#divergent peter x reader

[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

[lilithslittleworld]

All For You

A/N: This is my first attempt at writing a Peter Hayes one shot. Personally Four and Peter have always been my favorite male characters and crushes throughout the Divergent series! (Also I know the a GIF is Miles as Vinny but let’s just imagine it’s Peter ;) )

CW: fighting, penetrative sex, oral sex, minor injuries, begging, and praise.

Summary: Peter Hayes and Molly have ended their fwb/fling, leaving Peter all for you. Or at least that's what you hope...

It came as no surprise that when you saw Peter Hayes and Molly arguing loudly in The Pit that their fling had come to an end. The ranking lists were beginning to shift daily, excluding some and including others. The pressure on everyone was clearly visible, even to two ex-Candor childhood friends who had tried to become something more. Knowing how stubborn both of them were, this wouldn't be a private or amicable split.

"I can't believe what a lowlife you've become," Molly hissed, her eyes were dark and dangerous towards Peter.

Peter just smirked and rolled his eyes. "There's nothing lowlife about survival. I'm going to make it in Dauntless, that's why I chose it. Can't say the same about you," he insinuated, causing Molly to turn an even brighter shade of red.

"You stay the fuck away from me," she threatened, cocking her hand back in case her words hadn't been enough.

"Hey!" A voice boomed throughout the walls of The Pit. Eric emerged from the crowd towards the couple, his arms crossed and gaze hard. "Whatever the fuck you two have going on, save it for tomorrows fight. We don't need anymore deaths this week, Abnegation's been on our asses since the last two."

Your eyes shifted over to Tris as he said this, spotting her next to Christina, furrowing her eyebrows at Eric's comment. Tris had stopped mentioning anything of her past faction when Eric had publicly called her out on it, the rest of you took it as a warning as well.

Peter's smirk only grew at Eric's statement, challenging Molly with his gaze. You knew Molly wouldn't stand a chance, as strong as she was. It wasn't a fight you were looking forward to watching but that was something you'd never say aloud.

"Lose the fucking grin, Hayes," Eric warned, walking past both of them. Peter's face flushed red, his eyes a wild mix of excitement and anger. Molly seemed to enjoy his discomfort, laughing in his face before retreating towards the living quarters.

Peter's eyes scanned the crowd that had formed around them, fixating on your own eyes. His gaze made an exciting shiver roll down your spine, his eyes burned into yours with an exhilarating heat.

"What the fuck are you looking at, Stiff?" he shot at you as if you were the only one watching him. You felt your face grow hot and your eyes dropped to the floor below you in embarrassment. Peter shoved past you, whispering something only you could hear.

"Like what you see?" his voice was soft in your ear and his lips were just brushing your hair, sending another shiver along your body. As annoying and problematic Peter Hayes was, you were undeniable attracted to him.

--------

The days went by and Peter continued to show interest in you but had never explicitly made any moves, it was as if he enjoyed teasing you with no promise of it actually turning into something. His fight with Molly hadn't gone as bad as you'd expected, she'd landed a few solid punches but had ultimately lost. Your own fights had improved in comparison to your first weeks in Dauntless but your embarrassment grew, knowing Peter's eyes followed your every move. As you started winning your first fights, however, a glimmer of pride appeared on Peter's face but he said nothing.

Your interactions with him were always filled with sexual tension, yet so subtle that they went by unnoticed by your other fellow Dauntless. The communal showers became one of those tenser interactions. Two days ago, you had tried to shower during one of the weirder hours, knowing there wouldn't be anyone in them. With your towel wrapped tightly, you tiptoed into the bathrooms, freezing at the sound of water running. The sight of Peter's wet body remained in your mind ever since, especially when you saw him. The water trickling down his toned, muscled body, as he ran his fingers through his hair. You hadn't dared to look further below his belly button, luckily you didn't have time to. Your eyes had met, making your head spin and face flush, as you hurried out of the bathrooms, clutching your towel to you.

That night, you imagined him lying in his bed, just a few down from yours, with the image of him naked flashing before you relentlessly. You wondered if, in the depths of the night, he touched himself secretly. There was no way of knowing since there was no source of light and you had never heard anything. Or maybe you hadn't been paying attention...

You also hadn't picked up on the fact that Peter had been stealing glances at you in the mornings when you changed. You were always very careful, being raised in Abnegation had definitely left its mark on you. You always covered your chest with your free arm/hand when it was necessary and made a point of changing your pants seated on your bed. It was uncomfortable and a little awkward but no one had ever really seen anything. Tris had outgrown this habit and you hoped that one day, your own embarrassment would too fade.

One morning, after having practiced aim with Four at the shooting range, Eric called an unarranged fight to the floor. To your horror, he had said both your and Peter's names. You weren't ready to face him but you didn't want to fall below the red line as many others had done. Being factionless was worse than fighting the boy you had a crush on.

"First fight of the day, Peter and y/n," Four called out, eyeing you carefully. You couldn't tell what he was thinking but he gave you a curt nod of encouragement.

You walked up on the mat, taking special consideration to look at the red lines that delimitated the zone. If either of you stepped outside of it, your efforts wouldn't count and you could even lose points. Peter walked up in front of you, stretching slightly before he stopped to stand before you, raising an eyebrow at you playfully, his eyes never leaving yours. Your heart beat rapidly in your chest, your body filled with adrenaline.

"Fight."

Suddenly your arms were up, shielding your face, as you began to circle the ring, Peter's body mimicked yours. He was much larger than you and everyone knew he was the strongest in the group but that didn't scare you. You had picked up ideas when watching Tris fight but your own flexibility would up her game even more. Peter stepped towards you in an attempt to throw a punch but you ducked it in time. You exhaled softly, finally in the mindset that you needed to be in. This time it was you who advanced, with a roundhouse kick to the face.

"Nice, y/n!" you could hear people shouting in the crowd.

Peter's face was red from where you had kicked him but you hadn't done too much damage, which calmed you down vaguely. "Damn, Stiff, didn't know you had it in you," he commented, rubbing his jaw slightly before lunging at you.

Peter's fist made an impact against half of your jaw, your block had been good enough to not let him reach your full face. Now you were angry. Your next hits were fast and uniform, sidekick to the midsection, knife hand strike to the neck, and another punch to the face. Peter's defense struggled but he stayed standing firmly. On your final kick, another high roundhouse to the head, Peter caught your foot, swiping your other leg from below you. The fall knocked the wind out of you, your back crying out in pain. Peter loomed over you, sweat trickling down his face and chest but his eyes were sympathetic.

"What are you doing, Peter? Finish her off!" someone screamed.

Peter kicked you once more before bending down, his back towards the others. You winced as he raised his arm, expecting the worst.

"How about we call it quits?," he whispered, cocking his head to the side before bringing his fist softly to your side, not causing you any pain. He winked at you and your brain quickly pieced everything together. He wanted to put on a show without actually hurting you. It was a game for two and you would have to be a convincing actress. You groaned as he continued to send fake hits your way until Four called it.

"Enough! Peter wins this round," he declared, stepping into the ring and separating Peter from you. You, however, continued to stay in the role of injured opponent, though you actually were in a little pain from the real hits Peter had made at the start.

"Take her back, she's obviously worthless for the rest of today's training," Eric spat, frustrated at the thought of losing two of his best members, "The rest of you, follow me."

Peter lifted you carefully into his arms. "Jesus, Stiff," he said, breathlessly, "I thought I was going to have to kill you, not my favorite activity for a Thursday."

"I could've finished you," you shot back, surprised at your increase in alertness and energy.

"Yeah right," he rolled his eyes, "You're no match for me." God, he was so cocky but he was right.

"You're saying you haven't been staring at me like a proud parent at my recent wins?" you challenged, watching a smirk slowly creep up on his face. He looked down at you, your heart racing at his expression but determined not to break eye contact.

"So, you've been watching me too, huh?" he noted, his ego clearly on fire with the idea of you thinking about him.

Fuck.

You buried your face in his chest to hide the embarrassment that washed over you. So much for your determination. He smelled so good, the mix of cologne and sweat drove you crazy.

"I knew you liked what you saw." That same phrase sent another shiver down your spine and you felt a need for him that was unsatiable.

When you made it back to the quarters, Peter laid you softly in your bed. Fearing the worst, you reached up towards him, tugging on his shirt.

"Stay," you whispered. You were sure that with the way you looked there would be no response. But something snapped inside Peter as you said those words.

"God, I knew you wanted me," he smirked, still standing above you. Slowly, he sat down on the edge of your bed, placing both of his arms on either side of body, hovering above you.

"I do," you blushed, reminded of your feelings after seeing him in the shower. You wanted so badly to see him like that again.

"Well, well, well," he whispered, bringing his lips just centimeters from yours. You could feel the warmth of his breath against your lips and instinctively sat up to reach them. You winced at the pain that shot through your upper body as you tried to kiss Peter. He stopped you instantly.

"I just beat your ass, y/n, I'd stay still if I were you. Either way, you're not in charge here," he said, running his fingers along your cheek, stopping at your chin to tilt it up slightly towards him. You laid back down, obediently, as Peter brought his lips softly down to yours. His lips were soft and warm, moving gently against yours.

You kissed him back eagerly, entwining your fingers in his hair, pulling him closer to you. If it wasn't for the need to breathe, you would've never slowed down your pace. You needed him so badly and he knew it.

Peter smiled against your lips, picking up on your excitement. "Patience," he murmured, biting your lip before pulling away. His teasing was working because you could feel your body getting ready for him and what was to come next. His fingers traced the outline of your collarbone, trailing down to your shoulders and the straps of your tank top.

"Not going to lie, you look hot in these shirts, y/n, but its a little pointless for now. Don't you think?" he questioned, pulling it down, exposing your bare chest. You hated the feel of bras and in this case, it came in handy. Peter's eyes lit up at the sight of you but leaned back in. The kisses were more forceful this time around, your tongues exploring one another, and your breathless gasps were exhaled in each other's mouths.

His hands made their way down to your boobs, this time staying there. Your boobs fit perfectly in his big hands and you couldn't help but look down at the scene before you. He played with your nipples, making you moan into his mouth. He loved this, groaning back in return before abandoning your lips once again. You closed your eyes, taking in all of the sensations, all of Peter. His breath against your boobs, his lips planting soft kisses on them, and finally, his mouth against your hardened nipple. You moaned as he swirled his tongue around it, suckling slightly, causing you to arch your back in pleasure. Peter took advantage and placed his hands on your back, pulling you up towards him carefully.

You straddled him, eye level before he made his way back to your boobs. Watching him drove you crazy, especially when he looked back up at you. He looked so beautiful and the way he handled your body mixed with the sounds he made were unimaginable. You could feel him growing harder from in between your legs and nothing could stop you from softly moving your hips against his.

"Fuck," Peter breathed, placing his hands on your hips, facilitating the movement. His hands guided you, making sure that the friction would hit your clit even under the layers of clothes. He laid you back down, opening your legs and making his way down. Your breath hitched as he toyed with the waistband of your pants, wishing he would just pull them down. And he did, leaving you in your panties.

"I just know you taste so good, Stiff," he murmuredm, bringing his lips down against the bow on your underwear, sending shivers down your body. "Finally, showing some skin." His fingers sloppily began to circle your clit, knowing the indirect contact would drive you even crazier.

"Please," you moaned, unable to contain the growing need inside of you, seeking some sort of release.

"Hmm?" he questioned innocently, as he started to pull down your panties, leaving you fully naked. Normally, you would've felt the impulse to close your legs or at least cover yourself up with something but you needed Peter so badly that you didn't care. Now you were finally getting somewhere with him.

He planted lazy kisses along your inner thighs, stopping just inches away from where you really wanted him. When Peter finally brought his mouth against you, his warm tongue circling your clit, you cried out.

"Yes!" Your hands were in his hair, securing him and his arms were still around either thigh of yours. He looked so beautiful and made you feel everything you'd never felt before. Greedily, he sped up his pace, looking up at you as he did. He loved the way you looked and moved for him. You were just seconds away from your climax and Peter knew this, pulling his mouth away immediately.

"I was so close," you breathed, slightly confused and dazed by the pleasure you had been in just moments ago. Peter laughed, sitting you back up and kissing you passionately. You could taste yourself in his mouth and suddenly the urge to taste him overcame you.

Your hands trailed down his chest, pulling off his shirt in a speedy fury. Now, you ran your hands along his bare, sculpted chest, pausing to feel his heavy breaths under your touch. He was so beautiful and sweaty that your hands made their way to his own waistband. Peter's groan was soft as you did, but you heard it. You continued to take off his pants, running your hands over his hardened cock with just his boxers separating you from it.

"You think you can take me, Stiff?" he mused, his eyes wild with excitement as he awaited your response. God, he was so cocky.

"Obviously," you replied coolly, hoping he wouldn't pick up on your nervousness. Even in his boxers, he looked big but you didn't care. His cock bounced against his stomach as you pulled down the final layer of clothing, the tip glistening with precum. Your mouth watered at the sight of him, fully exposed and before your face.

You brought your lips down lightly against the base, leaving a trail of even gentler kisses as you worked your way up. You were going to tease him the same way he had done to you. He twisted his fingers into your hair in response, his breathing even heavier than before. You continued to give his length long licks, before finally coming in contact with his tip. You let the precum wet your lips before looking up at him as you licked them. Peter groaned at the sight of you and guided your head back down to his throbbing cock. Finally, you placed your lips around him, taking him tentatively into your mouth. You started bobbing your head up and down, swirling your tongue around his head when you could, loving the way he seemed to pull you closer.

"Fuck," Peter moaned, throwing his head back as you continued to go down on him. He tasted heavenly and your own body craved him inside of you.

"I need to be inside of you," he breathed, reading your mind as he laid you back down, placing his arms on either side of you to hover over you once again.

"Want you inside of me," you cooed, looking down at the sight unfolding before you. Peter guided himself to your entrance, rubbing his cock up and down your slit before going in.

"It's all for you," he whispered, pushing himself inside of you. You moaned as he stretched you out, taking a few deep breaths as you adjusted to his size, as he waited patiently for you to give him the 'okay'. You nodded and Peter began to pick up the pace, moving his hips gracefully against you. He felt even better than you had imagined inside of you and he looked even better. The sweat that had trickled down his face had fallen down on you, you wanted so badly to lick it.

"You feel so good, baby," Peter mumbled, looking down at the sight of you taking his cock. He loved the way you played your boobs, seeking further stimulation. Noticing this, Peter brought a finger back down against your clit, picking up the same pace he had down with his tongue just minutes before.

"Yes, just like that," you cried out, so filled with pleasure that was emerging from everywhere. Peter's groaned at your words, picking up his own pace.

"Tell me how good I make you feel," he said between breaths, you knew he was just minutes away from cumming, and you too, were approaching your own orgasm for a second time.

"S-so good," you breathed, your eyes fluttering as you tried to concentrate on the moment, "You're going to make me cum."

"Yeah? Cum for me, princess," he encouraged, his hips slapping against you in combination with the circles against your sensitive bud that made you come undone. Your back arched in pleasure, hands gripping Peter's hair as you came hard, your walls contracting around him. He helped you ride out your orgasm as his was quickly approaching.

