#Dauntless

[kayliebeanie]

Project Dragon was a game that was in development for 3 years only to be canceled weeks from its announcement and its entire art and development team laid off. The game (which would have been called 'Everhaven' upon release) was intended to be a multiplayer sandbox rpg taking inspiration from both Minecraft and The Legend of Zelda, with an art style similar to that of the Spyro Reignited Trilogy, which some of the team members also worked on along with Crash Bandicoot 4.

According to character design/illustrator Nicholas Kole "Our cancelled project of the last 3 years is officially, truly dead as of today (internal attempts to save it failed), and the embargo on the whole body of portfolio work has been lifted". This means that the only way the game has a chance of resuming development is by raising awareness and spreading the word of it's development. More info from Nicholas Kole and #BringBackProjectDragon Even if you're not interested in the game itself, you can find the concept art, animations, 3D models, music and all other completed pieces of work for the game being shared by the team at either of these links, and I think are worth checking out. Some mounts and NPCs

4 of the 5 playable starter races (5th being human of course)

Edit: the decision to cancel the game was made by Forte, a blockchain company that acquired Phoenix Labs last year, who later decided to cancel all other projects so that the studio could focus on Dauntless and Fae Farm, Phoenix Labs' other already established games, rather than take the risk with this new IP.

I advise against sending any sort of hate towards Forte or Phoenix Labs and instead recommend continuing to share love for Everhaven and what it could have been until they realize their mistake.

Also thanks for 10k notes.

[lilithslittleworld]

Intruder

A/N: this little story is for @slutforoldermen and @maisiestuff ! The inspiration comes from this* post here and I have brought the best I could to the function fr😮‍💨 tehehehe enjoy!!

Also don't mind the title I couldn't think of anything witty :'(

CW: sort of forbidden sex, dirty talk, oral sex, penetrative sex, begging, teasing, some humiliation.

Summary: (Four x reader) You decide to confront Four after days of cold and distant behavior towards you but you didn't expect to walk in on him...

Four was known for being tough and hard to get through to but that was no excuse for the way he had been treating you. Trainings had become even more rigorous and so had his demands. It wasn't your fault you had a sense of self preservation, something most of your other Dauntless initiates seemed to lack.

Your steps were short and fast, as you approached the block of apartments where Four lived. Your breaths were audible, partly due to your speed but also to the anger that coursed through your veins. He had no business calling you out and humiliating you in front of everyone simply because you had turned down the offer of standing before a target as the instructors threw knives around you. You wanted to tell him off to his face and now was your chance.

You knocked on the door confidently, crossing your arms as you awaited a response. You got none.

"Jesus Christ," you muttered, knocking again even harder. And yet, the seconds ticked by and the door stayed closed. Your hand flew to the doorknob, even though you knew it would be locked but it didn't hurt to try.

To your surprise, the door opened with a slight creak, leading to Four's spacious studio. Your eyes quickly scanned the room for signs of him but were disappointed to find the lights off and his bed empty. You had almost given up hope as you turned to leave when you heard a noise. The sound of water running in the distance made you creep towards it.

Ah, so he's washing his hands, you thought to yourself as you pushed open the bathroom door. It all happened so quickly. As the door opened, your eyes fell on his naked, wet body, standing below the shower. And he'd heard you.

"What the f-" he screamed, interrupted by you slamming the door shut behind you. Now you really were breathing heavily and it was solely due to the adrenaline this time. You'd seen him fully. His toned back, arms, chest, and even his dick, water dripping off of him. He was so big and beautiful everywhere. Your cheeks flushed at the image that was flashing in your mind repeatedly as you covered your eyes in horror. He was your instructor! How were you ever going to face him again? He was going to make your life impossible now.

The sound of the bathroom door opening made your heart drop but you didn't turn around.

"You have five seconds to tell me why the hell you're here," Four said, his voice careful and cold as ice. You shivered in response, turning slowly as you thought of a good excuse. He stood before you, white towel wrapped around his waist, his eyes shooting daggers at you. You couldn't help but stare at the little droplets of water that remained on his chest, his abs, dripping down slowly past his navel.

"I came to see you," you choked out, "To tell you off, actually."

"What makes you think you can come see me?" he said carefully, his voice so soft it was dangerous. He took a step towards you, "What makes you think you can come into my house?"

"It was a mistake, honestly!" you protested, stumbling backwards, your hands fumbling to grab onto something, anything. You came in contact with the wall, gripping it tightly to keep you steady and upright in case your legs gave out. This had turned into a terrible idea.

"I don't believe that," he said, his voice taking on an even more dangerous tone. Dangerous because it made you press your legs together tightly and hold back a whimper that dared to emerge from your mouth. You pressed your lips together tightly before speaking.

"I-I," you stuttered, your brain buzzing with filthy thoughts of the man standing in front of you.

He took another step towards you. "So sure on telling me off and now you can't even get a sentence out."

Your cheeks burned as he taunted you, now clearly unbothered by your presence in his house. He was excited even, you could see it in his eyes, in the way he looked at you.

He took yet another step towards, now just inches away from you. He was so close you could smell the warm musk that was coming from his skin. You silently fought back the urge to reach out and run your fingers along his glistening , muscular body.

"Why don't you tell me why you're really here?" He placed his free hand on his chest, the other one still tightly wrapped around the towel that barely covered him. If only it would just slip down a little.

You ducked your head down in embarrassment, hoping he wouldn't pick up on the smile that was pulling at the corners of your lips. "I already told you, I came to see you," you said softly, staring intently at the floor. That's when a piece of fabric fell. His towel.

"Take a good look then," he whispered, his lips brushing against your hair, sending a shiver down your spine. He wanted you to see him as you'd seen him just moments ago. If you listened and brought your eyes up to him, there'd be no turning back. It was also a breach of conduct but again, you didn't care.

"Four," you murmured, as you brought your gaze back up to him tentatively, meeting his dark brown eyes instantly. Your heart raced as you pushed past the embarrassment of avoiding his naked body. Your eyes ran down his body, his wide shoulders and brawny arms. You took note of his veins everywhere, they were so noticeable and prominent. Taking your time now, your eyes scanned his strong chest, toned abdomen, and followed his happy trail further down, gulping as you saw him again.

And suddenly, his lips were on yours. His lips moved against your passionately, his tongue swirling erotically against yours, your breaths mixing in your colliding mouths. Your hands found him instantly, trailing down his chest lightly as he groaned into your mouth. You wanted him so badly, to taste him, to feel him, to hear him groan again. But his hands stopped you, holding them tightly in place even when you tried to free yourself.

"Stop," he breathed, his chest rising and falling rapidly. He took a few steps back from you for good measure before pointing to your shirt. "Take it off."

You were used to cooperating with Four's orders but this one threw you off, a slight edge of self consciousness beginning to emerge.

"Take it off or you don't touch me," was all he said, making you whine in return. You complied quickly, slipping the top over your head, leaving you completely exposed. You could feel Four's eyes burning into your chest as you stood before him, your eyes never leaving his.

"And that," he said, gesturing to your pants, which came off just seconds after his command. You took a confident stride back to him, no longer bothered by the fact that you too were almost completely naked. Up on your tiptoes, your hands found his hair and your lips his own. You kissed him feverishly, breathlessly, feeling his hands snaking down your back, stopping to grab a handful of your butt, pulling you even closer to his body. You could feel him hardening against your stomach as you pressed yourself onto him eagerly, your fingers tangled and pulling at his hair.

Four took you in his arms, grabbing your thighs as you wrapped your legs around his waist, whimpering softly when his cock grazed your clit as he walked you over to his bed.

"I haven't even really touched you yet and you're already making pretty, little noises," he murmured as he sat down on the edge of the bed, with you still straddling him. Now, with his cock fully between your legs, only separated by the thin fabric of your underwear, there was no stopping you. Your hips moved against him almost instantly, seeking some sort of stimulation.

"Fuck," you sighed, as you rubbed your aching clit against him. His hands found your waist and guided your movements vigorously.

"Use me," he groaned, his eyes on your face, watching the pleasure on your face grow, "Just like that." You could feel the wetness of your panties start to spread, dripping down onto his throbbing cock. Your moans grew louder, as you began to reach your orgasm, griding against him at an even faster pace. His big, rough hands reached down to squeeze your boobs. Four's heavy breathing below you only fueled your desire, you were almost drunk on it. You knew you were only minutes away from climaxing, so when Four's hands held your waist still in place, it felt almost violent.

Your eyebrows furrowed pleadingly as you opened your eyes to find him smirking, his eyes wild with excitement.

"Get on your knees," he breathed, as you lowered yourself below him. You watched him mesmerized, as he stroked himself, eyes closed and head tilted back in pleasure, his moans were soft and breathless. You squirmed impatiently as the need to touch yourself grew, he was driving you crazy and he knew. You whined breathlessly, hoping he'd turn his attention back to you. You wanted so to badly to feel him in your mouth.

"Open for me," he said softly, bringing his hardened length to your eager mouth. You took him into your mouth greedily, swirling your tongue around his tip ardently, tasting his slightly salty precum. Four's hands stayed near you, one holding your hair back and the other softly stroking your cheek. With every movement you made, every lick and stroke, you felt him grow harder in your mouth. The situation itself was enough to give you a thrill of pleasure too, moaning around him occasionally.

"Fuck," Four grunted, leaning his head back in pleasure from the vibrations of your throaty moan. "Moan on my cock again," he almost begged, almost entirely lost in ecstasy. You moaned back in response as the man above you started to come undone, bucking his hips against your face. He felt so much bigger in your mouth when his speed picked up, no longer expecting you to bob up and down his length.

Four pulled himself out from in between your lips, his cock sliding out perfectly from the back of your throat, covered in your glistening spit.

"I want you inside of me," you begged, now with an empty mouth but begging to be filled someplace else. Four pushed you back onto the bed in response, prying your legs open as you bit your lip. Instead of sliding himself into you, he bent down, now eye-level with your pussy. He trailed feathery kisses along your inner thighs, making a point of avoiding where you really wanted him. But no amount of whining or whimpering would make him speed up.

After torturous seconds, Four's fingers slid up and down your wetness. His slick fingers rubbed soft, slow circles against your clit as your eyes rolled back. He knew exactly what he was doing, exactly where to touch you and how. His fingers gradually sped up, the circles he was tracing becoming more precise before bringing his mouth down to you. Four's tongue took over for where his fingers had been, drawing lazier circles than before. You desperately wanted him to speed up, to fit one or two of his big fingers into you.

As if he'd read your mind, he brought a finger slowly to your opening, teasing his way in. His finger stretched you deliciously, sliding in and out with ease, curled slightly in hope of hitting your G-spot. Your moans became pornographic now, pulling on his hair as he hit the right spots, both inside and outside of you.

"Four," you gasped, interrupted by another trembling moan, "more," was the only word you could get out.

Four brought his mouth away from your drenched pussy, his finger still fucking you as he spoke. "You want my cock, don't you?" he taunted, watching you buck your hips against his hands, your body begging for more. You nodded quickly.

"Tell me," he breathed, "Tell me how badly you want it inside of you."

"I want it so bad," you whined, "Need you inside of me."

Instantly, Four stood up and found a condom, sliding it rapidly down his throbbing member. In one swift movement, you found yourself straddling him again, in charge once again. You lowered yourself onto him slowly, allowing him to stretch you out even further. Burying his dick in your pussy, he groaned and your own moans joined him. Steadily, you began to ride him, taking notice of how he gripped your boobs to keep you in place, his rough fingers brushing against your hardened nipples.

"That's it," he panted, sweat beading on his forehead, "Ride me. Ride my cock." He felt so good inside of you. You moaned his name as his mouth came onto your boobs, sucking on them as they bounced. His stubble left the skin around your boobs tingly as he turned towards the other one. His hands found your hips once again, speeding them up against his own moving hips.

The friction of your bodies, the sounds coming from him, and the sight of him was too much. You knew you wouldn't last much longer as he continued to hit your g-spot, digging your nails into his strong arms as the waves of pleasure hit harder.

"Yes," you whimpered, "Feels so good."

"Yeah?" he pressed on, wanting to hear more of your desperation.

"Mmm," you moaned back, your legs beginning to shake. You were just seconds away from the release you so deeply craved.

"Beg for it," he grunted, feeling his own orgasm slowly creeping up. But he'd hold out for you.

