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dearsnow · 7 months

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ORLANDO (FIRST KISS)

- charlie, your best friend, attempts to set you up with the crush he is convinced you have. (charlie dalton x gn!reader, includes some neil being a good friend, slight angst into fluff, happy au, no beta we die like real men)

word count: 2,647

a/n - i love charlie so much oh my god 😭 hopefully there’s more to come with him! i’m planning a very long fic for him, hopefully similar in feeling to my neil fic “the last time” :) this is slightly inspired by the song “orlando” by leith ross so pls check them out!!

It’s 1:32 AM on a Friday night (Saturday, technically, but that rarely seems to matter), and Charlie Dalton is refusing to let you sleep.

“You’ve got to tell me. I swear, cross my heart, I won’t tell a soul.” He begs.

Charlie has been your best friend for god knows how long. You met so long ago that you don’t even remember how or why; it just was. That’s exactly what your relationship is. There’s really no rhyme or reason, considering you would detest anyone else with his personality, but you’re friends anyways, and you love him with all your heart. Opposites attract, you suppose. You don’t know for sure. Most days, including today, he is extremely and desperately annoying.

You slump down onto his bed, covering your eyes with your hands. He’s gotten it into his mind that you have a crush, and he won’t rest until he finds out who it is. Lucky you.

“Charlie, it’s no one.” You groan, peeking past your fingers to stare at him with a cross expression. “Even if I did like someone, I wouldn’t tell you.”

The problem is, you do like someone, and he’s sitting right in front of you with messy hair and pajama pants.

Your feelings for him, just like your meeting, are so far buried in the past that you couldn’t dig them up with an excavator. One day, you suppose, you just started to fall in love with him. He’s annoying and rich and a total smart-ass, but you love him. In some soft, quiet ways, he is the kindest boy you’ve ever met.

He notices when you get cut off mid-conversation or when you’re just a little too uncomfortable to talk to the person in front of you. He knows you like the back of his hand and puts his knowledge to use without ever having to ask, like how he always gets you exactly what you want on your birthday. He’s smart and energized and a breath of fresh air, no matter how stale the room is. And, of course, though you would rarely tell him, he is dashingly handsome.

He sits up straighter and begins listing every boy you’ve ever come in contact with. “Meeks? You always did like his type. Ooh, or Pitts? He’s a pitiful lady-killer. Todd is another good choice. Knox has got his thing with Chris, so you probably wouldn’t like him unless you’re into getting your heart broken.” He stops his ranting to take a breath, then continues on. “You cannot like Cameron because if you do, I won’t ever talk to you again. It isn’t Cameron, right?”

You scoff. “I don’t have a crush. Stop trying to guess a person that doesn’t exist.”

“Neil?” He questions. You hesitate just a bit before waving away his suggestion. Neil is a very good friend of both yours and his, and truthfully, he would definitely be the best boyfriend out of all of them. Despite that, you do not love him like you love Charlie. Not even close.

He catches on to your hesitation with scary accuracy. The tilt of your head, the twitch of your hand, the way the corners of your mouth almost curved up into a smile. Charlie feels his heart drop. “Oh my god, it’s Neil. Of course it’s Neil, it’s always Neil! You like Neil.” Neil is, unbeknownst to him, a complete catch. It makes sense that you would like him. After all, he’s kind, outgoing, and a whole lot nicer than Charlie is. That doesn’t make it hurt any less.

Like you, Charlie doesn’t exactly know when you came into his life. Maybe a stuffy dinner party or a prep event- all that matters to him is that you’re here now, and he loves you. He does, however, know when he started loving you.

It was seventh grade at a school dance, and you had decided to go with a boy he barely knew. When the boy asked you out with a pocketed rose and a shy smile, Charlie felt his blood boiling. How dare he, he thought, take you away from him? You’re his best friend. He would have bought you an entire flower shop had you said the word.

Seeing you waltz with him in your pretty outfit, as awkward and stiff as you both were, was too much for him to bear. Charlie left early, prompting you to follow him. The scene that resulted was one you both tried heavily to erase.

“Charlie, what’s wrong?” You panted, hurrying after him as fast as your pinchy shoes would allow. “Charlie. Charlie! Talk to me.”

“It’s nothing. Just go away.” He sniffled. You turned the corner to see him sitting on a curb, tears tracking down his face. If you knew one thing about Charlie Dalton, it was that he hated crying. You sat down next to him, but he turned to face the trees to his left.

“What happened?” You asked gently. How he despised your gentle care.

“I hate you. Go away.” His voice broke in the middle of his sentence. “I never want to see you again.”

Something in you snapped in that moment, something angry and sad all at once. He was hurting, and you loathed it, but Charlie always got what he wanted in the end.

You stood up and left, muttering a “sorry” over your shoulder.

He tried to avoid you for a while after that, but as with all fated things, he couldn’t stay away for long. He went back to you without a hint of apology, and you took him. Begrudgingly, you just couldn’t be without your best friend for very long.

He knew he loved you then, and that fact hasn’t changed in the present.

“I don’t like Neil.” You insist. “Trust me.”

