#peter insurgent

[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."

[riotinyellow]

i would like to confess my sins.

As a young 10 year old, my parents bought me the divergent series before the Hunger Games, so needless to say, i was a divergent nerd first

Obviously, when I turned twelve and read the Hunger games and began to understand what good world building looks like, I denounced the divergent ways.

That doesn't mean I am not still embarrassed over the fact that at some point, I thought divergent was peak literature

[shhkm4]

credits: found it on pinterest so, srry

[bearbonespdf]

Caleb and Peter from Divergent are my blorbos actually. I feel like if I pushed Caleb off a building he'd splat like a Rhode Island Novelty 2.5" Splat Pig Squeeze Toy, if I pushed Peter he'd leave a comically person-shaped hole in the ground. I love them both I want them both dead in different ways.

[jeaninesfavouriteserum]

"Do you ever think about how it's so hard to find a constant sense of identity outside of what the world constantly throws at them, and that's why so many people just lack one?"

"...no."

-jeanine matthews and peter hayes

[cup1d-ends-here]

Peter x Curvy! Reader | Toxic💀

Prompt: Peter just won’t leave you alone and sometimes desperate times call for desperate measures.

Genre: Smut, angst

Warnings: Swearing, sir kink, sexual harassment, Peter just being an all-round dick

I had just finished dinner and I made my way to my bed. I chucked your shoes carelessly on the bed and started getting ready to train for a bit. I slipped off your pants quickly and replaced them with some black exercise shorts. As I tugged them on, I noticed they were fairly tight and I groaned.

‘I’ll buy a new pair another day,’ I mentally noted and shrugged my jacket off my shoulders. I pulled off the tank top underneath and was left in a black sports bra. “It’ll do,” I whispered to myself and put some bandage tape on my wrists, knuckles, ankles and feet. I chucked my towel over my shoulder and a flood of initiates came into the room. I spotted Tris, Christina and Will. “Hey!” I exclaimed. “Anyone wanna train for a bit?”

“Sorry (Y/N), Tris and I are gonna rest for a bit. My back’s killing me,” Christina said and Tris smiled sadly.

“I’ll go,” Will chirped and I smiled.

“I’ll wait outside,” I informed him and made my way out the door.

                                          ┈┈┈┈․° ☣ °․┈┈┈┈

I leaned against the rocky walls of the hallways, minding the rarity of the calm atmosphere. The peace was broken when I heard laughing and loud footsteps. I glanced up and rolled my eyes. Peter. I could feel him noticed me and he walked over to me, pushing his ‘friends’ away. He leaned his shoulder against the wall, facing me. I felt his eyes scan my body and I felt grossed out. 

“Lookin’ good, Stiff,” He smirks and his friends snort. I turn my head away from him and he moves closer to me. He leans his face close to my neck and I feel his breath feather across it. I moved my hand quickly to slap him in the face but he caught my wrist. I gasped and he forced my wrist to the wall and pressed it into the rock. 

“Ow,” I involuntarily breathed out and he smirked. He did the same to my other wrist then brought them together with one hand.

“That’s not very Abnegation of you, Princess,” He tutted and I scoffed.

“Well, maybe it’s because I’m Dauntless,” I spat. He sighed and ran his hand across my cheek, down the sides of my ribcage and then he placed it on my waist.

“If you were truly Dauntless then you wouldn’t be letting me do this,” He smirked sadistically and groped my ass. I chewed on my lip out of frustration.

“Who said I am?” I growled and kneed him where the sun doesn’t shine. He winced and growled.

“Nice try, Stiff but it’ll take more than your weak attempts to get my hands off of you,” He teased. No one I have ever encountered has the ability to make me feel so vulnerable and weak. My knees shook and my heart was beating so fast I felt as if it was trying to escape. His hand returned to my waist. I placed my foot on the wall and took in a quick breath. I propelled myself off the wall and kicked Peter in the face with my other foot. He dropped my wrists and stumbled backwards.

“Bitch!” He yelled through gritted teeth. He touched his nose and his eyes widened at the blood on his fingers. I turned to him and gave him the middle finger then walked back into the initiates rooms to try and find Will.

                                           ┈┈┈┈․° ☣ °․┈┈┈┈

I found Will frantically searching his bed for something. He was tearing off sheets and chucking clothes everywhere.

“Will!” I called and he stopped whatever it was he was doing. “What are you doing?” I laughed and he scratched his head sheepishly.

“I’m trying to find my towel,” He said and I laughed and hit his chest lightly and started walking back out the door.

“Just use mine,” I said and chucked my towel over my shoulder and it landed on his face. He jogged to me and we entered the hallway where the previous events happened. Peter had his arm extended on the wall and Molly was dabbing a white cloth soaked with his blood on his nose. Will’s eyes widened and he giggled. He leaned close to me.

“What do you think happened to him?” Will grinned and I chuckled.

“I’ll tell ya later.” My eyes made contact with Peter’s and he pushed Molly off of him in a furious rage. I looked at him like a deer in headlights and he was about to tackle me when Will pushed Peter away.

“Piss off!” Will yelled and wrapped an arm around me. I looked at Will and tugged on his shirt, bringing his attention from Peter to me.

