#dances without purpose

[jedidryad]

WIP Wednesday: Finding a dream

When Mara's life is shattered and then revealed to be a lie, she loses any dreams and ideals she once had. She maintains a moral code and a skilled competence most of us can only imagine, but she loses her ability to imagine building a life for herself and dreaming of what that life might be like. Rediscovering hopes and dreams are part of the healing process, and I've decided that she takes a step here, on Kessel near the beginning of Champions of the Force:

As I settled into a close orbit over the moon, I accomplished another task as well. There, below me, was a sleek, beautiful craft that was easily recognized as The Lady Luck. Calrissian had whined to me about how he’d lost his ship here and how he’d expected the poor thing would be stripped down for parts by now as though by roverines.

That did not seem to be the case.

I did a once about the Luck to inspect it. It looked okay. I couldn’t see any obviously missing pieces, or anti-flight devices. It looked intact and sealed up tight. 

It was a nice ship. I understood why he had worried. The Lady Luck was a Sorosuub 3000. Sorusuub had been making luxury starcraft for over 5000 years, and they were impeccable about it. Legend said that their workmanship was so good there were Sorosuub ships flying around with pre Imperial hyperdrives that had never needed repair. I’d certainly never been called upon to repair one. Their 3000 model was the cutting edge in technological innovation and modifiable to the point that each ship was basically custom built. And, now that I was seeing one close up, I could see it was also gorgeous.

The only weakness I could find was that it took me less than 30 seconds to crack the code on the lock panel and gain access, but that spoke more to Calrissian’s lack of interest in security than to the manufacturer. Maybe this mission for Karrde wouldn’t be so bad if this was our method of transport.

Despite the craft being seemingly untouched, I ran a full inspection and systems check before starting the power up sequence. 

“Oh I want one.” I murmured to myself as the ship came online. It was a pointless thing to say out loud, even just to myself. There were many things I could want in the universe and most of them were unlikely enough that there was no point in even dreaming of them. I wasn’t sure why this desire coalesced enough in my mind for me to recognize it for what it was, but I clamped down on the thought with a snort of derision.

“Dream on, Mara.” I scolded myself as the repulsors engaged and the yacht lifted off the planet’s surface as smoothly as an avian.

“Mother of Kwath!” I blurted out as the controls responded to my touch with a measured power that made me a little giddy. Even when my missions had been outfitted by Palpatine himself, I’d never had the chance to fly a Sorosuub. My heart was racing and I knew my face was flushed. Something had come alive in me that I wasn’t sure what to do with.

[bibutterflies]

nil + rendezvous

Horizon Zero Dawn (2017) | Horizon Forbidden West (2022)

[camgoloud]

you ever just. become overwhelmed by a sudden out-of-nowhere wave of tenderness and affection and longing for reconnection directed towards someone to whom you no longer speak for Very Good Reasons

[surr3al1sm]

A lookbook for my Jack Rose sim that holds all of his outfits and CC in one neat little pile.

Welp, here it is. My first lookbook for a sim, ever. I really hope it looks good, I just had an idea and decided to roll with it lol. I was actually kind of scared to start this because well it’s Jack, and Jack has a certain standard to him. So I hope I met it lol. I’m going to be real, this is a sim I hold kind of dear to my heart (no matter how much of an asshole he tends to be) because I kind of relate to Jack a lot man- So I really hope I did him justice.

General CC: skin detail | lashes | tattoo | glove recolour

1. Everyday: earrings | pose 2. Formal: earrings | pose 3. Athletic: pose

4. Sleep: pose 5. Party: earrings | pose 6. Swimwear: sunglasses | earrings | pose

7. Hot Weather: earrings | necklace | top & jeans | pose 8. Cold Weather: earrings | pose

[viciousbite]

Teaching some new dance moves to the Captain.

Artist: lave_ium

[caterpillarinacave]

Yeah okay I should go to bed

[chiyohlecter]

always shooketh by how many haters 'the real' has, i get it you guys hate fun 🙄

[soft-girl-musings]

perfume is the ballet of cosmetics. is this anything

[chaoticdelinqueerwithglitter]

Good morning queer, neurodivergent and mentally ill people inside my phone! Look, the last sunrise of this year! 💜

[jedidryad]

WIP Wednesday: Darkness is sneaky

When they meet up on the Errant Venture in I, Jedi, Mara and Corran have a conversation about the dark side, and Corran expresses the belief that Kyp should not be a Jedi after his dark side experience. Mara does not seem to agree with him, and I interpret his comments as being quite hurtful to her considering her past. But friendships can survive rifts, and Mara and Corran deserve a chance to try the conversation again...after Corran has his own brush with darkness in the form of temptation...

