn’t care about that right now. Not when he can hear their song, not when Gertrude was rotting in the walls for so long and he didn’t know, he didn’t know. She became a mystery and he will too, it’s just a matter of time. He grabs onto Martin’s arm, clawing at his jumper with desperate hands.

“She’s-she’s-”

“There’s no one here, Jon. She’s gone. The ECDC took care of it,” Martin’s just trying to placate him, he can see the pity in his eyes. Maybe he needs it. But if Prentiss is gone, that doesn’t mean the danger is. Even if he can tell himself there are no worms, it’s all in his mind, there’s still that nagging voice in the back of his head- you’re next. 

So he holds on tighter, dragging Martin down to his level with a movement that makes him flush. “You- you saw her, Martin. Gertrude. How did she die?”

“Jon, please, just sit down-”

He pulls harder, raises his voice. “How did she die?”

“Jon-”

“How?” 

“She was shot! Three times to the chest. Th-That’s what I saw.” Martin’s eyes widen, as if the words were torn from him involuntarily.

Shot. Shot. The words echo somehow in this small, cluttered room and Jon can’t wrap his mind around them. She wasn’t attacked by Prentiss, killed by some unknowable enemy. She was shot. With a gun. A gun wielded by someone who had a reason to take the Archivist out. Someone who might still have that reason. 

He staggers back, releasing Martin and collapsing with what might be a sigh or a wail- he can’t hear what’s coming out of his mouth. He dimly registers a hand on his shoulder, gentle and warm but it feels like a threat because something’s wrong here, something’s after him and maybe it’s Martin, who found the corpse. Maybe it’s Tim, collapsed silently in the chair. Maybe it’s Elias, telling him to go home where he’s alone and vulnerable and easy to get. So he scrambles back against his desk, breathing heavily with his arms thrown out in front of him.

Martin was right, there are no worms here. Prentiss is gone. And something worse, and perhaps much more human is waiting in the shadows.

“..just needs sleep and some painkillers. I can take him back, call us a cab-”

“-both full of holes, for Christ’s sake. Jon’s scratching at himself! I’m not going to leave you on your own.”

“This isn’t some fun archives sleepover, Martin, you aren’t missing out on anything, I promise-”

“Shut up!” Martin’s voice breaks through the fog, loud and commanding in a way it usually isn’t. Jon hazards a glance up to see him standing at full height and even Tim looks shocked, leaning back in his chair as much as it allows. Martin goes red, taking a deep breath and lowering his voice. “That’s not what this is about, just...just let me do this. Let me make sure you’re alright. Please.”

Tim pauses, but gives in with a sigh. “Fine. I drove in, bad day for it. You fine with driving us back, or should we take a cab? I need to sleep.”

Jon raises his voice, tired of being talked about as if he weren’t in the room and can’t make decisions for himself. “N-No. I’m not going back with either of you-”

“Quit it, Jon.” Tim gingerly rises to his feet, shooting a tired look at his hunched form. “Nobody’s out to get you, you just need to get some fucking sleep and you’ll feel better. Now get up, or we’re leaving without you.” He clearly doesn’t mean it, because he pauses and waits for them in the doorway, watching as Martin bends down to offer his hand.

Jon’s hand automatically reaches out to grab his, but he stops himself. Maybe it’s his best shot- if it’s one of them, they may not make a move if the other one’s present. If it’s someone outside of their group, their odds are better for fighting them off. But if it’s Tim and Martin, well.

Jon takes his hand. because what other choice does he have? Only bad ones, it would seem. Martin helps him to his feet. “Are you sure you can walk? I can-”

“I’m fine.” If he’s going to die, he’d rather do it on his two feet and spare himself the indignity of holding onto his killer. He lets Martin keep a hand on his back, though- he can’t walk without it.

Every slow step is agony; he ignores Sasha smirk on the way out and eventually finds himself bundled in the backseat of Tim’s beat up silver sedan. He considers asking for the passenger seat as his nausea might get the best of him back here, but thinks better of it. Better to be back here and alone.

But then he isn’t alone, because Tim hesitates and moves to the back, wincing as he sits beside him. Why would he do that? What does he want? Jon wraps his arms around himself and scoots as far as he can to the side, trying to focus on Martin fiddling with the car and not the presence beside him. The radio blasts as soon as the engine roars to life and Jon flinches back, fingers burrowing deeper into his arms.