"Please," you begged frantically, unsure how much longer you could hold back. "Let me cum."

"You sound so pretty while you beg," he answered between breaths, "Cum for me then, cum all over my cock." And that was it, all you needed to hear.

You let the pleasure wash over you completely, taking over your body and your senses as you came. You threw your head back, moaning his name as you felt yourself clenching around him. Four wasn't far behind you, his hands squeezing your hips even tighter as he buried his dick deep into you one last time as he came. Both of your hips came to a slowing stop as you both tried to catch your breath.

"Fuck," you laughed breathlessly, in shock of what had just unfolded before you. You had actually had sex with your trainer. Four seemed as bewildered as you did but he didn't say anything. Clearly he wasn't used to hooking up with initiates, thankfully.

You laid there together silently for a couple of minutes. Four stroked your hair softly as your fingers traced imaginary lines along his arms. You were both sweaty but neither of you seemed to care. And then he spoke.

"So," he said, his voice a deep rumble, "Is you intruding my house going to become a regular thing?"

"Only if you want it to be," you smiled up at him, knowing very well that's what he wanted to hear.

"Hmm," he said thoughtfully before a smirk appeared on his mouth, "Want to shower?"

-----------------------------

Y/N's finally going to try out his shower and not just catch him in it! tehehehe I think it's kind of a cute ending :)

[heliads]

Hi! Hi! I have been reading your Eric Coulter fics and I don't know if you're still into Divergent but i can i request a eric coulter x fem!reader where they go from rivals to lovers and literally everyone in Dauntless has bets on them to be together?

'rumors of rivals' - eric coulter

masterlist

Four’s got another pet project, but for once, it isn’t you.

It’s a habit of his, one he’d do best to kick. Although Four may like to keep his indifferent silence and pretend as if he were a shallow-hearted Dauntless through and through, he’s got a soft spot for the people he likes. He’s got a knack for finding similar souls and winning them over, even as he acts as if he couldn’t care less about any of you. He did this while you were an initiate, and now he’s repeating the process with one of his new trainees, a girl named Tris.

Since you don’t work the initiates, you haven’t yet had the pleasure of meeting Tris Prior, although you’ve heard Four talk about her often enough that you have a good gauge of her likes, dislikes, and every single conversation she’s had with your friend. For someone who claims that he couldn’t care less about anyone but himself, Four’s awfully attentive to Tris.

It makes you laugh, both when he’s around and not. Despite Four’s claims otherwise, it seems that even the toughest of Dauntless fall victim to their hearts every now and then. Despite Four’s claims otherwise, that’s one test you won’t be failing. Four may have fallen in love, but not you. Not a chance. The only decent one around here is Four, and he’s clearly besotted with Tris. No other men even come to mind.

Four and Tris catch up to you, and he begins the introductions. “Y/N, this is Tris, the initiate I’ve been talking about. Tris, this is Y/N. She’s a good friend of mine.”

Tris smiles at you. “It’s nice to meet you, Y/N. Four has said a lot of good things about you.”

You laugh. “It can’t be more than what he’s said about you, trust me. I think all of our conversations are now about you.”

Tris laughs too, evidently surprised at your camaraderie. “I’m sure he’ll argue with that, but I’m glad to hear it. I have to say, I knew what to expect from a Dauntless Leader, but you’re way nicer than I expected.”

You grin. “Oh, trust Four to talk up my reputation. We’re not all totally dramatic around here.”

Four rolls his eyes. “Yeah, right. As if you’re not locked in one of the worst rivalries Dauntless has ever seen.”

Tris widens her eyes, curious. “What are you talking about?”

You fold your arms across your chest. “Four doesn’t mean anything because he doesn’t know what he’s saying. There’s nothing there.”

Four scoffs. “Of course there’s something there. Tris, Y/N’s just denying it because she’s too embarrassed to admit that she’s totally obsessed with beating Eric at everything.”

Tris claps a hand to her mouth. “Wait, I know what you’re talking about. Everyone in the faction has been gossiping about Eric and one of the other Leaders. You don’t mean that–”

“Yes,” you admit reluctantly. “The rumors are about me. They’re just jokes, though. Nothing to take seriously.”

Four arches a brow doubtfully. “Of course they’re not.”

You swat him in the shoulder. “Anything more on the subject and I’ll push you off a roof, Four. Watch your tone.”

Instead of taking your threat seriously, Four just cracks a rare grin and keeps his triumphant silence. In all honesty, he’s not wrong about the gossip, and neither is Tris. You have been rivals with a certain Eric Coulter for most of the time you’ve been at Dauntless, if not all of it, and beating Eric at anything from a fight in the ring to glowing recommendations from the other Dauntless Leaders does indeed make your day like nothing else.

At this point, there’s nothing you can do to stop it. There’s no way you could ever like Eric, he makes it impossible to so much as smile around him. He’s insufferable, that’s all, and he always has been.

You remember that from the very first day you arrived. Eric had been through initiation a year before you, so of course he swaggered about the faction like he knew everything and you knew nothing at all. It didn’t matter that you mastered every challenge that initiation set before you, it didn’t matter that, at the end of your training, you came out with the highest rank. No matter what, Eric would always boast that he’d done it better when he was an initiate. And, since the two of you weren’t in the same year, there was no way of proving him right or wrong.

Once you graduated initiation, your ill-fated relationship only took a turn for the worse. Both of you were gunning for positions as Dauntless Leaders, and did everything in your power to claw to the top. It was a common assumption that only one Leadership position would be vacated, meaning that one of you would succeed and one of you would do the worst thing possible for a Dauntless:  you would fail.

Instead, both of you were appointed as new Leaders, and now you’re forced to spend even more time with him than before. Eric is more hands on, especially with his new position as an initiation leader, whereas you’re more devoted to strategy and all the ways to keep Dauntless as a faction running as smoothly as possible. The two of you clash whenever you so much as step into a room together.

Over time, this rivalry has drawn the attention of the entire faction. There’s hardly a soul in Dauntless that hasn’t witnessed the two of you going for each other’s throats at some point. Last you heard, some faction members were even going so far as to place bets as to when the two of you would get together, but that’s absurd. You and Eric hate each other. There’s simply no way you’d actually manage to get over your mutual loathing to fall in love.

“He’s an unpredictable asshole, I don’t know what else you want me to say,” you growl to Four.

Instead of being answered by your friend, however, a new voice joins you, one that makes you want to put your fist through a wall. “Are you talking about me again, L/N? I’m touched.”

Four and Tris exchange some interesting glances, which you definitely don’t appreciate. You turn to glower at none other than Eric, who’s somehow emerged out of the throngs of Dauntless milling about to appear right by your side. It’s as if he was summoned from your mere thoughts alone.

“So you heard me talking about an unpredictable asshole and immediately assumed it was you? That’s lovely, I didn’t know you had such great self-esteem.” You hiss.

Eric just grins. “You’re always so kind to me. Truly, it makes my day.”

You glance to your opposite side, hoping to deflect onto Four, but you notice that he and Tris have somehow disappeared into the crowds again, leaving you alone with Eric. You’ll have to chide him about abandoning you later, once you manage to shake Eric again.

Eric notices the changing subject of your attention and chuckles. “They left already? Can’t say I blame them.”

“Neither can I,” you fire back. “Having to spend time with you isn’t something I’d wish on my worst enemy.”

“See, that’s the difference between the two of us,” Eric intones, holding up a finger appreciatively as he speaks, “There’s no punishment I wouldn’t wish on my worst enemy. It’s because I’m capable of doing anything to eliminate those who would rise against me. It’s what makes me a better Dauntless. I’m not surprised that you lack the courage.”

You groan in annoyance. “It’s a saying, Coulter. Goodness, I see why you’re not an Erudite. Critical thinking is not your strong suit.”

Unfortunately, Eric doesn’t seem particularly affected by this insult. “I’ll leave the critical thinking to you, L/N. The glory of battle is mine as always.”

You arch a brow. “Remind me who kicked your ass the last time we met in the ring? I’m sure the glory of battle was totally on your side then, too.”

Eric’s voice turns razor-sharp. “How about a rematch, then? Tonight. That is, if you can’t manage to talk yourself out of facing me again.”

You stop walking, meeting Eric’s eyes dead on. “I wouldn’t dream of it. Scared?”

“Not a chance,” he fires back. “I’ll see you then.”

With that, he stalks off, leaving you fuming yet again. You could name a hundred encounters that have taken place exactly like this one. It’s strange, you’ve always prided yourself on your control of your temper, but something about Eric Coulter just drags out every bit of irritation and passion from your heart.

Glancing around, you see that more than a few people have turned to look at you and Eric as you passed by, and are now whispering to each other. “Shut up,” you mutter at no one in particular, but it doesn’t seem to do anything to stop the flurry of gossip.

Great, now you’ll have another rumor to add to the mix. As if you needed any more. Grimacing to yourself, you set off again. You’ll be looking to tonight’s fight with Eric, if not for a release of anger than anything else. It would feel good to beat him up again, you decide, and it’s about time his ego got knocked down a peg or two.

Eric is waiting for you in the empty gym when you let yourself in later that night. The two of you arrive at the same time whenever one of you challenges the other to a fight. It’s become a sort of tradition. You know exactly when and where to find each other because you’ve done it so often. It comes to you like breathing, like living. Instinctive, intuitive. You and Eric may not see eye to eye on most subjects, but in the ring, it’s like he’s your double.

You and Eric face each other warily on the ring. There’s no one else here, not after hours, so the entire gym is empty. Even the smallest of sounds are amplified by the solitude, each shuffle of your feet from side to side sending ripples of echoes up to the high ceiling before bouncing back down again, creating ghosts of your every movement. The lights are dim. The shadows lengthen Eric’s already numerous tattoos, making him look as if the darkness could swallow him up entirely if you were to turn away for even one moment.

You lunge first, mostly as a feint to get his attention. At your level of fighting experience, both of you know better than to truly attack first. Eric aims a blow at your midsection, but you duck just in time, dropping low to kick his legs out from under him. Briefly, Eric loses his balance, but manages to regain it in time to send a returning strike your way.

On and on, the fight progresses, the tide rolling from you to him back to you again in an endless circle. Eric manages to pin you first and huffs out a triumphant breath, but you get him the next round. You’ve spent enough nights like this that every move seems familiar. Although the precise victor of the fights may switch off from night to night, the actions themselves have been done so many times that it feels like muscle memory.

You’re sure it’ll be a night just like any other, but then something strange happens when Eric wins again. Both of you have ended up on the surface of the mat, and after briefly striving for the upper hand, Eric manages to make it there first, and he swings his weight over you, pinning you to the ground. His hands lock your wrist onto the mat like cuffs. You try to throw him off again, but it doesn’t work, and the two of you rest there, panting from the exertion, but worst of all, looking at each other.

You wait for Eric to move off of you and begin the cycle again, but strangely enough, he doesn’t. Instead, Eric looks, he looks at you like he’s never seen you before in his entire life. You feel as if you couldn’t move a muscle, and lie there perfectly still. One twitch of a limb, one wrong breath, and he might react, or worst of all, leave. You don’t know why, but you know for certain that shattering this moment would destroy you both.

Slowly, carefully, Eric releases his hold on your arms, but you don’t swing at him. The erratic rise and fall of his chest has slowed as easy breath returns to him, but when he had held you down moments ago, you could still feel his pulse thundering in his veins, tumultuous and irreverent like the clash of a thunderstorm.

“Y/N,” Eric whispers, low in his throat and urgent. You don’t know what to say. You’re not sure that there is anything to say, not without giving something away, a secret so terrible and all-consuming that to utter it aloud would use up all of you, leaving nothing behind but the ghost of a person who had once been you.

He’s waiting. For what, you don’t know. Or, you don’t want to know. Both of you are on a precipice, the edge tall and mighty, but unlike the roof back at the entrance to Dauntless initiation, you do not know that the fall won’t kill you. You could survive this jump, sure. But you could also break your bones in the leaping, and come out of this a ruined version of someone who had thought they knew everything about Eric Coulter, and then learned otherwise.

The indecision is too great, and so you do something utterly befitting someone of your station, and you run. Eric doesn’t move when you suddenly slip out from under him, nor does he stop you when you leave the gym. It isn’t a Dauntless move to flee from a fight, but then again, you transferred here from your home faction in the Choosing Ceremony, so the habits of the brave haven’t been instilled in you completely. You still, it seems, have a lot to learn.