"Gonna cum," he mumbled between moans, as he too, came undone above you. Peter had pulled out from inside of you and was now pumping his twitching cock before you. You watched, mesmerized as his warm seed shot out onto your belly, his chest rising and falling at a heavenly pace.

"Mmmm," you murmured, as he fell into your arms, burying his face in your chest in exhaustion.

"Damn, Stiff. Didn't think you had it in you," he confessed breathlessly, winking playfully at you as you stroked his sweaty hair.

"You have been on my mind, Hayes. If that wasn't obvious enough," you teased, smiling at the thought of your fantasy having actually happened.

[k0juki]

♡¸.•*'K0juki's Masterlist'*•.¸♡

Last update: 21. 8. 2024

Requests are OPEN!

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Kimi Räikkönen

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Nothing yet...

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Will add more🩷

---

Kind anons here!

• 13. 5. 2024

• 14. 5. 2024

• 14. 5. 2024

• 14. 5. 2024

My favourite Quotes

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[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

[jetblack4realz]

forgiveness - peter hayes x reader

summary - after a lifetime of letdowns from peter, you're unsuspecting of new loyalties

warnings - nah he's just a douche as per usual

word count - 3.6k

______________________________________________________________

peter hayes was no stranger to you.

you'd grown up together in candor, continued into dauntless, and went on the run to amity with tris, four, and caleb. in every one of those situations, peter was always on the wrong side.

so why didn't you expect it?

because every time you got thrown together by whoever it was pulling the strings of fate, he made impressive efforts to win you back. he was convincing and he was dedicated, and you loved him for it.

"hey beautiful," he mumbled, arms wrapping around your torso from behind. a small gasp slipped from your lips as you turned your head to see him. he pressed a kiss to your neck and you smiled.

"what are you doing, peter?" you asked with a small laugh, trying to push his arms away but he refused, instead pulling you closer into him.

"just missed you," he answered, pressing another kiss to the skin beneath your ear.

"are you off for the night or do you have more shifts?" you asked, the boy finally letting you turn around in his arms. you hated pda in the hallway, but something about him made you more inclined to let it happen. that and you hadn't seen a single person on this side of the compound on your way back to your apartment.

"i'm off," he answered, smiling down at you. "you?"

"free as can be," you told him, hands on his biceps.

"perfect," he mumbled with a smirk, leaning down to press his lips gently to yours. you obliged, kissing back with a soft smile at the care he took while kissing you. he pulled away. "can i stay with you tonight?"

you laughed. "when do you not?"

he grinned, keeping one arm around you as he began pulling you back to your place, pressing another kiss to your forehead.

"you're clingy, peter," you told the boy as he fished his spare key from his pocket and unlocked the door, letting you and himself in. he shut the door, locking it again, and immediately wrapping you up in his arms. your hands rested comfortably against his torso, smiling up at him. "i love it."

"i know," he grinned, winking at you as he leaned down to kiss you again.

he made it so easy to just believe him. it was easier to trust him again, you thought. he wouldn't do it again, so just trust him. he wouldn't do anything to hurt you - he would never. not again.

tris had made a point of using peter to get to the control room and you were left in charge of watching him as she found a way in.

he called your name three times before you finally turned, eyes set in disdain.

"you're helping them? seriously?" you asked him.

"they're the ones with the power, the ones who control the ladder i need to climb," he answered, a huff in his breath.

"and you think this is the way you're gonna do it? by helping them destroy abnegation?"

"if it needs to be done, then yes."

"and you seriously don't care that people are dying, that our friends are the ones killing them?"

he didn't answer you.

you walked away, eyes in the direction of the control room listening for any signs that tris might be in trouble. you heard a lot of movement and suddenly yells of fear and you were moving. but before you could even exit the alcove you'd hidden in, two arms wrapped around you and pulled you back in.

"get off of me!" you yelled, slamming your heel into his foot. he grunted, his grip loosening enough for you to pull forward. but he was quick, hand on your bicep as he ripped you back, the force enough to knock you to the ground. your gun clattered to the floor, both of you lunging for it.

unfortunately for you, it'd knocked closer to him. he grabbed it, turning on you quickly, the barrel at your face.

your expression was stone cold as you just watched him. "so, this is where we're at, huh?"

"i guess so," he answered. "i can't have you helping her more than you already have."

"why? so jeanine can have more power? that doesn't help you, peter, there's nothing in it for you," you told him.

"more than if tris and four finish whatever it is they've started," he said.

your eyes stayed locked as you found your feet underneath you, peter copying your every move until you were both standing again. you took a step back towards the hallway.

"you won't shoot me," you stated as though it were a cold hard fact. "you can't."

it all happened in a blur - you turned on your heel, ready to run towards where you could hear fighting taking place, when suddenly a burning went through the flesh of your tricep. you cried out, hand coming to grasp at the bloody flesh. you turned to peter with wide eyes. the bullet had just grazed your arm and you knew it was intentional, but you also knew it was a warning. he would shoot you. and he didn't look regretful about it.

you convinced yourself that he was doing it for you. it's what he told you, what he showed you in his actions post-fight, and it was the only idea that kept you from breaking down in the medical wing of amity, in your old room in candor, at dauntless, and in the barracks at o'hare airport.

"i'm sorry." you were surprised when he spoke up, just the two of you in the small medical room in amity. his arm was wrapped and bandaged just like your own and you were being kept for observation. your trek to amity through the forests and fields surrounding chicago weren't exactly clean, and neither were your wounds. fearing infection, you were confined to a room with peter for 3 days.

"thanks." the word held little to no meaning for the both of you and little to no emotion.

"i mean it. what i did - it was to protect you. i didn't know what was happening in there and i... i couldn't lose you."

"so, you shot me instead?" you asked, finally looking over at him from your place on your bed. "you could've come with me if you were so worried. made sure i was safe by helping me help tris and four."

"i never could've ensured your safety, not with dozens of dauntless around all with the mission to protect the woman you were trying to kill," he said, a furrow forming between his brows.

"we're dauntless too," you said, emphasizing each word individually. "we're supposed to be brave. one hell of a dauntless you are."

a cold silence passed over you both and you huffed, rolling onto your side away from him. you could feel his eyes on your back and you silently willed him away.

"i'm sorry. you're right, i was scared. i wasn't willing to risk your life for the stiff's or four's - they're not worth it."

the way he said it - so soft and thoughtful - made you want to believe him. and when his voice came through again, gentle and almost timid, you did. "can i stay with you?"

you rolled over, looking at him with an unimpressed roll of your eyes, but failing to hide a small smile. he slowly pulled the sheet back and rose to his feet, crossing to your bedside. he smirked slightly, offering you a small shrug as two of his fingers brushed your hair out of your face.

"old habits die hard," he told you. you watched him for a few more moments before sighing dramatically and turning onto your back, moving slightly to the side to let him in. he was quick to slide in next to you as his smirk grew, his arm snaking under your back as you turned into him, resting your injured arm on his chest gently. he held that hand close to him, pressing a kiss to your head. "thank you, beautiful."

he knew every part of you and knew exactly how to get back into your good graces. and every time you let it happen because, well, you loved the boy. more than you wanted to admit.

and every time he let you down, every time he betrayed you and your friends and your beliefs and your core freedoms, you felt a slow burning in your core and a piercing pain behind your eyes as you tried to resist the angry tears from being made out to be a fool. again.

it became harder and harder to keep loving him and it scared you more than you cared to admit. you'd been in love with peter hayes since you were twelve years old, it was an old, aching, exciting feeling you'd grown to rely on. even through changing friends, factions, and governments, you always knew that you would love peter hayes.

almost.

you weren't surprised when you stormed into erudite headquarters to save tris and peter was there. he was bloodied and bruised and helping four off the floor. from what you'd seen, he was on your side and helped save tris before you were able to.

but given the black and blue uniform he was wearing, you knew he hadn't started that way.

he grinned widely when he saw you, crossing quickly to you as evelyn and the others restrained jeanine and her men. christina had made her way to tris, throwing her arms around her best friend, and everyone had begun to clear erudite out. his arms were around you before you could even think about stepping away, his usual smirk pulling at his lips.

"hey beautiful," he said. "miss me?"

you looked around the room, at the dangling wires and remaining screens with images of detailed suicide bots and a list of the people to infect them with. there were files about tris and the box she was supposed to open, the different factions' trials. and it all hit you at once as you looked back at the boy in front of you.

"this was all you, wasn't it?" you said quietly. "you... you had the idea for the suicide virus. because you know tris. and you helped them torture her and nearly kill her for... for what? for status?"

"baby..." he mumbled, but you were already shaking your head, pushing him away.

"no, no you left again. you joined them again, you left me again," you said, trying to keep your volume down to avoid catching the attention of the others, but you already had. tris, christina, and four were watching you both intently, four positioned in such a way you were sure he was ready to jump peter.

peter stepped towards you, mouth open to defend himself, but you shook your head. there was a glare on your face, but what hurt the most was the glint of pain in your eyes as they reddened and began to get glossy. you blinked quickly as you stepped further away.

"don't," you spat. "i don't wanna hear it."

he always had impressive defense, defenses that always had something to do with you, your safety, or your future. it was the last one that usually got you, a promise of a life with him a lot more appealing than continuing to fight over his carefully placed words and actions committed for the dauntless leaders in efforts to climb the ranks. but, now it just pissed you off even more.

"i didn't think they would win, you have to admit it's not likely, and i was trying to secure a position, secure us a position to be able to do well when jeanine came to power!" he defended. he'd followed you back to your abandoned apartment that you'd begun to occupy once more, pleading his case.

"you didn't even try to help! you didn't know who was going to win," you shouted with an exasperated laugh.

"it's honestly a shock that it was anyone but jeanine," he told you. "she had everything set up, it seemed the better situation."

"she didn't care about you peter! she didn't care! she was a tyrant, only searching for power and taking it from people like us, including you," you spat. "you left, seeking something i have no interest in, and claim it's for us, for me. i don't want it, peter. and i don't want you here. get out."

he hadn't been able to get enough alone time to convince your forgiveness yet. you were preoccupying yourself with everything you could - helping four wrangle his mother, helping tris come up with a plan to escape, and eventually helping everyone carry out said plan.

you were beyond pissed when you joined them in the car after carrying out last-minute transfer papers with christina and you found peter sitting in the backseat with caleb.

"what is he doing here?" you asked, eyes flashing to four with a huff.

"he threatened to turn us in," tris answered quickly, glancing back at the boy. "get in."

christina, the good friend she is, sat herself between you and him. unfortunately, the ride wasn't that long, and you soon had to climb a wall - with peter at you side trying his darnedest to talk to you.

"look baby, i'm sorry," he said as you neared the top of the wall, turning to pull himself up and holding a hand out to you. you pushed it away as you stood, unhooking your anchor and rehooking it around a nearer pole as you readied to drop to the other side.

"shut up, peter."

tris and four were dealing with your tricky border patrol situation, giving you just enough time to ensure everyone's anchors were set up same as yours.

"please, i'm trying here-"

"now is not the time," you said with a pointed look.

"just, please-"

"shut up, peter!" you yelled, ducking quickly as shots were fired in your direction.

you were baffled at how many emotions you associated with him now. you were never really sure which emotion you were feeling; love, hate, annoyance, fondness, care, disdain, or hope - but you were feeling it. you felt it all.

you weren't really good at sleeping anymore. you weren't sure if it was because of everything you'd been through or simply how fast your brain was moving as if it were intent on keeping you from falling asleep - but whatever it was, it was costing you energy and what was supposed to be a problem-less bliss away from the turmoil of your world. away from peter.

you turned over in your bed again, finally giving up with a sigh. you stood, wiping your eyes clear of whatever drowsiness had consumed them and beginning your now routine walk around the used-to-be airport.

your hands stayed in the pockets of your sweats as you walked through the halls, breathing in the not-so-fresh air. it was funny being here, so different from chicago and simultaneously comforting and discomforting.

like the figure that was following you.

he'd joined your side wordlessly every night since you arrived, making the first correct decision in searching for your forgiveness since he'd betrayed you in chicago.

finally, you let a soft smile slip onto your lips, stuffing your hands further into your pockets. "hi peter."

he was surprised you acknowledged him, looking at you with such in his eyes. "uh, hi."

"so, can you not sleep either or do you stay up just to walk with me?" you asked the question that'd been bothering you since he began doing so. he smiled sheepishly, offering you a small shrug.

"can it be a bit of both?" he asked.

"i guess," you nodded. the two of you walked in silence again for a few moments before you raised your voice again. "why do you do it?"

this caught him off guard. he wanted to ask 'what?' but he knew the answer. he indulged you, sighing. "i'm selfish. i want the power."

"and you sacrifice everything and everyone even for the chance of it."

"yeah," he confirmed, his head hanging as he watched his feet. his tone dropped to a regretful level. "yeah."

"i don't know why you're hardwired to act this way, who taught you that power was the end-all, but i want to ask you something and i want you to think hard about it," you told him, looking at him with the most genuine, serious expression he'd seen from you, your brows raised and lips pursed.

"alright," he agreed with a nod.

"what do you want? really? and don't let your brain do the talking, we know it's fucked up, so just listen to how you feel. what do you want?"

he wanted to laugh at your insult, but he knew now wasn't the time. and so instead, he thought. for a long time.

you were content walking in silence next to him again as you rounded the corner to the cafeteria and continued your loop to the barracks.

every so often, his eyes would travel to you and settle there for a good while, analyzing every aspect of your features and meeting your eye once or twice.

he called your name gently when you were just a few minutes away from the barracks, his feet stopping as he looked up to watch you completely. you halted as well, turning slightly to look at him.

"yeah?" you asked. he stepped towards you, eyes falling to the floor for a few moments as he collected his thoughts fully. they returned to yours as he stood only a step or two away from you.

"i know what i want," he told you surely.

"and what is that, peter?" you asked.

"to be happy." it was a simple enough answer, one that seemed obvious to anyone else. but, for some reason, it brought a sad smile to your lips.

as he stood in front of you, you realized that for the first time in a long time he wasn't holding his shoulders perfectly square, or pulling his lips into a confident smirk, crossing his arms over his chest, or setting his jaw into a stone-like state. instead, his feet were slightly too close together, leaving his hip jutting out and his shoulders were sagging, his hands lazily at his sides and his mouth relaxed into an uncaring line.

"i want to be happy," he said again and his voice wavered slightly as he did so.

you don't know what came over you, but you threw yourself into his arms, his head tucking into your neck as he clung to your torso tightly. you held his head, fingers raking through his curls soothingly. you felt his eyelashes against your skin and something wet dripping off them as he blinked, causing your heart to clench and you to pull him tighter to you.

"i just want to be happy." his words buzzed on your skin and you nodded, pulling away from him slowly. you kept him close, hands on his cheeks as your thumbs wiped away tears. his hands gripped your wrists tightly, his bottom lip tucked under the top one as he twitched, a sob trapped behind his teeth.

you smiled softly at him. "i know."

"and that has nothing to do with power," he told you quickly, as though if he were to wait any longer he wouldn't be able to say it at all. "i've never been happy with it, but i've always thought it's what i - what i needed. but, i needed you. whenever i left i thought about you and when i came back i needed you near me. the only times i've ever felt what i imagine joy is like is when i'm with you, but i've only ever let you down."

he paused, seemingly to catch his breath, for a few moments, eyes closing momentarily. you attempted to shush him gently to avoid the painful words you knew were coming, but he continued anyways.

