Latest Posts by sad-girl-autumn-version - Page 4

this person's colleague was forcibly removed from the press room for asking about the biden administration's war crimes like three days ago... but their reasoning is they didn't get enough attention. okay.

We don't hate reporters enough imo

writing? oh, i’m definitely writing. in my head. during the most inconvenient times. like in the shower or when i’m about to fall asleep. actual typing? no, no, we don’t do that here.

taking a nap on top of a big man could fix me

I may not go down in history but I’ll go down on you

Summary: You become a regular at the restaurant and catch Richie’s eye.

You walk into the restaurant during the dinner rush. This is your fifth time coming in since you discovered this place. It’s a bit chaotic but in oddly weird way it’s comforting. You go up to the counter to place an order for a beef sandwich when someone cuts in front of you. You’re not really one for confrontation so you’re just going to leave it be.

Richie however noticed what happened and points to you and says, “Sweetheart, you want your usual?”

The person who cut in front of you starts to protest saying they’re next but Richie cuts them off. He looks at you and says, “Beef sandwich right?”

You nod. “Yeah. Um, yes please.”

Richie then looks at the person who cut you, “I don’t like people who think they’re more important than others. Now what can I get you?”

You move to the side and pull out your phone as you wait for your order. After Richie is done taking a couple more orders he leans on the counter by you and smirks. “You’re becoming a regular here. Is it the food or my charm?”

You put your phone away and look up at him. “A little bit of both.” You smile as you watch his reaction, which is a bit surprised and impressed.

Richie nods. “I knew it.” He slides your bag across the counter. “Enjoy.”

You take your bag and find a seat. As you eat, you steal some glances at Richie who seems to be doing the same thing to you. When you stand to head out Richie calls out to you, “See you later darling.” You give him a smile and a short wave as you walk out the door.

————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————

The time you stop by next you show a bit of your clumsy side. As you walk down the sidewalk heading towards the restaurant, you trip on an uneven part of the sidewalk. You go down hard. “Ow.” You look at your elbow, which has a trickle of blood.

“Hey! You good?” You look up to see Richie walking up to you. When he reaches you he holds his hand out to help you stand. “You pick a fight with the sidewalk?”

You let out a short laugh. “Something like that.” You hiss as you straightened out you arm. Richie sees your elbow and frowns.

He takes your arm and inspects the damage. “Doesn’t seem too bad, but we need to clean this up.”

“We?” You say as Richie leads you to the restaurant.

“Yeah, we. I take care of my regulars.” He leads you to the back of the restaurant and takes out a first aide kit. “This might sting.” He takes some antiseptic spray and sprays your elbow. You try to hide your flinch but Richie catches it. “Sorry. Almost done sweetheart.” He takes a bandaid and places it on your elbow. “There. Good as new.”

“Thanks. You didn’t have to help, but it’s appreciated.”

“No problem. Anything for one of my favorites.” Richie leads you to the front of the restaurant. “Want your usual? It’s on the house since you almost risked your life getting here.”

You laugh. “Sure. That’s sweet of you.”

He waves you off. “Keep that to yourself. I got a reputation to uphold here. Find a spot I’ll bring it out to you when it’s ready,” You nod and find a booth in the corner. A few minutes later Richie brings you your sandwich, “Enjoy.” He goes back to work behind the counter, glancing over at you several times making sure you’re good. When you stand to head out you hear him call after you, “Stay safe out there. Don’t want to dig out the first aide kit again.” You shake your head and wave as you walk out of the restaurant.

I will burn the House of Mouse to the ground if he is harmed.

I have a few but take your time on these!

Tony Stark x Female Reader // The reader gets injured on a mission and tony freaks out which causes the team to have to calm him down, but you end up being okay.

Newt x Reader (TMR) // The reader gets the flare but so does her brother minho and newt panics

Eric Coulter x Reader // Christina talks about the reader in a bad way to Eric challenges her

this was fun! btw i already wrote the tony stark one and the newt one, which are linked in my masterlist!

masterlist

It’s empty in Dauntless this time of night, so late (or perhaps so early) that even the most tenured partygoers have all retreated to their rooms to wait until morning. The only person Eric can see is himself, his only company the vague shape of his shadow keeping pace next to him.

Then again, maybe he’s not the only one up. As Eric walks, he sees a silhouette through an open door somewhere to his left. There’s a figure outside, staring out at the city as it sleeps.

Eric is inclined to pay this person no mind and continue on heading home, but as he draws closer he realizes he recognizes the figure as one of his initiates. Well, that settles it- initiates aren’t supposed to be out of bed at this hour, and if someone else catches them, it’ll be on Eric’s head for sure because he didn’t train them right or something.

Holding back a sigh, he walks over to the door and slips outside. The night air is cool even compared to the usual brisk chill of the Dauntless corridors, making Eric shiver in spite of himself. red to the chilled halls of Dauntless, and Eric shivers in spite of himself. He raises his voice, calling out to the girl leaning over a haphazard iron balcony.

“Initiates have a curfew, you know.”

The girl laughs, he can tell from the shake of her shoulders, although the sound of it is ripped away by the wind.

