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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𝖎𝖎𝖎. Freedom is Worth a Fortune
MAEVE HAS KNOWN Charlie Whistle for a long time. He's old, too feeble to work the lumberyards, so he sweeps the streets by day. At night, he sells everything you could want out of his moldy wagon, from heavily restricted coffee to exotics from Archeon. Maeve was nine with a fistful of stolen buttons when she took her chances with him for the first time. He paid her three copper pennies for them, no questions asked. Now she's his best costumer and probably the reason he manages to stay afloat in such a small place. On a good day she might even call him a friend. So, naturally the things she and Weston can't sell to the usual shop owners, they have to take to Charlie.
Some call this system the underground, others the black market, but all Maeve cares about is what they can do. They have fences, people like Charlie, everywhere. Even in Archeon, as impossible as that sounds. They transport illegal goods all over the country. And now she's betting that they might make an exception and transport a person ━ or two people, she supposes ━ instead.
"Absolutely not."
In all her eight years of knowing him, Charlie Whistle has never refused anything from Maeve. Now the wrinkled old man is practically slamming shut the doors of his wagon straight in her face. She's happy Weston decided to stay behind, so he doesn't have to see her fail him.
"Charlie, please. I know you can do it ━"
He shakes her head profusely, eyes narrowed. "Even if I could, I am a tradesman. The people I work with aren't the type to spend their time and effort shuttling another runner from place to place. It's not our business."
Maeve can slowly feel her only hope, Weston's only hope, slipping right through her fingers.
Charlie must see the desperation in her eyes because he softens, leaning against the wagon door. He heaves a sigh and glances backward, into the darkness of the wagon. After a moment, he turns back around and gestures, beckoning her inside. She follows gladly, her spark of hope returning.
"Thank you, Charlie," she babbles gratefully. "You don't know what this means to me ━"
"Sit down and be quiet, girl," says a high voice that stops Maeve right in her tracks.
Out of the shadows of the wagon, hardly visible in the dim light of Charlie's single blue candle, a woman rises to her feet. Girl, Maeve should say, since she barely looks any older than herself. But she's much taller, with the air of an old warrior. The gun at her hip, tucked into a red sash belt stamped with suns, is certainly not authorized. She's too blonde and fair to be from the Stilts, and judging by the light sweat on her face, she's not used to the heat or humidity. She is a foreigner, an outlander, and an outlaw at that. Just the person Maeve wants to see.