The walk back to your apartment seems treacherous. There aren’t that many people out at this time of night, but you swear that of those who remain, every eye is on you. Haven’t you heard the rumors? Isn’t it true that these people have guessed what you are when it comes to Eric Coulter? If they see you, they will know.

You crawl into your bed and hope for sleep, but nothing comes. You stare at your ceiling in the dark, wondering what you’ve done. You’ve claimed to hate Eric for a very long time, but the way you felt in that ring, with him looking down at you– None of that was hate. You haven’t felt an absence of anger like that in such a long time that you’ve almost forgotten how to name that emotion entirely.

You get up the next morning, exhausted and confused, and complete your daily duties in somewhat of a haze. Every one of your moves feels mechanical. Eric is busy with the initiates, so your paths shouldn’t cross. When he finds you later that day, then it must mean that he sought you out intentionally. You’re not sure if that’s for better or worse.

You do your best to shake him, but he tracks you down eventually, pulling you into an empty room and shutting the door behind him. “Y/N,” he says urgently. “We should talk about last night.”

You don’t want to, not when the way he says your name reminds you of the way he’d whispered it last night, soft and careful, none of the things you have ever associated with Eric. It wasn’t as torturous as you expected, being alone with him without a fight to separate you. In fact, if you weren’t on guard, you would even admit that you liked it.

When you remain silent, Eric sighs, frustration beginning to tinge back into his breath again. “I know something happened. We can’t just pretend otherwise.”

You glance back up at him. “Can’t we?” You ask. “We can go back to fighting all the time. I’m sure it would come easily to both of us.”

You’ve become an expert at provoking him over the years, but now, in the face of all your attempts, Eric’s gaze remains neutral. “Is that what you want?”

Yes, you start to say, but for some reason the words dry up in your throat and the only thing that comes out is a terrible, awful exhale, “No.”

Eric hasn’t let go of your hand since he pulled you into this room. He seems to remember it now, his thumb rubbing light circles back and forth against your wrist. “Neither do I. Turns out, the only thing I like better than fighting you is when we aren’t fighting at all.”

You’ve never understood it when people say their heart skipped a beat, but you feel it now, the stuttering of desperate hope locked between your ribs. “So– you want–”

“You, Y/N,” Eric interrupts. “I want you. I always have.”

When he kisses you, it tastes like victory. Hot, brave, triumphant. A thousand nights undefeated in the ring couldn’t light you up with a fire half this bright. Sometimes, the rumors are true, and sometimes, the very man you thought was your greatest rival was instead your best love. Eric is all of these things, but most importantly, he is yours.

requested by @simoneashwinis, i hope you enjoy!

divergent tag list: @dindjarinneedsahug, @poisonmenegan, @ozzynka, @rogueanschel, @with-inked-solace, @gods-fools-heroes, @23victoria, @manyfandomsfanvergent, @imwaysthelastchoice, @drinking-tea-and-be-obsessed, @crazyhearttragedy, @alexs-1967s-blog, @aoi-targaryen

all tags list: @wordsarelife

[chloe-skywalker]

A Safe Feeling - Eric Coulter

Eric x fem!reader

Warnings: 

Word count: 1,402

Requested: Hi can you do a imagine where the reader is the daughter of Jeannie Matthew and she divergent and she in a relationship with eric and her best froend is four and later tris please and thank you - @rachelcarroll1819

Authors Note: Thank you for requesting!

Masterlist

Divergent Masterlist

******************************************************************

“Mathews!” Eric called out with a smirk as he saw Y/n exit the hallway near the dining hall.

“You know I have a first name.” Y/n turned around crossing her arms over her chest. Eric knew she hated her mom’s views and being called by her old last name. She’s not Erudite anymore.

Eric gave a nod as he walked over to her, standing in front of her. “Yeah, but that’s for more intimate-”

“Shut up.” Y/n giggled and slapped him on the bicep as Eric chuckled, moving his hands to her hips.

“Where are you off to?” Eric asked as Y/n moved her arms to wrap around his neck. Normally Eric didn’t like showing PDA, unless it was to show she was taken.

“Need to talk to Four about some stuff.” She answered, tilting her head. It wasn’t easy to have Four as a best friend and date Eric. But the two agreed to be sival for her sake.

“Divergent stuff?” Eric spoke quietly, so no one would hear around him. When she had first told him about being Divergent, Eric didn’t take it well at first but then he realized he didn’t care. He loves her anyway.

“Will you keep it down. You know it could get me killed.” Even though he was quite Y/n still was scared at any possibility of anyone knowing. Being Divergent is a death sentence.

Eric nodded as a sigh of apology, moving his right hand up and down her back to comfort her growing nerves. “Is it about the nightmares?”

Y/n nodded with a grimace. “They have to do with my fears and with what I am, he's the best to talk to about it. And he’s my friend.”

Eric rolled his eyes and bit the inside of his cheek at his sight irritation. “Don’t remind me.”

“You're lucky I know what part of that you're referring to.” Y/n smirked, poking him in the chest.

“Oh, what part?” Eric played along, hoping to stall her a little longer.

“The Four part. He’s my best friend, has been since initiation and it bothers you like no other.” Y/n smirked a little, but in her defense she tried to hide it.

Eric shrugged. “I don’t like sharing.”

Y/n let out an amused soft laugh. “I’ve noticed.”

“You know I love you and I don’t care about the Divergent past, right?” He wanted to make sure she knew, he always made sure. Yeah he got annoyed that she’s friends with Four but her being Divergent? That doesn’t bother him.

y/n smiled. “I know. You always reassure me of that.”

Eric nodded. “And I’ll continue to.”

Y/n moved to leave his embrace, really needing to go see Four. “Love you.” 

Eric pulled her into a rough kiss before letting go of her waist and back. “Love ya too.”

“I’ll see you later.” Y/n smiled at him turning around and heading off to figure her nightmare, fear problem out.

^      ^      ^

After about an hour Four and Y/n sat down, joined by Tris.

“The only thing I can think of is that your fears are changing.” Four stated leaning forward, resting his elbows on his knees.

“But how can I have less fears then when we first came here? How can they change?” Y/n wondered out loud confused. Shouldn’t she have more over time not less?

“I don’t know, Y/n.” Four wished he could give her an explanation, but he had nothing.

“Maybe its Eric.” Tris said, jumping into the conversation.

“Huh?” Y/n turned to her younger friend with confusion and curiosity. Four looked to Tris with a furrowed expression.

“Well he’s protective of you. He’d kill for you, so what if the feeling of protection he gives you is making some of your fears go away.” Tris explained what she meant.

“She has a good point.” Four looked at Y/n.

“Well that’s a development.” Y/n let out an amused puff of air.

“Bad?” Tris tilted her head, looking at her friend trying to see how she was feeling about this new ‘development’ as she called it.

“No.” Y/n shook her head.

“He’s been worried. You should tell him.” Four stated. He may not get along with Eric but he could tell how worried he’s been over Y/n’s situation. Eric could hide it well but Four could still see it.

“Yeah.” Y/n spoke, grabbing her jacket before standing up and heading towards the door. “Yeah, I’m gonna do that. See ya both tomorrow.”

Once Y/n left Four and Tris she headed to the training room, knowing that Eric was training the intaties today. It wasn’t hard to find him once entering the big room. He stood out.

“Hey handsome.” Y/n said as she came up behind him, wrapping her arms around his torso.

“Hey sexy.” He smirked, and as he expected her reaction was to slap him on his arm. It caused him to chuckle.

“Stop it.” Y/n laughed at his behavior. Always so different with her then around anyone else. “Can we talk?”\

“Yeah,” Eric was trying not to be worried. He turned his focus back to the intimates. “Intaites! We’re done for the day. Get out.”

After that they both headed to their shared apartment. They’d been sharing a living space since a little after they finished initiation. Once inside Eric shut the door behind them for privacy.

“So did you and Four figure out what's going on?” he asked and Y/n could see some concern in his eyes.

y/n nodded and licked her lips. “Yeah, about that.”

“What?” He asked gruffly.

Y/n went over and sat on their couch, Eric followed suit. “My nightmares have been odd. Like you knew and we found a few things out.” Y/n took a deep breath before continuing, looking him in the eyes. “I have less fears now. That’s why I keep reliving some of them. My nightmares seem to be the fears I still have.”

“How's this happening? Is it a Divergent thing?” Eric didn’t know much about Divergent. No one really did know anything about Divergents since they were killed on spot after being found out.

“No it’s not a Divergent thing.” She laughed lightly. Y/n leaned in and pulled him into a kiss. When she pulled away she told him. “Its a you thing.”

“Me?” Eric raised his brows in disbelief.

“Yup. You.” Y/n nodded in confirmation of his question.

“Can you explain?” he asked, still very confused. How is he the cause?

“Trus has this theory and Four and I agree with it.” Y/n scooted closer, grabbing his hands in hers. Smiling shyly up at him. “We think I’m having less face because you make me feel safe.”

“That's the goal.” Eric smirked proudly. That was the goal, to protect her. Make her feel safe. And he was relieved that nothing serious was wrong with her. “So many fears have you lost exactly?”

Y/n laughed in amusement towards his reaction. “Cocky much?”

Eric pulled her by the hips to straddle his lap. “Hey, if I’m responsible…”

He two was amused, but this was because of different reasons.

“Thank you.” Y/n thanked her tattooed brute. With the look of confusion back in his eyes, she continued. “I know you didn’t do it on purpose. Not exactly. You couldn’t. But thanks anyway and for protecting me and making me feel safe in general.”

Eric placed a hand on the back of her head and stared directly in her eyes. “You're mine. No one will harm you on my watch.”

Y/n smiled brightly at his declaration. “Don’t tell my mom.”

Eric scoffed. “I don’t tell your mom shit.”

“That's one of the reasons I love you.” Y/n smirked, leaning her forehead against his.

Eric grabbed her, pulling her closer, holding her tighter in his grip as he kissed the column of her neck. “What are the other reasons?”

Y/n let out a moan as he continued to kiss and suck on her neck. “Well if we head over to the bedroom I could-”

“Done” Eric said, effictley cutting her off. He stood up and carried her to their bedroom. All the while Y/n laughed at his actions and looked forward to the night's activities.

Taglist: @padawancat97

[smfolklore]

Ignorance

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Author's Note : Okay she's here! This is 2.5K, I hope you enjoy it! Please leave me your thoughts, if you'd be so kind. I'm so happy that you all liked the first story I wrote. It motivated me to write this!

Synopsis : Y/N goes to Uriah's dormitory and gets incredibly tipsy (she's obliterated). Her instructor discovers this and is snarky with her because he's jealous.

––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––

Present Time

My head is fucking pounding. I can hear only the persistent throbbing echoing throughout my brain. But it's what I deserve.

Uriah invited me to a “small” gathering happening among him and his two fellow Dauntless-Born companions. What I didn’t expect was the mass amount of alcohol that we were going to consume that night.

But I didn’t exactly say no. 

I will never deny an opportunity to have fun. When I lived with the Abnegation, there was zero tolerance for fun. It’s the one regulation I will never miss. There were aspects that I loved, like the simplicity and generosity of the people, but the negative aspect of this faction is that they were far too rigid.

In that, Dauntless is the complete opposite. And it’s the reason I’ve fallen in love with how at ease life is here. There are zero regulations (which is.. concerning), but to me that only indicates freedom.

Which is why last night, I drank. I consumed every shot that was handed to me, which if I remember correctly was eight. I’d never drank an ounce of alcohol before yesterday, which should have steered me into complacency but it didn’t.

–––

Uriah’s Dormitory - The Day Before

My face is slightly red as I feel the warmth of the liquor pulsing through me, and I’m trying desperately to contain the giggle slipping by.

We’re in Uriah’s dormitory. There’s six of us: Myself, Uriah, Lynn, Christina, Marlene, and Will. Christina and Will are desperately attempting to sing a chosen song, a microphone in each hand and while everyone is laughing and enjoying the euphoric sensation rolling through them, I feel the entire weight of my figure get heavy.

Uriah laughs at my expression, “Are you okay!”

And before I can even respond, I’m shaking my head with an erupting laugh, “No! No! I can’t stop laughing”.

I feel Uriah plop beside me, and I let my back hit the mattress as I see him lay across it. We’re a chaotic mess of laughing and bloodshot eyes. I blink at him slowly and see the lazy grin on his face.