“Are you going to knock me down in the rankings if I stay?”

The girl turns at last, and Eric fights back a curse, because he finally recognizes her and it’s Y/N of all people. Y/N, the one person who keeps making him doubt himself, the girl who laughs like nothing he’s ever heard before, who makes Eric want to be better than he already is. If he was smart, Eric would have kept walking and never stopped by this door, because he’s been looking for an excuse to pretend he doesn’t have feelings for a while now and this just blew all that away.

It’s just- well, Eric’s not the type to have picture-perfect moments, except for maybe when he wins yet another round in the ring and looks up to see his knuckles splashed with red, the whole world gone black and white except for those dots of scarlet. Yet when Y/N looks at him, her eyes almost glowing from the stars, the wind lightly twisting around her hair and skin in ways that Eric wishes he could, he realizes that he can’t run, not from this. Not from her.

Y/N cocks her head to the side, and Eric realizes belatedly that she’d asked him a question. He doesn’t know how long he’s been staring, but he needs to stop now. It’s a shame that’s far harder to do than he’d originally thought.

He clears his throat sharply, hoping his infatuation isn’t as obvious to Y/N as it is to him.

“Maybe I will. The rules are here for a reason, you know.”

It’s a stupid response, but Eric can’t convince the receptors in his brain to focus long enough to form a better thought. They’re just stuck in the same loops of Y/N’s smile, the curve of her skin under the dark night sky, the way it’s just the two of them out here. He couldn’t look away if he tried.

Y/N just shrugs, though. “I’ve followed the other rules. Besides, no one needs to know if you don’t tell them.”

Secrets. Eric can’t help but wish they could break one more. “What’s out here that would be so interesting, anyway? I thought initiation was hard enough for everybody that you’d be asleep with the rest.”

Y/N turns back to the landscape unrolling before her. “I couldn’t sleep, who knows why. Besides, I like seeing the city from this angle. For some reason, it’s totally different from how it was back in my old faction.”

This makes Eric curious. He’s grown used to the city, used to knowing which buildings are full of light and which are just crumbling wrecks, long since abandoned by everyone except the factionless. He wishes he could look at the world in the same way Y/N does, like everything is new and worth loving. He wishes she would look at him like that, too.

Y/N smiles, considering the tiny pinpricks of light making up the city they call home. “It’s beautiful, isn’t it?”

Eric nods slowly. “Yes, it is.” He isn’t looking at the city, though. He hasn’t once been able to take his eyes off of her.

At last, Y/N sighs reluctantly, pushing away from the balcony until she’s facing him again. “Alright, I got the message. Heading back to the initiate bunks now.”

Some part of Eric is vaguely disappointed by this, like he would have loved to spend hours out here lost in thought with her, but he can’t exactly vocalize that now, so he just follows her back into the Dauntless complex.

“I can walk you back, if you like.”

Y/N arches a brow at the statement, although she doesn’t seem put off by it. “What, worried about me getting lost?”

Eric shakes his head. “I’ve seen enough initiates get taken out while they were walking around at night. It wouldn’t be the first time to happen, and I’m sure it won’t be the last.”

Y/N shivers slightly at the thought, tucking her arms around her chest. Eric wishes he could pull her closer to him, erase all fear until the world began and ended with her.

Instead, he keeps walking, and they reach the initiates’ sleeping quarters soon enough. Eric manages a quick goodbye before he leaves, although he doesn’t go until he sees Y/N slip inside the door. He doesn’t want to think about her being attacked any more than she does. Maybe that’s a sign that he’s lost his edge, or maybe that he cares about her far more than he should. Then again, by now that’s a given.

Looking back on it, that night was the last sign Eric needed to realize that he liked Y/N a lot. During training the next day, Eric can’t stop thinking about the way she looked under the moonlight, instinctively drawing close to him against the chill of the wind. He wishes he could go back, but he doesn’t see her out on that balcony again. A shame, to be sure.

However, during the first day of actual fights instead of just practicing with the punching bags, Eric finally gets a chance to talk to her again, outside of the prying eyes of the other initiates. Y/N’s friend Tris has to fight against Molly, one of the tallest and toughest girls there. Tris falls almost instantly, more stunned by the fact that they won’t be able to tap out than anything else.

Y/N offers to help get a mostly unconscious Tris to the medical wing, and Eric jumps at the chance. He does his best to seem casual as he directs Four to take over teaching the initiates, and, tossing one of Tris’ arms over his shoulder, helps Y/N start to carry the other girl out and through the halls.

Y/N glances at Eric over Tris’ head. “You know, I didn’t think you would be the type to help initiates get help if you didn’t have to.”

Eric looks between Tris and Y/N, surprised, before realizing that the Stiff can’t actually focus on a single word they’re saying due to a particularly strong hit to the head.

“Maybe I wanted to prove that I’m better than you think.” No need to think about the reason for that.

Y/N smirks. “And you do that by dragging Tris to the med wing?”

Eric gives her a look. “If you like, I can leave now and let you carry her the rest of the way.”

It’s a bluff, of course. He’s already proved that he’d never leave her if there was an option where he could stay, and Y/N knows it.