“Let’s just go,” I said flatly and he nodded. 

“Asshole,” Will muttered under his breath.

                                          ┈┈┈┈․° ☣ °․┈┈┈┈

[shutupthepunx111]

I wrote and finished a short drabble I can't believe it's fucking Divergent

Summary:

Set as the gang is escaping Dauntless soldiers in Amity (Insurgent). Short and sweet attempted character work.

[slashingdisneypasta]

"It's 9.24."

Telling me the time is a small act of betrayal- and therefore an ordinary act of bravery.

It is maybe the first time I've seen Peter be truly Dauntless.

- Tris Prior, Insurgent (By: Veronica Roth)

[liopleurodean]

THE WAY THAT MILES TELLER HAS THE ONLY F-BOMB IN INSURGENT LIKE

[miles-alexander-teller]

[bleggmoe-blog]

Peter Hayes x AU.

A story about a erudite sick girl, who falls for an uncanny candor.

Divergent Movie Fanfic

[mykidneysbuddy]

does anyone else really like peter from the divergent books or is it just me (JUST FROM THE BOOKS NOT THE MOVIES I HAVE NEVER SEEN THE MOVIES AND I NEVER PLAN TO)

[starker-sorbet]

Mercenary Tony taking on a contract to find the known insurgent known only as the spider. And after an intense chase and fight he soon had his mark bound on his ship to be dropped off as soon as they get back to civilisation Only soon Tony finds himself falling for the younger man as they talk on the long space flight home as he starts to think that the reasons behind the others bounty aren't as simple as the authorities make it seem. And that maybe he should let Peter go before they make it back to colony. Or maybe the Spider is as devious and silver tongued as they say and the hardened merc had found himself tangled in the others web.

[whencyclopedia]

Thermidorian Reaction

The Thermidorian Reaction refers to the period of the French Revolution (1789-1799) between the fall of Maximilien Robespierre on 27-28 July 1794 and the establishment of the French Directory on 2 November 1795. The Thermidorians abandoned radical Jacobin policies in favor of conservative ones, seeking the restoration of a stable constitutional government and economic liberalism.

The Thermidorians came to power by conspiring against and overthrowing Maximilien Robespierre (1758-1794). After his execution, the Thermidorian regime set about dismantling the Reign of Terror by purging the Jacobins from positions of power and by violently suppressing their ideology in the First White Terror. Their efforts to return stability to France resulted in pursuance of conservative policies reminiscent of earlier phases of the Revolution; they restored freedom of religion, reintroduced free market capitalism, and allowed the return of some aristocratic émigrés into France, leading to a rise in openly royalist sentiment. These policies were met with mixed success.

The new regime was generally unpopular with the French people, who faced increased rates of poverty and starvation during the 15 months of Thermidorian rule. This led to multiple attempted coups, the most significant of which was the Uprising of 1 Prairial Year III (20 May 1795), in which insurgents demanded bread and the adoption of the dormant constitution of 1793, which had been written by the Jacobins. After the uprising had petered out, the Thermidorians wrote their own constitution of Year III (1795), which established the French National Directory.

Thermidorians

The name 'Thermidorians', ascribed to the conspirators against the Robespierrist regime, is derived from the mid-summer month of Thermidor in the French Republican calendar, during which the coup took place. Though possessing a shared distaste for Robespierre, the Thermidorians had little else in common. Some of them had been willing and enthusiastic participants of the Terror before they had run afoul of Robespierre and needed to be rid of him to save their own skins. Others had detested the Terror from the start and had been eager to bring it down. Many were conservative republicans who represented the centrist mass of Convention deputies known as the 'Plain', who desired to turn back the clock to the way the Revolution had been in 1792, pre-Terror; others wished to go back further, seeking a second attempt at constitutional monarchy, as in 1791.

This lack of consensus, as well as the absence of dominating personalities to rally behind, contributed to the ineffectiveness and unpopularity of the Thermidorian Convention. The lackluster success of their policies has certainly marred the Thermidorians' legacy. Their detractors viewed them as an unremarkable interlude between Robespierre and Napoleon at best; at worst, they were the gravediggers of their own Revolution, one-time revolutionaries seduced and corrupted by the heights of power. This latter context was used by Leon Trotsky in his 1937 book The Revolution Betrayed, in which he refers to the rise of Joseph Stalin as a Soviet Thermidor.

While there may be elements of truth to these claims, historian Bronisław Baczko asserts that the Thermidorians were merely being realistic. The Revolution, having lost much of its momentum, grew closer to succumbing to fatigue with every month. It was becoming clearer that the Revolution could no longer live up to the promises made in 1789. Therefore, rather than willfully burying the Revolution, Baczko argues that the Thermidorians realized these limitations and simply did their best to work around them. After the violence of the Terror, many French people desired stability over revolutionary progress, which the Thermidorians attempted to give them. In either case, the period of the Thermidorian Reaction marked a counter-revolution of sorts, moving away from the radical progress of the Jacobins and back toward stable conservatism.

Continue reading...

[jeaninesfavouriteserum]

peter, to eric: hey, what'll i get if i can throw this petridish between jeanine's tits?

jeanine, overhearing: a concussion.