“I am so fucking drunk right now”.

His grin stretches, “I feel complete. I’ve managed to intoxicate a girl from Abnegation. I never thought I would see the day”.

I raise an eyebrow in disbelief and let out a laugh as I say, “This is the first and the last time. I swear it”.

I don’t, actually.

I’m having far too much fun. Christina and Will are doing Karaoke, Lynn and Marlene are holding onto each-other for balance as they laugh so hard that they’re wheezing, and Uriah and I are laying across his mattress trying to gather our bearing’s. 

I can do this for the rest of my life. This faction is so liberating in spite of its faults.

Before I’m able to register it, Uriah is gripping onto my two wrists and using them as leverage to pull me upright. I’m still a pile of limbs, my body incoherent almost, but I grin as I see him pulling me to my feet.

Once I’m standing I hear a quick, “Our turn!” and my eyes widen dramatically. I can’t sing.

“No, Uriah! I can’t!”

But he’s smiling and I relent as he directs us to the stand that’s hosting the microphones. I pick one up, and as soon as I recognize the song that’s playing I turn to Uriah excitedly and exclaim, “How do you know this song!”

–––

Present Time

When I manage to open my eyes, I’m groggy. Beside me is Uriah, and beside him is Lynn as well as Marlene. We all fell asleep at his dormitory. I use the knuckle of my finger to get completely free of the drowsiness that is looming over me.

I groan as I force myself to sit up. I push myself toward the opposite side of the mattress, softly tying my laces and straightening my clothing. I laugh a little when I see Christina and Will on the couch beside the microphone post. Regardless of how close they’ve managed to become, they swear that they aren’t romantic. Yeah right.

I’ve become accustomed to waking up at 4 in the morning given my training session with Four. In spite of the fact that the first stage is complete, he’s prolonged our training. I didn’t ask him, he simply did. I’d expected him to stop the session, but he never opened the topic, and I certainly wasn’t going to propose it.

I enjoyed our time together.

In the last six week’s, Four and I have built upon our relationship. Our dynamic is.. fairly complicated. There are moments where I feel the tension dissipate and it often indicates the beginning of a friendship, but then he can quickly revert to the distant instructor I see so often.

I can admit that it hurts. I don’t know where I stand when I’m with him and it’s by far the most confusing relationship I’ve ever had. He’s gentle and patient one moment, and the next he’s curt and stern.

This pattern of inconsistency is only intensifying my doubt. I have no clue as to whether or not he thinks I’m attractive. Or if he even likes me. And it’s only served to irritate me. When I see him, I remain indifferent. 

It’s for the absolute best is what I tell myself. He’s clearly not interested in me. He had six entire week’s to give me even an inkling that he likes me, and he hasn’t. I can’t help the disappointment that I feel, I’d thought given the tension within our first session that there was more, but I can’t force him to find me appealing, can I?

I make my way into Uriah’s restroom, searching through the cabinet until I find what I was in need of. A new toothbrush. There’s no way I’m going to train with my insanely hot instructor without brushing my teeth. It’s like asking him to stop training me, when in reality I want to improve. I want to succeed here.

I wash my face, and even manage to brush my hair with a new comb I found stashed beside his toothbrush. I slip out of his dormitory as quietly as I can manage, trying to let them rest. I can’t have them discovering where I go so early in the morning. It wasn’t explicitly said that my training with Four is going against a protocol, but I don’t want to involve him if it is. So I maintain this secret for myself.

It’s 4:47 when I stroll into the training center, and I thank myself internally when I see that I’m alone. He isn’t here yet. I go toward the fountain, and sip on the fresh water pouring through as I wait for him to arrive.

I walk onto the platform, and begin to stretch softly, knowing that I’ll love the open range of motion it’ll give me when I’m fighting against Four. He doesn’t train me easily, not like he started throughout our first session. I’ve landed on my spine so many times, albeit softly. He isn’t unnecessarily rough, but he is rough enough to get his lesson through. 

I have my arm in front of me as I do a stretch when I hear the unmistakable latch of the front door. I peer over my shoulder and see the set of his face; cold.

He isn’t happy.

I carefully watch as he steps onto the platform and before I can register it I’m blurting out, “Nice night?”, with the intention of lightening the atmosphere.

His expression doesn’t change, and he doesn’t even meet my eye when he curtly says, “For some”.

This has my eyes widening slightly, as I’m a bit stunned. His body language is telling me that, unfortunately, he was not as fortunate. He’s tense, and his fists are clenched so tightly that the veins on his forearms are prominent. I put my arm down from my stretch and tilt my head, as I mutter to myself, “Okay, then”.

My attention snaps to him when I hear him say in an almost dull tone, “You look exhausted”. I frown wondering why he would point that out, but regardless I respond reluctantly, “We went to Uriah’s dormitory last night”.

All I get in response is an indifferent, “We?”. He’s not even looking at me, which confuses me. He’s untying his laces in order to get into position. Why is he being so adamant on evading me?

I shift from one foot to the other, ease in my voice, “Yep. Uriah, Will, Christina, Marlene, and Lynn. We were.. just learning how to play a card game”. It’s silly to not be honest about this but I don’t know if telling your initiation instructor that you got obliterated the night before is appropriate.

He meets my eye. Finally, but he’s looking at me without amusement as he fires in response, “Guzzling alcohol must be synonymous with learning a card game”.

I’m astounded by how affected he is at learning that his initiates are drinking. It’s entirely normal, but it’s not like I’m going to advertise it too. I furrow my eyebrow at the bite in his tone and feel irritation bubbling within me.

“How do you know what we were doing?”, I respond indignantly.

I watch as his shoulders tense, and it would have been entirely unrecognizable if not for the fact that I’m constantly observing him. I can’t help it, I want to understand him. How he thinks, what he’s feeling, and it goes beyond attraction. There’s a magnetic pull that I feel when I’m with him. 

He’s seamless in his response, “It isn’t exactly difficult to figure out. You're pale and dehydrated”.

I tilt my head and slightly narrow my vision, “There’s no way for you to know that I’m dehydrated, Four”. I’ve caught him; he’s a liar. I stare at him intently as I analyze his carefully crafted expression. I think about last night, attempting to recall a memory that could help me decipher how he’s in the loop of what I did in Uriah’s dormitory. 

And I do. 

It was Zeke. He came to Uriah’s dormitory to tell him about a family dinner.. and in return he helped us all consume as much water as possible. And he forced us all to swallow an Acetaminophen Tablet to prevent the headache that all of us would surely have the following morning.

He must’ve told Four when he left. I don’t know how, or when, but it’s the only possibility that I can think of. Zeke and Four have a friendship and because of that Four is going to hear about Uriah’s antics. Zeke likely mentioned to Four that his entire group of initiates is going to be fucking hungover for the session today.

He isn’t entirely wrong.

Four doesn’t react, simply getting into position and motioning for me to replicate it. But I don’t. I glance at the clock and read the time as 4:54, muttering, “It’s not 5 o'clock yet. We have time”. 

–––

Four’s Point of View

I narrow my gaze at her and try to prevent my body language from giving away just how much irritation is coursing through me.

I’ve felt this gnawing sense of discomfort fill me since the moment Zeke entered my apartment last night, divulging how Uriah and three of my initiates are getting “hammered” in his dormitory.

It isn’t the alcohol that has me tensing my shoulders, or narrowing my gaze at her, it's the disturbing thought that she was with him. I’ve noticed how close they’ve become.. they eat together, I see them in the pit together, and apparently Zeke placed her to sleep beside Uriah last night as well. Granted there were two extra people on the mattress with them.

In spite of the fact that logically, I’m aware nothing could have occurred, there’s a persistent ache of discomfort in my chest that I can’t identify properly. This can’t be jealousy. I can’t like her.

And yet, when I flick my gaze to her, and locate the determination in her eyes to find out what I’m hiding, I find my throat going dry in appeal. 

“I didn’t agree to having a conversation with you, I agreed to train you so that you can improve your fighting” I respond curtly.

There’s a flicker of hurt that catches on her expression and it immediately has me wanting to retract my response. But I don’t, because I can’t. If I tell her the truth, about what I know, I’ll have to explain why I’ve reacted the way that I have. And that will open a conversation that can’t be opened until she isn’t my initiate. Until I can tell her how I feel without putting her in a position where she might feel obligated to return my affection.

It isn’t fair to her. And if I’m going to pursue this.. It has to be done correctly.

So I persist, “Position yourself”.

But she doesn’t. She’s hesitating, and it frustrates me. She grits out in irritation, “Tell me how you know what we were doing”.

I’m almost stunned by the way she’s spoken to me. Y/N has always maintained that line of respect even through the telling of a joke, or when we’re in a session. But now she’s wary, and she’s considering the truth as a possibility; that I like her. 

The thought that Y/N might discover my affection for her has reverted me to the default personality that I’ve adopted since the moment that I chose this faction; cold. I cannot let her figure it out before she’s designated an official member.

I pause, tilting my head in an almost sadistic way as I stalk toward her as intimidatingly as I can. My demeanor is insulting, and I’m aware that the next thing I say may ruin the small connection that we’ve developed. But what choice do I have?

“I advise that you learn how to address your superior. I only agreed to this to help you learn how to fight. If you aren’t going to comply, then get out”, his tone is menacingly calm, but there is an undercurrent of condescension. He’s speaking to her in a manner that would resemble a conversation he’s having with an imbecile.

And it’s enough to hurt her feelings. He sees the flicker of emotion on her face before she decidedly takes a step away from him. 

Her expression is masked, a glimpse of nothing. “Fine”, she mutters, voice indifferent. Her expression is blank when she glances away from him. And it’s blank as she laces her shoes. And when I hear the latch of the steel entryway, I groan as I come to terms with the fact that I’ve only pushed her further into the arm’s of Uriah, and directly away from me. She’s going to hate me. I watched the hurt consume her, and then I watched her mask it with the ease only a person from Abnegation can adopt. I wonder if she’ll come back tomorrow.

[charlotteking23]

Eric Coulter headcannons

You and Eric’s relationship would be private with occasional kisses or he would hold your hand under the table or loosely around your chair.

He would be more of an asshole just to show everyone just because he's dating you doesn't mean he went soft. (but we all know he went a little soft😉).

THIS MAN WILL GET JEALOUS OVER ANYTHING AND EVERYTHING.

He would glare at anyone if they were doing bad or if a guy was flirting with you, Eric just comes and wraps his arms around you and kisses your neck or just fights the guy.

Training together and by that I mean just you sitting on top of him while he does pushups and getting a kiss for each one

He would totally have a weird workout schedule. Like you would wake up at 2 in the morning just to see Eric doing pushups. He looks at you. You look at him. And he continues. You go back to dreaming about how hot he was doing those pushups.😍

Eric would definitely be the type to have pet names for you like ‘princess’, ‘babe’, or ‘sweetheart’.

Eric is the kind of guy who is an asshole to everyone and you would never think he has a lover, but probably has the sweetest girlfriend in the whole faction.

[usaac-official]

Commemorative Air Force Georgia Airbase's SBD-5 Dauntless rolls past the crowd line at WWII Weekend 2024 in Reading, PA, June 2024.

Shot on Ektachrome 100 with my K1000.

[multifan2022]

Fearless 2

PART 1

It doesn't surprise you that Beatrice and Christina jump holding hands, it was clear they would be friends. Maybe that would help, if she had others her own age to model her behavior off of. As they tumbled and skid to a stop you heard the dark haired girl laughing, smiling to yourself remembering your first time. 

You and Four had held hands, being the only two 'gentle' transfers. Eric had made fun of both of you, only to tear up himself as his knees ripped open under the gravel. Four who then was Tobias had picked the gravel out of your cheek as you both laughed. Your friendship bloomed from there, too this day he was the only other person besides Tori you trusted 100%.

Christina will fit in with Dauntless thrill seekers, such as yourself. You're pulled from your thoughts by a scream, Rita standing on the ledge crying and screaming looking down. You knew without looking that her little sister hadn't made it, it broke your heart. You were thankful when Theo stepped up to hold her back from falling herself. 

You looked away from the transfers and looked up to the sky, willing the tears to go away before anyone sees them.  You can hear Theo trying to calm her down as others walked over looking over the ledge. You hoped that the transfers realize now, that not even Dauntless born are safe now. 

