#divergentau

[elliotsblunt]

Awaken Me | Tobias Eaton

pairings — four/reader | divergent au! |

summary : four seems to pick on you especially—and you figure out why. it’s because you both share the same secret.

warnings : none i think?

authors note : i forgot about this and decided to upload it even tho it’s unfinished…

© elliotsblunt 2022. do not repost, modify, or translate.

Your eyes burned slightly as you blinked away tears, confused as to why you couldn't find that certain...

Anger.

Wren, a curly haired blonde that belonged in Amity—somehow landed in Dauntless. But during combat, her frail arms would summon the strength of twice the muscle capacity she contains. If you hadn't seen her flip a man twice her size over her figure—

You wouldn't have believed it.

Anyways, Wren had told you that she had reached that certain level of fighting simply by thinking of what angered her most. The the thing was, nothing horrible had happened to you.

You were born and raised in Amity, where the crime rate remained a negative 0–if that were possible, it would be rated just that.

Your ma and pa sheltered you, as you were their only child. You were also extremely close with them, but after getting your screen test back—it was time to begin a new chapter in your life. One that would drag and smash you to the ground like a bug.

Which is what happened now—basically.

Gritting your teeth, you rolled over to dodge one of your opponents lashes. Fortunately, the girl wasn't a merciless bitch, and let you stand up whilst getting back into position. With shaky fists, you gulped, muttering a quick curse before her own swung towards your chin.

But—

The beating never came. The throbbing rush of warm blood thrashing in your veins never crashed. Your jaw was in tact, and you weren't flopped on the ground like a beaten animal.

Your eyes snapped open, flashing over to the strong hand wrapped around Turner's wrist. Turner, the girl you were fighting, gulped as she stood back from Four. His chest radiated of a warm essence that burnt your cheeks—especially with the smirk dripping off his face.

"Turner," he released her grip, not glancing at you, "It appears the Mary Poppins hasn't improved. Isn't fair to you, is it?"

Your throat went dry, remembering how much of a total prick he was. At first, you thought he was hot, so you deemed him to maybe be a good person. But after you figured one of his life goals was to torment and embarrass you—you checked your values and common sense.

His eyes were dark, but still weren't ever fluttered onto your figure—almost as if he didn't even want to look at you. It damaged your confidence more, knowing you were probably going to be factionless if you didn't shape up soon.

Turner only shrugged, dropping her arm back to her side before placing both hands on her hips. She raised a brow at you as you let out a sharp breath, wiping the imaginary dust off your palms before looking down at the ground and stepping off the fighting podium.

Your ears ring as her blows caused you some damage. Chewing on your bottom lip, you held back your defeated thoughts as Wren threw an arm around your shoulder,

"It's okay. I got a few beat downs my first year here. It gets better," she attempted to cheer you up. You merely hummed as she continued, "Anger, _ _. That's what powers you. You need—“

“I know,” you snapped, stopping your feet before rolling your eyes at her, “I know. But I’m not an angry person, and I’m shit at fighting.”

Her eyes narrowed, “Pity isn’t what makes you a Dauntless, _ _,” she stepped towards you, poking a nimble finger into your heart, “So instead of whining, kid, maybe you should just stop thinking and fight.”

Slowly nodding, you stood there as she headed over to the cafeteria for lunch. You noticed that the boxing bag area was empty—and it clicked in your head what Wren said.

Fight.

Bringing your fists up, you got into a fighting stance and threw your first punch. With gritted teeth, you felt the material bruise up your knuckles—but you wanted to feel it. Feel the pain. If you couldn’t feel the pain, then pity would just Pool around in your chest instead.

And you hated pity.

Hissing as you retracted your first, you did it again. Then repeated on the other fist. Every time the cool leather collided with your knuckles, it sent a sharp pain up your hand. But you stood through it, until the next time you swung, you didn’t realize the bag had made its own hit towards you—swinging and hitting your body with a harsh force.

Letting out a grunt, your body slammed into the cold cement of the training sector. Your ribs ached as you didn’t twitch to get up, instead accepting that you were going to be factionless if you didn’t get back up.

Get back up, _ _. You have to.

Sweat dribbled down your forehead as you landed another punch to the bag. You made it a mission to skip lunch so you could train, because you'd rather starve than be factionless. Breathing harshly through your teeth, you felt the muscles slightly tense in your arms.

"Mary poppins hasn't improved, has she?"

You felt your lip curl as you delivered another brutal hit, finally taking victory in the bag. You released a grunt as your fists kept colliding with it.

You were going to show that stuck up son of a—

"You're supposed to eat in order to gain muscle. Didn't teach you that back in Amity, huh?" You heard a voice quip, a deep and gravelly voice.

