she's an anomaly, and they can't help but be infatuated with her.
NO SMUT OR SEXUALIZING ━ if any of the triplets are uncomfortable with this fanfiction, it will be taken down immediately.
matt sturniolo x fem! oc x chris sturniolo (LOVE TRIANGLE)
l...
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𝖝𝖝𝖝𝖛𝖎𝖎𝖎. The Blackrun
THE BUNKER PASSES by in flashes of light and color. Maeve catches only glimpses as Cassian lets loose, jumping himself and the others through the structure. His hands and arms are everywhere, grasping, giving them all enough space to hold on. He must be strong enough to take them all, because no one gets left behind.
Maeve sees a door, a wall, the floor tipping toward her. Guards give chase at every turn, shouting, shooting, but they're never in one place long enough. Once, they land in a crowded room blossoming with electricity, surrounded by video screens and radio equipment. She even catches sight of some cameras piled in the corner before the occupants react to them and they jump away. Then she's squinting in the sunlight of the dock. This time, the Lakelanders get close enough that Maeve can see their faces, pale against the evening light. Then, there's sand beneath her feet. Another jump and there's concrete. They jump farther in the open, starting at one end of the runway before teleporting all the way to the hangar. Cassian winces with the strain, his muscles tight, the cords of his neck standing out starkly. One last jump takes them inside the hangar, to face cool air and relative quiet. When the world finally stops twisting and pulling, Maeve feels like collapsing. Or throwing up. But Matt keeps her standing, holding her up to see what they've come so far for.
Two airjets dominate the hanger, their wings spread wide and dark. One is smaller than the other, built for a single occupant, with a silver body and orange-tipped wings. Snapdragon, Maeve remembers, thinking back to Naercey and the swift, lethal jets that rained fire down upon the city of ruins. The bigger one is pitch-black, menacing, with a larger body and no distinguishing colors to speak of. She's never seen anything like it, and dimly wonders if Matt has either. After all, he's going to be the one to fly it, unless Cyrus has yet another skill in her bag of tricks. Judging by the way she stares at the jet, her eyes wide, Maeve doubts it.
"What are you doing in here?"
The voice echoes strangely in the hangar, bouncing off the walls. The man who appears beneath the wing of the Snapdragon doesn't have the look of a soldier, wearing grey overalls instead of a Lakelander uniform. His hands are stained with oil, marking him as a mechanic. He glances between the five of them, taking in Weston's bruising cheeks and Cassian's crutch. "I ━ I'll have to report you to your superiors."
"Report away," Cyrus snaps, looking every inch the captain she was. Maeve is surprised the mechanic doesn't faint on the spot. "We're on strict orders from the Colonel." She gestures quickly, pointing Matt toward the black jet. "Now get this hangar door open."
The mechanic continues to stammer while Matt leads the group to the rear of the jet. As they pass beneath the wing, he reaches up a hand, letting it drag against the cool metal. "A Blackrun," he explains quietly. "Big and fast."