“Do you think [Kyp] is worthy to be a Jedi?” Horn asked.

I wasn’t certain if becoming a Jedi was a matter of worthiness and I said as much.

“What do you mean?”

“I mean you’re not the only one who doesn’t think Durron should be a Jedi.” I thought of the utter weariness in Skywalker’s voice as we watched Kyp’s body float in bacta,  “I just don’t get the sense he has that much of a choice in the matter.”

“Once a Jedi always a Jedi?”

I shrugged, “I don’t know, but I know I can’t think that he should be executed for his crimes while I’m walking around with mine.”

I thought of what I’d been doing at Durron’s age, and under whose influence. 

“It’s not the same thing. You’ve more than proven yourself.”

“I was given a chance to.” and it didn’t escape me that Skywalker was a major reason I had been given that chance. Mirax had referred to me as ‘Luke Skywalker approved’ after all.

“You’re saying I should give Kyp another chance?”

“I’m saying I have to.”

He sighed.

“Do I have to like him?”

“Probably not.” I chuckled.

“I can be an ally without being a friend.” Corran nodded, clearly considering the idea.

“I think that’s all that’s being asked.”

“By Luke.” Corran met my gaze steadily, “Do you trust Kyp?” “No, but I don’t exactly trust myself around this stuff either. I mean I used the dark side for years and didn’t even know it.”

“Darkness is sneaky,” Corran agreed, “it gets in through your weaknesses.”

“Which weakness?”

“Sex.” Mirax said as she came back into the room with a plate of cookies and a pot of elba, “Although I’d say it’s also one of his strengths.”

[tadpal]

watching the gal gadot death on the nile. it's bad.

[quinn-o-lantern]

who decided to give THEE species that seeks out a mate via show off its body access to cameras and the internet

[barbietoiles]

Thinking about it, recently i havent seen any dance practices where they crumble to the floor and/ or go insane at the end. Wheres my silly little exaggeration for marketing purposes </3

[kaiist]

𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐃𝐄𝐄𝐏𝐒𝐏𝐀𝐂𝐄 ⋯ 𝐖𝐇𝐄𝐍 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐒𝐀𝐘 “𝐖𝐄 𝐍𝐄𝐄𝐃 𝐓𝐎 𝐓𝐀𝐋𝐊” 𝐓𝐎 𝐇𝐈𝐌

𝐗𝐀𝐕𝐈𝐄𝐑

“We need to talk,” you say, trying to keep your expression serious as you stand before Xavier.

Rather than responding, however, he simply extends his hand toward you.

“Xavier? Did you hear what I said?”

Without a word, he gently pulls you toward the large beanbag in the corner of the room. Before you can protest or explain that your serious tone was just a joke, he’s already settling into the cushion, bringing you down with him.

“This... not now,” he murmurs, positioning you against his chest as he wraps his arms around you. His deliberate movements make it clear—this is his strategy for avoiding whatever discussion you’re trying to initiate.

“I was just—” you begin, but Xavier has already closed his eyes, his breathing starting to deepen in that familiar pattern.

You sigh, realizing he’s purposely choosing sleep over conversation. As his arms tighten slightly around you, keeping you securely against him, you can’t help but wonder if he saw through your playful ruse or if he simply decides that any conversation beginning with ‘we need to talk’ isn’t worth staying awake for.

𝐙𝐀𝐘𝐍𝐄

“We need to talk,” you announce as Zayne walks through the door.

He pauses mid-step, his eyes immediately fixing on yours. He sets down his belongings without a word and takes a seat beside you, giving you his full attention.

“Go ahead,” he says simply.

You hadn’t expected such immediate, focused attention, and your planned joke suddenly feels less humorous under his intense gaze. You hesitate, considering whether to continue the prank.

“I’m listening,” he prompts when you don’t immediately speak.

You decide to come clean. “There’s nothing serious to discuss. I’m just happy to see you.”

His expression doesn’t change, but he holds your gaze for a long moment before rising from his seat with a relieved sigh. “I’m happy to see you, too,” he smiles before adding, “But, please, don’t start conversations with ‘we need to talk’ next time,” he says. “Those words create unnecessary anxiety.”