“But then you’d be robbed of my fantastic company. We all know that I'm far better than any of the other initiates.”

She’s joking, but Eric thinks that she’s actually closer to the truth than he cares to admit.

“It’s better than having to watch some of the other trainees fight. Seeing how bad their form is might be making me worse.”

Y/N laughs. “That’s a valid excuse to leave. I have to ask, though- why did you really come? I mean, you had no real reason to help Tris with me. We all know Four would have jumped at the chance.”

Eric looks over at her again, pleasantly surprised to note that she’s already looking at him. “Maybe I wanted to prove that I’m better than you think,” he repeats. This time, Y/N’s eyes clear as if she finally gets what he’s trying to say.

He shouldn’t be getting this close to her, and Eric knows it. Still, he can’t exactly stay away. He sees her every day in initiation, and she’s got too deep a hold on his heart for anything else to last. Eric does try his best to hide his true feelings from the rest of the trainees, though. He can’t have them thinking that Y/N’s only high in the rankings because one of the initiation leaders is crushing on her. She’s better than that.

Apparently, Eric is doing a little too good of a job in seeming unbiased, because scarcely a day or two later, Christina starts complaining to him about Y/N, and it takes everything Eric has to not kill her on the spot.

Christina was on thin ice as it was. She lost her first fight, everybody could see it, but she wouldn’t commit to the loss. Instead, just before her opponent could keep going, Christina had flung up her hand, crying out around a bloodied nose that she was done, that she couldn’t take any more of it.

Eric had sensed weakness, and more than that, a chance to make an example of the former Candor. Initiates only respect the rules for so long; it takes a public display for them to realize the consequences of breaking the rules. The rule about not tapping out of fights, especially, is an irritant to many of the trainees. Christina is the perfect reason for a little motivation to the rest.

So, Eric allows the fight to stop, much to the surprise of the other initiates. Only Four looks unaffected, likely because he knows what’s about to go down.

Eric stands by the fighting ring, helping Christina out. “You had too much, yeah? What happened?”

Christina’s voice is low and quiet. “I think she broke my nose, and I needed to stop.”

Although she was willing to tap out of the fight, Christina is apparently still too brash to keep the blame firmly on herself. “It wasn’t my fault, though. I didn’t think I would be fighting her. Y/N was supposed to be lower in the rankings, it would have changed the order of fighters around. Honestly, I don’t even know why she’s ranked as highly as she is, she’s not even that good. She’s kind of useless.”

All of a sudden, Eric’s humor for a display of power suddenly disappears, replaced by a cold hatred. “What did you say?”

Christina somehow regains the ability for critical thought, and wisely keeps her mouth shut. It doesn’t matter, though, because Eric has heard enough. He starts to guide Christina towards the exit, one hand on her back to keep her going.

As he walks, he whispers something in her ear, so quietly only Christina can hear. “Don’t you dare talk badly about your fellow initiates. You want to know why Y/N is so high in the rankings? It’s because she doesn’t tap out of fights. She isn’t weak.”

Christina flinches, not like the reaction will do her any good. Eric’s mind is made up, and the other trainees must be able to sense his anger, because they follow Eric and Christina out to the bridge.

Eric stops, and lifts Christina easily over the railing until his hands are the only thing keeping her from falling into the Pit. “Grab the rail.”

His voice is cold, colder than it usually is. Eric can hear shocked gasps coming from the other initiates, but he doesn’t turn to face them. Instead, he presents Christina with the options to hang from the bridge spanning the chasm, fall and die, or become one of the factionless. Unsurprisingly, Christina chooses to keep holding on to the rail.

Eric counts slowly, as painfully slowly as he can, treasuring every agonized cry from the girl hanging from the rail. It’s revenge, in a way, revenge for the fact that he cannot do anything to protect Y/N except for this. He can blame this act on Christina’s cowardice, and it is due to that in part, but mostly it’s because she tried to put down Y/N, and Eric won’t have anyone talking that way about his girl.

His girl. Eric likes that.

Eventually, he calls for time, and Tris immediately springs into action, helping Christina off of the rail. Y/N, however, does not go to her friend, but instead silently slips away and follows Eric into a quieter room, as if she can tell that something wasn’t right.

Her arms are folded, but Eric doesn’t think she believes him to be a monster. Not yet, at least. Eric can’t decide whether she would be right to believe it or not. “What was that about?”

Eric keeps his gaze firmly trained on the wall. “She tapped out of the fight. You can’t do that.”

Y/N shakes her head. “I saw your expression change when she was talking to you. What did she say?”

At last, Eric can’t keep his eyes from finding her any longer. “She insulted you. I couldn’t have that.”

Eric doesn’t know how he expects Y/N to react. Shock, maybe, or disgust. Fear has always been an option. Instead, she laughs.

“So, what, you were protecting my honor or something? I’m touched. That’s very sweet of you.”

Eric rolls his eyes. “I’m not sure I like your tone, initiate.”

Y/N’s smile just broadens. Eric belatedly realizes that he’s given her enough ammunition to last a lifetime, the realization that he’d do just about anything for her. He’s not sure that it’s a bad thing, though.

