An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works
Summary: Connie tries to figure out whats up with the weird mark on her stomach, and pulls a sword from Steven’s gem.
As she came to Steven’s side, he kissed her cheek, making her heart pick up pace in her breast. That was new, still, and she still wasn’t quite sure what either of them meant by it. It was a nice greeting, though, even as he mumbled, “Sorry about this.”
Citrus widened her eyes with anger, her face contorting with jealousy as she hissed, “That’s not fair! She’s not even cracked and you’ll fix her?”
Steven groaned, rubbing his face. “I guess you’re right. It’s just a kiss.”
She wasn’t , and the uptick in her heartbeat wasn’t the silly excitement of a friendship slipping into something new. Anger to match the quartz’s, icy and snarling, buzzed in her chest, despite the stillness on her face.
She couldn’t do nothing, not when Steven was raising his thumb to his mouth in a kiss. Yes, it would only take a second, but Steven’s time should not have had to be piecemealed out to every gem who came to his door with demands. He should not owe every moment to duty, especially when the gems gave him so little in return.
The quartz was so smug, so confident, that every moment staring into her face made Connie’s gut twist hard, until the words lashed out of her, until her sword came to her hand and pushed into Citrus’s face. “Maybe you should be more careful with your gem!”
Everything in the room went still.
Because her sword was tucked away in its scabbard at home. Her sword was not supposed to be shining pink and white energy, sparkling as it came into existence. Her sword was a tangible thing of hardlight and metal. It didn’t feel perfectly like an extension of her own arm, her body and soul stretched beyond the tips of her fingers. But that was the sword in her hand, and that was the sword that stopped right before the jasper’s lips.
stormborns
areudirty
dailybridgerton
romaincrisis
yousharknotpass
pixelskylines