He moves toward you, his demeanor softening slightly. “If you want my attention, you have it. No need for dramatic preludes.” He caresses your head briefly before heading to the kitchen.

Later, he brings you a cup of coffee and sits beside you. “Now, did you want to talk about something else? Or was the goal simply to see me worry?”

𝐑𝐀𝐅𝐀𝐘𝐄𝐋

“We need to talk,” you announce from the doorway of Rafayel’s studio.

The faint smile that usually dances across his face when he paints vanishes instantly. His whole body seems to stop functioning—even the glass of water halfway to his lips remains suspended in air, forgotten.

His eyes—wide and alarmed—fix on you with such intensity that your playful mood instantly evaporates. He doesn’t move, doesn’t blink, just stares at you with growing dread.

“What—” he finally manages, voice barely audible. “What did I do?” he whispers. “Did I miss something important? Was I supposed to be somewhere?”

You can almost see the memories flashing behind his eyes—all the times he’s flaked on commitments to his art exhibition, all the responsibilities he’s brushed aside for spontaneous ocean swims for inspiration, and all the times he’d flee from social gatherings.

“It was a joke,” you interrupt his thoughts quickly. “Just a silly joke. There’s nothing wrong.”

Relief floods his entire body. “Why would you scare me like that? Now my mind’s blank and I can’t paint anymore,” he huffs.

He ‘punishes’ you with all-day cuddles to make himself feel better.

𝐒𝐘𝐋𝐔𝐒

“We need to talk,” you say, entering Sylus’s office with a deliberately somber expression.

There’s the briefest pause in his movements before his composure returns completely.

“Do we now?” he responds, leaning back in his chair. “What is it, sweetie? Enlighten me about this matter that demands such a grave introduction.”

He gestures to the seat across from him, watching you closely as you sit down. His expression reveals nothing, though you catch the slight narrowing of his eyes as he studies your face, preparing responses for various scenarios.

“I’m waiting,” he says after a moment of silence.

You can’t maintain the charade under his intense scrutiny and break into a smile. “Actually, there’s nothing. I just wanted to see you.”

The corner of his mouth twitches. “Are you trying to see how I’d react? I assure you, I was completely unaffected.” Despite his claim, there’s a hint of relief in his posture as he leans forward.

“Your mind stopped working for a split second there, didn’t it?”

“Careful,” he murmurs, reaching across the desk to brush his fingers against yours. “Next time you cry wolf, I might just show you what happens when I’m genuinely concerned.”

𝐂𝐀𝐋𝐄𝐁

“We need to talk,” you announce, keeping your voice serious as you enter Caleb’s room.

He looks up from his phone, and for just a moment, his demeanor falters. Then, as quickly as it appeared, the concern vanishes behind a bright smile.

“Nooope. No, we don’t,” he declares, tossing aside his work. “Whatever it is, I’m sure it can wait until after dinner. Or tomorrow. Or never.”

You try to maintain your serious expression. “Caleb, I’m being serious here.”

“And I’m seriously not having this conversation,” he replies, already guiding you toward the door with an arm around your shoulders. “Let’s go get some food instead. Or watch that new movie at the cinema. Anything but ‘talk.’”

“You’re aware that avoiding the topic only makes me more curious, right?”

“Of course,” he grins, “but if I keep you entertained long enough, you might just forget about it.”

“You were scared,” you tease.

“Absolutely not,” he insists, though his grip on your hand tightens slightly. “I just have a strict policy against conversations that start that way. They’re banned in this relationship, effective immediately.” He pulls you closer, his playfulness restored now that the perceived threat has passed.

Two posts for today 😼

[ivyues]

Laptop Delivery - Bang Chan

Practice got a little more eventful thanks to an forgotten laptop.

It was a peaceful morning. Fresh from your shower, you padded into your kitchen, planning to grab a quick breakfast before heading to uni. But something on the counter stopped you in your tracks – Chris' laptop.  

Your heart sank. He’d stayed over last night but had to leave early for dance practice. The sight of his laptop sitting on the counter screamed trouble. Normally, he wouldn’t bring it over – it was too precious, filled with tracks, demos, and other vital material for the group. You knew his schedule was packed, and forgetting something this important could only mean bad news.

You snapped a picture of it and sent it to him with the caption:

"Forgot something?"

