Homemade Dynamite, please?
OmGGGgg yay I am glad someone asked about this! Thanks anon! Unfortunately, this one’s been on the back burner for quite a BIT, but I mean @jan-uarys and I spent several hours last night freaking the FUCK out about it and it honestly got me hyped for it all over again!
This fic came about from my first Reylo modern AU, Keep the Blinds Open, wherein Ben moves across the street and Rey has to wipe her drool away and be like OH NO HE'S HOT…and basically, Rey wants to be in denial for so long and they’re both so stubborn that they didn’t even talk to each other or MEET until Ben had been living there for like a whole YEAR haha. Then one day my dyad in the force @saratogagrounder and I were talking about what it would be like if that happened with Merrical…and we were like LOL Merrin would never stand for that…and she ofc encouraged me to write the fic after we giggled about it for quite some time and we all know it takes like absolutely NO effort for me to take on another WIP—💀
But yeah so Merrin moves in across the street, Cal FREAKS out about it obvs, and is like omg how am I even going to live my life now with her being there and being all hot all the time and stuffs FUCK—and she’s been living there for like a couple of months at this point, and then Cal is standing in his kitchen one day contemplating if he should make himself some dino chicken nuggets for dinner and they make eye contact for the first time when she comes home, and he is just like frozen in place like SHIT SHIT SHIT SHITTTT WHAT DO I DO…and WHAT does our boy do?? HEH, he ends up just like awkwardly waving at her ofc. Then she just tilts her head at him, and then promptly leaves her apartment.
“Oh my god,” Cal said out loud, “I fucking—freaked her out so much she immediately had to leave her apartment.”
He let out a severe exhale as he started to pace about his kitchen for several minutes.
“Jesus Christ Beedee, I think we’re gonna have to move now—there’s no way I’m coming back from that—I can never look at her again.”
Cal grunted, bringing his index finger and thumb to his eyes and rubbing at them.
“Why—why are you like this? That was so fucking—”
There was a knock on his door. His head whipped over to it and he thought he might have been hearing things as he just stood there for a moment—or it could have been several before he heard it again as Beedee also barked along with it.
Cal looked at his dog, “Go lay down boy, it’s fine.”
The dog listened and went to his bed, but still whined a little.
“What the…” Cal said to himself as he placed his coffee down on the counter and paced to his door in such baffling steps, “who would—”
Cal unlocked the door, and there on the other side of it, was none other than her—his hot neighbor—right in front of him.
His eyes were probably popping out of his sockets as he said nothing for a sequence of seconds and just gawked at her, almost tempted to ask if she meant to come here.
She did know that—he lived here, right?
“Well,” she stated in a voice with an accent oh god she had an accent, “are you going to invite me inside?”
Cal just blinked a couple of times as she raised an eyebrow at him.
Oh my god say something—
“Uh—yeah, right,” Cal stammered, knowing he was severely red as he cleared his throat and stepped aside, “come on—in.”
She sounded Russian to him. Why was that hot? Jesus Christ she was so much hotter up close—
Strolling past him like she’d been here before, Cal closed the door behind her and he immediately shoved his hands down the pockets of his jeans as she still hadn’t faced him.
“Did you uh—” Cal panicked, so taken aback and so confused, “did you mean to come here?”
Why did he ask that?
She chuckled a little, “No, I meant to go to the Italian restaurant down the street and somehow ended up here.”
Cal snorted, not expecting such a quip from her, but then still felt all his anxiety crushing him as he took an unsteady breath.
“You know, I get that a lot—probably from all the gourmet meals I am always cooking for myself—the secret’s out.”
His heart was racing as she laughed again, and wow her laugh was—beautiful? Was that a weird thing to think?