“For what it’s worth, I appreciate it. Good to know that you have my back.”

Eric shrugs. “She deserved it.”

Y/N smiles again. “Thanks anyway.”

She steps forward to kiss his cheek, then turns and leaves the room. Eric watches her go, his mind suddenly plunged into a daze. Shit, she likes him. This might be the best twist of fate he’s ever seen. Eric smiles to himself, and follows her out.

divergent tag list: @dindjarinneedsahug, @rogueanschel, @with-inked-solace

"what a nerd lol" i said with barely controlled lust

Russian Into Love - Pt 1

Pairing: Alexei x fem!reader

A/n: (pls ignore the pun title, it was meant to be just a working title but I can’t think of anything better 😭) soooo this is the first part to a slow burn fake dating/marriage thing that I’ve had in my head since watching s3 of Stranger Things, I’m gonna be playing fast and loose with canon and idek if the s4 plot will be in this buuut I’m having fun writing it :)) pls feel free to comment and tell me what you think bc I personally love this and I want you all to love it too ❤️

(All Russian translations were taken directly from google translate so pls don’t attack me, attack mr google instead)

Wordcount: 2.9k

You were certain that you were going to lose your mind. It had been days since you had really looked at the sky, watched the clouds roll by like passing trains, and you were convinced that another day spent staring at the same faded floral wallpaper would be the death of you.

“Y’know, Murray, I’ve been thinking…” You began tentatively, not raising your eyes from the gossip magazine you had been pretending to read for quite some time.

“Sounds dangerous. Try not to do it again.” Murray dismissed without even looking up from the book he was wasting away his own time with. Ignoring his quip, you continued as though uninterrupted.

“I think we should go to California with Joyce and the kids.”

The idea had been playing on your mind for days, ever since you had learned that Hopper was gone. And after 4 days hiding in a motel room with Murray and the quiet Russian scientist, you were desperate for any opportunity to get out and as far away from these four walls as possible. Murray’s head snapped up from the book he was reading in the old armchair in the corner of the room, and Alexei’s eyes left the TV playing Loony Tunes to watch the conversation in interest.

“Oh? And why’s that?” Murray asked, his voice tinged with the familiar condescension that you had come to expect from him.

“Well, first off, if we have to stay in this motel much longer I think I might snap and start killing people. Secondly,” your tone softened slightly, “I’m worried about Joyce, and I think we should try to be close by.”

As Murray pondered your words, Alexei watched you both patiently while waiting for a translation. Murray knew as well as you did that with everything that had happened in the Starcourt mall and the subterranean Russian lab, Joyce had a lot to deal with right now, and while you both knew that she was capable of looking after herself, you just couldn’t stand the idea of her moving away on her own.

“As much as I may agree with you, we can’t go anywhere until Alexei’s green card situation is resolved.” Murray argued eventually.

“в чем дело?” [What’s going on?] Alexei asked, but before Murray could respond to him, you continued.

“Yeah, well, there is an easy way to deal with that. If Alexei wants to.” You said, and Murray’s head snapped up to look at you in obvious surprise.

It wasn’t the first time the idea had been brought up; Murray had mentioned marriage as a solution to Alexei’s citizenship situation on the very first day of your captivity, but it had been dismissed quickly because finding someone to marry Alexei would prove difficult, perhaps even impossible. So, Murray had moved his attention onto finding other ways to solve the problem, whereas you had been unable to stop thinking about it; it was such a simple solution, you were willing and as long as Alexei was too, you could soon see the other side of the motel room door.

“There is. Are you volunteering?” Murray asked with a cocked eyebrow.

“If it gets us out of this room, sure.” You replied, crossing your arms across your chest determinedly and trying to ignore the nervous pounding in your chest.

Murray’s gaze fixed on your face only intensified, his eyes narrowing as he regarded you closely from behind tinted glasses.

“I don’t think you’re taking this as seriously as you should be. Marriage is a big deal for most people, you know.” He explained with a frustratingly soft look on his features.

Wordlessly, you stood from your spot on the garish floral bedding and crossed the room to peer through a crack in the blinds. Both men watched you as you made a show of peering from left to right across the mostly empty car park.

“Nope, just as I thought, there’s no queue of men waiting for my hand in marriage.” You sighed dramatically and flopped back down on the bed, while Murray scoffed at your dramatics.

“Murray, что она сказала?” [Murray, what did she say?] Alexei asked again, and this time Murray answered.

“она предложила выйти за тебя замуж из-за грин-карты. и она хочет переехать в Калифорнию.” [She offered to marry you for your green card. And she wants to move to California.] He explained, and Alexei’s head spun quickly to stare at you, eyes wide behind his glasses.

“если мы поженимся, я стану гражданином США?” [If we marry, I’ll be an American citizen?] Alexei spoke, his eyes never leaving you.

You toyed anxiously with a loose thread on the bedding while Murray explained your idea to him. Alexei’s approval of this plan was the only thing coming between you and your escape from this room, so while being rejected by him wouldn’t be the biggest hit your ego had ever taken, it would mean staying here for longer. With the man that had rejected you.