Martin begins to drive, not saying a word as he pulls out into traffic; he knows where they’re going, but Jon doesn’t. Tim must see his confusion.

“Were you not listening? We’re going back to mine.”

Jon casts his eyes to the floor. “I-I don’t want to-”

“Do you have unexpired food at your flat, Jon?” His face heats up- he’d been living on leftovers in the Archives, so that’s a no. “Will you actually rest if you go back on your own? Will you-” There’s a hand on Jon’s own, gentle but firm as Tim pulls it away from his arm and forces it down to the seat. “-stop picking.”

“Sorry,” he whispers, but Tim doesn’t let go, just holds his hand in his and leans his head against the window, staring out at the road. Jon doesn’t pull back, no matter how much he wants to. He just looks down, staring at the larger hand on his own and wonders how easy it would be for Tim to break it. Just one good, hard squeeze and a crush of bone but no, Tim just absentmindedly runs his thumb over Jon’s knuckles and somehow this hurts more.

They must make an odd couple, he and Tim bandaged like mummies staggering up the steps with Martin at the helm. He’s been here a few times and he has to fight against the instinctive ease he feels upon walking through the threshold. Martin’s talking and Tim’s barking out short answers, dropping his belongings as he limps towards the bedroom and makes a dismissive gesture at Martin. Jon feels strangely outside of his body, looking in on a bastardized scene of domesticity through a foggy haze of pain and unreality. With a start he comes back to himself, and suddenly he’s on Tim’s couch; time must have passed for he’s wrapped in a blanket with a steaming cup of tea in his hands and a lump in his throat. And he’s talking, watching as Martin fixes his bandage with a careful hand. 

“...tapes are gone, Martin. Sasha said she lost them but I don’t understand-”

“Prentiss practically destroyed the Archives, Jon, I’m surprised more aren’t missing. Look, Tim’s already asleep, you should do the same-”

Sleep? How can I sleep when- “Someone killed Gertrude,” he whispers and his hands shake, tea dripping down the side of his mug and scalding his skin. “And they’re going to get me next. Can’t you see?”

Two hands wrap around his own- big, like Tim’s but softer and unscarred. Kind, but still capable. Of what, Jon doesn’t know. He lifts his eyes towards Martin and sees it- Martin’s scared too, doesn’t know what to do with Jon’s ramblings and doesn’t know how to comfort him or make it better.

“Drink your tea.” There’s an edge of hysteria in his voice, a naked plea that Jon finds unnerving. “And I’ll keep watch. You’ve- you’ve got us, Jon.” It’s so sincere. 

Jon wants to believe it. “I do?”

“Yes.”

He drinks his tea and feels the fogginess from painkillers he doesn’t remember taking slip over him, quieting the voice in his head to a barely audible whisper. The pain’s gone but the memory of it doesn’t fade; he stifles a manic giggle as a childish tune pops into his head. The worms crawl in, the worms crawl out!

His eyes drift shut as the cup is pried out of his grip, a gentle hand pushing him to lay down on the sofa. He hears the dull murmur of comforting words and a sniffle- he’s going to go to sleep soon, Martin will be the only one awake, and Jon doesn’t know what he’ll do or what he’s capable of. But he’s so, so tired. And he may not trust Martin, but he wants him to stay.

He wakes only once during the night to see the outline of Martin sitting in a chair, scribbling something in a notebook. It’s so innocuous he can’t help the tiny noise of relief that slips out of his mouth. 

Martin doesn’t even look over, just quietly tells him to go back to sleep as if he’s hushed him a few times already. Maybe he has. The normalcy of it is like a peek into some universe he’s not yet privy to; Jon knows he shouldn’t trust the comfort of it. And yet. 