"i don't deserve forgiveness. i know that. but please," he breathed out. "if there's any way you could forgive me, i swear to you i'll never leave your side. i'm yours, please baby."

a small, sad smile pulled at your lips as your thumb ran over his damp cheekbone. "you scare me, peter. i don't know if i can trust you." you had to be honest, and he knew that. he appreciated it. but you could see in his eyes that it hurt anyways. "but, i've never been able to not love you. and i've never been able to keep you out of my life for long."

you wrapped your arms around his neck, the boy pulling you quickly towards him, arms wound tightly around your middle. you kissed his neck, hugging him closely. "i forgive you, peter."

if his grip could get any tighter, it did, before he pulled away, his face awfully close to yours.

"i love you so much," he told you, hand cupping your jaw as he captured your lips in his for a long-awaited kiss. it was slightly salty and more emotional than most of your other kisses, but it was equally as passionate. as you parted, he breathed deeply, pressing several kisses to your forehead and top of your hair as he pulled you back into his chest. "thank you, beautiful girl."

[allzelemonz]

I went on AO3 for fics and was disappointed yet again, so I made a list of who I'm vibing right now. All of them had under ten fics (not counting my own). Who should I tackle first?

[allthornsnopetals]

Psychotic Blond (J.Matthews)

:Description: You should have never kissed her.

:A/n: This took up a lot more time than I intended. If you want a part II, inform me and I'll do that.

:TW: not proofread, a bit of animal abuse, mention of rape, slight spice, a bit of obsessive behavior, mention of stalking, the reader is a bi female :)

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You could have taken another route to advanced math, but Natalie, your new-found friend, wanted to use the ladies-room. When she had exited the stall, you both said your fair-wells and continued to class. You sped-walked as quickly as possible.

When you stepped into the room, you didn't expect the teacher to be absent, leaving no one supervising the oddly silent room. You shrugged and looked around until your eyes settled on your group of blue and white friends, who wave and prob's you over, showing that they had reserved a seat for you. You giggle at their antics and take David's hand as he guides you up the steps, to your seat, where you sit and take out your books and stationery.

The room is round like a circle with hundreds of seats and desks with rows of them layered after the other, like a layered cake with a large white-board plastered on the far front wall that also acts a projector. It's a strange site not seeing your teacher hunched over his large desk with his computer, typing away like he always does when he is finished instructing your class on what to do.

"Where is Mr. Flee?" You ask with your chin in your hand, your eyes scanning the room.

"Don't know," says Chloe while pinning her urban hair into a knot with her pencil. "Oh my days, why is Jeanine hard-core staring at us? Is she aware she's painfully obvious?" Chloe points at Jeanine.

Your eyes follow her finger. You make eye contact with the blonde and smile, but she turns back around, shoving her nose into her book. Jeanine Matthews is your father's friend's daughter, who you have been aware of since early childhood, but never really became friends with because you were always studying and she's... well, she was strange.

She sat at the front, so whenever she turned around, it was obvious. Was there something she found interesting? Did something poke her curiosity?

Chloe throws her head back as she bellows a laugh that almost sounds like a hillbilly, causing the room to vibrate and wake a few heads that turn to search for the source. Your eyes widen so largely at how many neck cranes that you feel embarrassed and clap a hand over her loud mouth, shutting her up.

You smile tightly. "Sorry, something must have been funny." You croak, your voice barely audible as your cheeks flush a hideous pink.

Once the attention of the others re-directs to their own business, you pull your hand away and wipe it—onto your dress-skirt— clean of her saliva she pasted onto your palm. You grimace in disgust.

"Yuck, you're gross and—."

"She's staring again." Said Chloe, this time sounding irradiated—all humor; vanished and gone.

You just shrug. "Ignore her. She'll eventually stop." You said while winching as Chloe dug her finger nails into your thigh.

You love Chloe, but sometimes she can be intense, especially when she's jealous. Everyone knew you and Chloe were dating. You didn't know when your relationship started, but she kissed you, and you kissed back— after you came out as bi and found yourself stunned when she kissed you.

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It has been seven weeks since the last time Chloe spoke to you. She's been irritated and even snapping more often whenever someone mentions Jeanine and her creepy staring. She was over it, and apparently over with you. So, yes, she broke things off because she didn't like the idea of someone staring?

Did she feel self-conscious? You laugh at the thought, after all, you were together for almost three years.

Are you drowning in your own sorrow at a party you don't want to be at while sitting on the staircase of David's house with a glass of untouched wine? Yes. Yes, you are.

You sniffle, ignoring the presence sitting beside you. It wasn't until the presence beside you asks a question that you then decided to acknowledge it. You turn your attention to it, and to your surprise, it's Jeanine. She smiles, her lips stained cherry-pink with her hair flowing over her shoulders, her blue—tight—dress modest yet scandalous with the open V front—exposing her plump chest.

You scan her, your eyes eating her up as if you weren't weeping over your ex. You felt a tingle of jealousy.

Hell, she looks better than me, and I took an hour to get ready, you thought.

You forget Jeanine was watching you and round your gaze back to her face, your eyes blowing open at the reminder.

You clear your throat. "Oh, sorry, I didn't quite hear what you said. Could you repeat your question?" You ask, watching her lean forward, her cheeks awake with color— she must have caught you basically checking her out.

"I asked if you were okay?" Jeanine repeats, her breath warm against your ear.

"I'm as okay as it's going to get, hon. I'll be fine... Eventually. Are you okay? You seem a bit lost." You said, now staring at her and her lost gaze.

Is she okay? She seems misplaced.

She sucked her bottom lip in, nodding. She's even closer now. She was shifting closer, her eyes drifting to your open cleavage dress and to your lips. You lose yourself for a second, but turn your head forward just as Jeanine begins leaning in.

But that doesn't stop her.

"Do you feel lonely now? Do you wish to forget about Chloe?" Jeanine whispers in your ear, sending shivers down your spine. She takes the glass out of your hand, drawing your attention.

She doesn't drink from it but smiles. Her toothy grin was something, not even Chloe could come close to. Before you could stop yourself, you were grinning at her.

She took the opportunity to quickly lean forward and snatch your lips into her own. Her lips were soft, plump, and warm. So you kissed her.

Yes, you felt lonely, and yes, you did wish to forget about Chloe—so, did you kiss her back to hopefully fill the lingering hole in your chest? Yup, you sure did.

You part, taking your glass back and bringing it to your lips, taking some of the red liquid past your lips. You put the glass down and cup Jeanine's cheeks— she opens her mouth and tilts her head back, accepting the now warm contents as you pour it from your mouth to hers.

You grin proudly as she swallows it. "Good, very good. Now sit still and feel me, if you wish." You straddle her lap and lick a rouge drop from the corner of her lip, already feeling her impatient hands groping your ass.

You bring her lips back to yours, kissing her and suppressing a moan as she slaps your ass before gripping it again. Without a fight, she allows you to slip your tongue in, and once you're in; she's diving around, allowing you to take charge. You suck on her tongue, rewarding you with a pleasured moan, tasting the drink.

Her hands climb up your back and feel the opening of your exposed dress —it was exposed in the front and the back. Frankly, Jeanine was enjoying it. But guilt filled the pit of your stomach, painfully burning. You released a sob and pushed her away, stumbling as you stood.

She stares at you with worry in her eyes, thinking she did something wrong.

You shake your head. "I'm sorry... I-." You sob again, hiccuping now.

Jeanine reaches for you, but you pull away. You choke out another apology and make a quick get-away, snatching yourself drinks and chugging them back on your way out of leaving David's.

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The next morning you're pissed drunk and grateful for the weekend. You roll over, now realizing that you slept with nothing but your bar and panties on. You drink the bottle of water on your nightstand with painkillers and roll back over, falling back to sleep until you hear your alarm go off.

You wake feeling a lot lighter in the head and get ready for the day and walk into the kitchen.

"Well, well, well. Isn't it Tulip. How are you, hon?" You smile at the stranger drinking his coffee, hunched over the kitchen island.

"I'm fine, Mr Matthews." You reply, swiftly passing his attempt to hug and go straight for his coffee.

You take a swig and don't give it back until you have your full. He chuckles and rolls his eyes.

"Oh, Y/n you know my daughter, right? Jeanine stop staring and say hi." He waves Jeanine over and immediately you feel like dying.

You can't tell if she's mad at you but she should be.

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After an awkward breakfast that was filled with Jeanine's strange staring your father allows you and your blond guest to leave. But what were you supposed to do with her? Play chess, read, push her out of your house and never breathe around her again?

Your father takes notice of your weird behavior and says, "Y/n, why don't you take Jeanine to your quarters and hangout there?" He suggests with an eager grin.

You mirror his smile and take Jeanine's hand, taking her up the main flight of stairs. You turn right, down the corridor that leads to your quarters and pause.

"I'm sorry about last night," You blurt out as you face her, fiddling with your fingers. "It wasn't cool or fair for you or myself. I swear you did nothing wrong, I apologize."

You expected her to be enraged, perhaps even yell at you. But she just smiled. "No, that's okay. But I will admit, I did feel a bit hurt when you left me there..." her grin grows wider and larger as she stalks closer to you.

"But I'm sure you can always make it up to me at some point."

Her face was only inches away from yours now. The slightest move forward could cause a remake of last night— minus the crying and running out.

"At some point." You remind her, sterner than intended and continue your march to your goal location.

Your father said quarters, which it was. You push the round double doors open and reveal a living room. In the front right corner lived a fire place with a glass coffee table with a chess board on top of it, a white leather lounge on the left-wide side and two smaller cushion-leather chairs on its smaller length sides.

In the center lives another glass coffee table but bigger in size with a matching lounge like the one in the right front corner, resting on it: is a fruit bowl and a glass water pitcher with three glasses. On the left far corner is a black piano and a harp that you learned to play as a child and still play as a way to learn and cope.

The wooden floor clinks against the footsteps of you and Jeanine heeled shoes. Her eyes look around the room in pure awe and curiosity. It wasn't just a living room but also a library with large shelves, holding all sorts of books. On both sides are round staircases, built into the shelves that lead to the second and final floor of the library, which also acts as more shelves for books.

On the left side is a large round window that stares over the main library of Erudite that is also used as a source for natural light. Resting at the feet of the window is an alcove; a large nook in the window, sprouting out a plush navy blue sofa, complemented with white wood that copies the walls.

Lastly, on the back wall is another set of round double doors that lead to your room.

All families with parents and partners with a high IQ—a sign of high status and wealth, due to work—homes look this way, with living quarters or chambers unlike typical homes or apartments like most factions or individuals with lower IQ's/status. Jeanine is no stranger to the chambers concept, but the way her eyes devoured the room almost made you think otherwise.

You pour her a glass of water while eyeing her, observing her carefully as if trying to figure out what was lurking behind her icy blue eyes. She was strange you knew that as fact. But you never knew her attraction to other girls, let alone you. Her constant starting should have been a tell-tale sign but when you were both still tiny humans, she did do odd things that also should have been a dead give away for affection.

For example, when you were just learning how to cook, you sliced your finger open. It bled all over your new blue and white dress and you wept as a reaction to the pain. But there was nothing to stop the bleeding; no cloth, no tissue. Nothing. Until there wasn't. Jeanine had popped your finger into her mouth and used the leverage to guide both you and her to your father, who stared wide-eyed and slightly amused at the sight of your finger in Jeanine's mouth, as if it were the only solution.

Ever since, she kept her distance. Only appearing when you need help or comfort like last night.

"Odd, girl." You mutter under your breath while drawing Jeanine's attention with a slight 'ahem'.

"For you." You offer the glass and sit, tucking your long blue skirt under your buttom.

She takes it with a grin and joins you.

"I like your living quarters, especially the roof," she points up at the painted ceiling. It was a clear blue sky with doves and ravens. "It's beautiful." She compliments.

"Thank you, it took me almost a year to finish."

Jeanine stares at you, wide open, revealing her pink tongue and pearly-white teeth. "You painted that masterpiece?" Jeanine shrike, her finger still pointing upwards.

You couldn't help but chuckle at her surprise. Of course she wouldn't know, she has never stepped into your living quarters before.

You nod. "Yes. I used to paint a lot when I was younger, before my tastes changed and I moved onto music." You explain, pointing your index finger to the two instruments in the room.

"You're a true source of talent, Y/n. You're beautiful, intelligent, and a real aesthete." Said Jeanine while taking a short sip of her water before placing it down on a blue coaster, on top of the table.

Your cheeks burned with color, it made your stomach clench and flutter. Jeanine Matthews: a flirt, who would have guessed it. Your lips curl into a smile, hands shaking as you try to drink from your glass. But her words ring your ear like a broken record, making you feel shy and even slightly giddy.

"Are you blushing, Tulip?" She teases, her delicate fingers caressing your hot cheek.

"Do you need glasses, Jenie?" You say with a laugh, gaze shifting to hers. She laughs with you, her head resting on your shoulder.

Through the fits of laughter, she gazes up at you, her eyes speaking all types of 'I love you's'. But of course you don't see it and place your glass on a coaster.

Resting your head on hers, you enjoy the silents, forgetting last night's fuse and the years lost to a possible friendship. You felt it but didn't register her actions. Her lips devour an exposed patch of skin on your neck, kissing gently. It wasn't until you felt her fingers working at the sleeve of your blouse on your shoulder; do you then register her actions.

You ease her hand away with a polite smile. "Would you like to play chess?" You offer but she shakes her head.

She slams her lips to yours in seconds, forgetting her manners of asking for consent. You groan at the force behind the impact and try to lean away but find her hand in your hair, untying the blue ribbon and holding you in place. Her tongue slips past your lips, entering and consuming whatever it can touch.

Before you could even think straight, you kissed her back, meeting her intense desires. You cup her cheeks and relish in her gentle moans as you suck on her tongue, demanding control. You win but it's short lived when she parts for air.

Your hair falls as the fabric loses its hold. She grins, her lips plush. She drops the ribbon to the wooden floor. "First piece of fabric to go. Several more left." She says before latching her lips on the bare part of your neck, kissing and occasionally sucking. But not enough to leave a mark.

She kneads your clothed chest, cupping, groping. You huff and puff, still trying to take in breath into your lungs as you feel her unbuttoning your blouse.

Stop her, she'll get the wrong message; the voice in your head beckons. But you push it back and allow her to open your blouse, exposing your chest and belly, so she can get a better feel of your tits. Your head falls back at the sensation of her mouth on a tender spot on your neck, shutting your eyes. She doesn't stop, especially when you rack your hand through her hair and hold her hand in place with your free hand.

You didn't want her to stop and neither did she, it felt too good. For Jeanine it felt victorious. Years of waiting and she finally gets to feel you, kiss you and indulge in your small whimpers, moans, and small inhales for air.

"Jeanine, we're leaving." Her father calls, his footsteps echoing through the hallway.

You shoot your eyes open and Jeanine stops, pulling herself away while you button up your blouse with shaky hands. He was drawing closer and the door was wide open, so time was ticking. Jeanine takes charge and buttons up your blouse before dealing with her disheveled hair as you pick the ribbon.

"Forget about it." She mutters, taking it from you and stuffing it into her pocket before dropping beside you, glass in hand.