All he knew is that he was trying not to focus on her, but then all he could focus on was her and no he wasn’t checking out her body or her perfect ass—
“Perhaps you could pitch them your favorite meal of chicken nuggets and whiskey—I am sure they’ll be very interested in hearing the recipe,” she responded, and honestly, he didn’t know why that felt like the wind was being knocked out of him, but there were just too many implications in that sentence that he simply couldn’t brush aside—
Cal needed to breathe; he wasn’t breathing—
“Uh—huh—they’ve been hounding me for years over it,” Cal stated in a voice that really didn’t sound as steady as his last sentence…almost like he had just gone through puberty and he was pretending to sound older than he actually was.
“My my, I am sure,” she stated, and Cal really didn’t know what to say to that.
He couldn’t still quite believe that she was just walking around in his apartment as she placed her purse down on his counter, clearly judging his things as he just stood there openly gaping at her like that was going to make this situation any better.
“You waved at me,” she pointed out.
And see Cal was trying to completely forget about the fact that his innate reaction to actually making eye contact with his new hot neighbor for the first time was to fucking awkwardly wave at her.
“Yeah—I…certainly did that.”
She turned to him finally, her eyes completely scanning over him like she was trying to size him up for something.
“Was that not an invitation to come over?” She asked as casually as if this was for some reason an entirely normal, commonplace really, way to interact with someone. Step one, sure, stare at your hot neighbor like some creeper, and then step two, wave at her like a complete buffoon, which will obviously lead her to showing up at your door unannounced.
What world was he living in right now?
“Oh, uh—” Cal stammered, knowing for damn sure that was not his intention, and if he were less awkward of a person perhaps he could actually be trying to accomplish something with this gorgeous person—even if it were to at the very least be having a successful conversation, “I guess it could have been…because it’s not like I mind you being here or anything—” oh fuck where the fuck was he going with this he needed to change gears now— “do you want some coffee or something?”
Her expression was difficult to read, but it could have possibly been like she was pitying him, “I suppose so…I take mine black.”
Cal lifted both his hands and pointed his index fingers at her, “Great.”
Well that was a weird thing to do. Then again, so was everything he did.
He thought being able to concentrate on doing something would help his anxiety as he noted Beedee had approached her and started sniffing at her. She bent down to give him a pet on his head.
“Oh uh—that’s Beedee, don’t worry he’s very friendly,” Cal said as he got a mug from his cupboard. He paced to the coffee machine and grabbed the pot. She seemed to have no response to him, but she was still giving his dog attention, so that was hot—
That was hot? What? Was everything she did hot just because she was so hot?
“And I’m Cal, by the way—Cal Kestis—um—if you wanted to know.”
She looked up at him, and he couldn’t quite tell if there was an upturn to her lip or not, but she definitely had raised her eyebrow at him, “Congratulations Cal Kestis.”
Normal—he felt very normal about her uttering his full name.
“Yeah, I get that a lot too,” Cal said without thought, “short for Calcium.”
For the first time there seemed to be a crack in her mostly stoic countenance as he walked over to her and offered the coffee mug.
“Is it really?”
Cal couldn’t help it, he smirked as she took the mug from his hand, “Of course.”
Her eyebrows knitted together, “Did your parents hate you?”
Parents—what an always excellent topic with him.
“You know—I think they must have.”
Honestly, not such a bad explanation on the fly.
She eyed him, making no attempt to drink her coffee.
“I feel as though you are making another stupid joke—but your tone just seemed more confident this time,” she claimed, and then he smiled again, trying not to focus on how he loved the shade of her brown eyes.
“Yeah, and now I just ran out of material, so it’s all downhill from here I’m afraid,” Cal said back, not even sure where that came from.
“Hm,” she hummed before she now took a sip of her coffee, “what a shame.”
Frankly, he was a little gobsmacked. She was—like very intimidatingly charming? And it just rendered him devoid of any more words or stupid jokes.
Damn, maybe he really was out of material.
As she turned from him again and began to once more circumvent the room.
And he watched her, just not finding it in him to look away again, and he just—he really wanted to ask her if she really came over here because he just fucking awkwardly waved at her.