“да. но вы также будете женаты на ней.” [Yes. But you’ll also be married to her.] Though you didn’t understand Murray’s words, you couldn’t miss the disdainful tone at the end and so you shot him a venomous look. Alexei looked thoughtful for a moment, still staring at you.

“это было бы не так уж плохо.” [That wouldn’t be so bad.] He said finally, and Murray let out a hearty laugh.

“What’s so funny?” You asked, jaw clenched at the sigh of Murray’s glee.

“He thinks it’s a good idea.” He stated, causing your heart to leap. It had been surprisingly easy for Murray to convince him, you thought absently. “I’m not taking you to buy a wedding dress, though.”

—————————————————

So just a few days later, after what you were sure must be the fastest, most pragmatic wedding ceremony ever held in Hawkins, you, Murray, and your new husband piled into Murray’s van with what few belongings you still had, and set off for California.

You were admittedly beginning to grow nervous about your plan; once you arrived in California, you and Alexei were moving into a small home under the half-correct guise of being a newly-wed couple moving into their first home together, while Murray had found a new base for his own work somewhere nearby. The nervous pit that bubbled in your chest had nothing to do with the prospect of living with Alexei, you had been living with him in that horrid motel room for over a week at this point and despite the close quarters, he had been a wonderful roommate. Instead, your nerves were flaring up the idea of being caught in the ruse you had agreed to live in for the forseeable future. Or at least, until Alexei met someone he wanted to really marry.

But as you watched the scientist eagerly watching the scenery go with his forehead practically pressed against the windows of the van, you felt your worries fade a little. His smile was infectious, and just existing around him was easy, as natural as breathing. Not to mention the fact that his English was improving steadily; faster than your Russian, luckily.

Just then, Alexei turned towards you and caught you staring. His face split into an ecstatic grin that you couldn’t prevent your own from mirroring.

“это так…тепло.” [It’s so…warm.] He said with a small chuckle, gesturing out of the window.

Even though you didn’t understand his words, his joy was simple and genuine, and you couldn’t stop yourself from grinning along with him. You didn’t even realise you had been staring at him until Murray coughed pointedly, drawing both of your attentions to him.

“Now, I know that this is all very exciting, but you two need to remember that to your neighbours, and friends, and coworkers, and everyone except for me and Joyce, you two are married.” Murray reminded for the hundredth time, enunciating his words with annoying precision as though you were rowdy children. He glanced past you at Alexei, and translated. “Вы должны вести себя так, как будто вы на самом деле женаты. Понять?” [You have to act like you’re actually married. Understand?]

With a glance in your direction, Alexei nodded. Murray turned his gaze on you, one eyebrow raised in that universally understood question: well? You huffed, avoiding his gaze.

“Yeah, sure. Are you gonna give me strict instructions on how to do that? A list of my wifely duties or something?” You questioned snarkily, and Murray tutted in response.

“No, actually, I thought maybe California might melt that icy heart of yours and you can figure out how to be affectionate on your own.” Ignoring your indignant noise, he continued. “Look, I’m not asking you to consummate this faux marriage, just try not to act like our comrade here repulses you too much.” He explained firmly.

“He doesn’t repulse me.” You replied entirely too quickly. Embarrassed heat flared in your cheeks and you ducked your head in the hopes that Murray would not notice; the chuckle he let out told you that he did notice.

When the van finally pulled into the driveway of your new home, set against the late afternoon sky, you hopped out of the back of the van excitedly. It was a relatively small two-story house, with houses on either side that looked like the epitome of suburbia; beige buildings with pristine gardens, even complete with a white picket fence. The mundanity made you want to retch, but instead you focused on your own home and allowed yourself to pretend for a moment that it was real, that it could ever be real for you.

Suddenly, a large hand was in yours, and it raised your hand to Alexei’s lips for him to press a kiss to the back. You stared at him in utter confusion for a second, before he nodded surreptitiously behind him, in the direction of a neighbours house.

In a window at the front of that house, you could see a tanned, blonde woman peering through her curtains, watching your arrival as subtly as she could. Sending her a friendly wave and a smile that you hoped looked genuine, you scoffed lightly.

“Nosy neighbours. Fantastic.” You murmured, mostly to yourself. Alexei watched you with a faint smile, before pulling you eagerly towards your new home.

Together, though no longer holding hands, you explored the house; Alexei was simply delighted by the small pool in the backyard, and you were pleased to find the kitchen already equipped with a fridge and oven. Then you ventured up the stairs and found four doors, behind which were a linen closet, a hideously beige tiled bathroom, and thankfully, two bedrooms, both already furnished with basic double beds.

You glanced at Alexei and he met your gaze with a half smirk, both of you seemingly grateful to not have to share a bed in order to protect your newly-wed image. He entered one of the rooms wordlessly and you entered the other, one with a window overlooking the back yard, and dropped your backpack on the floor at the foot of the bed. You couldn’t help the sigh of relief that slipped past your lips; all things considered, the house was nice. Murray had really showed you some mercy with the two bedrooms, too. You had almost been expecting him to make this as uncomfortable as possible, just to spite you for being a constant thorn in his side.