Still, you couldn’t shake the thought that it might be much more important. Without hesitation, you called him, even though you knew he was at practice.  

After a few rings, he picked up, slightly breathless. "Hey, baby. I’m… kinda at practice right now – what’s up?"  

"Did you leave your laptop here on purpose?" you asked, though you already knew the answer.  

"What?" His voice was sharp with confusion. "No, I thought I— wait, let me check the picture you send me."  

A muffled curse followed as realization hit. "Oh shit, no. I’ve got a meeting with some producers right after practice. I can’t believe I left it there." His tone was laced with stress.  

Chris hesitated. "I—" he started, then stopped himself. You could almost hear the gears turning in his head. He was probably considering rushing back to your place after practice, which would make him late for the meeting. Worse, you wouldn’t even be there to open the door since you'd already be at uni by then.

"I… could… bring it to you," you offered cautiously, knowing what value the device had to the group.  

"Really? Would that be possible?" His voice softened, a mixture of relief and guilt.  

"Yeah, but I’d have to leave now. I still have uni today," you said, already moving to grab your things.  

"Ah, that's amazing. You're an angel," he said warmly. "I’ll text you the room number."  

Skipping breakfast, you grabbed his laptop and headed out. On the way, you planned to stop by a bakery for something quick after the delivery, before heading straight to class.  

-----

At the JYP building, you knocked lightly on the practice room door, despite Chris’ text saying you could walk right in. The door opened to reveal Felix, his face lighting up with a grin.  

"Hey!" he greeted, pulling you into a quick hug.  

"Hi, Lix," you replied with a small smile. From across the room, Chris’ head shot up, his eyes locking on you. Relief and affection softened his expression as he quickly made his way towards you.  

"Hey," he murmured, stopping just in front of you.  

"Hi," you replied, reaching into your bag to pull out his laptop. As soon as the sleek silver device emerged, the room fell silent.  

The members froze, eyes wide. It wasn’t just a laptop to them; they knew what was inside – tracks, demos, lyrics, everything. The fact that you were holding it was proof of something bigger: the trust Chris had in you.

But before anyone could speak, Chris gently pulled you into the room, his fingers brushing your cheeks as he softly pulled your mask down.  

And then, he kissed you.  

It was natural, familia – something the two of you had done countless times before. But here, in the quiet practice room, with – unbeknownst to you – all eyes on you, it felt different. His lips were warm and soft, a silent expression of gratitude and love.  

The members didn’t move, still processing what they were seeing. None of them had expected this. Sure, they knew how much Chris cared about you, but seeing it displayed so openly caught them off guard.  

When he finally pulled back, his ears burned red, and he muttered a sheepish "I’ll call you later, okay? Thanks again", as he took the laptop from your hands.  

You, cheeks blazing, barely managed a nod as you stepped back. The silence lingered for a beat longer before you mumbled, "Y-yeah. Bye, everyone."

You turned and left, closing the door behind you.  

The moment the door clicked shut, chaos erupted.  

"YAH, HYUNG!"  

"I can't believe you just did that!"

"PDA MUCH?!”

"Channie hyung, what was that?!"

"Wow, so smooth. Too bad your ears give you away."  

Outside, you heard the screaming teasing very clearly and couldn’t help but smile, your cheeks still burning as you walked down the hallway. Chris could handle the teasing – he brought it upon himself after all.  

masterlist

[readwritealldayallnight]

(part of the ‘Wife at First Sight Series’)

For the first time in a long time, Simon feels as if he’s walking on eggshells

He’s 6’4”, easily over 200 pounds of bulking muscle, strikes fear into the heart of each and every enemy he comes across (should they live to tell the tale that is), and yet he feels as though he’s tiptoeing, practically dancing around the issue he refuses to address

Yet you make him feel this way

It’s been months now, of this dance you still haven’t realized you’re apart of, shining on centre stage under the constant spotlight of Simon Riley’s attention, rather than one of the background performers as you seem to believe

He feels as though he’s done everything he can to get the point across to you, other than literally getting down on one knee and asking you those four special words he can’t seem to get himself to speak out loud

As easy as it is to pretend you two truly are husband and wife ‘til death do you part, he’s instead having to watch you leave base in exchange for your lonely flat each night, reminded of the fact that he’s not ballsy enough to just come out and say it to you

You make the Lieutenant nervous for fucks sake, something he hasn’t truly felt in so long he’s grasping for straws, searching for a life raft in these uncharted waters to help him stay afloat

That’s part of why he’s so confused when Gaz finally joins him and Soap in the gun range, landing a friendly smack across the taller man’s broad shoulders, saying something about how he’s ‘really happy for you LT, finally properly asked her, aye?’