Closing your eyes briefly you open them the second you hear that annoying guys voice again. "Ooh. Scandalous! A Stiff's flashing some skin!" Your eyes land on Beatrice who has her sleeve pulled up, you can tell this one is going to cause problems too. Noting in your head to watch him and to alert Four. Just as you go to tell him where to shove his mouth Max speaks, pulling everyone attention besides your own. You keep your eyes on the Stiff, as if you can will her to listen too you. 

"Listen up! My name is Max! I am one of the leaders of your new faction! Several stories below us is the members' entrance to our compound. If you can't muster the will to jump off, you don't belong here. Our initiates have the privilege of going first."

"You want us to jump off a ledge?" asks an Erudite girl, her mouth hanging open. As a trainer your already taking notes as to who you think the weaker ones will be. Rolling your eyes and crossing your arms as you turn to look at Max, who's smiling at you clearly amused not only by the girl but by your reaction. 

Max always told you that you should've been born into Dauntless, he never understood how you were Amity. "Yes," Max says clearly holding in his laughter. 

"Is there water at the bottom or something?"

"Who knows?" He raises his eyebrows and waving over the ledge, you remember your own group again. You were the first jumper, having to literally pry your hand out of Tobias's who was the last jumper. The blood is pumping in your ears as the group parts waiting to see who has the balls to go first. 

You clench your jaw when she finally steps forward making her way to the ledge thankfully not looking at you as she passes. You can hear the Dauntless around you start to whisper and turn the look on your face shutting them up quickly. When she steps up you can see the doubt on her face, the fear clear as she pulls her over dress off. 

But the defiance steps in as she throws it directly at the annoying Candor boy. A chuckle breaks through the silence, it takes a second for you to realize it was yours. Steeling your face back up you watch as people start up again with the catcalls and laughter. 

She doesn't yell after her foot leaves the ledge, she doesn't scream on her way down and you're slightly impressed. You also know that it could be the choking fear keeping her quiet like it did Four. Max even looks a little impressed, and as you thought Christina was the next to step up. 

One by one each person jumps, some scream, some laugh but others mostly initiates stay silent in fear. They now know there has to be something at the bottom, but they still don't know what it is.  Soon they are all gone, leaving only those of you who are top tier members. 

"So Y/n, whats your first impression of the newbies?" Zeke asks, bringing everyone attention back to you. The one place where you really hate, is under everyone's scrutiny.

Uncrossing your arms and moving to lean against the ledge you pause acting like your thinking. Its of course fake, they all know that, they know you are quick to judge and your opinion is hard to change. 

But its one of the reasons you make an excellent trainer, that and that your normally right. You can find their weaknesses within the first few encounters. That's why you're partnered with Four, who then will push those weaknesses until they break. 

"Really I only have an opinion so far on four of them. The Stiff is either going to excel or completely fail, haven't decided yet. The short Candor girl will fit in here well once she learns to control her mouth. The tall Candor girl is fake. Shes gonna act tough, fight hard but she will ultimately fail. And last but not least that annoying ass Candor boy, I have a feeling Im going to have fun breaking him in. Hes pissed me off already and its only been an hour and a half since I met him." 

Max nods taking notes as you speak, hes a very efficient leader. You don't always agree with him, but it's one of the reasons you get along. You're one of the few people here that gives him an honest opinion. That's also the reason hes training you to take over for him, of course Four was his first choice. But he turned it down so hey, his loss right?  

Once you take over it wont matter. He will be your second whether he likes it or not, you'll kill Eric if you have too. 

After a few more moments of conversation the rest start jumping, until it's just you and Max. He gives you a questioning look, but you shake your head indicating that you don't want to talk. He knows how much you hate running into your brother, hes assuming thats the reason for your mood. You let him run with his assumptions, leaving you alone on the roof for a moment. 

You know you only have a moment, so you remind yourself of who you are. Just a moment to feel the weakness that having two more Divergents here brings. The crushing load of responsibility your promise to Tori lays on your shoulders.  

You are brave. 

You are fearless.

You are Dauntless. 

And with that final sentence you stand back to the darkness, and fall. The ride to the net is too short, the adrenaline that runs through your veins fading too quickly. You hear those who know you chanting your name as you roll yourself off, scoffing at your best friend who's standing right there. He smirks a little knowing you're pretending to be offended that he didn't help you. 

Once everyone leaves, besides you, Four and the initiates, the two of you lead them down a narrow tunnel. The tunnel is lit at long intervals, so in the dark space between each dim lamp. One that if you didn't know where you were going you could easily feel lost or disoriented. 

When we stop I turn and watch as the Stiff runs into someones back, holding back the sigh that wants to escape badly. "This is where you divide,The Dauntless-born initiates are free to go to your dorm. I assume you don't need a tour of the place."

They break away from the group and dissolve into the shadows. You watch the last heel pass out of the light and look at those who are left. Most of the initiates were from Dauntless, so only nine people remain. Of those, only one Abnegation transfer, and there are no Amity transfers. The rest are from Erudite and, surprisingly, Candor. 

You know Four likes to get the first word in, so you tuck your feminism away for the time being and wait for him. "Most of the time I work in the control room, but for the next few weeks, I am your instructor," he says. "My name is Four."

Christina asks, "Four? Like the number?" You somehow manage to hold in the chuckle that wants so badly to escape when you see his face. "Yes," Four says. "Is there a problem?"

"No."

"Good. We're about to go into the Pit, which you will someday learn to love. It—"

Christina snickers. "The Pit? Clever name."

Four walks up to Christina and leans his face close to hers. His eyes narrow, and for a second he just stares at her. "What's your name?" he asks quietly.

"Christina," she squeaks. "Well, Christina, if I wanted to put up with Candor smart-mouths, I would have joined their faction," he hisses. "The first lesson you will learn from me is to keep your mouth shut. Got that?"

She nods, and again your holding in your laughter. You cant wait to make fun of him for this later, cant wait to tell Tori about the bravely stupid girl. Four starts toward the shadow at the end of the tunnel. The crowd of initiates moves on in silence.

"What a jerk," she mumbles as she and Beatrice, now Tris, walk past you. "I guess he doesn't like to be laughed at," she replies and this time you do laugh. They both jumped, clearly forgetting you were still in the room. "He also doesn't like smart asses, He wont tolerate you talking behind his back either. So learn quickly or the next few weeks will be harder than they need to be." You say before jogging to catch up with Four, shoulder checking the kid you don't like on the way. 

He opens his mouth and starts to speak "Watch where you're going Bitch!" The second his voice rang through the corridor Four stopped, but when the word Bitch left the pour guys mouth all Fours muscles tensed. He knew you could handle yourself, but he had a hard time tucking his chivalry away when it came to you. "Excuse me?" He says going to step forward but your hand on his chest stops him. 

Your busy smiling at the dumb ass who just spoke, so you dont see Tris's eyes linger on your hand on Fours chest.  "Whats your name dumb ass?" You say still smiling but cocking your head to the side condescendingly.

"Peter.." He says threw his teeth as some of the guys cover their laughter with coughs. You nod, and without thinking drag your hand down Fours arm, squeezing his hand to let him know you're ok. It's an innocent movement, none of them know what happens behind closed doors. You feel him relax a fraction as you let go and take steps towards the group. 

"Im Y/n. I'm also one of your trainers, I am also one of Dauntless's leaders." You watch as Peters face pales, and chuckle bringing your hands up to effortlessly put your hair in a messy bun. "I will be taking over for Max when he retires, meaning I will be the one that chooses how your life here functions. And for me..." You draw on, turning back to start leading the group away noticing Fours eyes locked on Peter. 

"First impressions are everything." 

[gentlemanmotorslifestyle]

[germesthegenie]

Fanart of The Guy with Gold Armor and a Cool Weapon-Enhancing Power

[ghostedgrim]

HEY! QUICK ROLL CALL!!!

To the Divergent Fandom! We've lost alot of people, or we're all just crazy quiet. It seems this beloved Fandom has died. BUT IM STILL HERE ALIVE AND KICKING MOTHERFUCKERS!!!

To those in this Fandom, reply and reblog so I can know y'all fuckers are still alive!

If ya wanna leave only a like, then please just reply with "here." I'm also willing to take any request you wanna send that are related to Divergent (smut, romantic, rejection, friendships, enemies, OCs, platonic, ships, hurt, comfort, crack ship, crack headcannons, random stuff, crack fic ideas) give them to me! IMMA ATTEMPT CPR, I MAY HAVE FAILED MY CPR TEST IM HIGH SCHOOL BUT IMMA STILL ATTEMPT CPR TO REVIVE THIS FANDOM!!!! 🦅

Feel free to add your favorite faction in the comments

[zelcii]

love me anyway | peter hayes

peter leaned against the wall, his eyes narrowing as he watched you from across the pit. you were laughing with the others, your smile wide and effortless, but something about the glint in your eyes always seemed bittersweet. it was as if the laughter was a mask, hiding the truth of your candor-born honesty that seeped through every gesture and expression. you could never quite hide the truth seeping behind the way you smiled, another layer of your candor-born honesty peeking out from under every facade you put on. not that it could be helped. the truth bled from the very way looked, very words you breathed. 

he loved it. how you were basically an intricate scrapbook, pieced together by every person who had ever touched your life, every place you had ever belonged to, and every passion that had ever stirred your heart. you were a patchwork of experiences, raw and honest, and he couldn’t help but be drawn to the way you carried all of it so transparently, even when you tried to hide.

he had always been a problem. for many people, but especially for you. you were no stranger to peter hayes, growing eerily familiar to his sharp edges and cruel humor as it had been a constant presence in your life. after all, you were born in the same faction, hung around the same groups of people, followed the same set of rules. even more, your mother had never liked him. since the two of you were young he'd seem to constantly be one second away from breaking whatever—or whoever—it was in front of him. you used to think you hated him for his arrogance. for how cruel he could be, his tendency to belittle the people that cared for him.

but then you chose dauntless. with one swift cut of the ordaining knife, it wasn’t just your tender, naive skin that was cut—it was every tie to the life you once knew. suddenly, peter hayes, the only person you’ve ever despised, became the only constant factor in your life. he was the one unchanging thread that connected you to both your past and present. you tried to forget your life from before, how things were. but it was hard to admit that the only person you could blame was yourself for wanting to leave.

"staring again," christina’s voice sliced through your thoughts, jolting you back to the present. you blinked, reluctantly tearing your gaze away from peter, who was leaning casually against a wall. he was like an island of calm amidst the chaos that spread across the dauntless pit, his posture relaxed and his expression unreadable.

"i wasn’t," you insisted, but the words felt hollow even as they left your lips. your candor was a relentless betrayer, with every twitch of your mouth or flicker in your eyes revealing the truth you tried so hard to conceal. christina’s gaze sharpened with amusement, catching the subtle giveaway in your demeanor.

"right. c’mon, candor," she quipped, her voice tinged with playful sarcasm as she nudged you gently with her elbow. "may the truth set you free," she mocked with a smirk, her tone light but knowing. “you’ve got it bad.”

you shook your head, trying to mount a defense. "i don’t," you said, but your protest lacked the firmness you’d hoped for. peter had been the object of your intrigue since you’d met him in summer camp, the boy that used to look at you with such passion. the boy you promised your mother that you’d never even think of talking to. that undeniable truth seeped through the cracks of your words, finding its way into the spaces you desperately tried to guard. still, from across the room, he stared with that familiar passion.

christina’s grin widened, clearly finding amusement in your discomfort. she followed your gaze back to peter, who remained fixed on you with a knowing smirk. it was as if he thrived on every flicker of attention you gave him, the curve of his lips revealing his awareness. he seemed to relish in the fact that you couldn’t tear your eyes away, savoring the way his presence bothered you.

"besides, he’s a total jerk," you said, your voice trailing off as you tried to mask your uncertainty. the effort to convince yourself sounded more like a feeble excuse than a genuine assertion. you fixed your gaze away from peter, forcing yourself to focus on his flaws—his arrogance, the cruel edge in his humor, the narcissism he wielded with such practiced ease. yet, despite your best intentions, all you could think about was his lingering touch and your stolen glances. you failed at every attempt to distance yourself. it was as if he was fully aware of the internal battle you were waging and took a twisted pleasure in it.

you remembered an instance from a few nights ago.

you’d been crying in the communal bathrooms, the cold tiles beneath you doing nothing to ease the burning sensation behind your eyes. it had been a bad day—training had pushed you to your limit, the weight of your decision to leave candor pressed down hard, and the overwhelming newness of dauntless was closing in from all sides.

the tears had come suddenly, without warning, and once they started, you couldn’t stop them. you didn’t want to cry—not here, not in a place where showing weakness was as good as painting a target on your back. but you were alone, or so you thought, and it had been too much to keep inside.

then you heard the door creak open. you immediately wiped your face, hurriedly trying to compose yourself, when you heard his voice.