Jumping from surprise, your head snapped over to see Four leaning against one of the bags. His eyes were focused on you, smoky and stormy. You looked away from him instantly, but kept your focus on him, "Skipping lunch won't make you a Dauntles—"

"If someone tells me one more time what does or doesn't make me a Dauntless, I might just fucking shoot myself," you raised your voice, feeling the patience that usually you held snapped like a tree branch. Four's eyes stayed narrowed as he now crossed his arms, the muscles protruding from that caramel, ink covered skin of his.

You gulped, "I meant—"

He stood up straight, a smirk creeping into his plump, pink lips as he stepped towards you, "You're nothing but a farmer. You cannot train remotely enough to become one of us," he hissed, venom laced in his words. Something swirled in his eyes, making your jaw lock,

"You don't have anger. You have self pity, and Dauntless don't pity themselves. They fight, and are willing to give up their life for people. How can you fight others when you're fighting yourself already?"

You blinked, feeling anger begin to rise within you. It was a foreign feeling—but you didn't hate it. If anything, your veins welcomed the poisonous rage, but you bit your tongue.

Four laughed darkly, "You can't even speak up for yourself. Surely, you should go back to those farmers," he continued, making your fists balled up at your sides. As he continued to degrade you and your home, well— people who used to be your home, it rose.

The anger rose. It felt as the ground begun to shake, sudden flashes of all the combat you had witnessed before your eyes playing like a rapid slideshow in your mind. The cracks of the bones whenever someone would slip their foot beneath someone—breaking their balance.

Your eyes flickered up to his. He paused right before you, the scent of cologne filling your nose as your chest heaved deeply. Every sense of angst within you was on fire as he tilted his head.

"You don't belong here. But I doubt you'll be able to go home, since your parents disow—"

Your foot slipped under him, trapping him to the ground with a grunt from him. Your teeth clenched as you aimed to punch him, but he immediately snapped his eyes into yours. With furrowed brows, he grabbed your wrist and striked your leg with a harsh kick.

Your knee buckled, a bullet of pain shooting through your muscles. The cold concrete pavement of the training sector burned the flesh on your cheek, ears ringing as a dull ache formed in your back from the landing.

“C’mon, _ _,” Four chuckled, more so in a tiresome way than a tormenting tone. His chest heaved as I blinked, “Get up. Don’t give up now.”

It clicked. Was he…training you?

A boost if adrenaline shot through you. He believed in you. That was the push you needed to balance your wobbling arms off the ground, barely being able to push your body—but you did. Your fists balked at your sides as you gulped, accidentally melting into his cold eyes.

They weren’t as cold, though. As if the ice had slightly melted—but there was still another thick layer.

“Fighting is a dance,” he murmured firmly, grabbing your arm and spinning you around. You let out a harsh breathe as he held your back against his chest, before roughly pushing you away. You hit one of the punching backs, grunting as he smirked, “Until it’s not.”

“Can’t imagine dancing with you,” your eyes narrowed—only making his smirk grow.

But you didn’t hear a response, instead your eyes noticed he was about to take a step forward. Then, you watched his arm twitch—ducking before delivering a jab to his side. He flinched, which broke the barrier, and you didn’t wait to kick him down to the ground.

With a loud thud, you watched as his braid figure slammed against the ground. Picking up your feet, you darted towards him. Every single insult he’d ever thrown at you replayed in your head. He was trying to anger you.

Did he perhaps…care?

Sliding your knee across the ground, you grabbed both of his hands and held him down. Your hair fell over your face, panting deeply, as you used the rest of your strength to fight off his. His hues twitched to yours, something flashing in his eyes as they met yours.

Your throat became dry. Butterflies erupted in your tummy, a warm feeling hugging your heart.

Feeling the cheeks in your face burn—you felt the world slowly silence around you as your eyes melted onto his. You didn’t know if it was your imagination, or the adrenaline pumping in your veins—but you swore you felt his long fingers slowly graze your thigh.

Wait—

How did they get fre—

And in an instant, you were flipped into the ground. His strong hands held you down, gripping your wrist, as his muscular chest held down yours. Bodies pressed against one another, his grunts filling your ears…it was truly a sight.

A musky scent flooded your senses as you felt like you were high, wanting to reach out and touch that sculpted jaw of his. The stubble poking from his skin is probably scratchy against your palm, but his flesh still looked smooth and supple.

Despite his appearance coming off ragged and rough.

“That’s how you fight like a Dauntless,” He taunted darkly, making your brows raise in shock, “You’ll do just fine in ranks if you uh—“

His eyes fluttered to your lips, before he gulped and squeezed his eyes shut. He pushed himself off the floor, away from you, before dusting off his pants, “You should do just fine, _ _.”

Before you could say anything, he cleared his throat and made his exit.