“What are you goin’ on about?” Ghost practically grunts out, readjusting the weapon against his shoulder as he glances through the scope of his gun, only partly interested in what the Sergeants answer is, that is until he hears him mention your name

“Just saw her at her desk, talkin’ about how she has a wedding this weekend-” Gaz has barely finished his sentence before Ghost is whipping his skull clad head around, shoving his weapon into Soap’s arms, and beelining out of the armoury towards you, leaving a pair of chuckling Sergeants behind him

They’ve never seen their Lieutenant so whipped before. And the fact that you don’t even know you have this beast of a man wrapped around your dainty little finger makes it all the more entertaining for them

They totally haven’t taken bets on how long it takes for him to break and finally confess his feelings, and Price definitely didn’t put money down on it either

Ghost may as well float into the room on a cloud he’s feeling so overjoyed at the idea of finding you sat at your desk all pretty, chit chatting away with colleagues about the wedding you’ve finally realized he intends to give you, taking all the pressure off of him

Instead, he rounds the corner and overhears the last tidbits of your conversation, pretending as though his stomach doesn’t drop out of him and onto the floor when he realizes you’re telling your desk mate about your sisters wedding this weekend

He should’ve know better, it wouldn’t be that easy

“-not that I’m embarrassed to go without someone. That I don’t care so much about.” He hears you explain, failing to have noticed him behind you quite yet. “God knows it’s been ages since I’ve gone on an actual date anyways. But this is the first time I’m a bridesmaid, and my sister keeps saying I’m apparently the only bridesmaid without a date-”

“Well aren’t you going to bring your husband?” Your colleague asks, cutting you off. Just like everyone else on base, she knows thinks you are in fact Mrs Riley, for all intents and purposes. You open your mouth to correct her and tell her you don’t have a husband, when a deep voice comes up behind you and speaks first.

“‘Course she is.” Ghost replies for you, coming to stand behind you in your chair, sneaking a gloved hand onto your shoulder to offer a slight squeeze of acknowledgment. You lean your head back to glance up at him, offering a soft smile that melts his heart more and more each time he’s lucky enough to see it, to be the reason for it. Sensing she’s now the odd one out, your coworker quietly excuses herself and goes to find someone else to talk water cooler gossip with.

“Oh Ghost! Hi!” You say, reaching your own hand up to squeeze his in return, smile widening when you notice the crinkles next to his eyes that you hope mean he’s smiling as well under the mask. “Oh, you really don’t have to. I mean- I wouldn’t want you to waste a day off just to sit through a stranger’s wedding for who knows how many hours. I barely want to go.”

You try to joke about it, but this really has been causing you unnecessary stress. Your sister apparently doesn’t have enough wedding planning on her plate as it is, seeing as she has enough time to constantly pester you about whether you’ve secured a date yet or not, despite your answer always being no. She knows it’s been forever since you’ve dated anyone seriously, and that finding a date will be more of a chore than showing up without one and enduring your relative comments and questions.

Each time you told her no though, your mind wandered to the tall, dark, muscular man who liked to call himself your husband, imagining the looks on your family’s face if you were to show up with Ghost on your arm. But you never bothered to ask him, not wanting to force him into extending his kindness and charade of a happily married couple outside of work hours.

“I’d be with you for those ‘who knows how many hours?’” Ghost asks, quoting you, watching as you offer him a simple nod in return. “Then that’s the farthest thing from a waste o’ time in my books, love.”

As simple as that, the plan was set. Ghost would be your date to the wedding that weekend.

Now, Ghost was used to not having very much to look forward to in life. He could look forward to a hot shower occasionally, look forward to good pub food instead of mess hall dinners, look forward to a chance to sleep in a little later, simpler things of the sort.

But when you came into his life, he was suddenly looking forward to equally simple, but different things. He looked forward to reading your cute replies to his good morning and good night texts (he still never misses a single one, all these months later), looked forward to seeing your sweet smile greeting him when you arrived to work, looked forward to hearing your pleased hum when you took your first sip of whatever drink he prepared you that day. Essentially, he looked forward to seeing you.