"didn’t expect to find you here," peter’s voice was low, casual, but there was an edge to it that you couldn’t quite place. you assumed it was taunting.

your first instinct was defensiveness. after years of being taught to hate him, after years of believing he was nothing but cruel and self-serving, you bristled at his presence. you had no idea why he was here, and the last thing you needed was to deal with peter hayes right now.

“go away, peter,” you muttered, not even bothering to look up at him. your voice came out more bitter than you intended, but you couldn’t help it. it was habit. you’d spent years convincing yourself that he was the last person you could rely on. “i don’t wanna talk to you.”

for a moment, he didn’t say anything. you expected him to leave—maybe with a sharp remark, something that would sting, something that would remind you exactly who he was and why you should stay far away from him. but he didn’t. instead, you felt him sit down beside you, close enough for his presence to be known but not close enough to make you uncomfortable.

he didn’t speak. he didn’t tease or push. he just sat there, quiet, waiting.

you didn’t want to give in. you didn’t want to let your guard down around him, of all people. but the longer he stayed, the harder it became to keep your defenses up. the weight of the day, the exhaustion, and the relentless pressure of everything finally caught up with you. you couldn’t hold back anymore.

before you even realized what was happening, you leaned against him. your body moved on instinct, and you pressed your face into his shoulder, the sobs breaking free as the tears fell hot and heavy.

to your surprise, peter didn’t pull away. he didn’t make a comment or a joke at your expense. instead, his arm came up, hesitating for just a second before wrapping around you. his grip was firm, and he pulled you in close—just enough for you to feel the warmth of his body against yours. he didn’t say anything, didn’t try to pry or ask questions. he just stayed there, silent and steady, letting you cry.

it wasn’t what you expected. peter was supposed to be cruel, detached, distant. but in that moment, none of that mattered. he was just there, holding you together when you felt like everything else was falling apart.

you didn’t know how long you stayed like that, your tears soaking into the fabric of his shirt, your body trembling from the release of everything you’d been holding inside. but eventually, the sobs began to subside, and you found yourself breathing a little easier, the storm inside you starting to calm.

you pulled away slightly, just enough to look up at him, your eyes still red and swollen from crying. “why do you do this?” you asked, your voice small and hoarse from the tears. you genuinely didn’t understand. “why do you… why are you here?”

peter’s eyes met yours, and for a moment, you saw something raw, something unguarded in his gaze. then, with a small, almost playful smirk, he shrugged. “don’t know what you mean,” he said, his voice soft but teasing. “you know i love you.”

the words were so simple, so casually said, that they took you by surprise. but there was no sarcasm in his tone, no bite to his words. he was sincere, leaning in close, his breath warm against your ear as if the words were meant to be a secret shared only between the two of you. then, with a sudden rush of either reckless confidence or desperate longing, he pressed a soft, lingering kiss just behind your ear. the tenderness of it sent a shiver down your spine. “let me be here,” he whispered, his voice low and steady, though it carried a note of quiet vulnerability. he was trying to convey reassurance, but the raw emotion in his voice felt closer to a quiet, earnest plea. 

christina said that that was when you started staring. 

you’d seen a side of him you never thought to imagine and you craved for more. but he was peter hayes. he wasn’t supposed to feel anything. not for you, not for anyone. he tried to convince himself that as well as he savoured the feeling of your soft skin on his lips. yet, there he was, aching for something he couldn’t bring himself to ask for. something that made his heart race every time you was near, something that made him want to push you away and pull you closer all at once. your love.

he turned to you then, his hand brushing yours just barely, but it was enough to make his pulse quicken. you locked eyes, and for a second, and suddenly everything else that happened outside of the bathrooms faded away. he could feel your heartbeat in the air between you, the way your breath hitched, the way you wanted him to say something, anything. but he couldn’t. not yet. so he just sat there, his lips twitching into a smirk, masking everything he wasn’t ready to say.

christina’s expression shifted to one of knowing amusement, her eyebrow arching in a way that made it clear she wasn’t buying your story. "yeah, and yet here you are, still thinking about him. denial is just another form of obsession, you know."

"i am not obsessed," you snapped, a little too loudly. you tried to sound more forceful than you felt. but even to your own ears, the argument wore thin. the truth was, no matter how hard you tried to ignore him, peter had managed to engrave himself into your thoughts, lingering at the edge of your consciousness like an itch you couldn’t quite scratch.

christina’s hand landed on your shoulder, the gesture both comforting and teasing. her eyes held a mix of sympathy and amusement, as if she could see right through your carefully constructed facade. "sure, keep telling yourself that," she said, her tone light but tinged with a gentle sincerity. "but pretending isn’t the same as believing."

you didn’t respond, choosing instead to focus on your hands, which were twisting nervously in your lap. christina wasn’t wrong. the tension between you and peter was undeniable, a magnetic force that seemed to vibrate with an intensity everyone could feel when the two of you were near. 

glancing back at peter, you found him still observing you from across the pit. his gaze cut through the chaotic swirl of faces and noise, landing squarely on you with an intensity that felt almost tangible. it wasn’t just a casual glance; it was as if he was deeply engrossed, his eyes soft and thoughtful, carrying an unmistakable trace of what you dared call admiration. the smirk was gone now, replaced by an expression that seemed to reveal more than he usually let on—a look that made your heart flutter against your will. 

you shifted uncomfortably, unable to shake the feeling that his gaze was dissecting every fragment of your carefully guarded emotions. in that moment, the air between you felt charged, filled with something unspoken that neither of you were ready to confront. and even as you tried to look away, his eyes seemed to follow, holding a soft, thoughtful reverence that you found both disconcerting and oddly comforting.

you reminded yourself that, no matter how warm you felt under his gaze or how infatuated you were with him, peter was still peter—the same boy who had mocked your family’s dedication to order and laughed at others’ missteps under the guise of “honesty.” his usual sarcasm and cruelty were just parts of his carefully constructed facade, a shield designed to guard against any real vulnerability.

but the way he treated you was different now in dauntless. there was always a softness in his gaze, a subtle consideration that contrasted with his usual demeanor. it made you question if beneath his cold exterior, there was a part of him that genuinely cared, revealing a side of him that was far less indifferent than he let on. it made you wonder if he wasn’t as cold as he wanted everyone to believe.

regardless, you knew you would never, in every sense of the word, let yourself fall for peter hayes. he was supposed to be a horrible person.

… but on one particularly exhausting night, after another grueling day of training, you tossed and turned in bed, unable to find any solace in sleep. the unfamiliarity of dauntless gnawed at you, and the weight of leaving candor behind seemed to grow heavier with each passing hour. not that you’d ever blatantly admit it, but the new environment was overwhelming. despite your best efforts to adapt, the relentless pressure was starting to crack your composure.

in the dead of night, you awoke with a start, your heart pounding and a deep sense of unease settling over you. you stumbled out of bed, the darkness amplifying your anxiety as you wandered through the dimly lit corridors of dauntless. just as the silence seemed to stretch endlessly, a soft knock broke the stillness, echoing against the cold concrete walls. there, at the end of the hall, stood peter. he stood as tall as ever, but his touch was unexpectedly gentle. his hand brushed lightly against the small of your back, pulling you a bit closer, and the warmth of his skin contrasted sharply with the chill of the night air. 

though your eyes were still heavy with sleep, you could see the rare softness in his gaze, a stark contrast to his usual demeanor. “hey, sweetheart,” he said, his voice low and raspy, but surprisingly soothing. “you okay?”

“just can’t sleep,” you mumbled, rubbing your tired eyes. you could’ve been meaner, you could’ve tried harder to push him away but you convinced yourself you were too tired to. 

even you knew you were lying. 

without a word, he guided you back to the rooms, his hand resting steady and reassuring on your waist. the warmth of his calloused skin against your arm was comforting, sending a shiver through you. your heart ached to lean more of your weight against him, to feel the full press of his body against yours. each touch felt intensely intimate, grounding you in a way that made your heart race. his calm presence was a soothing contrast to the cold, impersonal walls of dauntless.

as he guided you back to the room, his touch so comforting and warm, memories from your younger years resurfaced.

you recalled how, even then, there was a strange tenderness in the way he interacted with you, though he never showed the same kindness towards others. peter was always rough with the other kids, his teasing and taunting often crossing the line into childish cruelty. 

your mother had noticed, warning you to stay away from him, claiming he was a bad influence. she saw the way he bullied others and feared that his harshness would rub off on you. so, you had learned to hate him, to see only his rough edges and disregard his rare moments of gentleness. now, feeling his warmth and seeing the softness in his eyes, those old judgments felt shaky and uncertain. It must’ve been a trick—a game he was playing. but in that moment you couldn’t bring yourself to care, revelling in the way his skin brushed against yours.

as he helped you settle back under the covers, his touch was deliberate and achingly tender, causing a warm flush to spread through you. you wondered how you managed to muster enough hate to stay far enough away from him. the brush of his fingers against your skin, as he tucked the blankets around you, felt both intimate and possessive, sending a shiver of through your body. each contact, from his fingertips grazing your arm to his palm pressing gently on your shoulder, was charged with a longing intensity.

“you need to rest,” he murmured, his voice low and soothing, nearly a whisper. his gaze lingered on you with a softness that was rare for him. before he turned to leave, he gently swept a few stray strands of hair from your face, his fingers lingering for a moment longer than necessary. “it’s okay to be overwhelmed, sweetheart. we all are.”

you looked up at him, the tenderness of his touch and the care in his eyes sending a rush of warmth through you that made you slightly breathless. his eyes, usually so sharp, were softened by a rare, gentle affection that made your heart flutter. “thanks, peter. you didn’t have to.”

“yeah? well, i did,” he said, a crooked smile playing at his lips, his eyes twinkling with a touch of mischief. he held your hand in his and refused to let go, like he wasn’t ready to leave. you didn't want him to leave. “deal with it.” his voice was smooth, his tone almost too casual, as if the closeness was natural. as if he wasn’t acting completely out of character. his hand remained lingering by your jaw a moment longer than necessary, his touch longing like a secret between you.

you remembered early in high school, when peter had asked you out to the dance and confessed his feelings, saying he loved you. without hesitation, you’d turned him down, following your mother’s wishes. even then, he didn’t seem upset. instead, he simply promised that you’d end up loving him one day.

at the time, you didn't believe him, dismissing his words as just another piece of the game he constantly played. now, as you felt the warmth of his touch and the gentle care he’d shown, you couldn’t ignore the echoes of that past moment. you were falling for him. despite everything, you were falling for him. 

and after all that time, he was right.

“what’s wrong?” he asked, his voice tired, and raspy, but caring. it summoned butterflies to your stomach. he said it like you were the only girl in the world. suddenly, you felt like you were in middle school again, getting flustered over a boy. your mother would be so disappointed.

“I don’t wanna talk ‘bout it,” you said, though your eyes betrayed you as they stayed locked with him. out of a force of habit you continued, “don’t wanna talk to you.” you didn’t mean it, of course.

he let out a tired, amused laugh before bringing your hand up to press a gentle kiss in the palm of your hand. you melted. “i love you anyway.”

threw 3.5k words on a tumblr post and called it a fanfic </3

[theworldatwar]

A US Navy Douglas SBD-3 Dauntless of bombing squadron VB-8 on the deck of the aircraft carrier USS Hornet (CV-8) during the Battle of Midway in 1942 CREDIT : Royston Leonard

[heliads]

first of all i just wanted to say that i’m actually in love with your writing and i can’t wait to read more from you!! anyway i was thinking of some good ol’ peter hayes x fem!reader where they were both in candor together and hated each others GUTS, but then when they transferred to dauntless, peter starts developing feelings for reader so he follows her around like some puppy but she’s still on the peter-hate-train. maybe also like he starts talking to some other female dauntless initiate and stops giving reader as much attention and she finally realizes that she likes him

(this is such a long request i’m so sorry)

thank you so much!!