“Alright, lovebirds, I’m leaving!” Murray called up the stairs, and you stepped out onto the landing to see him standing at the bottom of the staircase.

“Wait, we don’t have any groceries and I’m starving, you’re leaving me here without food on my wedding night?” You asked in faux incredulity, to which Murray rolled his eyes.

“There’s a flyer for a pizza place by the front door, will that be adequate for the blushing bride?” He asked, his voice dripping with sarcasm.

“Yeah, yeah, whatever.” You waved off his snide comment with a dismissive scoff. “You’re coming back tomorrow though, right?”

“Yes, I’m coming back tomorrow to take you and loverboy to buy a car. Hopefully, that’ll stop you from bugging me to take you places.” Murray replied with another roll of his eyes.

Before you could respond with a quip of your own, Alexei stepped out of his bedroom and onto the landing beside you. He and Murray exchanged words in quick fire Russian, before Alexei nodded, and brushed past you with a gentle smile into the bathroom.

“I just told your dearly beloved to be ready to go at 10am tomorrow. You’d better not make me wait.” Murray explained, waving a finger at you as though you were a naughty child.

“Would I do that?” You asked as innocently as you could, fighting back a smile as Murray began to walk away.

“You would and you have, repeatedly. Don’t make me leave you behind.” His final warning, only intended half jokingly, rang out as the sound of the front door closing signalled Murray’s departure.

Breathing out a slight chuckle, you tried to ignore the ache in your chest that already missed Murray and his quick wit; although you had always argued with him and seemingly done everything within your power to irritate him, you and he both knew that it was all in good fun. After years spent alone, you both had found verbal sparring partners within each other, and the few short years you had lived with him had been the happiest that you could remember.

You remained in place on the landing, absorbed in your thoughts, until the sound of running water reminded you of Alexei’s presence in the bathroom. The realisation that he was there, just on the other side of the dark wooden door beside you, and presumably about to shower, sent a cold jolt though your veins and before you could think about it you were darting away from the bathroom door and bolting down the stairs as quickly as you could.

Since your living room was totally devoid of furniture, you elected to sit outside in the back yard beneath the late afternoon sun as it slowly dipped towards the horizon. Lying on your back on the warm ground, you kicked off your shoes and allowed your feet to dangle in the pool, relishing in the coolness of the water around your ankles as you gently kicked your feet. With your eyes closed, you allowed yourself a single moment of peace and serenity before what you were certain would be a busy week, with your new house to be fully stocked and decorated.

The only thing that signalled Alexei’s arrival by your side was the shadow that he cast over your face, the sudden darkness prompting your eyes to open. He stood, towering above you, with damp curls and that same cheery smile across his face.

For an evil genius Russian scientist, he sure does look friendly, you found yourself thinking.

“Hi,” You said, peering up at him as a smile began to unfurl across your own face.

“Hello.” He said, his accent distorting the word slightly.

Carefully, he lowered himself to sit on the ground beside you, his own feet dangling in the pool beside yours. For a moment he was silent, and you attempted to settle back into the peaceful moment you had found just before, until you were again disrupted by a gentle prod to your cheek.

You opened your eyes to see Alexei, now propped up on an elbow so that he was almost lying beside you, holding a flyer in front of your face. After some squinting, you recognised it as the pizza place flyer Murray had mentioned, for a place called Surfer Boy Pizza.

“You’re hungry?” You asked, tilting your head up towards him. He nodded.

“Da.”

“Alright,” you replied, happy with the simple exchange, and unfolded the flyer to read the menu, “let’s order something then.”

As you were reading through the topping options, Alexei leaned further down over you to point a finger at one of the pictures on the flyer, a picture of a fresh, greasy, pepperoni pizza.

“Say?” He said, looking down at you intently.

As you looked back up at Alexei, his face was cast in shadow from the late afternoon sun behind him, making his features difficult to make out clearly, but you were fairly certain that he was staring intently at your lips. You froze, fixed in place by his watchful gaze. The whole world seemed to stand still for a long moment before you regained the ability to speak.

“P-pizza?” The word came out as a question, and heat flared in your cheeks as he grinned.

“Pizza.” He repeated.

Oh. The pronunciation.

“Y-yeah, pizza.” You repeated, breathing a slight sigh of relief when he finally turned his attention away from you again. “Um. Okay.”

You rose shakily to your feet, the flyer trembling in your grip.

“I-I’m gonna, uh, just, um, go? Inside? And…order pizza? Yeah, um…okay.” And with that, you darted back into the house without a glance back at the man sitting, looking very confused, at the edge of the pool.

The cool indoor air did nothing to soothe the burning in your cheeks after your unbelievably awkward exit, though it was a relief to no longer have Alexei staring at you. The memory of his attention focused so intently on you made you want to curl up in a ball; it had been as though he was the first person to ever truly look at you, and it had made you feel vulnerable in a way you hadn’t in a long time, not even with Murray.

Before you could allow your thoughts to delve too far into what that could mean, you snatched the phone from the receiver and punched in the number with more force than strictly necessary.