[of-knights-and-magi]

Ask Box: Grinnaux

ULTIMATE SHIP MEME - SEND MY CHARACTER A ❤ AND I’LL FILL IN THE FORM OF WHAT MY CHARACTER WOULD DO WITH YOURS. ADAPTED FOR XIV.

BOLD YOUR CHOICES

Affectionate; Platonic Hugs | Greeting Hugs | Holding hands | Cheek kisses | Hugs from behind | Cuddling | Hand kiss | PDA | Spooning | Shared baths | Whispers | Affectionate letters | Caressing | Stroke hair | Foot rubs | Massages | Braid/Comb hair | Take care of if sick | Platonic Snuggles | Romantic Snuggles | Forehead kisses | Noseboops | No displays of affection

Sex; | One night stand | Shower sex | Wall sex | Quickie | Neck bites | Possessive Markings | Oral | Mutual kink exploration | Morning sex | Drunk sex | Forbidden (cheating) sex | Public sex | Drug-fueled sex | Back of a wagon in motion | BDSM | Threesome | No sex | {Maybe one day}

Dates; Picnic | Theater | Restaurant | Fighting Tournament | Hike | Coffee | Museum | Club | Bar | Beach | Concert | Park | City Trip | Boat ride on a lake | Fishing | Hunting | Home cooked meal & cuddles | Burlesque | Fancy Restaurant | Adventuring | No dates

Would my character…

Be the first one to ask them out? Yes | No Confess their attraction first? Yes | No Have sex on the first date? Yes | No Lie to them? Yes | No Fail to show for a date? Yes | No Cuddle after sex? Yes | No {if it happened, then yes.} Marry them? Yes | No | Maybe Bail at the altar? Yes | No Live till old age with them? Yes | No | Maybe Cheat on them? Yes | No Have children/adopt? Yes | No | Maybe Die for them? Yes | No

[threeminutesoflife]

Quarantined Tag Game

Rules:

The last celeb you have saved in your camera roll is who you’ll be quarantined with::

Tagged by the illustrious ladies @sapphirescrolls and @titty-teetee❣️(I shortened the post🪓🤓🙇‍♀️)

———

WIP for SD’s challenge, a DivergentAU so::

Tagging: @sophiria @kquel12 @the-soulofdevil

[cicerosxphilosophy-archive-blog]

        " See something you l i k e? "

[dulcetweeb]

Divergent AU where different factions are allowed to mingle and date

•a dauntless guy having to watch his tone around his amity girlfriend so that she doesn't get hurt •an abnegation and an erudite having to keep their love a secret •a candor having to think before she speaks whenever she visits her abnegation boyfriend's family •an amity girl who's into dauntless bad boys •an erudite and a candor constantly having heated debates God i need this

[openxwounded]

ᴏᴘᴘᴏsɪᴛɪᴏɴ ᴀʟʟ ᴀʀᴏᴜɴᴅ ☾ haleinheels

        A smile tugs at the corners of Melissa’s lips, constant and lively, though Scott knows that what is good cannot last that long. He is, however, the source of its existance. The only one remaining. On the day of the aptitude tests, here he stands, back straightened and eyes gauging the person reflecting from the mirror in front of him. His hair is shorter; locks of brown and curly hair do not fall onto his eyes anymore or cover his forehead. For the first time in what seemed like a long time, his grey pants don’t hang low on his hips — his mother made sure of that. However, judging by the sleeves of his shirt — which reach his fingertips — and they way it fails to curve along the lines of his body, Melissa did not touch this item of clothing. If it was one thing his faction did not allow, it was self-indulgence. Unfortunately, nicer clothes fall under that umbrella.

        With a kiss on his forehead, the woman bids goodbye to her only son. Awareness slowly settles in.  You can never fail a test that does not ensure the path of your fate. Yet, on the drive to school, the teen keeps rubbing his hands together, clenching and unclenching his fists — anything to get rid of the constant sweating of his palms. He hasn’t had any trouble finding control over his emotions until now. Then again, you never really expect a calamity to happen until it is too late to prevent it. Maybe he is exaggerating. Melissa is his only family left. And once you leave your faction, there is no turning back to it. Whatever happens, Scott cannot run from this path. 

        At lunch, he feels like might throw up. There wouldn’t be any negative reactions to this if there wasn’t even the slightest of hints that he is aware of. He’s never really belonged in Abnegation. There are times he has his outbursts, though Melissa insists they come with age. There is the need for knowledge, which always leads to leverage; being in top. Abnegation does not endorse that. The departure of his father had left him a quiet child, never wildly keen on social interactions. Too much attention directed at him never ends well. Neither does too much goodness.