'Bad Liars' - peter hayes

masterlist

Starting out life on your own terms. A fresh page, a blank slate. This is why you decided to switch factions in your Choosing Ceremony, why you agreed to never see your family again except by something as meager as coincidence. Friends, neighbors, blood relations, all left behind with one swipe of a knife against your palm. It’s worth it, though. Running through the streets of your city like your world is on fire, you’re free for the first time in your memory. It’s just you in this new, grand place they call Dauntless.

Well, you and Peter Hayes.

Of all the people to come here with you, of course your fellow transfer from Candor would be Peter. Bold, callous Peter. Peter, who’s had it out for you since you were kids. No child should know that much bitter hatred, but the two of you have been arch rivals since you were small. You’d be lying if you said that leaving him behind didn’t factor into your decision to transfer from Candor to Dauntless even a little bit, but yet here he is anyway. Turns out you couldn’t run that far from him after all.

To you, it makes perfect sense that if Peter Hayes had to go anywhere, he would go to Dauntless. All throughout his time at Candor, for as long as you can remember Peter, he had been crafting his words to inflict as much misery as possible. In the eyes of the faction leaders, anything he said was fair game so long as he was telling the truth, and Peter did just that. He told his truth, which was precisely like reality except warped to cause as much hurt as he dared. 

Peter’s words were honed to a knife’s sharpness, easier for drawing blood than the syringes of your faction’s truth serum. Of course he would go here, where bullets are no longer how he shapes his syllables to spike into your throat but a real thing. Why bother with figurative pain if you can produce the genuine article?

The two of you had ended up here for precisely opposite reasons. Peter wanted to hurt, you wanted to fight back. Candor is full of self-righteous bullies who believe they’re doing the right thing by being uncommonly cruel to anyone they pass. In Dauntless, everyone is finally on a level playing field. If someone insults you, you fight them, and no amount of callous words can save you then. Talk is nothing if you can’t back it up with prowess. For someone who had to swallow plenty of poison back in Candor, Dauntless is like a holiday.

However, the one thing that makes your paradise fall short is the fact that Peter decided to come here with you. He had made his decision independently of you, of course, but you’re still infuriated about the whole affair. This was supposed to be your fresh start, your one chance to escape your past and become something no one expected of you. That’s the whole point of the Choosing Ceremony, isn’t it? To kill off the old you and transform into the best version of yourself?

That had been your plan, at least, and then Peter had made his choice. You wouldn’t go anywhere but Dauntless even if your entire faction transferred over here, but it did complicate things. You had hoped that you and Peter would always end up on opposite sides of the room, then opposite ends of the faction, and never come in contact again, but as per usual, it looks like Peter isn’t much inclined to follow your whims.

From the first day alone, you knew he was going to be trouble. You were one of the first to jump, fresh off the exhilaration of the free fall plunge from the top of the roof, and reeling in the lingering aftereffects of your largest adrenaline rush to date while waiting for the jumpers to take their turns off the edge. The room was crowded, more so with each new jumper to make their move, yet somehow in all that chaos, Peter managed to find you. It didn’t bode well for the remainder of initiation, to say the least.

You had been hoping that the two of you could exchange silent, wary eye contact and then move on, your past shattered and gone for good, but instead Peter wove his way through the throngs of people and came to a stop by your side.

“Look who we have here,” he says, drawing the words out, “Y/N L/N. I never thought you’d have the guts to come here.”

“And I always thought you’d be too much of a coward to leave Candor,” you reply. “Looks like we were both wrong.”

Peter’s eyes widen and he chuckles, evidently not expecting your retort. “Careful, L/N. Didn’t know you had such a sharp tongue.”

“You’ve known me for years,” you say, eyeing him coldly. “If you didn’t know that, you’re about to be very surprised indeed. I hope you didn’t set your hopes on making first place in initiation, Hayes, or you’re going to be sorely disappointed.”

Up ahead, one of the initiation leaders is calling for the trainees to fall in after him. You take this opportunity to breeze past Peter, who’s standing there and staring openly, mouth agape. You’ve put up with his bullshit for many years now, always taking it silently in fear of jeopardizing your position in your faction, but no longer. You’re on even footing again for the first time in a very long time, and you have absolutely no intention of ever caving to Peter Hayes again.

For Peter, it seems, your decision is a very rude awakening. You immediately fling yourself into the intricacies of fighting and running and shooting, which causes you to rise quickly through the ranks of initiates, much to Peter’s chagrin. Although he’ll tell anyone in earshot that he’s only letting you do so well because he thinks it’s funny to watch you struggle, you can see the panic in Peter’s eyes when you crush one fight after another. You meant what you said, after all. It’s first place or nothing, and you don’t intend on settling for anything where Peter’s concerned.

Your rivalry becomes just as well known among your new friends in Dauntless as it was back in Candor. Hardly a day goes by without you and Peter getting in each other’s way, whether it be slamming each other into the ground during a fighting match in the ring or running yourselves ragged in an attempt to be faster, stronger, better. It’s like you can’t get away from him. 

Everywhere you go, Peter is there too. Staying late after initiation to get some more practice with throwing knives, he just so happens to choose the target right beside you. Walking over to the training gym in the middle of the night because you can’t sleep and might as well use the empty hours to improve, Peter seems to have the same bright idea to practice with the punching bags even despite the midnight hour. You don’t like the fact that Peter seems to have such a good knack for telling when you’re awake or asleep, you have half a mind that he might get frustrated of the close competition and take you out while you were sleeping, but he’s never gone that far.

Your friends seem to have a different view of the whole affair. Every time you complain to them about Peter never letting you have a moment’s peace, Tris and Christina, your closest friends in initiation, just exchange knowing looks and begin to tease you. They seem convinced that Peter doesn’t hate you but actually harbors a crush, which is beyond you. There’s no earthly way that Peter likes you. The two of you have despised each other since before you could talk. The whole idea is absurd.

Still, if you were nothing more than an unknowing bystander, you supposed you could see how the situation might be misconstrued. A lifetime of truth-telling in you has to admit that maybe it is a little suspicious that you and Peter can’t seem to go an hour or two without running into each other, that Peter is both your greatest threat and the object of your every waking thought. It’s just because you want to beat him so badly, of course. Of course. If it weren’t, though. If you were thinking of him not because of hatred but for something more–

You wouldn’t. You would never be so foolish. This is how Peter wins, by twisting his way inside your mind until you’re second-guessing every single thing he does, and you’d die before you let him win. If he’s willing to play the game, though, you’ll do anything to beat him at his own technique, so you up the ante and repeat it right back to him. 

Sarcastic comments slip from your tongue whenever you see him. When Four takes the initiates out on guided runs, you make sure you’re jogging right by Peter the whole time, your pace steadily increasing until both of you end each race at a sprint. The rest of the trainees have learned to leave two targets side by side for you two whenever it’s time for sharpshooting practice, and heaven help the hapless initiate who asks one of you to spar as if the other wasn’t standing right there, guarding their territory.

It doesn’t mean anything, though. You still hate Peter to the ends of the earth, and everyone around you had better know it, too. You despise him as much as it’s physically possible for a human being to hate anyone, but then he starts spending a lot of time with someone else, and suddenly the hatred is far harder to come by than it ever was, and you’re not sure what to do with yourself at all.

He’s spending time with another girl. Which isn’t bad, of course. He’s got friends. You do too. But. One time at dinner, you heard Tris saying that he’s looking at the girl the same way he used to look at you, and she wasn’t talking about hate, and you cannot tell whether you were supposed to deny that he’d ever done anything but hate you or be furious at this new girl for stealing his attention away from you, so you didn’t answer at all. You didn’t sleep a wink that night, and gave up a few hours in to try and train some more. He didn’t follow. He always follows. Not this time, though, and when you came back, he was quietly whispering with the other girl. Hatching sinister plans, no doubt, or planning to stab someone in the back. He didn’t even look at you when he came in. It was like he didn’t even care.

You feel sick to your stomach. You intentionally ask other trainees to spar in the ring– look, Peter isn’t the only one capable of moving on– but it’s like he doesn’t even notice. You want to slam your hands against his chest and shout in his face, do anything to make him look at you, but instead you stay sullen and quiet and pretend like nothing has changed even though everything, everything, has.

It hits you, about two weeks later, what the problem is. Like a lightning strike in the dark of night, all of a sudden you know, a knowledge that had been blank and absent before but totally unavoidable now. You like Peter. Hell, you might even love him, if you gave him that chance in your heart. Peter might have liked you, but you brushed him off for so long that he moved on.

It hurts like a jagged hole in your heart. Someone has reached inside and broken your ribs to claw this feeling out from where you’ve so cleverly hidden it, and there’s no disguising the horror of the wound now. You couldn’t escape it if you tried.

You found out this truth about yourself in the middle of a Dauntless party, and it kills your mood completely. You can’t stand the loud music or flashing lights anymore, so you put down your half-empty cup on one of the debris-strewn surfaces and make your way out. No one notices you leave. You’re a ghost on the outskirts of a celebration of life, and there is nothing here for you anymore.

You wander until you end up on the bridge overlooking the pit near the center of the Dauntless complex. You stand as close to the edge as you can, hands gripping the flimsy railing until you’re not sure your fingers could peel away from the rusting metal if you tried. If you’d felt any buzz from the party at all, you’ve sobered up by now. You have no idea how long you’ve been standing here, skin chilled by the drafts of the pit, and then a voice sounds from behind you, and you’re abruptly dragged back to reality once more.

“I thought you’d be back in there with the rest,” Peter says, coming to a stop beside you.

You don’t dare to look at him, opting instead to keep your eyes firmly trained on the drop over the edge of the pit. “I could say the same thing about you.”

Peter sounded genuinely curious when he asked, but your tone is harsher, colder. You still haven’t forgiven him for moving on just when you realized that you liked him, and it’s leaching into your voice. Peter chuckles even still. “No, not me. The best part just left.”

You risk a glance his way, and to your surprise, he’s looking at you. “Are you being honest with me, Peter?” You ask.

His face twists into chagrin. “Looks like we can’t beat the Candor out of ourselves after all, even despite all the training sessions we’ve pulled. I’ve tried, though.”

“You’ve done a good job,” you muse. “It’s me who needs to be fixed the most.”

Peter’s brow furrows. “What are you talking about?”

You shake your head. Maybe you weren’t as sober as you thought. “Never mind. It doesn’t matter.”

“Says who?” Peter asks plainly. “I’m here, aren’t I?”

You regard him suspiciously. “You haven’t always.”

Peter has the grace to look embarrassed. “I’ve done things I regret.”

“I don’t believe you,” you say, and laugh to hide your heartbreak. “I know you, Peter Hayes. I know what you do. I’m not falling for it. Not again.”

“It worked before?” Peter asks, genuinely surprised. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

This time you do laugh for real. “Why would I? And give you another weakness to exploit?”

Peter flinches as if you’ve slapped him. “I deserve that, probably, but I’ve been trying to be better.”

“Why?” You ask. “You’ve never cared what I thought, and you certainly don’t care about being better. Nothing about you makes sense, Peter. You’ve got a girl back there in the party who’s probably looking for you now, but instead you’re trying to apologize to me. You’ve never cared about that before.”

“But I do now,” Peter says, voice unexpectedly strong. When he turns the force of his gaze back on you again, you feel totally rooted in place, unable to move even if you wanted to. And, when he starts to move closer to you, one hand coming to rest on top of your fingers, you’re not sure that you do. “I do care. I’ve been trying to tell you that for weeks.”

“I thought you were excellent at telling the truth,” you whisper.

“So did I,” Peter replies. Hesitates, then says, “Only other people’s truth, it turns out. You were always my best secret. I wanted to keep you the most.”

Your breath sticks to your lungs, refusing to grant you release. None of this makes sense. Peter would never– But he is now, standing in front of you, telling you as much as he can. Peter still wants you. It’s up to you if you want him, too.

After everything he’s done to you over the years, you owe him nothing at all. He’s hurt you more times than you could count. When you’re cold, bitterly cold, freezing down to the bone with no way of rescue save your own rough and ragged principles, you burn everything around you. Clothes, shoes, furniture. Even people. Peter burned you, and so severe was the flame of your mutual hatred that it made it impossible for anything to grow between the two of you but a jealous wrath. 