He goes back to sleep.

ao3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28252950

[queen-of-the-vampires]

waiting for superman

characters: stefan salvatore x reader

word count: 1,860

warnings: minor angst, fluff

summary: stefan is the superman you’ve been waiting for your entire life

beta: she wants to remain anonymous

square filled: waiting for superman by daughtry

author’s note: this is for my own song bingo and i am hosting a challenge on this blog, so if you’re a writer, and wan to participate, it would really mean a lot if you wanted to participate! if you have any requests, please send them in!

feedback the glue that holds my writing together

tags at the bottom

Falling in love way too easily is just one of the things you considered bad about yourself. There have been many dates with a lot of different men where you think things are going well, but they always end up not calling you, or they tell you they didn’t want to see you anymore. Each night ended all the same; you alone in your room, wondering what went wrong.

At first, you thought it was you, that you did or said something wrong. It would be the only thing on your mind the entire week after the date as you tried to figure out why these men weren't calling you back. If you didn’t hear from a guy and saw him on the streets the next day, he would always make some excuse as to why he never called you back. It broke your heart every time a man did that to you, but you were a romantic, and you couldn’t help but look for the same love you were trying to give out.

All you wanted was for Superman to sweep you off your feet. But, things just don’t happen like they do in the movies.

She’s watching the taxi driver, he pulls away She’s been locked up inside her apartment a hundred days

She says, “Yeah, he’s still coming, just a little bit late. He got stuck at the laundromat washing his cape.” She’s just watching the clouds roll by and they spell her name Like Lois Lane And she smiles, oh the way she smiles

Despite being let down every time, you still had hope that the next guy you went out with would be the one you stayed with forever. Getting out of the taxi, you smoothed down the sundress you wore with a smile on your face as you paid the driver cash for the ride.

“Whoever he is, I hope you have fun,” the driver said with a smile.

“Thank you,” you chuckled as he pulled away from the curb. The man who agreed to date you said to meet at the park, but you were a tad too early. Nothing wrong with that, so you took a seat on the park bench as you waited for him to show. Your brain was racing with a thousand thoughts, wondering if he would show. It wouldn't be the first time a man stood you up, but you liked to have hope that one day, one man, would be different.

People passed by you, and you kept looking at them in hopes of them being your date for the evening. After the third time you looked at your watch, you realized he was 45 minutes late. Sighing, you looked down at your dress as you ruffled the edges.

“He’s still coming, just a little late. He probably got stuck at the laundromat washing his cape,” you sighed as you spoke to yourself. ” Another 15 minutes went by, and you knew he wasn’t showing up. There’s always a next time, right? you thought to yourself as you flagged down a taxi.

“Hey, I remember you. Have fun on your date?” the same taxi driver asked you as you got in.

“Yeah, tons,” you lied with a fake smile on your face.

She’s talking to angels, Counting the stars Making a wish on a passing car She’s dancing with strangers, Falling apart Waiting for Superman to pick her up In his arms, yeah, in his arms, yeah Waiting for Superman

You lived in this fairy tale life, waiting and wishing on shooting stars that you would find the one for you. It’s what comes with being a hopeless romantic. Any man who gave you the slightest bit of attention caught your interest because you were so desperate for their attention. You’ve been alone for so long, you were desperate for their affection, craving it like a drug addict.

Every week, it’s always a new guy, a stranger you never met before. As you’re with him, all you could think about is the man who was meant for you, somewhere out there in the world. Hope blossomed in your chest when you were with your date that he might be the one, but when the end of the night came, it was always the same.

She says, “Yeah, he’s still coming, just a little bit late. He got stuck at the Five and Dime saving the day.” She says, "If life was a movie, then it wouldn’t end like this, Left without a kiss.” Still, she smiles, oh, the way she smiles, yeah

As you wait for your new date to show, you think to yourself, as he’s running late, He’s just a little late. He’ll be here this time. He’s probably stuck at the Five and Dime, saving the day. This time, he shows, and you two have a lot of fun on the date. He spent the whole time making you laugh, treating you like a princess, and made you feel like a million bucks. You two had a lot in common, and you thought that maybe he was the one.

He walked you home at the end of the night, and, as you stared at him all he did was smile, and say, “Let’s do this again sometime” before leaving. He walked off without a kiss on the lips or the cheek, and you could feel your heart breaking just a little. Everyone knows what “let’s do that again sometime” really means.

He wasn’t the one.