You mimic her actions, running your fingers through your hair.

Jeanine's father leans against the door frame, his arms folded over his chest, his gaze scanning over the room. His eyes glint with what can only be described as; curiosity. "Come, Jenie, we must go home. The Aptitude test is tomorrow. Let's leave the L/n's to mentally prepare." He grins before starting his walk down the corridor.

Jeanine pouts. "Bye, Tulip." She says disappointingly.

"Bye, Jenie. Good luck on your Aptitude test." You say equally disappointed.

Before she leaves though she cups your cheeks and kisses you, fiercely. You part with a trail of saliva, hers icy blue eyes drinking you in.

"See you tomorrow." She says over shoulder as she struts out, chasing after her father.

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You in fact didn't see Jeanine the following day. You did, however see Chloe and she seemed a mess. Everyone, especially yourself did as you recall your result: Candor.

Of course that was what your results were. You were blunt, transparent and far too honest. You didn't care who you were honest with, no one was safe from your silver tongue. You were always genuine with your words, especially when you apologized to Jeanine.

You felt like weeping, crying, sobbing. You'll have to leave home and all its familiarity. A tear drove down your cheek as your body shook. You were in the school cafeteria, everyone can see you, especially your friends who now stare at you as your body shook with tears.

You didn't know who pulled you into their arms but you were grateful and didn't care. You wept into their chest, sniffling in a familiar scent that made your stomach curdle. You look up and find Chloe's hazel eyes, staring at you sympathetically.

You knew she wanted to ask why, but the rules were clear. No one is supposed to share their results. But she comforted you anyways and so did your friends as one by one, they cradled around you, holding you. You may never see them again.

Jeanine sat with a bitter scowl on her face. She was sitting with the students who have yet to be assessed. She watched Chloe ditch her friends to comfort you, pulling you into her arms, making her skin crawl. She truly didn't understand what a deal was.

Chloe screams, her eyes puffy and red from crying. "Please. Please stop!" She cries, trying to fight her restraints.

Jeanine shook her head with a disapproving tsk, tsk. "You know pets are forbidden in Erudite." She said with a wicked grin, batting the small dog.

It whimpers in pain, ears tucked behind its head with his tail mirroring its actions, binding it between its legs. Chloe cries again, her throat dry from sobbing and shouting. "Please, I beg you. I'll do anything. Just please stop harming him."

"Anything?"

"Yes, anything. Just, please stop."

Jeanine got what she wanted and Chloe's barely walking dog got to go home. But as Jeanine observes the interaction, she imagines shooting the dog in the head. We had a deal, Miss Brum. Your dog will pay for your failure to stay away. Jeanine thought, clenching her fists until her knuckles were pasty white.

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Life in Candor was not easy at first, especially during your initiation; where you had to spill your guts. But things went on and no one seemed too distraught about your inner thoughts and sexuality, especially your now husband: Jack Kang.

He found you even more fascinating when he heard about your sexuality and how it affected your life in Erudite. What he didn't expect was: "I had a fling with Jeanine Matthews. That's why I don't want to attend the faction representative meeting. I can't face her, not now." You confessed with ease and without the slightest hesitation.

Jack's mouth flaps open. He was more than shocked, perhaps stunned. You, his wife had some sort of fling with the Erudite rep. You're just telling him now?

"Why are you just informing me now?"Jack spits, pointing his finger, visibly angry, losing his placidness.

"You dated my cousin before being with me. Past relationships mean nothing, or do you not remember saying that," You retort, now challenging him.

Of course he remembers. He was being honest with you at the moment, at the time. You were finding it hard to adjust to your new life, especially after the final stage. Everyone knew about your taste for both genders, everyone had their own opinions, even the boy you fancied before Jack, which was not too good.

Past relationships didn't matter. Jack loves you and he wasn't planning on letting you go, so he said what he knew was true; what was on his mind and heart. Nothing about your sexuality was going to chase him away, make him love you any less.

"Or were you just lying to me."

Jack falters, eyes visibly hurt. "No, my love. Not at all," He calms down, sitting beside you on the couch and wraps his arms around you, shielding you.

You rest your head on his chest, allowing him to inhale your scent: tulips. He relaxes. "It's just... Jeanine makes my job harder. I was under the impression that she was challenging me—pushing me. I thought it was a teaching method, not bullying or disrespect. But I should have known. The signs were there and I didn't question them enough." He sucks in breath, calming himself, trying to prevent another roller coaster of anger.

"What does that have to do with me? What are you talking about?" You ask, pulling away, now frustrated.

Jack pinches the bridge of his nose, staring at you through his fingers. He huffs and slumps forward, elbows resting on his knees. You nudge him.

"Jack." You try to catch his attention, rubbing his back and kissing his shoulder. His muscles fall, he's relaxed.

Before you could ask again he opens his mouth: "It wasn't a fling to her, you maybe. But not her. She's in love with you. You... my wife," He spoke, his tone harsh and irritated.

You froze, stunned and a little guilty. Jack has been stressed out and even hurting because of you. Because you ignored the voice in your head.

Stop her, she'll get the wrong message.

You mentally curse yourself, wrapping yourself in your arms. Now feeling as if it's wrong to touch Jack— the man you loved so much that you said 'I do' and started a family with him.

"Jeanine Matthews has been making my life as the representative of Candor so much harder. She's been bullying me and I didn't even think of it as that." He sounds defeated.

Jack should be yelling, screaming and tearing into you but he doesn't. He just sat there, feeling like a fool.

"Then switch positions with me. It's time that you rest and I fill in the space as the representative." You spoke without thinking.

He stares at you like you were some sort of mad man with two heads. But before he can object, you jump in.

"The reason you took the job was because I was pregnant. It was because I couldn't lead with my mind unclear and unfocused. Let me take the burden off your shoulders, my love." You spoke with ease and care, caressing his cheek with your thumb and kissing his cheek.

God, how you loved this man. His broken eyes tore into you.

◌•·················•·················•◌◌•·················•·················•◌

No one was surprised by the switch of leadership. Jack was losing it and your eldest was fifteen with the life of Erudite ahead of him by how much of his dorm was filled with books, instead of people.

So when the announcement was made, you were welcomed with ease. You were the first to be seated, so you fixed your hair up with a black ribbon and drank some tea, waiting for Marcus to stop chatting to a young Amity girl who serves drinks and unfortunately has no will power to tell him to fuck off.

In time the Dauntless leadership rolls in with your own slowly filtering in with them. Sometime later the Amity rep: Johanna and her team walk in with Erudite behind them, chatting and enjoying each other's company.

When everyone is seated, still waiting on Marcus to take his seat at the high court seats with his team, you grow impatient, feeling a familiar set of icy blue eyes staring right at you.

"Stop talking to the poor girl, Marcus. She wants not your attention but to do her job and move on with her life. So, please do us all a favor and take your seat and perhaps start the meeting." You spoke, eyeing Marcus and his red cheeks.

He grumbles and waddles to where he must be stationed. "That's not very Abnegation of him. Wasting our time is selfish, not selfless." One of your members whispers in your ear, rewarding her with a laugh.

She nudges you with her elbow and you nudge her. Kathy, she's your sister-in-law. A real Candor with the most bluntest of tongues and a life of the party. She always made a way to make you laugh or smile during the worst times. You weren't close but knew each other well enough to like one another's company.

She managed to have four kids before ending her marriage with her ex-husband, who used to be a part of Candor's leadership group before the scandal he pulled. What a shame, he was caught five inches deep inside a drunken prostitute. A shame for him but a winning case for Kathy.

The meeting begins and immediately debates break out, mainly from your team who seem to be having the upper hand and winning, while Marcus and his team are stammering. He wanted to reform laws, regarding marriage and age. In other words nuptial law.

He wants to make it possible for children to marry, due to the faction-less situation. The current problem is that the faction-less young girls, under the age of ten—not women, largely—are becoming pregnant at a rate that not even Abnegation can support. The pregnancies are occuring, either through zero education about sex or unfortunately, rape.

But changing the law, itself affects all of society. It would only lead to immoral and unjust marriages to occur between all age groups, perhaps even trapping young boys and girls into situations that would mark them for the rest of their lives. It could even create child slavery and abuse in the marriage; making it immoral, unjust and unlawful.

This is the wrong solution, made by the wrong man.

"What is needed is better education, for these children." Kathy voices, her tone stern and strong, sending you into cardiac arrest.

You admire her and her talent to say 'fuck you and hell no', without actually saying it. Before you could stop yourself, you're admiring her. Your eyes widen, like a cat finding something interesting. Then she is staring at you, your entire team is and you smile.

"What are you grinning at? Continue with your speech and kill this fucker." She whispers harshly, pulling at the ribbon in your hair until it loses its hold. Your hair flows out, in a river meant to shine and get you in the game.

You nod and your team sits, all visibly angry.

"Understand this, Marcus. Law is for every citizen. We cannot change a law to fit your factions ideals. Yes, marriage is necessary for the Abnegation, in order to produce off-springs. But I don't see how marriage is going to fix the problem," You laugh, with your fingers running through your hair.

"These young girls are either mothering children as a result to no education about sex or unfortunate acts of rape. Which is all proven by the Dauntless police force and the Erudite reports. Anyways, how are these fathers, supposed to financially support a marriage when they haven't any money?" The question hangs in the air with no answer.

You stand waiting. But with no answer, you continue.

"Why is this up to debate? Why do you ruffle our black and white feathers? Why, Marcus? Isn't it your faction's, selfless duty to care for those babies?" Once your words were out, it became clear that he had stepped into the wrong battle.

His own government and friends were whispering among themselves. Their 'solution', now proven foul. But you're not finished.

"Abnegation, I speak with no disrespect but only respect. As a woman of the law—once lawyer, then judge and now Faction rep, I speak only the truth. It is a self indulging thing you are all trying to string together, for the Faction-less. It is admirable, what you do for them. But to issue a change in law for young boys and girls to marry, under the age of eighteen to fit your ideals... it's selfish." You finish and take your seat.

The tension is high as the Abnegation whisper to one another and even argue. It seems that not all agree with Marcus and it's showing.

Jeanine couldn't stop her grin, gracing her lips. She hasn't seen you in years, well not without you noticing. She likes the new you and sees how your test could conclude to Candor. She has missed you dearly and does not blame you for your endeavors.

If I just kept you closer, she thought, eyeing you hungrily like a starved animal.

But Jeanine never miscalculates. She is always accurate.

In time, my Tulip. In time

[tisayemate]

Lucky

Peter Hayes x small!Reader

Idk what to call it at this point. Not fluffy enough to be a fluff or angsty enough to be angst. Just for your amusement ig.

Summary: Peter Hayes has always thrived on cruelty, sneering at others’ weaknesses to make himself look stronger. But when you—a quiet, seemingly small Dauntless initiate—beat him in a trial, he’s forced to see you in a different light. 

AN: in this one, I imagined it to be that reader is small in size and often undermined but you could imagine it and tailor it to your preference. (Maybe that she just SEEMS weak or smth)

The lights of the Dauntless training room cast long shadows across the stone floor, the sound of fists hitting punching bags and the grunts of effort filling the air. You stood off to the side, small and unassuming compared to the towering forms of the other initiates. But looks, as you’d proven time and time again, were deceiving.

You cracked your knuckles absentmindedly, watching as Peter Hayes towered over some poor recruit, a smirk curling his lips. Peter thrived on being intimidating. He fed off the fear that shimmered in the eyes of those around him, always sneering, always two steps ahead of his peers—if not in skill, then in sheer malice. He was, in many ways, the embodiment of Dauntless’ harshest traits.

But today, things were about to change.

"Alright, fight time," Eric barked, pacing along the sidelines like a predator circling its prey. His cold gaze swept over the group before landing on you. His lip curled in an almost-smile. "You."

Everyone’s eyes snapped to you, and you didn’t flinch under their scrutiny. If anything, you felt a rush of adrenaline course through you. The room grew quieter, expectant, as Eric nodded toward Peter. "You’re up against him."

Peter's smirk widened. He didn’t even try to hide his amusement. "Really? This ought to be good."

You rolled your shoulders back, stepping into the circle without a word, feeling the weight of all the eyes on you. But you were used to being underestimated. It was your advantage, your weapon.

Peter sauntered forward, cracking his neck as if the fight was already won. His confidence radiated like a toxic cloud, infecting the room with tension. His smirk deepened as he came to a stop a few feet from you, towering over your smaller frame.

"You sure you’re up for this, sweetheart?" he drawled, crossing his arms over his broad chest.

You ignored the taunt. There was no need to respond. The game had already begun, and Peter just didn’t know it yet.

"Fight!" Eric’s voice echoed through the room like a gunshot.

Peter moved fast, closing the distance between you in a single step, his fist swinging toward your face with brutal force. But you were faster. You ducked, sidestepping at the last second, causing him to stumble forward.

His eyes narrowed as he straightened, his smirk faltering for just a second. "Lucky."

But luck had nothing to do with it.

The next few seconds were a blur of motion. Peter lunged again, his movements aggressive, fueled by arrogance. Each time, you dodged or blocked with fluid precision, making him look clumsy. The others watched in stunned silence, whispering among themselves as you began to gain the upper hand.

Peter’s frustration grew, evident in the tightening of his jaw, the wild swing of his fists. He wasn’t used to losing—especially not to someone who looked like you.

Finally, you saw your opening. Peter’s guard dropped for just a moment, and that was all you needed. You spun on your heel, sweeping his legs out from under him with a swift kick. He crashed to the ground with a grunt, the air knocked out of him as you stood over him, victorious.

For a moment, the room was still. Peter lay on the ground, eyes wide with shock, while you stood above him, not a single drop of sweat on your brow.

Then, slowly, Eric’s voice cut through the silence. "Impressive."

It was one word, barely a compliment, but from Eric, it might as well have been a standing ovation. His expression remained unreadable, but the flicker of approval in his eyes didn’t go unnoticed. Eric wasn’t one to show emotion, especially when it came to initiates, but even he had to respect what you’d just pulled off.

Peter groaned, pushing himself to his feet, his cocky façade crumbling as he wiped a trickle of blood from the corner of his mouth. He glared at you, anger boiling beneath the surface, but there was something else there too—something he would never admit. Respect.

"You got lucky," Peter growled, brushing himself off.

You met his glare head-on, unflinching. "No, I’m just better."

There it was—plain, simple truth. And Peter, for once, had no snarky reply. He clenched his jaw, still trying to nurse his bruised ego, but the look in his eyes told you that he knew. He knew you weren’t someone to mess with.

Later, after everyone had left the training room, you sat alone, wrapping a bandage around a scrape on your hand. The adrenaline had worn off, leaving you with a dull ache in your muscles and the satisfying knowledge that you’d bested Peter Hayes.

But you didn’t have long to savor the victory.

"You really think you’re something, don’t you?" A voice sneered from behind.

You didn’t need to turn around to know who it was. Peter’s smug tone was unmistakable. You rolled your eyes, continuing to bandage your hand.

"I mean, you got lucky once, but let’s not pretend like you’ll always come out on top," Peter continued, stepping into your line of sight. He leaned against the wall, crossing his arms, that infuriating smirk plastered across his face again. "You’re just a little fighter who had a lucky day. Don’t let it get to your head."

You glanced up at him, unfazed. "Sure, Peter. Whatever helps you sleep at night."

