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...
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
𝖝𝖎𝖎𝖎. Don't Waste It
MAEVE FALLS BACKWARD, almost missing a step in her anguish, but Matt manages to steady her. She wishes he wouldn't. She wants to fall down, to feel something hard and real so the pain in her head won't hurt so badly. Her hand strays to her ear, grazing over the three stones she holds so dearly. The third, Cassian's stone, feels cold against her skin.
"We didn't want to tell you in a letter," Emira whispers, picking at her splint. "He died before the discharge came."
The urge to electrify something, to pour her rage and sorrow into a single bolt of biting power, has never felt so strong. Control it, she tells herself. She can't believe she was worried about Matt burning the house down; lightning can destroy just as easily as any flame.
Emira fights tears, forcing herself to say the words. "He tried to run away. He was executed. Beheaded."
Maeve's legs give way so quickly even Matt doesn't have a chance to catch her. She can't hear, she can't see, she can only feel. Sorrow, shock, pain, grief, rage, the whole world spinning around her. The lightbulbs buzz with electricity, screaming at her so loudly she thinks her head might split. The fridge crackles in the corner, its old, bleeding battery pulsing like a dying heart. They taunt her, tease her, trying to make her crack. But she won't. She won't.
"Mae," Matt breathes in her ear, his arms warm around her, but he might as well be talking to her from across an ocean. "Maeve!"
She heaves a painful gasp, trying to catch her breath. Her cheeks feel wet, though she doesn't remember crying. Executed. Her blood boils under her skin. It's a lie. He didn't run. He was in the Guard. And they found out. They killed him for it. They murdered him.
Maeve has never known anger like this. Not when the boys left, not when Weston came to her. Not even when they broke Emira's hand.
An earsplitting whine screeches through the house, as the fridge, the lightbulbs, and the wiring in the walls kick into high gear. Electricity hums, making her feel alive and angry and dangerous. Now she's creating the energy, pushing her own strength through the house just like Cedric taught her.
Matt yells, shaking her, trying to get through somehow. But he can't. The power is in her and she doesn't want to let go. It feels so much better than the pain.
Glass rains down on them as the lightbulbs explode, popping like corn in a skillet. Pop pop pop. It almost drowns out her mother's scream.
Someone pulls her to her feet with rough strength. Their hands go to her face, holding her still as they speak. Not to comfort her, not to empathize, but to snap her out of it.