Peter has left the cold of Candor and traded in his shivering bones for Dauntless’ natural warmth, and now he finally has the room to put out the fire again. He’s stamped out the inferno, or tried to, at least; but upon inspecting the last flattened spark, Peter can’t tell if he went too far. It is immensely difficult for him to discern if he has left anything of you but char and ash. 

What could have been a beautiful thing went up in smoke the moment he first raised a harsh word against you. Peter loves the truth, loves most of all to twist it, but in the end, the truth cannot help him here. Peter knows what he wants the truth to be, but the truth is no substitute for reality. It is up to you if you can ever forgive him, and no amount of pretty words on Peter’s end can change that.

It’s up to you, and for the first time since you came to Dauntless, you know precisely what you want. “I know what you mean,” you tell him carefully.

Peter’s face cracks in a tentative smile. “You know? So you–”

“I do,” you interrupt. “I like you, Peter.”

You have seen Peter furious, filled with righteous vengeance. You’ve seen him bloody and bruised on the other end of a sparring ring. You thought that the brightest emotion you’d ever see on him was the pure flame of hatred, but it turns out there’s one thing better than wrath, and that’s sheer, incandescent joy. He wears it now like the finest of luxuries, and you decide that you’d like to see it many times again. As it turns out, you’ll have plenty of chances.

divergent tag list: @blondsauduun, @gods-fools-heroes, @23victoria, @manyfandomsfanvergent, @imwaysthelastchoice, @crazyhearttragedy, @drinking-tea-and-be-obsessed, @alex-1967s-blog, @aoi-targaryen

all tags list: @wordsarelife

[dronescapesvideos]

Douglas SBD Dauntless piloted by American Lt. George Glacken with his gunner Leo Boulange. New Guinea, April, 1944

[smfolklore]

Anticipation

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Author's Note : Hi! This is my first piece that I'll be uploading. I would love your thoughts on this if you'd be so kind. I hope you all enjoy it and I'm so excited to write more Tobias content. 2.3K Word's 😈

Synopsis : Y/N reluctantly ask's the Dauntless instructor she was assigned, and that she (unfortunately) finds attractive to help her train. There's tension. Please let me know what else you'd like to see.

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She can’t help how her thoughts drift toward the moment his fingers brushed her abdomen. How goosebumps exploded across her skin, and how they easily engulfed her entire midsection.

His voice was low, and deep, right against her ear as he positioned her in a way that would allow her to actually hurt her opponents.

That was yesterday and she can't stop the incessant place that her mind runs to as soon as it's given a moment to think. The attraction she felt for him was so insanely inappropriate. And yet.. the possibility of him reciprocating lulled her into a false sense of security.

That it’s okay.

It won’t end as awfully as she’s imagined.

Y/N’s attention is redirected when she sees the initiates begin to disperse, and her instructor walk toward the knives that they had launched only minutes before she began to fantasize about a 2 minute interaction she had with a boy. 

He must’ve dismissed the session.

Christina and Will turn to look at Y/N in anticipation of what they’ll be doing with the allotted time that they were given.

She half listens as Will discusses going to the parlor to get his first tattoo, but eventually says with a small smile, “Actually, I-uh I’m going to talk to Four. You two can go and I’ll catch up?”.

Christina tilts her head, slightly suspicious, but Y/N gives away absolutely nothing, that perfected smile of innocence she learned in Abnegation carefully placed on her face.

Four’s back is facing her, and once Will and Christina have left, Y/N reluctantly travels from her spot in the training center toward the steel table that holds an abnormally large amount of knives in any other situation. But this is Dauntless, and weapons are normal.

Her heart is pounding and before she can utter a single word he’s anticipated her arrival and muttered, “What is it?”. It isn’t particularly unkind, or malicious in any way. It’s him, and the way that he addresses all of his initiates.

But it has her pausing. Was she insane? Should she just leave?

In spite of the fact that she’s attracted to him, she really could learn from him. And god knows she needs all of the practice that she can get. 

Her arms rest by her side, but the fingers of her right hand are fidgeting as she nervously says, “I don’t know if this is against the rules, but I was wondering if you would help me improve my fighting”.

He still isn’t facing her. He’s diligently organizing the weapons by type. Y/N’s hoping to God he doesn’t refuse her. The mortification would be enough to simply volunteer to become factionless. 

She fills the silence, “If you can’t, that’s okay too! I understand you're busy–and you know what? Just–it’s okay! Forget about it..” She begins to scramble for an appropriate exit, when his voice suddenly rings out.

“I’ll see you here tomorrow at 5. We’ll practice in the morning before your normal sessions and then a second time when dinner is no longer being served”.

Y/N can’t help the smile that fills her face but she almost instinctively kills it. She’s giddy on the inside though. He’s really going to help her. She might actually be able to stay in this faction. 

And spending time with her instructor isn’t exactly a hardship.

She gives a “Thank you” in response and begins to leave the training center, her footsteps light and the only trace of her exit being the sound of the entrance clicking shut.

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I stifle the groan I want to let out as my alarm blares beneath my pillow. I shoved it underneath the two pillows that I’d managed to acquire throughout my initiation to try and muffle the noise. Thankfully it worked and the only noise, or rather the only feeling that is escaping is a relentless buzz.

I use two fingers to press against the mirroring sides of the machine simultaneously in order to turn it off. I don’t know what I would have done if I’d awoken the entire dormitory.

I drag myself out of my mattress and begin to clothe myself, my matching black fitted long-sleeve sweater and black workout pants being an absolute pain to put on. I internally curse myself as I have to haul this on. Who told me it was going to be practical to buy this?

Once I’ve deemed myself presentable and not like I’ve just awoken from the pits of hell, I begin my trek to the training center, the clock on the wall reading 4:52 in the morning. As I enter I’m startled when my eyes land on Four. 

But then I’m not. Of course he’s already here. I almost want to roll my eyes.

It’s ridiculous that everything about him is so.. neat. He’s poised, well-balanced, and punctual. He’s never lost his temper. I’ve never once seen this man so much as stumble. And, annoyingly, has never run late for a session. 

Regardless I approach him with a small, “Hi” as I step onto the platform carefully, now standing in front of him.

His intense eyes reach mine and despite what I expected, which was a change of subject, he says in response, “Hi. You’re a bit early”.

I’m a little bit confused given that it’s now 4:56, which means I’m only about 4 minutes ‘early’. But I laugh and quickly take the opportunity to further our conversation. “I didn’t want to be late. You’re doing me a huge favor”.

“Did you think I was going to leave if you weren’t here on time?” His voice is.. amused. His tone is full of dry sarcasm and it has my eyebrow’s shoot up in surprise. He’s actually engaging in genuine conversation; albeit I haven’t managed to pull a smile out of him. Still, it’s far more progress than I thought I was going to get.

I grin, my eyes bright at the possibility that we might become familiar, “Well, I don’t know if I’d exactly put it past you”.

I wonder if I’m hallucinating when I see a flicker of excitement roll through his eyes. But I quickly deny it to myself. I shouldn’t jump to conclusions. I can’t ruin this opportunity; I need to pass this stage.

There’s a smile on his lips, but it's tilted down, almost as if to prove my accusation. But I get the sense that he’s lying; he wouldn’t have left me here alone if I was late. He’s amused, possibly impressed.

But the smile is quickly wiped off my face when his smile slips off his expression and he becomes Four again. I don’t know who I was talking to just seconds before.. but I like that version of him. Easy going. 

As he talks, he positions me.

He begins a slow drawl of words, “I’ve noticed for you in particular, because of your height and weight, you’d do well in offense. You’re light, and can escape the grip of your opponent rather easily if you learn how”.

I straighten my posture and shiver when he reaches for my two wrists, the words still slipping past his lips, “You need to practice maintaining your space. Don’t let your limbs flail. It’ll stop an opponent from being able to keep a grip on you, understand?”

It’s hard to focus with the way his body is so close to mine. He’s at a respectable distance, but still closer than we’ve encountered before. My eyes flit between his as we make eye contact. I nod slowly to demonstrate my understanding. When his grip loosens he remarks, “Okay. I’m going to charge at you. I’m not going to hit you, but I want you to try and maneuver yourself in a way that will allow you to hit me, and not kill yourself in the process”.

I almost want to laugh at the way he’s phrased that, but I bite my tongue and instead focus on mentally preparing for this. How is that even a possibility? Is there a way for me to hit him while still being out of his reach?

We stand in position, my back straight and my limbs as close to me as possible. My arms are at my side and I’m not in a wide stance in order to evade being slammed onto the platform if he manages to catch a foot.

His stance is much more intimidating. It’s perfected. He could kill me if he wanted too.

I wait for him to approach me, and it’s difficult to resist the temptation to simply bolt out of the way. But I think I’ve come up with a solid plan. I can move at the last second, which will allow me to strike him because his momentum from charging at me will be far too high. 

In this case, his weight is a disadvantage. And for once, mine is at an advantage. Or maybe it’s always at an advantage. I just needed his perspective.

It’s when I’m slightly distracted that he charges at me. I never pegged him for a cheater.

Regardless of my thoughtlessness, I manage to step to the side, only I’m a split second too late. He grips my wrist, which I failed to maintain close to myself in my haste to step away from him. 

He uses his hold on my wrist to pull me close to him, and given how quickly the entire situation is happening, I collide with him, my chest pressed to his. And my palm instinctively presses to his chest in order to maintain a distance, but it only inadvertently has me closer to him. I’m panting a bit as I try to process everything that just happened.

He caught me off guard!

I lift my eyes to his and he’s speaking before I can slip a word in, “You need to focus. Remember to have your limbs as close to you as possible” I nod in agreement and he adds, “That was a very clever strategy. Quick thinking”.

I’m still breathing a bit heavily, as is he, though I don’t know if it’s from the exertion of charging at me.. or because of how closely intertwined we are.

“Thank you”, I mutter with a small smile as I slowly pull my hand away from his chest and he releases my wrist.

He doesn’t reveal a single thought about what just occurred. His breathing is the only possible indication of how he might feel. But as he motions for me to get into my original position again he follows with, “When you’re within an appropriately close distance to your opponent, remember that you have small limbs. Shorter arms, shorter legs. You can use this to help you”.

I don’t quite understand his logic. He recognizes this and begins in my direction. When he starts to get as close as we just were, my eyes widen in surprise but he only says, “Try to knee me”.

I hesitate but I instantly lift my knee to do as he says, I don’t do it hard, only to simulate the motion he’s trying to show me and grin in excitement when I understand what he’s insinuating. At this distance, I can hit him, and it will hurt. But if he attempts to do as I did, it wouldn’t work. His limbs are far too long, and with the small distance between him and I, he can’t even lift his knee.

When I lift my head to meet his eyes, my breath hitches as I realize his head is tilted down to look at me. Which means.. We’re at an incredibly inappropriate distance. I could kiss him if I lifted myself up onto my toes. 

My eyes find his lips briefly, before I snap them back toward his eyes, trying to not trace every detail I can in order to not give myself away. But I’m not the only one who’s feeling affected by this. The words he was about to utter don’t come as they get lodged in his throat.

He’s so close to me, and we’re simply staring at one another as the tension rolls through us.. through the entire training center. Waiting to see who will break it first. I desperately want to stay in this moment, despite how horrible it is to feel attraction for him. He’s my instructor.. there’s no universe where he reciprocates. 

But the way his breathing has increased and his eyes are flitting to my lips says otherwise.

Did I imagine that?

He clears his throat and breaks our eye contact. Turning his attention to my legs, and saying, “Do you understand what I was trying to say?”

I hesitate, still briefly stunned by the moment just there, but I hoarsely respond, “Yes, thank you”.

He goes to his original mark, in position again. I regain control of myself and heavily exhale as I concentrate.

This time, when he charges at me I move in the exact direction I did the first time, knowing that he will have expected me to go the opposite way. 

Reverse psychology. If he can cheat, so can I.

I grin when I see the delayed movement of him coming to the realization that I actually did as he said and managed to evade his grip. And I take this opportunity to strike him, swiping his feet out so that his back slams against the platform.

I almost feel pitiful, but when I see the grin on his face, my pity evaporates. He’s proud of me. He quickly resumes his position and says, “Great. Now try and do it again”.

Though this time his eyes are narrowed, and I frown nervously, contrary to the bubbling pit of excitement running through me as well, when I realize he was being kind. And now he’s going to actually train me.

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That's it! I love this so please let me know if you liked it and if you'd like to see more! And to @remussbitch who asked to be tagged, here it is. I hope you enjoy.

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