Peter’s eyes narrowed. "Don’t act like you’re better than everyone. We both know you don’t belong here. Just a little girl playing soldier."

The words were meant to sting, but they rolled off you like water. You had heard worse, from worse people. Peter’s insults weren’t anything new, and they certainly didn’t get under your skin the way he hoped they would.

You stood up, facing him, a small smirk tugging at the corner of your lips. "It’s cute how you think you can still intimidate me after I wiped the floor with you today."

Peter’s face darkened. "Watch your mouth."

You shrugged, turning to leave. "I don’t need to watch anything. I’ve already seen enough."

Peter opened his mouth to retort, but nothing came out. For the first time, it seemed like he had no comeback, no witty insult to throw at you. You walked away, leaving him standing there, simmering in his bruised ego and thinly veiled frustration.

As you left the room, you couldn’t help but smirk. Peter might never stop trying to tear you down, but you weren’t going to let him win. Not today, not ever.

[swiftlyinlove]

Anti-hero ;; Peter Hayes

pairing: Peter Hayes x GN!Reader

summary: Peter Hayes is exhausted of seeing his girlfriend, the only good thing in his life, always rooting for the anti-hero.

warnings: enemies (brief) to lovers, a little angst mixed with fluff, Peter thinks he's undeserving of love, deviation from canon, Evelyn is a manipulative bitch, more book-based than movie-based.

word count: approximately 4.1k.

a/n: Hi! I'm so excited to be publishing my first one-shot here on Tumblr. This one has kinda been sitting in my drafts for a couple of months. never actually saw the movies, I just read the books, but I really liked the way his redemption arc was handled, and I found myself imagining how different it would've been if he had someone who loved him by his side.

I have this thing where I get older but just never wiser

Midnights become my afternoons

Peter couldn't sleep. Maybe it was because he was uneasy on his new surroundings. Maybe it was the fact that everyone in the Bureau of Genetic Welfare knew the terrible things that he'd done, all the sins he committed back in Chicago, and hated him for it. Maybe it was the fact that almost all of his traveling companions hated his guts. Maybe it was all of those combined.

Despite of the cause of the problem, Peter found himself sitting near the peculiar fountain at the center of the Bureau's headquarters. His gaze was fixed on the letter he held delicately in his hand, his eyes not moving away from the swooping, sloping cursive letters. Your handwritting.

Your letter was the only thing he brought with him when he joined Tris and her friends on their quest to explore the world beyond the city's limits. You had written it back when he was serving Jeanine Matthew's and holding Tris and Tobias captive. You had been trying to free the two of them from Jeanine's villainous clutches, while at the same time trying to save Peter from succumbing into his own darkness.

In midnights like that, as Peter read your letter over and over again, he thought he didn't deserve you. You two had met back when you were still initiates at Dauntless - you had left Erudite, along with your good friend Will, while Peter had left his family behind in Candor.

You didn't have the best of starts, he had to admit. You grew up in a very toxic environment, where you had to excel at every single thing that you did in order to receive even the minimum amount of love and approval from your parents. He, on the contrary, was raised by a very loving family, but he simply craved to be the best at everything.

So, when training started and you both competed for the best pontuation in every activity, Peter wasn't exactly thrilled. And neither were you. Hatred started blossoming within the two of you like a rose full of thorns, your frustration towards each other close to the exploding point.

You were a very kind-hearted person, as Peter noticed early in your rivalry. You quickly became friends with Tris, Christina, and even Al. The fact that he seemed to bully Tris the most, since she was transfered from Abnegation, only added fuel to the fire that was your loathe for Peter Hayes.

However, with time, Peter caught himself noticing every little thing you did. He caught notice of how his heart would flutter - but only a little - whenever he saw you helping out your friends, either with training tasks or just normal day-to-day things.

He realized how his gaze would linger on you when you weren't looking, how he couldn't help the way his lips curled up whenever he saw your name placed high on the scoreboard. Hell, he didn't even mind if you scored better than him. Not anymore.

Turned out, the line between love and hate truly was thin. He tried to swallow his feelings, because he was aware of how awful he had been to you and your friends. He was sure you'd never like him back; he would never stand a chance with a good person like you.

It was in the middle of the second stage of initiation that you realized how your banter actually amused you. How Peter's snarky comments would bring a genuine smile to your face, and his absence left you feeling empty. You knew you shouldn't feel that way; he was incredibly mean to your friends, especially Tris, but you couldn't help how you felt.

There was one night in particular that changed everything. You couldn't sleep, so you sat on your bed. Your eyes were immediately pulled towards Peter's bed across the room, where the boy himself tossed and turned, similarly unable to sleep.

You put your shoes on before approaching his bed. “Hey, do you wanna take a walk? I can't sleep. It seems like you can't, either. We could just walk in silence... I just want some company.” You whispered.

He was quick to accept your offer, much to your surprise. In a few moments you were both crossing the transferred initiates' dorm. You cast a look upon Drew and Al's empty beds, but payed it no mind as you and Peter sneaked off onto the dark hallways of the Dauntless headquarters.

"So..." Peter started the conversation, to your delight. "Do you usually have the urge to sneak off the dorms and go on walks with your arch-nemesis in the middle of the night?"

His words made you chuckle. "No. Only you, I suppose." You teased. If the hallways weren't dipped into darkness, you would've been able to see the faint blush rushing to his cheeks due to your comment.

After that, you pretty much talked about everything. About your life before Dauntless, about the families you left behind, about your hopes and fears for the future. You were amazed by how funny, vulnerable and good he could be once he let his walls down. So, when he leaned in to kiss you right as you were telling him about the painted ceiling of your old bedroom back home, you didn't really opose to it.

You decided to keep your relationship secret, at least for a little while. You knew your friends wouldn't be too thrilled with the idea of you dating Peter Hayes.

Especially because, as you'd find out the next morning, Drew and Al had sexually harassed Tris, and also tried to kill her, on that very same night. You couldn't believe your own ears; how could Al, such a sweet boy, do that to his own friend?

It became pretty clear to you that Tris was convinced Drew was only doing Peter's bidding, and Al just came along for the ride. You knew that wasn't true - you noticed the disgusted glint in Peter's eyes when he found out what his alleged friend had done. But there was no way you could change Tris' mind.

Your relationship was filled with discreet, longing glances across the room at lunch, dates in the middle of the night and little notes left in your pockets, telling you how beautiful you looked and how much he missed you. Peter even stopped coming after Tris and the rest of your friends; he couldn't do that to you.

Being with you made him want to be a better person, made him want to fight the darkness within him so he could be the man you deserved.

You were so excited when you passed the initiation in third place - Tris was first and Peter was, obviously, second - that you hugged him without even thinking, in front of everyone, and he was so thrilled that you were willing to be seen with him that he didn't really mind.

Your friends inquired you about your relationship with him after that, about his intentions. Yes, they had noticed Peter's sudden shift in behaviour after you began dating, but that didn't erase all the horrible things he did before.

After you explained everything, you could see the glint of forgiveness in Tris' eyes. She was very happy that you found love, even if it was with him, and the rest or your friends soon followed in her steps and congratulated you.

That was the night you exchanged your first 'I love you's. As fate would have it, that night would also be remembered by History as the night Chicago's experiment turned into a massacre.

When my depression works the graveyard shift

All of the people I've ghosted stand there in the room

Peter closed his eyes, his hold on the letter only tightening slightly as he recalled the events of that fateful night. He remembered being confused as he saw everyone, including a very clumsy Tris, march out of the dorms with soldier like movements.

However, the image that would stick to his brain whenever he remembered that night would be of your soulless eyes looking past him as if he didn't even exist.

The following hours were a bit hazy in his mind. Peter had no idea what was happening, why all of his colleagues were leaving the premises heavily armed, looking like mindless puppets.

But when one of the Dauntless highest class members approached him and told him to guard the halls of the headquarters, it became pretty clear to him that he would be dead if he didn't oblige. And then he would never see you again.

As he roamed the halls, holding his gun tightly with both hands, his mind drifted towards you. He was afraid of so many things. He was afraid of how the city would be once it was all over. He was afraid of getting shot, of being unable to live to see another day.

And yet, his biggest fear was that you would be hurt. He feared that you would be killed, that you'd be another body lying still in the streets full of corpses, mostly from Abnegation.

He didn't know when he would see you again, if he would see you again. The fear and the anxiety of not knowing anything clawed at his insides, begging him to do something other than comply to the enemies' orders. But he couldn't act on his impulses, not without a good plan. So he waited.

When Tris marched into the Dauntless corridors with Caleb, Marcus, and her father, Peter couldn't be more relieved. Maybe she knew where you were, if you were safe.

That relief quickly evaporated once Tris, under the impression that Peter had gladly and willingly allied himself with the enemy, shot him in the arm and dragged him at gunpoint towards the simulation control room, where Four was operating under the influence of the divergent serum.

Peter wasn't too happy to be following Tris and Four to the Amity compound, but he did need to get his wound taken care of. Although all of that was forgotten once he saw you, alive and well, standing next to Johanna Reyes, the leader of the Amity section.

He ran towards you, enveloping you in the tightest hug he could muster. His bullet wound was hurting like hell, yes, but the feeling of you in his arms, again? Nothing could beat it. So, when you felt your neck get wet from the desperate tears running down his face, you only placed a kiss to his temple and stroke the back of his head. He was finally in your arms again. He was finally home.

Your reunion, although emotional, was short lived. Soon the Erudite and the Dauntless traitors invaded the Amity headquarters in order to arrest the Divergents and you parted ways once more - while you had managed to escape with Tris, Four, Caleb and Susan, Peter and Marcus remained behind.

You were devastated. How cruel fate was, to bring you together only to pull you apart, over and over again. You didn't even know if he was alive. Therefore, when you arrived at the Factionless sector, you felt like a big piece of you was missing.

Peter, on the other hand, had nowhere to go after his near encounter with death. He didn't know where you were, nor did he have any friend that he could track down. His only choice was to go back to the Erudite section and beg Jeanine Matthew's to trust him.

He could barely mask his disgust of the spineless woman, but little by little he gained her trust. She thought she could take advantage of his poor little soul, that he was alone in this world with no one else to trust. Oh, how wrong she was.

It was only when Tris surrended to the Erudite and was held captive in their headquarters that you caught wind of Peter's stay in the Erudite headquarters.

You wrote him a letter, the letter he held in his very hands right now, begging him to come home. To save Tris and Tobias, to betray the cruel Jeanine and to come back to you.

And so he mustered a plan. With Cara's help he switched the death serum with a paralytic one, saving Tris from execution and successfully escaping with her and Four. The proud look in your eyes when the three joined you in the Abnegation factor was one he'd never forget. In that moment, he felt invencible.

He felt like he could beat the voice within him that implored for him to succumb to darkness. He felt like he could, finally, be deserving of you.

I should not be left to my own devices

They come with prices and vices

I end up in crisis (tale as old as time)

Peter didn't want you to come with them to the city's limits at first. Only God knew what they would find beyond them, what the world would be like outside of the chaotic Chicago.

But you had been separated so many times before that you couldn't even bare the thought of being left behind in the messed up city while he walked towards the unknown. What would you do if he never returned? If he died, or if he simply found someone else and decided to abandon you?

Therefore you insisted upon going. You wanted to be there for him, for your friends, no matter what was waiting for all of you on the other side of the rusty old train tracks that marked the end of your city, of your whole world. Up until now.

Whatever your group was hoping to find on this expedition, it surely wasn't this. It wasn't the Bureau of Genetic Welfare waiting for you. It wasn't the revelation that all of you, except Tris and maybe Four, were genetically damaged and were isolated from the world with the sole purpose of healing.

It wasn't the knowledge that the government had been watching your actions the entire time, not doing anything while the inhabitants of Chicago killed each other by Jeanine's command.

On nights like this, when he couldn't sleep, Peter could feel the anger overtaking his body. How dare the Bureau stand by watching while multiple lives were being destroyed? How dare they call them damaged and lock them up on the city, disconnecting them from the whole world?

How dare they sit and observe his entire life, completing riping him of his privacy? The privacy of his first kiss, the privacy of his mourning for his fellow classmates and strangers that were murdered in cold blood.

That's why he always brought your letter with him on his late night walks. Your written words soothe him, strip him from his fury towards the Bureau, towards the world.

He can feel his eyes starting to close, sleep slowly dominating his body, so he promptly returns to the dorms. He can feel a smile forming on his lips as he finds you peacefully asleep in your bed - you always looked cute when you slept. Peter carefully slid under the cover next to you, leaning his body against yours. You were his anchor, his home, and he couldn't wish for more.

You woke up at the first signs of dawn, when the sun rays emerged through the windows. A sleepy smile formed on your lips once you took notice of Peter's arms around your waist. You turn around in his arms, planting a delicate kiss on the tip of his nose before carefully getting up. You did your best not to wake him, knowing he was probably tired from his nightly walk.

Despite his best efforts to conceal his angry thoughts from you, you knew what was going on in his head. You knew he resented what you discovered outside the city you've known your whole life. You knew he felt betrayed - of course he did, and so did the rest of you.

And you knew all his wrath was keeping him up at night. You desperately wanted to help him, to comfort him, but you decided it was better to give him some space. You waited patiently for him to come to you, to vent about your current situation. But he never did.

You noticed curiously how Uriah's bed was neatly arranged, despite it being very early. Christina's bed was also empty, you realized. You knew they were getting close lately, a little too close to be just 'friends', and you were very happy for them. After all they went through, with Christina losing Will and Uriah losing Marlene, they deserved to find love again.

You left the provisorial dorms provided to you and your friends by the Bureau while you decided whether you wanted to stay in the facilities or return to Chicago.

You made your way to the cafeteria, humming to whatever song was playing on the Bureau's radio, praying that Peter was finally resting well.

I wake up screaming from dreaming

One day I'll watch as you're leaving

And life will lose all its meaning

For the last time

A few hours later, you were making your way back to the dorms when you heard a guttural scream that sounded a lot like Peter echoing through the room. You rushed towards his bed; luckily enough, everyone was already up and wandering, so it was only the two of you.

“Pete, love, wake up.” You said lovingly as you gently shook his trembling frame. Once his eyes opened and you could see how glossy they were, a few tears already escaping and cascading down his face, your heart broke in two. “It was just a nightmare, everything is okay. I'm right here.”

Your presence seemed to calm him slightly, but flashes from his nightmare kept plaguing his mind. Deep down, he knew it was only a manifestation of his fear; but it felt so real... Your figure, lying lifeless and cold on the ground, seemed so real to him.

He knew his life would lose all its meaning if you weren't in it. Before you, he was ruthless. He was cruel. The only thing he was interested in was coming in first place in everything, even if he had to push people down to get there.

After you... Well, he was a whole different person. You saved him without even knowing he needed to be saved. You made him want to be better, want to be kind. Without you, he was absolutely sure he would be lost.

He couldn't even bare the thought of you leaving him, it was way too painful. But the thought of you dying in his arms while he was completely helpless? That fucking broke his heart, shattered it into a million little pieces.

“Promise me you'll never leave me.” He requested, his voice trembling as you gently wiped away the tears that continued to roll down his cheek. “Please, that's the only thing I'm asking.”