He opened his mouth, but then she began speaking again.
“You watch me,” she stated in a complete matter of fact manner. Cal was not finding it difficult to decipher that she was just an extremely blunt person.
“Oh, yeah um,” he said, placing his hands on his hips, “you’re kind of…hard to miss.”
He looked up into her eyes and those brown irises were staring into his soul just a few paces away from him now.
Jesus—could he say anything remotely normal?
“I’m sorry,” he stated simply, hoping it would suffice enough for being a total creep, “I didn’t mean it in like—I—I mean I am not trying to be—”
God—he should probably just inform her that yes, he will be prompting moving out as soon as possible.
Because could he even deny his extremely inconvenient but still very real attraction to her?
She kept her stare on him for another few moments before she spoke, “Do not be sorry,” she stated, not turning from him entirely as she walked over to his window, “I watch you too.”
Cal was incidentally and entirely grateful that she could not see him right now because his jaw dropped a bit and his brain definitely forgot how to function for several seconds.
AHHH this is very first drafty EXCUSE
After disssss things get real REAL fun as I am attempting my first NON slow burn ever as they start boning right away, and it becomes and emotional slow burn. Merrin is like oh, feelings? I had those removed several years ago and Cal is like bet.
Cal’s a paramedic, and one day him and Kanan unfortunately lose someone and they have to wheel the body down to the morgue and GuEsS wHo’S tHe NeW MorGuE DoCtoR—😏
OOOOoHHH it gets SO fun from here as they navigate just banging on the reg and Merrin is like LOLZ I don’t do feelings and also being neighbors and seeing each other at work. There’s def a time or two they also bang in a janitor’s closet. Calamity ensues as Cal gets her coffee one morning along with everyone else’s and Merrin’s like you’re not allowed to be nice to me—and Cal’s like HA well too bad because I’m gonna anyway, actually.
Also @starryjediknight, I am DEF putting in some background Sabezra in there with Ezra being a nurse and Sabine being another doctor who lowkey caught Merrin and Cal coming out of the janitor’s closet, and she’s like lol girl you banging that hot ginger mess…and Merrin’s like NOO…well..maybe…YES we’ve banged a ton what do you want from me, and then Sabine is like lol I’m not judging I’m banging that nurse Ezra. I think I should also throw in some Cal and Ezra bonding over having scary hot doctor gfs LOL
Soooo YEAH v excited for this fic. It’s gonna be the best angsty ridiculous smutty Merrical rom com I as per USH from me…so I hope you guys will enjoy just as much too!
19 notes
·
View notes
Aeri can’t decide what she hates more - the way the bejeweled pin in the victor from District 8’s hair is lopsided, or the girl herself. Oh, what Aeri wouldn’t give to wear such an accessory again, or even wear the finery the victor has been gifted to wear to the viewing. That was her once, wasn’t it?
But now? She’s stuck here, watching this spectacle. The brat, who has no idea what privilege she’s been presented with, keeps on creasing the delicate threads of her gown and her stylists also clearly have no idea on how to do the brat’s makeup. And then there’s that damn pin- Aeri’s pin once upon a time- only in place because it’s tangled in there-
And Aeri can’t hold back. When the brat’s stylists are gone, she reaches into the girl’s hair and extracts the pin. Her fingers, callused from years of hard labor that still feels foreign to Aeri, are quick to untangle most of the obvious knots in the brat’s hair before shetwists the locks into a ponytail and then a bun. The pin goes back in.
Aeri glares at the girl through the mirror. Don’t you dare mess up my work.
( congrats lenlen!! you get....aeri, being really resentful, i hope marìa doesn't mind too much ^^' )
@stillresolved | !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! LET HER BE RESENTFUL
---
There's a harshness to being dolled up when you are in no way receptive to it.
María isn't foreign to the roughness of life - she's a fucking Victor, after all, isn't she - she's started working in factories just about around the age even the most moral of District 8 people might turn their back in fear on seeing her walk in, pretending not seeing her would free them of the responsibility of working with a child.