“If life was a movie, then it wouldn’t end like this… left without a kiss,” you whispered as you headed inside your house. ”

She’s talking to angels, Counting the stars Making a wish on a passing car She’s dancing with strangers, She’s falling apart Waiting for Superman to pick her up In his arms, yeah, in his arms, yeah She’s waiting for Superman…

…to lift her up and take her anywhere Show her love and flying through the air Save her now before it’s too late tonight Oh, at the speed of light And she smiles

Left on the bench by the park again. Another date, another man, another night of tears and feelings of loneliness. Maybe that was your M.O. Maybe, you were destined to end up alone. Not everyone had a soulmate, and not everyone finds love. Maybe, you were one of those people. Lost in thought, you didn’t notice a big furball heading your way until you felt a wet nose at your bare leg. Looking down, you saw a beautiful golden retriever staring at you.

“Hi buddy, how are you?” you asked the dog as if he could answer. Instead of using words, the dog put its paws on your shorts, leaned up and licked your face. Laughing, you put both hands on his head as you scratched behind his ears.

“You’re just so friendly,” you said as you noticed a collar and a tag on him. Pulling away, you read the tag to see what his name was and who he belonged to. “Bailey.” The dog barked in response to you saying his name, and you pulled out your phone to call the number engraved on the tag. Before you could dial, you heard the dog’s name being called as his owner came rushing at you.

“Bailey! There you are! I am so sorry!” a man said. Looking up, you locked eyes with a beautiful man who sported bright green eyes and light brown hair. He was tall, from what you could see but put him next to you and he was the perfect height. The dog got off you and look at his owner with his tongue out.

“Don’t worry about it,” you blushed as you pet Bailey’s head one last time before his owner could put a leash on him.

“We’re trying to go for leashless walks. I don’t think he’s ready yet,” he chuckled.

“It’s no problem. I love dogs, and he seems really friendly.”

“Yeah, he is. I’m Stefan, by the way,” he introduced himself as he held out his hand. Taking it, you shook it slowly since you were kind of in shock from his presence.

“Y/N. It’s nice to meet you.”

“Again, sorry about that.”

“It’s okay it’s not a problem.”

“Well, have a good day,” he said politely as he started to walk away with his dog. Sighing softly, you looked at your watch once more before realizing your date wasn’t going to show. Guess it’s another night in the bathtub with wine. As Stefan looked back at you, he watched as you looked at your watch with a frown. Your shoulders slumped in disappointment, and he knew that you had been stood up. No one should go through what you clearly went through a bunch of times. He didn't know why someone would stand you up because he saw a very beautiful woman. Looking at Bailey, his dog seemed to give him the courage he needed as he nudged his leg to go back to you.

“Uh, Y/N?”

“Yes?” you asked as you looked up at Stefan.

“Would you like to join me? Bailey seems to really like you, and it gets boring with no one to talk to. I’ll buy you some ice cream or something to eat if you’re hungry?” The look in his eyes told you he was being sincere with his offer. Looking at your watch once more, you decided to screw it and go with the stranger. At least you would have someone to talk to.

“I’d like that. It gets boring just sitting here and watching the world pass you by,” you chuckled. The two of you left the park bench comfortable as Bailey walked between you two.

“So, you from around here?” he asked.

“Yeah, I live about six blocks away from here. Nice city, and it’s not overly crowded. What about you?”

“I just moved here recently. I’m trying to get used to the parks since I go running in the morning, and would like to know my way around.”

“Well, I’m almost always here, so we’re bound to run into each other sometime.”

“I hope I didn’t steal you away from something important. Were you waiting for someone?”

“Um, no. Nothing important going on here,” you lied, hoping he couldn’t hear the disappointment in your voice.

“Look, I hope I’m not too forward or anything, but the guy who stood you up is a jerk.”

“What?” you whispered, not believing your ears.

“The guy who stood you up? Yeah, he doesn’t know what he’s missing. From what I can tell, you’re amazing and very beautiful,” he spoke the truth. A small smile formed on your face once your brain processed his words. ”

“Thanks, Stefan.”

“Now, come on, I think I can hear ice cream call our names,” he chuckled as he guided you to the nearest ice cream shop. For some weird reason, fate, or whatever you wanted to call it, Bailey approaching you in the park was the best thing that could have happened to you because you think you just found your superman.

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