Now though, he feels as if this weekend cannot come soon enough, finding himself practically giddy he’s looking forward to spending more time with you off base so much, feeling like a kid who’s itching to get their hands on their new Christmas gifts.

When he arrives at your flat almost a half hour too early (he just couldn’t wait anymore lovie, you can’t blame the poor man), and you open the door to greet him, he doesn’t think it’s fair to compare this to a gift under the Christmas tree.

No. It’s more like he’s won the goddamn lottery.

Standing before him, is the most beautiful, breathtaking vision he’s ever laid eyes upon in all his years. He half wonders if his knees are legitimately beginning to wobble where he stands, he feels so weak in the knees as he gazes upon you in your doorway. It’s still just you, the same woman he’s been seeing every day and dreaming of each night.

But you don’t look like you have every day these past months. Your hair is styled differently, your make up is a little more done up, and the thing that’s really got his mind reeling, is that instead of your regular work attire, you’re wearing a dress so stunning he half wonders whether or not you are the bride this evening. There’s no possible way someone so beautiful is expected to stand on the sidelines tonight, expected to be anyone apart from the star of the show, the centre of his the world.

You don’t take much notice of the way Ghost fails to greet you properly, standing outside your door and practically gawking at you, seeing as you’re preoccupied doing the same to him. His usual fatigues and black everything have been swapped out for black dress pants, a white button up shirt (your eyes definitely do not linger on the top three buttons being left undone, nope, not at all) and a black blazer, matching black surgical mask in exchange for the typical skeleton mask.

You two blushing, bumbling idiots in secret love manage to pull yourselves together enough to make the drive up to the venue, the car ride filled with laughter, stories, and too many stolen glances to count, each of you wishing you could pull the car over somewhere and jump each others bones instead.

At the venue, you go through the obligatory introductions with your family, simply so they couldn’t say you didn’t say hello at least once throughout the busy night, only partially intent on ignoring them later on. They’re left understandably stunned at the mention that the man beside you is your husband, and when your family members begin unloading question after question, the two of you manage to find a quick excuse each time to dash off, giggling and holding onto the other as you weave the growing crowd of guests, all too proud of your little inside joke.

You regretfully tell him that you’ll have to leave him to sit alone throughout the ceremony, though he insists you shouldn’t worry about it, lifting your spirits momentarily when he jokes that you should focus more on not tripping during your walk down the aisle, before the both of you are left bright red in the face at hearing him talking about you walking down an aisle, as if you don’t pretend to be married every day to begin with.

He truly doesn’t mind having to sit on the tiny foldable chairs that make up the seating for the ceremony, it’s only a small portion of the evening after all. And besides, his eyes certainly aren’t on the couple reciting their vows up at the altar. No, his gaze is on one person and one person only. From the moment the music kicked in and pairs of bridesmaids and groomsmen stepped out to walk the aisle in their matching attire and matching smiles, his eyes have been locked on you, just as yours have been locked on his.

His size certainly helped you pick him out of the crowd with more ease, finding him amongst the familiar and unfamiliar faces instantly, as though gravity was pulling your gaze in his direction alone. Later on, neither of you could even correctly point out amongst the groomsmen whose arm you were holding on to as you walked, attention only focused on each other.

Even as you stood up front, listening to your sister and new brother in law profess their love for the other, you tried your best to appear as though you were paying them your full attention, considering you were standing up at the front and all. But it was as though you could literally feel Ghost’s eyes on you the entire ceremony, unable to stop your eyes from straying towards him more times than was surely appropriate, feeling the heat of a blush creep over your cheeks every time you saw how devastatingly handsome he was today.

By the time the newlyweds are marching back down the aisle past their cheering loved ones, wedding party in tow, your eyes are no longer pretending to look anywhere other than at him. And Simon is looking back at you, but his mind is growing preoccupied, thinking of how he can finally ensure you’ll let him walk you down the aisle now.

Because in the glove compartment of the very car he drove you up here in, only inches away from your knees the entire drive, he’s tucked away a small little box, containing the exact ring you chose from the jeweller all those weeks ago. He carries it with him everywhere, eager for the moment, the opportunity to be lucky enough to truly call himself your husband and slip the band over your finger as his wife.

And he’s decided that tonight is the night he tells you.

The night he tells you this has never been a joke to him, never been anything apart from what he really wants to be true from the moment he saw you.

To call you his wife.