You sat down next to him on the small bed and he immediately threw himself into your open arms, your caresses on his brown curls soothing him. “I know you're afraid of what might happen while we're here, or if we go back to the city. But believe in one thing, I won't go away. Even if I died, I'd come back to haunt your ass.”

Your words made him chuckle, feeling alright for the first time in what felt like forever. Your reassurance melted his heart and he pulled you down so you were lying next to him, snuggling his body closer to yours and letting you rest your head on his chest.

It's me, hi, I'm the problem it's me

At tea time, everybody agrees

It had been a few weeks since Peter's nightmare and things were slowly starting to get better. You often woke up in the middle of the night and found Peter sleeping next to you, his chest slowly rising up and down.

Despite how calm everything around you seemed, you sensed something coming, something big. And, in an apparently random thursday, that something did indeed arrive.

You were outside of the Bureau, training with Tris and Four to keep your combat skills in good shape, while Peter was in the dorm getting dressed after awaking from a well-deserved nap.

As he tied the laces of his black combat boots, a loud ring echoed through his mind, interrupting his actions. His head was throbbing, sending shockwaves of pain through his body, and he sat back down on his bed.

That's when he'd heard it. “Hey, Peter. Guess who finally found you? " Evelyn's voice rang to his head, and his eyes widened.

Shit, he thought, as he recalled the Dauntless graduation day, when Eric had injected the serum on all of the initiates. His hadn't been activated on the night of the massacre, it was true, but he still had it flowing through his veins, and Evelyn could've easily found a way to activate it, or at least to communicate with him through it.

"Didn't know you had the guts to run away, Hayes. It must be exhausting having to live with people who hate you. " Evelyn spoke once more.

“Shut up!" Peter yelled out loud in response. "You don't know anything about me!"

"Sure I do." Evelyn replied. "I know your little girlfriend is with you. It would be a shame if she was suddenly attacked out there by one of my soldiers, wouldn't it?"

Peter took a deep breath, trying to calm his speeding heart and his growing nerves. Tightly closing his trembling hand in a fist, he muttered. "You wouldn't dare."

"Do you really think I wouldn't?" She questioned, but continued before he even had time to answer. "What if we made a deal? You do one little thing for me and I won't kill your girlfriend. How does that sound?"

He thought carefully about his next move. The last thing he wanted was to be under that evil woman's command. But, then again, he couldn't risk losing you. "What do I have to do?" Peter asked, his voice no louder than a whisper.

I'll stare directly at the sun but never in the mirror

It must be exhausting always rooting for the anti-hero

Peter's gun pointed forward towards an all-familiar enemy - Tris -, hands shaking in fear, an aching regret spreading rapidly through his chest like a burning fire.

He doesn't want to do this at all, but it's what's expected of him. It's what Evelyn expects of him, to be a good little puppet. It's what everyone expects of him, to be a villain, to betray the hero in the end. But not you.

No, you don't see him as the villain, like everyone else. If anything, you see him as a hero in his own way. An anti-hero of sorts.

A salty tear slides down his face at the thought of you; what would you say if you saw him like this? Would you be angered by his actions? Would you be disappointed? Would you leave him, like everyone else?

He didn't notice as you walked into the room, your doe eyes falling upon his figure. Your heart started beating faster, but not by anger or fear of him. No, you feared for him.

You feared he would do something he'd regret. You feared the guilt that would soon after invade his brain, filling him with melancholia. But above all else, you feared what would happen if he didn't press the trigger, you feared your friends' reaction.

So you rushed towards him and hugged him from behind. He didn't need to turn around to see it was you. Every bone, every fiber in his body recognized your scent, your embrace.

“You don't need to do this.” You whispered in his ear, tightening your hold on him to remind him that you would always be there.

And so he let go of all the cruel expectations and the ridiculous anger that were sewed into his soul from the moment he was born. With a loud bang, his pistol fell to the marble floor, and he turned around only to bury himself in your embrace.

In front of you, Tris sighed in relief, her face twisting into a somewhat empathic expression. On her left side, Four visibly relaxed, his hands moving to rest on her shoulders.

Peter hadn't realized it, but more tears were now cascading down his face, loud sobs escaping his lips as one of your hands caressed his hair.

“Everything's okay. You're okay.” You muttered. And, for the first time in his life, he believed it. He didn't give a shit about Evelyn or her threats anymore; as long as you were with him, he would always protect you.

[mickey-1996]

Guyssss I’m rereading Divergent. Send me requests and I’ll do them.

I also just rewatched X-men so I’ll do those requests too.

PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE I WANNA WRITEEEE

[nickeverdeen]

Hiiii there!! 👋 I saw you come on my fy page and omg I love your writingsss! Like even though I haven't read all of them, I literally know you such an amazing writer. <333 But anywhoo, can you by any chance do a matchup for me, hon? Harry Potter, Divergent, and Hunger Games/the Ballad of Snakes and Songbirds, and Spiderman are the ones I would like! (If that too much work for you, you can just do hp and divergent!) ❤️

So about me: Physical Appearance/Discription: I am a 5'5 girl who is 17 and half. I have shortish brown curly hair (3b curls). I am a pretty skinny person but I do have some sort of muscle on me. I do also have a bit of ance and some acne scars on my face. I have pale white skin. Whenever I get ready to go out of the house, my go to makeup is just mascara and a bit of eyeliner. But when I want to get ready to go somewhere fancy/get ready formally, I do more then that. I have more of a tom-boyish/skater/streetwear style, but when I get ready ready, I can clean up nice. 😜

Personality/Who am I: I am 100% an extrovert. I love talking to people, but sometimes I don't talk to them, not cus I am shy, but cus I just don't wanna, yknow? Anywho, here are a list of words that describe me: passionate, determined, adventurous, ambitious, considerate, beautiful (😉🙈), authentic, unique, generous, smart (sometimes the dumbest person ever 😭), kind, friendly, dedicated, hardworking, caring, gorgeous, amazing, hilarious, and confident! I genuinely think I am a confident person. I love myself and who I am. I am the most funniest person you will ever meet. Like literally everyone who meets me thinks I am so funny. (Which I cant blame them 😜) I stick up for my close ones whenever needed and am protective of my loved ones. I have good grades(I have severe academic validation needs), but sometimes I just can't with school 😭. I

Likes/Hobbies: My favorite animals are snakes and dogs. I love candy and sweets and chocolate. Like I have the biggest sweet tooth ever! Like I LOVE chocolate. I like to dance and listen to music.(My music taste is all over the place, but I will never, I mean NEVER, listen to country 🙅) Love hip-hop, pop, & rap the most tho. I also love going to the beach and hanging out with the fam, but also love the suburbs/towns/city and hanging out with friends but I also like the countryside and everything like that. I think I just love every single place honestly.I love the color green. I also love watching disney movies, and horror movies, and fantasy movies. I do read, but I can't really read well 😭 (And write, as you can tell 😭) Dislikes: I hate slow-walker, people are are disrespectful, losing (I am really competitive), pickles, onions, & spicy food. Oh, and country music. And I hate seeing blood and all that type of stuff (in real life at least, I can still watch horror movies, just not action ones with blood 😭) I also like spring. I love taking picture, like of everything. Especially people, places, the sky, animals, and flowers! I like to dance hip-hop (maybe even two partner dances 🙈).

Love Language/What I look for. I lowkey think its all of them, but my top ones would be quality time, words of aff, and physical touch. I love when a mans tell you he loves me AND shows me he does 🙈 I also love a mans who can take my sense of humor and make me laugh 24/7.

I would like a male match-up result and a romantic match if thats fine! My pronouns of she/her. Again, you are such an amazing writing and I cant wait. Thank you so much for this! Have a good day/night hon! ❤️❤️❤️

Omg, thank you so much it means a lot to me, cariño 💚

—————————

Your Harry Potter match is…

Fred Weasley

Fred would love taking you to the joke shop after hours to try out the newest pranks, sharing sweets while you both laugh uncontrollably

He’d always be coming up with spontaneous adventures to keep things interesting, like sneaking into the Forbidden Forest

He would compliment your makeup style, always amazed at how you can go from streetwear queen to “stunningly dressed up” in an instant

Fred would let you know daily how much he loves you through both playful words and unexpected acts of affection

He’d love challenging you in competitive games, and you’d both be the kind of couple that playfully argues about who won

He’d make jokes whenever you’re feeling overwhelmed by academics, keeping things light while also encouraging you to take pride in your achievements

Fred would adore your taste in music and would make a point of finding ways to make you laugh—getting you into the silliest of dance battles

He’d find your confidence incredibly attractive, but he’d also be super protective, always watching out for you

You’d have secret meetings at the Three Broomsticks, where he’d buy you chocolate treats and tease you for having a massive sweet tooth

When you go out together, he’d always take photos of you, knowing you love capturing memories, and would make fun of your intense dislike of pickles and onions

Your Divergent match is…

Four/Tobias Eaton

Four would appreciate your competitiveness, often challenging you to small competitions in Dauntless training exercises or sparring

He would admire your confidence and humor, feeling lucky to be with someone who’s so sure of themselves

Your love of snakes would interest him—he’s not afraid of them and might even surprise you with a trip to a reptile sanctuary

He’d listen to all your playlists and would start to appreciate your love for hip-hop and rap, eventually sharing a few songs he secretly likes too

Four would bring you small, thoughtful gifts to show his appreciation and would love any quality time spent with you

He’d respect your boundaries but would be completely comfortable with affection, holding you close when you’re together and making you feel protected

Four would understand your drive for academic validation and would remind you that you’re brilliant just as you are

He’d admire your adventurous spirit and wouldn’t hesitate to go exploring with you in abandoned buildings or quiet city corners

You’d help him open up more, encouraging him to let loose and have fun, which he secretly loves

On lazy days, he’d watch horror movies with you, comfortingly close during the jump-scares, and tease you about your aversion to real blood

Your Hunger Games match is…

Finnick Odair

Finnick would adore your sweet tooth and surprise you with chocolates and treats whenever he gets the chance

He’d be protective, always wanting to make sure you’re safe, especially given your adventurous streak

Finnick would get a kick out of your love of dancing and would definitely try to impress you with his own (surprisingly good) dance moves

He’d love spending time by the water, especially since you enjoy the beach; it would be your shared peaceful getaway

Finnick would love to make you laugh, finding creative ways to show you his affection

He’d be impressed by your ambition and smarts and would be the type to help you through your studies with words of encouragement

Finnick would challenge you playfully, especially since you’re competitive, and he’d love the spark this brings to your relationship

He’d always find ways to make you feel special, whether through spontaneous beach outings or playful gifts

Knowing you’re a great friend, he’d trust you with his secrets and open up about his past, knowing he has someone supportive and strong by his side

Finnick would be deeply moved by your confidence and individuality, always hyping you up and reminding you how incredible you are

Your Spider-Man match is…

Peter Parker 3

Peter would be in awe of your confidence and admire how you’re so protective of those you care about

He’d constantly be cracking jokes with you and would get a kick out of your sense of humor, finding it hilarious and refreshing

Peter would love your skater style and might even surprise you by learning to skateboard (probably after a few failed attempts)

He’d be over the moon every time you dress up, knowing you’re usually laid-back but enjoying how stunning you look either way

Peter would always be trying to impress you with silly science facts, loving the fact that you’re also driven academically

He’d be protective but never overbearing, always respecting your independence and admiring how outspoken you are

Peter would adore that you’re a fan of horror movies and would try to keep his cool during the scary parts just to make you laugh

He’d love your hip-hop playlists and would start recommending songs, surprised to find how much you both enjoy the same artists

Peter would appreciate that you’re down-to-earth and supportive and would find comfort in your relationship when he’s dealing with Spider-Man pressures

He’d surprise you with small acts of love, like random treats or cute notes, always making sure you feel adored

[heliads]

Hi I was wondering if i could request for Peter Hayes where they have a rivalry going on even though she’s super sweet and one day he gets doused with that memory erasing gas and she volunteers to look after him for the time being and while he has no memory he’s just really nice to her and confused and they fall in love with each other. And one day he somehow randomly gets his memories back but he pretends he doesn’t because he’s afraid she’ll leave him until he accidentally slips up and he has to confess that he’s in love with her and was afraid she’d leave him if he had his memory back and went back to his normal self please and thank you :)

ooh it has been WAYY too long since i wrote for divergent!! let's go

'missing link' - peter hayes

masterlist

The boy knows it shouldn’t be like this.

He feels– strange. Not right. It takes him a moment to realize that might have to do with the fact that he’s crumpled on the ground, and another moment to discover with startling unease that he does not remember ever falling. Nor does he remember what room he’s in, how he got there, or anything else for that matter. Where there should be memories, there is just a blank gray wash in his head, a slate wiped clean of countless experiences.

It should terrify him, the boy thinks, but for some reason, he isn’t reacting to it as he should. Never mind the fact that the boy is not aware enough of who he is to know how he should or should not react to things; finding oneself in a strange place with no memories is grounds for panic, regardless of who he was before all this. A strange calm persists over his mind nonetheless; it’s unnatural, like he’s been sedated or something. You know what that’s like, a voice whispers in the back of his brain. Who the hell is he to be familiar with such a thing?

Before the boy can make a decision as to what he should do, the sound of running footsteps right outside the door jolts him back to reality. Seconds later, a trio of people all dressed in varying shades of black skid into the room. They stare at him. The boy stares back at them. They all seem equally confused as to what is going on, which is weird because as far as the boy is concerned, he’s the only one with gaps in his memory. Surely someone here should have a clue.

One of the three newcomers steps forward, a girl with mousy brown hair. Her black t-shirt has a low neck which reveals a tattoo of three birds against her collarbone. “Peter, what the hell have you done now?”

The boy glances behind him, but there’s no one else in the room, so he assumes Peter is supposed to be him. “What?”

Bird Tattoo looks confusedly at her two friends. For some reason, the expression feels familiar. Maybe this girl spends a lot of her time unaware of her surroundings. It’s probably annoyed him in the past. “We heard a loud noise and wanted to see what was going on. Of course you’re here, that explains things. What did you do?”

“There was a noise?” Peter asks. He doesn’t remember hearing anything like that, but that’s hardly new to him by now.

Immediately, he knows it’s the wrong question. The confusion in the trio’s expressions shifts to genuine alarm. A new girl starts talking, shorter than the rest but by no means less unhappy with him. “Yeah, it was super loud. There’s no way you missed it.”

“Oh,” he says, because they seem to expect him to answer.

Short Girl furrows her brow. “Did something happen? You seem weirdly quiet.”

Peter peers up at her. “Why would you say that? Do I know you?”

Short Girl’s face flashes with anger, but when it becomes clear that Peter isn’t just messing around, her jaw drops. “Oh, no. I think he got into the memory gas.”

The third member of their trio has been silent this whole time, but the final man sucks in a low breath now. “That’s bad. That’s really bad.”

“Memory gas?” Peter prods hesitantly.

“Yeah,” Quiet Guy says, “I see one of the canisters has been tampered with. Your memory has been erased. It’ll probably come back later, but for now, you won’t remember who you are. Or any of the rest of your memories, for that matter.”

Peter stares at him. “Why the fuck would memory gas just be lying around where someone can stumble upon it? What kind of place do you guys live in?”

“You live here too,” Bird Tattoo interjects, “And besides, it isn’t just lying around. This room was locked, I think you broke in. This whole sector is off limits.”