Sugary Ice & Ferris Wheels—Alexei x fem!reader insert

»»————-————-««

**spoilers for stranger things season 3**

summary; an alternate universe where alexei lives and he can't but visit the fair to see his favorite person working at his favorite booth.

warnings; an au fic that isn't plot heavy, just pure fluff and alexei. he may be a tad bit ooc (?) but I enjoyed writing this.

»»————-————-««

"I could use some help over here."

The pads of your fingers were growing numb by the second, thanks to the occasional drippage from the plastic cup you filled to the brim with sugary ice. Your coworker huffed in response, mumbled something about "five more minutes", and then disappeared into the back to finish his cigarette.

Rolling your eyes you turned back to face the sea of mundane faces that belonged to irritated adults who gripped on tightly to the hands of their impatient, snotty-nosed children. But behind a tall man you noticed a familiar face.

The two of you made eye contact briefly before you turned back to the task at hand. For the next ten minutes you worked diligently until you got to the end of the line.

"Another one?" You said, already searching for a large plastic cup to fill with cherry flavored ice. It was the third time this evening he had visited your booth—the third Saturday in a row you had served him a a large cherry slurpee at the county fair.

You smiled as he nodded shyly, his tinted red lips forming into a mischievous grin. He fumbled around in his pocket for a crumbled dollar bill and a few quarters as you set the cup under the machine. Slowly, the ice trickled down in the cup, the machine nearing its end for the evening.

"You're going to run me out of ice if you keep coming here like this," You said, jokingly to which he only grinned and shrugged. You leaned forward against the counter and counted the loose change he set in front of you. "But you know what?" You gathered the assortment of quarters and dollar bills and gently slid them back. "This one's on the house, okay?"

A wave of confusion passed over his features. Being a man of little words, he lifted an eyebrow, shook his head, and reached out to slide the money back towards you. His fingers brushed against yours, a zap of electricity making you forget where you were for a moment. He pursed his lips into a hopeful smile.

"Seriously, Alexei, don't worry about it." With gentle persistence, you slid the change forward before turning around to prepare the icy treat. You snapped the top cover securely on the large cup once it was full before slowly turning around to set it on the counter. "As long as my boss doesn't find out—"

You were met with a nervous smile stained in red. A stack of crumbled carnival tickets stuck out from his breast pocket. He was shifting back and forth on his feet, his mouth parting slightly as he mumbled something in Russian. Something you could only interrupt as a question.

You knew very little about him but he had piqued your interest the first time he finished a large cherry slurpee in three minutes flat before ordering another (all while enduring a debilitating brain freeze with ease, of course). There was a mutual understanding that language would be the barrier between you two, but that didn't dampen the excitement you felt every time he came to his favorite person at his favorite booth. What he lacked in verbal communication, he made up for in miniscule but sweet, unexpected gestures.

Hence, the crinkled piece of paper that laid flat on top of a mountain of loose change. It read:

Ferris Wheel?

"Please?" He said, gesturing behind him to the massive circle that spun slowly as it changed from colors ranging from red, white, and blue.

His question alone was enough for you to say yes.

It took you a minute to shut the booth down. You donned the front with a sign that read, 'Be back in ten minutes' before you walked around out front, standing in front of him.

Alexei, seemingly unsure of what to do with his hand—the other being occupied by his favorite drink—looked at the ground nervously. With the two of you being too shy to make the first move, you stuck with walking next to each other in the direction of the Ferris Wheel.

Seated next to each other, your knees brushed against one another as the ride took a slow flight. You pointed out your house when you made it to the top, his hand resting gently on your knee while he sipped on his drink.

By the end of the night both of yours hands with fully with carnival tickets, stuffed animals, and of course, slurpees.

"Again?" He said, his hand latching onto yours while a stuffed bear was pinched underneath his arm.

"Alexei..." You glanced at your wristwatch. Those ten minutes had turned into three hours. The fair was starting to shut down and you were most likely going to have to stand in the unemployment line after tonight. "Maybe next weekend?"

He lifted a brow in confusion.

You chuckled and flipped his hand over so his palm was facing up. Gently you tapped the pads of fingers as you counted out loud to the number seven. You extended your thumb and index finger to represent the last two days.

"Seven days from now. Seven days," you said, slowly.

When he finally understood, he frowned in disappointment and you couldn't help but laugh. "Seven days from now, we can do this again. We can meet here." You pointed to the ground, indicating the dead patch of grass you were currently standing on. You were most likely fired, so there was no point in showing your face at the booth next week.

Before you could explain it even further, Alexei took your hand, turned it over, and pressed his lips to the back of it.

"Seven days," he said before giving your hand one last squeeze and turning to leave.

Flustered and flattered, you watched as he jogged to the exit, leaving you struggling to juggle the stuffed animal prizes he had won for you.

Alexei Blurb

Stranger Things

A/N: bro idk, I just thought of it so I wrote it. it's short and nothing much, might do more of this guy later. can you tell im in season 3 of my rewatch? xoxo

You were sat in the back seat of the yellow convertible as Hopper and Joyce argued in the front seat, eyes scanning over the Illinois map that had been bought back at the gas station. Alexei was sat next to you, cuffed hands holding onto the large Slurpee he had gotten back at the 7/11. A few moments later the man said something in Russian, gently elbowing you to get your attention. You looked over at him in confusion, frowning a bit.

