how long do my arms look though

onyx-sketch  asked:

How do you imagine Onyxes looking? (Really creative choice considering my url)

onyx’s are quartz, but they are built for defense. they are massive tanks, larger than most quartz’, have lots of stamina, are sturdy, and have amazing defense. they can shape shift their arms into large shields for an indefinite amount of time, and are generally placed in the front lines of an army. they are super slow though, and take a long time to reform if they are poofed.

(im not taking anymore gem reqs so plz dont ask for any)

The long, lean lines of your body press close against mine. One of my hands rests gently on your waist, just enough pressure to keep you near, while the other clasps your hand firmly. We breathe together as we begin.

1, 2, 3… 1, 2, 3…

We’ve been practicing my wedding waltz for the last week, and though it was incredibly unnerving at first to hold you like this–so near to what I’ve wanted for so long–the awkwardness has dissipated through repeated rehearsals. It’s beginning to feel quite comfortable instead, almost like you belong here. My arms now remember the shape they make when we’re together like this, finding the position easily, as if this is how they’re always meant to be.

1, 2, 3… 1, 2, 3…

There’s one thing I still haven’t been able to bring myself to do though, and that’s look at you as we dance. At first I kept my head turned away entirely, my gaze fixed on the nearby floor. You chastised me for that–improper form, apparently–so for the last few practices I’ve glared steadily at your chest and the small patch of exposed skin I can see there, the hint of sharp collarbones peeking out from behind your collar. It doesn’t help my heart beat any more slowly, but it’s the better of the two options.

1, 2, 3… 1, 2, 3…

Your voice pulls me from my thoughts. “John.”

“Hmm?” I ask, risking a quick glance up at your face before returning my gaze to the bit of you directly in front of me.

“John, you need to look at my face.”

“No, I don’t. Mary isn’t as tall as you are. She’s my height. This is better practice.”

1, 2, 3… 1, 2, 3…

“Maybe based on her height, but you’re still tucking your chin down, which is ruining your posture. And you need to get used to the eye contact so you don’t look awkward tomorrow evening.”

“I’m pretty sure I can handle making eye contact with my own wife.” I nearly stumble over the final word. Referring to Mary that way is going to take some getting used to.

1, 2, 3… 1, 2, 3…

I can feel your impatient sigh where it ruffles my hair. “Maintaining steady eye contact for the duration of an entire song without breaking it or becoming visibly uncomfortable is much more difficult than you think, John.”

Is that a challenge?

I shake my head exasperatedly but force my chin up anyway so that I am looking into your face. My eyes find yours, jade green in the warm light of the sitting room, and the corner of your mouth twitches upward.

1, 2, 3… 1, 2, 3…

You’re right. (As usual.) It is harder to do this than I expected. My heart is hammering against my ribs, begging me to look away, but I’m not one to step down from a challenge. I force myself to focus on putting my feet in the right places rather than focusing on your face hovering mere inches from mine. But when you inhale deeply, your lips parting just a fraction of an inch, it’s all I can do not to take it as an invitation to push my mouth to yours, to feel your breath mingle warm and moist with mine, to lick all those clever words from your tongue, to savor the tea and tobacco and temptation taste of you.

1, 2, 3… 1, 2, 3…

The final notes of the wedding waltz you wrote drift from the speakers and hover in the air around us. Whereas I didn’t want to look up at you before, now I don’t want to look away. Silence settles, but neither of us tries to step apart. Your eyes search mine, flicking gently back and forth as if you can somehow read whatever it is you want to know. A soft, sad smile plays across your lips, your deep voice hushed as you murmur, “We should give it another go.”

If only we could.