“Then why are you here?” Peter points out.

The trio exchange glances again. “We have to do something about him,” Bird Tattoo says at last.

“Kill him?” Short Girl asks hopefully.

“I would prefer not that,” Peter interjects, earning him three identical glares.

Quiet Guy tilts his head to the side, thinking. “Stick him with someone else. Give him to Y/N. She knows him better than all of us, she’ll figure out something to do to get his memories back.”

Short Girl scoffs. “Yeah, she knows him because he hates her the most. I’m not so sure that’s the best plan.”

“Do you have any other ideas?” Quiet Guy asks, and when both girls are silent, he takes that as his answer. “Alright, we’re taking him to Y/N. End of discussion.”

He offers a hand to Peter, who accepts the offer of help, although this only seems to make the three strangers more unsettled. Evidently, whoever Peter normally is with his memories intact, he doesn’t trust a lot of people. Given how shifty these three are, though, maybe that’s for the best. He follows the trio through strange, dark hallways and up flights of stairs until they’re in a long corridor lined with doors. Living quarters, his mind tells him, although he has no idea where that information came from.

Quiet Guy picks a door and knocks. A few moments later, a girl appears. “Hey, Four,” she says casually, “What can I do for you?”

Quiet Guy– Four, what a weird name– grimaces at her words. “We need you to babysit someone for us.”

“Hey,” Peter protests from the back of their little group.

The sound of his voice calls Y/N’s attention to him, and immediately her expression changes. Whatever friendly demeanor she had worn before is gone now, locked up behind a wall of unreadable blankness. “What’s going on here?”

Bird Tattoo glances behind her in the hallway, even though there’s no one there. “Can we come in?”

Y/N nods, holding open the door for them all to file into her apartment. Maybe he’s just overthinking, but Peter swears she looks at him the longest as he passes. The moment in which their eyes meet feels like it spans several years instead of just one second, but then she blinks and looks away to lock the door behind them and he’s lost his anchor, spinning out into a great sea of mystery once more.

Only once the door is locked and they’ve all moved comfortably away from hearing range of anyone still out in the hallway does Y/N return to them, arms folded across her chest, and ask, “What have you guys done?”

Bird Tattoo shoots a shifty look Peter’s way before speaking. “We found Peter down in some back hall. We think there was an incident with some memory gas. He has no idea who he is.”

Y/N’s jaw drops. “He doesn’t remember anything? Tris, tell me you at least took him to the med wing to get checked out.”

Tris shakes her head imperceptibly. “If anyone knew, they wouldn’t just ask Peter why we were down there, they’d ask us, too. It’s a restricted section.”

Y/N’s lips purse. “So you’re saving yourselves? Awfully brave, you guys. True Dauntless material.”

All three of them look guilty at that, which makes Peter decide immediately that he likes this Y/N girl quite a bit. Four speaks up at last. “He won’t be seriously harmed, I’ve seen this stuff used before. It’ll probably take a few days to a week before he regains all of his memories, but he won’t suffer any brain damage.”

Peter stares at him incredulously. “There was a chance I could have brain damage and you didn’t tell me? I’ll kick your ass the second I remember how.”

Y/N presses a hand to her lips to hide a smile. “That’s enough of that. Tris, Christina, Four, I’ll figure out what to do. You guys can go back to whatever breaking and entering you were doing before this.”

Short Girl, who must be Christina, places a grateful hand on Y/N’s shoulder. “Thank you so much, honestly. We owe you for this.”

“You really do,” Y/N reminds her, and escorts the three of them to the door. 

Once it’s just Peter and Y/N in the room, silence descends upon them both. Peter isn’t sure if he should be speaking or not; he doesn’t remember enough about himself to know if he’s a talker, so he waits to say anything until Y/N walks back to him. 

She glances over him for a second, then sighs. “I’m going to do a medical check. I can’t believe none of them bothered to do one. I think Four was right, you’re not injured, but it can’t hurt. Do you remember how you were exposed to the memory gas?”

“No idea,” Peter says truthfully. “All I know is that I woke up on the ground with no idea who I was.”

She stares at him for a moment, then nods slowly. “You really are different, aren’t you?”

Peter cocks his head to the side, confused. “What do you mean?”

She laughs, although it’s not a happy sound. “The Peter I know would never admit a weakness so freely. You’d answer that question by threatening to stab me. Certainly not with the truth.”

Peter wrinkles his brow. “I sound like an asshole.”

This time, Y/N’s laugh is more genuine. “You kind of are, but we all let it slide. You’re one of the best fighters Dauntless has. If you talked as much as you do without any skill, we’d beat you up for it, but you can back up your sarcasm. Doesn’t mean we don’t try to fight you anyway.”

Peter watches as she retrieves a medical kit from a cabinet, then has them both sit down opposite each other so she can shine a light near his eyes and see how his pupils respond. “What kind of place do we live in if we fight each other all the time? Is this a military base or something?” Peter asks. 

They’re close enough that their knees are touching, which is a strange thing for him to notice, but he gets the feeling that his brain is used to looking for small things like this when it comes to her. His mind automatically focuses on the soft pressure of her hand against his temple like it’s the only thing that matters in the world.

“Something like that,” Y/N answers. “Our city is divided into factions. You’re in Dauntless. We’re the brave ones, the fighters. We keep everyone else safe, but mainly we just try to prove ourselves to each other over and over again.”

There’s a bit of resentment in her tone, which Peter latches on to immediately. “Do we prove ourselves to each other?”

She huffs out a quiet laugh. “Constantly. In order to make it into the faction, you have to go through initiation, which is intense. We were always the top two, always switching off for the top slot. Four led our initiation, he said he’d never seen two people so close. We graduated last year, but you’ve never let go of our rivalry.”

“But you have?” Peter asks.

She shrugs, clicking off the flashlight and returning it to the med kit. “I don’t really care. I’ll fight you when you challenge me, but it doesn’t matter like it did in initiation anymore. You’re no longer an enemy. You seem to think differently, but that’s just my opinion.”

“Do we not see each other anymore? I thought we would have been friends. Isn’t that why the Stiff brought me here?”

Y/N arches a brow. “Interesting nickname to use. I thought you didn’t remember who they were?”

Peter pauses, frowning. “I don’t. It just came out, I guess. What does it mean?”

“It refers to Tris’ home faction, Abnegation,” Y/N responds at last. “You often tease her about it.”

Judging by the sour note in her voice, Y/N isn’t a fan of that. Peter makes a mental note to not do that again. He hadn’t meant to, really, it had just slipped out. Probably like muscle memory or something. What Y/N had said about their rivalry sounds familiar, just like the stuff about Dauntless. It’s like everything he knows is being held behind a massive wall. Peter can catch glimpses of it through chinks in the foundation, but he cannot see it all. Not yet.

Y/N stands up, looking away from him. “You should get some rest. I don’t know if you know the way back to your quarters or where you put your key, so you can crash on my couch if you want.”

Peter frowns. “Is sleep recommended after being subjected to memory gas?”

“Yeah,” Y/N comments wryly, “but mainly, it’s the middle of the night.”

She pulls the shades away from her window to prove her point. Peter glimpses a dark midnight sky outside before the blinds fall against the glass again. Strange, he’d had no idea it was nighttime. The dark halls of Dauntless made it impossible to judge the time of day.

“Sorry for keeping you up,” he says.

Y/N’s expression softens when he apologizes. Again, he gets the feeling it’s not something the other him did all that often. “You didn’t know,” she says at last, and disappears into a room that must be her bedroom. As the door shuts behind her, it occurs to Peter that she never answered his question, the one about if they were friends or not. He doesn’t think so, not based on her description of their rivalry, but wouldn’t she have just said that they didn’t hang out, then?

Peter feels so keyed up after the memory incident that he’s certain he won’t be able to sleep, but he’s hardly closed his eyes before unconsciousness pulls him under. He dreams of dimly lit hallways and large rooms with high ceilings. There’s a girl there too, she’s laughing with friends. Peter wants to be in that circle, making her smile like she is right now, but he somehow knows deep in his gut that she won’t want him there, so instead he asks her to fight, or he says something cruel as he passes. It isn’t right, but it keeps her looking at him, and a curl of something hot up his spine tells him that’s worth it anyway.

The wrongness of it torments him all night. When he wakes up, the brief ghost of her hands floats before his eyes, but it vanishes in moments, and a matter of minutes later Peter finds that he cannot remember a single thing he dreamt of all night. For some reason, this absence hurts him more even than the greater loss of everything else he knew.

Peter had hoped that his memories would return when he woke up, but this is not the case. He tells Y/N as much when she appears out of her bedroom, but she just shrugs and tells him that memory loss patients usually take longer to remember everything. He’ll probably start recalling bits and pieces, but nothing major, not yet.

They decide to leave the room and go to Peter’s place so he can grab some clean clothes. Hopefully, the familiar place will jog his memory, but seeing as it took like an hour for Peter to remember that he put his door key in his back pocket, the odds are slim.

They walk together down the halls, Y/N murmuring the names of people they pass under her breath if he’s supposed to know them. It’s going great until they round a corner and find themselves face to face with a tall, imposing man who makes Y/N’s face slacken with panic immediately.

The man stops when he sees the two of them. “Peter, Y/N. Good to see you two up so early this morning, there’s lots to be done. Peter, were you going to check out the security division today? They say they’ve fixed their camera issue, but I’m not too sure I trust them to do it properly.”

Y/N’s back is perfectly straight, and the only sign that she’s uneasy is the slight widening of her eyes when the man asks them a question. Peter keeps his expression neutral, and an answer appears on his tongue before he even thinks about it. “Not today. I think I’m actually going to shadow Y/N, I want to see the new trainees for myself. The cameras should be fine to delay a little, Max, I supervised their installation just a few weeks ago.”

Y/N blinks in surprise. She’s not the only one confused by Peter’s quick response, he has no idea where that came from, but the man– Max– seems to accept it, so that’s all he can ask for. They part ways soon enough, and once Max is out of earshot, Y/N turns to Peter.

“What was that about? Since when do you remember his name? Or my job?”

“I don’t,” he argues, “It just came out, I don’t know. What do you do with the trainees?”

“I lead initiation. Took over after Eric Coulter decided to switch careers to pursue faction leadership in earnest. I met Tris and Christina because they’re our year, but Four and I teach the trainees together, which is probably why he suggested coming to me instead of anyone else.”

For some reason, hearing this sends a sour spike of resentment through Peter’s gut. “So Four is the reason he sent me to you? Not the two of us?”

“Who knows why Four does anything?” Y/N grumbles. “Could have been anything.”

It’s not really the answer he wants, but he’ll let it go for the time being. “Wait, when do you have to lead the trainees? Are you late?”

She shakes her head as they continue walking. “Four takes them in the early morning, I join them later in the day. I’ll probably head over in an hour or so, but I want to get your quarters sorted out first.”

They reach Peter’s apartment soon enough, but it doesn’t trigger any cascade of memories. He just stands there in the central room and the first thought that comes to his head is, it feels empty. Y/N’s place had seemed more alive, but maybe that’s because she was there. 

“Can I stay at your place?” Peter asks suddenly, “I don’t know if something will happen and I don’t want to be taken by surprise.”

Y/N’s brow furrows, but she nods. “Sure, no problem. Just until you get your memories back.”

“Of course,” Peter agrees, but he swears that it feels like a lie as he says it.

After changing clothes and grabbing some stuff to take back to Y/N’s, they head back again. The journey is easier this time, Peter feels less lost. He remembers the turns and doors of the Dauntless complex faster than he had before. Maybe Four is right and everything will come back over time, but progress is slow going at the moment, and he can’t help but wish it would be faster.

Soon enough, Y/N’s leading him out again, this time to head to initiation. Peter mainly just lurks in the back of the room, pretending to be observing the students as Y/N leads them through some sparring drills. Four is there too, and they exchange some silent glares before Y/N comes back to Peter and he pretends like nothing had been the matter at all.

They walk together, taking a slow lap around the training room. Every now and then, Y/N will call out advice to a pair or shout at someone to stop messing around. Once they complete a circuit, she pauses for a moment, watching the two initiates who were scheduled to fight first in the ring. They both seem evenly matched, and if Peter were to wager a guess he’d say that they’re probably among the top few trainees in the rankings.

Glancing back at Y/N, he notices that her eyes have gained a far-away look. “What’s on your mind?” He asks softly.

She shakes her head slowly, a half-smile rising to her lips. “Nothing. They just remind me of us.”

As Peter watches, one of the initiates manages to throw the other to the ground and pin them there. They count to five, and then the other initiate taps the mat to yield. The winning trainee releases their opponent, and they both crawl off to their respective groups.

Peter cocks his head to the side. “Did we ever let each other go so easily after a fight?” He has faint memories of punching someone until they stopped moving, of pleas for surrender being ignored. Peter has the faint and nauseating idea that he might be a terrible person. No wonder Y/N had looked upon watching over him as a burden. No wonder they all did.

“Never,” she whispers back. “Neither of us walked away unless we were both bloody.”

“That’s because you were the only one who was willing to go all the way,” Peter argues, although strangely enough he doesn’t feel like he’s the one saying it. Instead, past him is reaching through his mouth to speak it, totally ignoring whatever Peter’s plan is now.

Y/N looks at him, startled, but whatever memory Peter had briefly encountered is gone, and he stays silent. She does too, and when they leave training that day, Peter cannot be sure if the outing was good for either of them.

Peter crashes on her sofa again that night. He’s not entirely sure that he really needs to stay there, but the thought of leaving her to go back to his empty apartment is immediately shut down by his brain, so he decides against it. He has another dream of something, something important, but again, he does not recall it when he wakes. His cheeks are wet when he opens his eyes, but he doesn’t remember crying. There is a lot that he does not remember.

It’s still early when Peter wakes, so he has time to pull himself together and get changed before Y/N comes out of her room. Once she’s up, she makes breakfast for them both, and they stay out on her pathetic excuse for a balcony while they eat. It’s really no more than a glorified fire escape, but there’s enough room for them both, so it’s good enough for now. They’re leaning against the wall of the building. Their shoulders touch listlessly. It nearly destroys him.

The days repeat like skipped tracks on a broken record. They wake, they stay together, they sleep. Y/N relaxes around him more and more; it kills him that he is someone she would have to fear, but he’s getting the feeling that there is no one to blame for that but himself. Peter remembers a little more every day, but not enough.

And then one morning they’re both up at the same time, and the windows have been flung into let in the warm, rosy light of dawn. Y/N is laughing at something he said, and it occurs to Peter that this is perfect. That she is perfect. That maybe he doesn’t ever want his memories to return, because when that happens he’ll have to go away, and Peter doesn’t want this to end, not ever.

Perhaps his mind has a sick sense of humor, because it’s only when Peter discovers that he doesn’t want his memories that they finally break down the wall and surge back into his mind. He almost doubles over from the force of them, a million words and pictures swarming his head. His name is Peter Hayes. He was born in Candor but chose Dauntless in his Ceremony. He’s one of the best they have, on a fast track to being a faction leader. Everyone here is terrified of him, and those that aren’t afraid hate him more than they hate the devil or death itself.