        Scott doesn’t bother sitting next to other Abnegation-born teenagers or looking at those from other factions, scattered around the cafeteria. He saves the time to think. What does the ounce of Abnegation in him tell him to do? Choose Abnegation, don’t disappoint your mother. But his heart? Leave it. Leave your faction. Don’t disappoint your mother. Having such thoughts is another indicator. He shouldn’t be having second thoughts. He should act as taught. No room for playing for time. Slowly and gradually, the room starts to clear out — those who have already gone through the test and have left home. There are those who remain, but very few. They aren’t allowed to linger and talk about the results.

        Then, his name is called. Then everything Scott does is managed because he knows the drill. That’s what he’s supposed to do. His mind and heart are still at his lunch table, in his seat.

[elliotsblunt]

awaken me | four

pairings — four/reader | divergent au! |

summary : four seems to pick on you especially—and you figure out why. it’s because you both share the same secret.

warnings :

authors note :

COMING SOON❗️❗️❗️

[of-knights-and-magi]

[of-knights-and-magi]

Seeing Red

It had been a few days since the bull had last spoken to his beloved, nearly a week. He had been unable to find him. Nearly a week of constantly trying to use a ring that didn’t work, trying to call to a man that did not answer. To say that the bull was worried was an understatement, his fears driving him to rash decisions overall, Barely eating, Barely drinking and hardly sleeping as he checked every other of his lover’s known haunts, returning time and again to his beloved’s locked apartment, to no answer, and no lights within. This time however, something was different, amiss. The door was unlocked, slightly ajar and there were Maelstrom guards all over the place. Signs of a struggle were obvious through-out the small space. Sign of magic and weapon both having been used, as well as the broken bits of a vial on the ground, and it smelled stale, old metal.. rust.. dried.

The guards tried to block his entry until the Topmast owner shook his head, muttering something about the bull under his breath to one of the large Roe, who let him pass. The scene that greeted him within… The sheer amount of blood.. it was everywhere… the eye patch he had given his lover special, soaked with that selfsame blood on the floor…

No.. No this wasn’t.. this wasn’t happening…

Stampede lay in the middle of the pool.. Confused, he reached back over his shoulder, drawing the axe he had been carrying with him. a replica.. glamoured… not his own.. Throwing it to the side, the glamour broke, leaving the simple double bearded axe embedded into the wall.  Kneeling in the dried, coagulated mess, his fingertips traced Stampede, his eyes narrowing at the symbol he found on her head. Crudely drawn, in the shape of a symbol he once wore with pride… in blood… Snatching up the axe, and eye-patch, he -growled-.

“DON’T TOUCH ME. DON’T LOOK AT ME. DON’T GET IN MY WAY.” his eyes flaring red as the words hissed out. One of the maelstrom attempted to step in his way, a hyur, who was quickly dragged out of the way by a sea wolf marauder. He knew that look.. and there was no way this was their criminal.. not when he looked like that.

The group of guards watched the man storm off into the night, a thick fog rolling in from the ocean, as rain began to fall. It would wash away the blood from his axe, but very little more. The bull saw red… and knew no more.

Someone was going to pay… and right now… HE DIDN’T CARE WHO.

[of-knights-and-magi]

Ask Box: Grinnaux

Grinnaux blinked, looking over the contents of the box with some confusion. They had come to his personal quarters or he might have thought it was meant for someone else, despite who it was addressed to.

Setting the box on his desk, he sat back in the chair, his open journal still resting there as he contemplated the box. It could be poisoned. It could be cursed. There were any number of reasons for someone who could have actually afforded it to send ‘treats’ to him.. and none of them were good.. not in his head anyway.

He sighed, bowing his head, and closing his eyes, before shaking his head, shutting the book, grabbing his axe, and leaving his quarters, and the mysterious, confusing gift behind on his desk. He did wonder who left it,  he did… but there were other things to worry about than nostalgia and wishes for something more …. soft… The Bishop was calling.. and he had to answer.

Little did he know… he wouldn’t be coming back.

[of-knights-and-magi]

Ask Box: Grinnaux

“Are you not? You should be.” The marauder was leaning over their new comrade as Charibert wandered from the room, a sly smirk sliding it’s way across his face. “But do tell me, Fortemps... what do you ~fear~?”

One gauntlet-ed hand slid down into the kneeling man’s loose hair, before drawing him to his feet by it with a low growl. “What makes you cry in the night? What makes you shake, break… turn and run? Because whatever it is? Grow. Stronger. Fight Harder. Never Run. Never break. Do not be -weak- like the fools below. You are of us now. You will not drag us down. You -will- succeed. Or I will kill you myself.”

Grinnaux turned the lordling loose, his sneer still written across those darkened lips, violet eyes piercing into Artoirel. “Do we have an understanding?” Slinging his axe over his shoulder, he turned to go. “Thus ends this .. lesson..”