"I.." You sighed, folding the map up carefully and wedged it under your leg so it didn't fly away.

Alexei repeated what he said again, eyebrows furrowing.

You blinked, staring at the man blankly. "I don't... Nyet? Nyet, no." You shook your head, your expression apologetic.

Alexei shook his head before pointing at a bracelet you wore. It was something El had made for you, a thank you for helping catch her up on learning so she'd be able to attend school some day soon under her new alias.

The man grinned to himself, speaking again before laughing quietly. He shook his wrists before looking between your bracelet and his handcuffs. "Yours looks better than mine."

A smile tugged at your mouth when you realized he was trying to make a joke before you snorted a laugh, leaning back in your seat.

"You get?" Alexei's accent was thick and you looked over at him in surprise at the sudden broken English.

"Uh, no.." You shook your head before glancing at Hopper and Joyce. "But once we get there you can... tell me?" You grimaced a bit as Alexei stared at you in confusion before it turned into one of defeat.

"Will you two shut up?" Hopper snapped, glaring at you in the rearview mirror. "He's the enemy here, Y/N!"

"He's just a guy, Hopper!" You snapped back, returning his harsh stare. "Do you really think he wanted to be some evil scientist?"

Hopper opened his mouth to respond before Joyce gave him a warning stare, his mouth snapping shut with a grumble. The car ride was quiet for a while before you turned to Alexei, trying to think of what the two of you could do to keep busy.

"..Patty cake?" You looked at him questioningly, and Alexei frowned.

"Patty...cake?" His accent was thick as echoed your words, turning towards you in his seat.

You held up your hands to him, starting to make the motions in the air of the ageless game. The man gasped in realization and grinned, fully turning towards you so the two of you could play.

"Are you fucking serious?" Hopper turned his head around to glare at the two of you before quickly whipping around back to put his eyes back on the road.

"You're just mad that he's also a person." Joyce spoke up, turning around in her seat to watch the two of you. "Please! Play!" She motioned her hands, smiling at the two of you.

The two of you hesitantly started to play, Alexei trying the best he could considering the handcuffs.

"Patty cake, patty cake, baker's man-"

Alexei was singing the tune in Russian, wide smile across his face.

"It's pat-a-cake." Hopper interrupted the two of you, glancing back again.

"Pat-a-cake?" You and Joyce looked up, and you arched your eyebrows.

"Pat-a-cake pat-a-cake.." You mumbled to yourself, doing the hand motions. "Oh."

Hopper smirked, leaning back in his seat as he looked at the road ahead. Joyce scoffed and turned back around, staring out the passenger side of the car.

You and Alexei shared a glance before you turned towards him, the two of you quietly going back to your game.

🥺🥺🥺🥺

it's feminism and gay rights to have an m/m/f pairing because women deserve to have two boyfriends and guys should have gay sex with each other

I love that even though he’s not in focus, Pedro is still performing

So I just saw a quote from the Russo’s and they basically said “He dropped the shield, he rejected the Captain America identity, and embraced the Steve Rogers one instead.” I, of course, started sobbing at this part, but when I read this quote it all became more clear.

When Tony says “I was wrong about you, the whole world was wrong about you” is 100% true. The whole world, even his friends, saw Steve as this selfless, patriotic hero, willing to save the day no matter what. But that’s not necessarily all Steve, that’s mostly Captain America. Yes, Steve is incredibly selfless and brave, but he was also just a kid from Brooklyn before getting the Cap persona. When he went under, he essentially lost everyone who knew him as “just steve” not “Captain America”.

So when Bucky comes back in his life, he’s more Steve Rogers. “When he said Bucky, I was the 16 year old kid from Brooklyn again.” Steve doesn’t have to be Captain America around Bucky. Steve doesn’t have to be this hero that everyone needs him to be. Because Bucky would rather be saved by Steve Rogers than Captain America.

Steve dropped the shield, rejected the idea of Captain America, because in reality, he isn’t just “Captain America,” he’s also Steve Rogers. And that scrawny kid from Brooklyn would do anything to save his best friend, even if that meant rejecting what the world saw him as.

He was as tall as he was tall, and his eyes were the color they were. To describe his hair one would say that he had some. His face had all the features you'd expect, and none of the ones you wouldn't. "There he is," people would often say of him, but only when he was there. And they were right.

Until pretty recently, I had never read fic for a fandom I had never dipped into. It got me thinking about why people read fics for stories they've never followed. Sooo...

*not even 1 episode. None of the book. No more than the movie's trailer. etc.

i don’t LIKE watching movies just for an actor who plays a secondary role but i have to. it’s my job

It’s your lucky day, Mr. Castle. The six Dogs of Hell gang members you wiped out in Delaware won’t be an issue, anymore. Delaware doesn’t have the evidence to charge and extradite, so, the death penalty is officially off the table.

a boy who's nice that breathes, i swear he's nowhere to be seen

Jon Bernthal

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

'rumors of rivals' - eric coulter

masterlist

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

requested by @simoneashwinis, i hope you enjoy!

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

all tags list: @wordsarelife