Her hands and nose and palate and lungs had long gotten used and keep getting used to the aftermath of working with chemicals, of being so very intimate with garments and colours, with fumes and heat, with the hard work of surviving, with the hard work of fighting to be allowed a minimal chance at said survival, at figuring that there's little more for people from District 8 to fight for.
Still... it's not the same.
Being pushed around, dressed in things she would have never chosen for herself to serve a people, a man, because she's not stupid enough to not be able to tell what is Capitol and what is Snow and how Capitol is Snow, it's a kind of biting and harsh and rough that doesn't leave behind the usual kind of scars and memories and bruises.
Even surviving the Games had come with a desperately accepted sense of relief, one covered in blood and the humiliation of all she'd done and all she'd thought she'd get to accomplish, only for reality to crash in on her in a victory she hadn't wanted to partake in, hadn't wanted to make possible, when she'd wanted her Games to be victor-less in lieu of ending the Games themselves.
This... this is humiliation in the long run. This has hardly any hope attached to it, waiting for her on the other end of the line. Sometimes, on the worst days, it feels like the true brunt of the battle, walking with blood-stained soles and palms and sparkling as she does, wearing all that might make even the softest source of light appear like flames reflecting off her frame, covering her in fire that had not eaten her alive - much to a few people's disdain.
Picking at things, not holding still, grimacing, shifting her muscles, arms, face to make her stylists' life as difficult as possible, it was all she had to fight back.
The Arena came with death and violence, and living back at home had been physical labour upon physical labour, straining her young body until she could no longer tell if she was broken beyond repair or fitter than children her age should be - had they grown up privileged within the Capitol's safety.
Here she has only threads to tear apart and reflections to glare at.
And a new challenge behind every door.
She feels yanked back, an intensity of motion caused less by the avox suddenly in her hair and more her own stiffness that hadn't prepared her for submission to someone suddenly rearranging her.
After her stylists had left, she'd succumbed to the tension of not wanting to be there, without the added hard work of making sure everybody else does. Lost in her thought, somebody's hands suddenly returning on her had fortified, molten it into a newly forged blade, stiff and ready to strike, tensing everything within her and making a few fingers in her hair turn into a grappling hook tied to a moving mountain.
María is startled enough she can't remember how to glare.
A frown does accompany her widened eyes anyway, making her look... appalled, almost, an addition to her expression so unsuited to typically frightened features, youth tainted by the face of someone used to having to fight to stay alive.
It almost happens in a flash then. The reflection moves and adjusts and fixes and what had started as something that had María's lips split into something acid and trembling, turns into something unpleasant and acrid, but silent, as María sits and lets herself be mandhandled one more time.
That's when she glares. After the avox finishes up, after their eyes meet in the mirror and María sees none of the downturned gazes they're trying to make her accustomed to.
Seeing avoxes pisses her off.
Why take it out on them.
She understands what they are, what they're supposed to represent.
To her, an avox is a statement. No longer a person but rather someone rid of their innate right to be considered one. Even with the determination and life in this avox' eyes, María has come to understand them as tools Snow uses to assert his dominance, people from all circles of life, punished with the robbing of their words... and their detached tongue metaphorically forced to lick away at the tip of the shoes of people like María.
All a scheme.
Infighting.
Use the prey on the prey, make them take each other out.
It'd be easier to feel pity if María could sleep, if the avox hadn't adjusted her appearance, and if the avox wasn't staring her down as if she had any right to do so.
She's oddly beautiful.
She's oddly familiar.
"Why are you helping them?" she hisses, low, whispered, because she might never admit it, but she's... she's a little scared, isn't she? Lately? Devora's face swims before her inner eye, so stern, so wrong.
"I'm on your side more than they are," she adds, pulling a strand of her hair out of the freshly adjusted bun.
6 notes
·
View notes