There is only one person who does not check those boxes, and that is Y/N. Peter knew it from the very first day, and when he couldn’t make her fear him, he started up the rivalry, but even that wouldn’t make her hate him. He could never make her break, but he tried. It twists his stomach to think of how he tried. At the end, she was the one who won, and he left initiation realizing that he would never be able to let her go until the day he died. 

He attempted to forget her, but nothing worked. He even got a job far away from initiation when he heard she would be a training leader because he had to cut her out of his head in every way that he could. The scalpel is bloody, but the obsession is rooted deep, it keeps growing back. One night he realized that he loved her, and that was the point of no return.

Peter Hayes does not fall in love. He is cruel and calculating. That’s why Dauntless needs him like a shattered bone needs to destroy every bit of muscle and sinew around it. Peter knew that he had to fix his heart before it fell even further, so he slipped out to the sectors of Dauntless where no one was supposed to go except the faction leaders. He knew how to cover his tracks, he’d tampered with the cameras ages ago when they were set up and he could freeze the live footage whenever he wanted. No one would have been there. No one would have known.

No one would have seen him when he slipped inside. Peter knows Dauntless got a shipment of memory gas a couple of days ago. He knew where to find it, and he knew that only a little bit would be enough to make him forget that his feelings for Y/N had ever existed. All it would take was one breath of the stuff, and then it would be over.

It hadn’t been that easy, though. The canisters were unwieldy and difficult to operate. There had been a problem with opening them; Peter had unscrewed the valve more than he’d thought and it had all come out at once. He remembers barely being able to close it in time, and then the effects of the gas had pulled him over and he’d crumpled to the ground, knocking over a few boxes while he was at it. The sound had alerted the other intruders in the area, namely Tris, Christina, and Four, and then he had lost the last of his memories and woke up with no idea who he was.

The reality of it all makes his mind reel. Peter had known it all this time, but it had been kept secret from him by his own mind. He has always loved her, and the truth of it was more than he could handle. He’d tried to separate himself from Y/N by using the memory gas, but that had just flung him more decisively in her path.

He straightens up slowly. Peter isn’t sure how long it had taken for his memories to return, but it must have shown in his appearance, because Y/N is starting to look at him strangely. “Everything alright, Peter?”

She’s asking about him. She genuinely cares about how he’s doing. This never would have happened before. It won’t happen again if she thinks that he’s back to whoever he was before the memory loss. Peter has to cover his tracks perfectly, then, and what that requires is a perfect lie. Fortunately for him, he’s got more than enough experience in that field.

“Yeah,” he says smoothly, “Just swallowed water the wrong way. I love nearly suffocating to start off my mornings.”

He expects her to laugh as he says it, like she usually would, but instead her eyes narrow. “You’re lying.”

Peter stares at her. “No, I’m not. In what world was that a lie?”

“In your world,” she argues. “It was too easy. You never admit things about yourself that freely. You can lie perfectly, but you don’t know how to be honest. It unsettles you. Now, tell me. What happened?”

Peter stares at her, and she meets his gaze steadily. This is it, then. This is the end. She won’t want to be around him anymore, not once she knows that the burden of watching over him is no longer her responsibility. “I remembered,” he whispers at last, “I remembered everything.”

Her eyes widen. “Everything?”

“Everything,” Peter confirms. “Every time I hurt you. Every time you tried to be kind to me and I shut it down.” His voice cracks on the last syllable. “Why’d you let them stick me with you if I was this terrible to you all this time? I have been awful to everyone around me.”

“But you weren’t,” Y/N says quietly. “Not to me. Not now. You’ve been nice this whole time. I thought that would stop when you got your memories back, but it didn’t.”

A brief pain flashes across her eyes, and then she clears her throat, studiously looking away. “I suppose you’ll want to leave now. Do you know why you lost your memories, or was that just an accident?”

“It wasn’t an accident,” Peter tells her on impulse. “I wanted to forget that– That I loved you, Y/N. I knew it and it nearly killed me, knowing you’d never feel the same way. I tried to make myself forget it so I wouldn’t have to hurt like that anymore.”

Y/N’s gaze snaps back to him. Her eyes are wide, and when Peter slowly walks closer to her, he thinks they’re both waiting for something, some great sign that what they’re doing is right. When he kisses her, he knows it’s right. He knows that it’s all he’s ever wanted. As it was at the start, so it will be at the end:  the two of them until forever.

requested by @tianna8320, i hope you enjoy!

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

all tags list: @wordsarelife

[lilithslittleworld]

Should be me fr (in the middle because they’re both so hot)

[littlemissvenom0]

Masterlist for Divergent

Eric Coulter

Title: Beneath the Surface

Title: Shattered Masks

Title: Fractured Loyalties

Peter Hayes

Title: We can't hide forever

[zelcii]

peter hayes x former amity????? love your writing btw!!

too | peter hayes

you kept your distance because you knew you couldn't have him.

peter hayes. a name that dripped with trouble and cruelty, someone most people either feared or hated, and yet, your heart continued to betray you. you were born in amity, raised to be peaceful, taught to love without complication, and customed to avoid conflict. yet here you were, falling for a boy who represented against everything you were taught to avoid.

it was irrational. stupid, even. you told yourself that every day. this is wrong. he's wrong for you. but there was something about the way he moved, how he spoke so confidently, and maybe the shade of his hair that drew you in. you hated that about yourself. it was like watching a storm from the safety of your home—dangerous and destructive, yet oddly mesmerising. you thought it was ridiculous how some aesthetic attraction you had for a boy could lead you to question everything you were brought up on.

"you're being an idiot, you know," christina had said once, not unkindly, but blunt as always. you were sitting in the cafeteria with her and tris, the two of them chatting about training, gossip, the usual. you, of course, had been caught staring at peter again from across the room. you couldn't help it; even when you tried. your eyes always found him without effort.

tris nudged you lightly, her small smile sympathetic but cautious. "yeah, she's right. you should just... let it go. it's peter. he's not worth it."

and you knew that. logically, they were right. peter wasn't the kind of guy you should want. but you believed that logic never had anything to do with the heart. logic didn't stop your heart from racing every time he glanced your way, or your stomach from fluttering when his lips quirked into that sly grin of his.

regardless, you listened to them—tris and christina. you kept your distance and kept quiet. but while your mind understood that peter hayes was off-limits, it didn't stop your heart from dreaming about all the ways you could have had him.

choosing dauntless had come with its own set of challenges. other than peter hayes. your kindness, your softness, wasn't something people there valued. dauntless celebrated strength, ferocity, and bravery. and sure, you had learned how to fight, how to defend yourself, but your core remained the same. soft. caring.

people noticed, of course. it wasn't hard to ignore the way you'd check up on others after a particualrly rough sparring session, or the way you'd always seem to hold back any time you had to fight anyone competitively.

you rarely fought back during petty arguments, never raised your voice. you didn't fit in the way you were supposed to, but that didn't mean you weren't respected. people admired you quietly, in their own way. you knew it wasn't loud praise or direct acknowledgment, but you caught the way some of the others softened when they spoke to you, or how they didn't mind standing by your side during sessions. many must have thought you were too gentle for dauntless, but that gentleness had earned you a quiet kind of respect.

peter was one of those people. or at least, you thought he was. it was hard to tell with him. he never outright said anything to you—never mocked you like he did with others. but then again, he never talked to you in general. more than anything, he avoided you. it was subtle, the way he slipped out of rooms when you entered or how he always seemed to position himself at the far end of the group. he wasn't cruel to you the way he was to others, but he wasn't kind either.

however, it hurt the most when you overheard al saying that peter was always adamant about changing the subject whenever you were brought up.

you hadn't meant to eavesdrop. it wasn't something you normally did, but you were passing by the dormitory when you heard al's voice, low and serious, drifting from the open door. you paused, half-hidden behind the wall, just out of sight, when you caught your name.

"yeah, i don't get it," al was saying, sounding confused. "every time we talk about her, peter shuts it down. like, he doesn't want to hear it. gets all weird about it, like he doesn't care or something."

your stomach twisted, a sharp ache settling in your chest. you pressed your back against the wall, trying to steady your breath. he didn't care. you had suspected it before, of course, but hearing it confirmed like this—so casual, like it was just a known fact—hurt more than you wanted to admit.

you figured it was because he saw you as a non—threat. someone too soft, too insignificant to bother with. and maybe that was for the best. keeping your distance meant you could admire him from afar without getting hurt.

"he's staring at you again," christina muttered one day, her voice low as she leaned across the table, her eyes flicking over to where peter sat with a group of initiates. you were about to protest, thinking you misheard her and that she meant that you were staring again. but you hadn't been looking his way this time—not intentionally—but the moment she said it. you felt the familiar pull in your chest. a stupid, traitorous part of you wanted to glance back, to see if it was true. that he was looking at you.

but you didn't. you kept your eyes fixed on your plate, stabbing at the food in front of you like it was suddenly very interesting. "he's probably just plotting something," you said, trying to keep your tone light, dismissive.

"yeah, well, if he is, it must be takin' him quite some time," christina laughed. she leaned back in her chair, arms crossed, a curious glint in her eyes. "he's been doing that a lot lately."

tris, ever observant, raised an eyebrow. "you noticed that too?"

your heart skipped a beat.

"it's probably nothing," you mumbled, a little too quickly. "peter doesn't care about me. he barely even looks at me."

"uh-huh," christina smirked, clearly not buying it. "sure. keep telling yourself that."

you didn't reply. what could you even say? you knew for a fact that peter didn't like you. he couldn't. not with the way he acted, the way he seemed to avoid being near you. if anything, he was probably just irritated by your presence. you were an anomaly to him, someone who didn't fit neatly into the world he created for himself. an annoyance that he couldn't get rid of.

still, a small, foolish part of you couldn't help but wonder what if. what if peter wasn't avoiding you because he disliked you? what if it was something else entirely?

days passed, and you continued to keep your distance. it wasn't hard. peter made sure of that. he rarely spoke to you, and when he did, it was curt, to the point. he never lingered, never allowed for more than necessary. but there was something strange in the way his eyes flicked toward you when he thought you weren't looking, how he stiffened slightly when your shoulders brushed by accident during training, how his eyes would dart between yours and your lips when you spoke.

you told yourself it didn't matter. even if there was something more behind his actions, it wasn't your place to find out. not when you knew how dangerous he could be, not just to others, but to yourself. because the truth was, if you let him in, he had the potential to destroy you in ways you couldn't even fathom.

and then, one night, everything changed.

you were in the training room late, the others having already left for the night. it was quiet, the dim lighting casting shadows across the floor. you liked the solitude, the peace that came from being alone in a place that was usually full of noise and chaos. it reminded you of your old home, of the calmness that amity had offered. dauntless was far from it.

you didn't expect anyone else to be there. least of all peter.

you had just finished practicing a round of punches against the bag when you heard the door creak open. you froze, your breath catching in your throat as you turned. there he was, standing in the doorway, his dark eyes locking onto yours the moment he stepped inside.

your heart thudded painfully in your chest. "peter," you breathed, the sound of his name foreign and shaky on your tongue. you hadn't been alone with him in... you couldn't even remember how long. and now, with no one else around, the tension in the air felt suffocating.

he didn't say anything at first, just stared at you, his expression unreadable, almost debating. then, after what felt like an eternity, he spoke.

"why are you here?"

his tone wasn't accusatory, but it wasn't friendly either. you wiped the sweat from your brow, trying to keep your voice steady. "just... practising. why are you here?"

he shrugged, his gaze flicking away from you for a brief moment before settling back. "same."

there was an awkward silence that followed. you didn't know what to do, didn't know how to handle being alone with him. you had always been so careful, so diligent about avoiding moments like this. but now, with no one else around, you could feel every suppressed feeling bubbling up inside you.

and then, out of nowhere, peter's voice cut through the quiet.

"why do you look at me like that?"

you blinked, caught off guard by the question. "what?"

"don't play dumb," he said, his eyes narrowing slightly. "you think i don't notice? every time. you look at me like..." he trailed off, his jaw tightening, like he was angry at himself for even bringing it up.

your stomach dropped. you had tried so hard to be subtle, to hide it. but of course, peter had noticed. he noticed everything. "i don't—" you began to deny it, but the words felt hollow, false.

peter took a step closer, his voice low, as if he were sharing a secret meant only for you. "i didn't want to love you, you know." his eyes locked onto yours, intense and unwavering, holding you in place.

"isn't that what this is about?" he asked, his tone sharper now, frustration creeping in. "if you don't like me, you don't have to be all amity about it."

the world seemed to tilt beneath your feet, his words crackling in the air like electricity. your breath caught in your throat, heart pounding as your mind raced to catch up. love? you could barely process anything beyond that.

"w-what?" you stammered, feeling foolish for not hearing anything else he'd said. the butterflies in your stomach fluttered wildly, your pulse quickening as his closeness made everything else fade away. nothing seemed real except for him—standing just inches from you, his words still echoing in your ears.

he ran a hand through his hair, looking frustrated, like he was fighting some internal battle he couldn't win. his jaw clenched, and for a moment, you thought he might just turn and leave. but instead, he continued, his voice rougher, more raw. "it's not like i wanted to like you," he said, his words stumbling out like he'd been holding them back for too long. "but then you smiled at me. and—holy shit, i blew it."

you blinked, trying to take in what he was saying, but before you could respond, he barreled on, clearly on edge. "and now you look at me like you hate me. i mean, why wouldn't you? everyone else does. i've been a total asshole, but at least they've got the guts to show it. but you—you're too... too nice to show it." his voice softened for a moment, the vulnerability in his eyes surprising you. "so, now you're just pretending to be nice, pretending to not hate me by staying away from me. but i need you to know, i didn't want this. i didn't want to like you, but now—"

he broke off, frustration radiating off him, his hands clenching into fists at his sides. "now i can't stop thinking about you, and it's driving me crazy." he really didn't want you to hate him.

you stood there, your heart swelling at the sight of him—peter hayes, always so tough and unfeeling—so undone in front of you. he thought you hated him? the idea almost made you laugh, but instead, a warmth spread through you, something gentle and tender.

without thinking, you let out a soft laugh, the sound surprising even you. his eyes snapped to yours, confusion flashing across his face. "what? what's so funny?"

"you," you said softly, stepping closer, your fingers hesitantly reaching up to cup his face, the warmth of his skin against your palms making your heart race. his breath hitched, and for the first time, you saw the cracks in his defensive walls—he was flustered.

his eyes widened, his tough demeanor faltering as he stood frozen under your touch. instinctively, he brought his hands to your hips, shy and uncertain.

you smiled, feeling more at ease now, more sure of yourself. "i love you too, hayes," you whispered, keeping him close, your thumbs brushing lightly across his cheeks and you couldn't help but admire the way his eyes smile before his lips.

for a moment, he just stared at you, like he couldn't believe what he was hearing. then, slowly, the tension in his shoulders eased, his lips parting slightly as he exhaled a shaky breath.

"you do?" he asked, his voice almost vulnerable, the usual bite gone.

and just like that, the walls he'd built so high around himself crumbled.

you nodded, your voice soft. "i do."

[effystnoem]

I never thought I’d be writing Divergent fan fiction in 2024 but I’m bored and recently rewatched the movies so! Also has anyone noticed there’s a real lack of peter fanfic? Am I the only one who loves an extreme enemies to lovers?

Anyway! If y’all like enemies to lovers, slow burn, and drama for no reason at all then check it out <3