Charlie stands to pace around his room, talking with his hands as per usual. “Y’know, you always seem smiley around him. I should’ve seen it coming, really. The way you talk to him can’t be platonic.” You sigh from the bed, and Charlie flops down beside you. You can feel the heat radiating from his skin. It’s pleasant, like a ray of sun on a cold day. You instinctively move closer to him as he opens his mouth. “I could probably get you a date with him. Not that you couldn’t do it yourself, but,” he pauses, a hint of hurt humor in his eyes, “I could be your wingman.”

He doesn’t want to be. He really doesn’t want to be, but what can he do? He would rather see you happy with Neil than miserable with no one. Despite how much he hates it, he’s gotten over most of his prepubescent jealousy. He knows deep down in the very achingly sad part of him that you don’t love him. At least, not the way he loves you.

You’re facing him, your nose inches away from his chest as your heart pounds in yours. He really wants you to get with Neil. Well, if that’s how he feels, you don’t feel the need to reject the offer. Maybe this is just the thing you need. What’s the point in pining after him when he’s actively trying to set you up with his second best friend?

“Yeah. That… I would like that.” Charlie’s heart crumbles in his chest.

“Then I’ll get right on it.” He grins. Behind the smile, sadness is swimming in his eyes, but you don’t bother to look at them.

It’s winter break, one of Charlie’s favorite times of the year, but he doesn’t think he’s ever felt this sad before.

By the time the next weekend rolled around, you had almost forgotten about Charlie’s proposed setup. But, on this Saturday when you’re cozy in your room, Neil comes knocking at your door.

You open the door, slightly surprised. He’s holding a bouquet of flowers with a small grin on his face. They’re your favorite flowers.

“Hi.” He says. His voice is breathless.

You raise your eyebrows, but for some reason, you can’t help but smile. Neil is standing in your doorway, and you feel like you know what he’s going to ask. “Hey.”

“Do you want to go on a date with me?” He implores, holding the bouquet out for you to take. “It doesn’t have to be right now, but… I’m ready if you are.” He’s dressed in a crisp suit, and if you’re being honest, you’d hate to make him go home without putting it to use.

You laugh lightly, the feeling bubbling out of your stomach. “Yeah, I’d love that. Just let me get ready and I’ll be out in ten minutes.”

Two days prior to Saturday, Charlie proposed a dead poets town trip. They were milling around, bouncing from shop to shop before Charlie clasped Neil on the shoulder.

“What do you think about Y/N?”

Neil turned, confused. “What do you mean?”

There was a smirk on Charlie’s face, but he hesitated like he didn’t actually want to say the words he was about to say. “I mean, I think you two would be a pretty cute couple.”

Neil let out a huff of air, almost in disbelief. “You’ve been in love with them since seventh grade, Nuwanda. Don’t try to act like you aren’t.”

Charlie gasped exaggeratedly and put a hand over his heart. “How dare you suggest that! I just want the best for my dearest friends.” The others laughed. Every single one of them knew that Charlie harbored deep feelings for you- and every single one of them knew he would never admit it. “Look, just one date. Ask them out on Saturday. They really like you, and I know they’re free, so they can’t pull any excuses.”

“I just don’t know.” Neil admitted. “They’re great and all, but I’d feel bad if I stole away your crush of four years.”

“You won’t be stealing anything, my boy. Just think about it.” Charlie knew he was lying, and it left a bitter taste in his mouth, but he also knew that somehow, he was making the right decision.

Like all of your romantic endeavors, your date with Neil is slightly awkward. He’s your friend, sure, but you’ve never really thought about him like this before. You never even considered dating him. It’s always been Charlie. Maybe, just maybe, it’s time to broaden your horizons.

After the initial tension, you would like to believe it went well. Neil walks you out of the restaurant, holding your arm. He’s smiling, and you feel your own expression falter. You like him, you really do, but some part of you knows that he will never be Charlie.

He leans closer to you, almost close enough to touch. Your heart pounds in your chest as he whispers something into your ear. “Don’t look, but Charlie’s watching. Pretend I’m kissing you.”

You’re taken aback as your eyes try to search for his brown hair, but after a second, you comply. You shut your eyes and thread your fingers through Neil’s. To anyone else, especially anyone inside of the restaurant, it looks like you’re smashing tongues with him.

Neil walks you home as the day fades into night, and as much as you ask, your questions are left unanswered with a sly wink.

“I can’t believe you would do that.” Charlie rages. “It was meant to be a date, not a date and a tongue fuck! That was their first kiss, Neil, and you’ve stripped them of it!” He doesn’t know why he’s so outrageously enraged. It was a quick kiss from the boy you’ve been crushing on. He should be overjoyed for you.

“It wasn’t like that, Charlie. Just ask them.” Neil is surprisingly calm, considering his friend is screaming at him. “Ask them. Go on.” He pushes Charlie’s shoulder. “I walked them home.”

Charlie grumbles, his gut twisted into shaking, angry knots. “I will. If they tell me you did anything weird, though, you’re dead.” Neil shakes his head.

“I think you’d kill me even if I didn’t kiss them.”

For the second time, you hear a knock at your door. This one is loud and frenzied, but through the haze, you can tell who it is. Who else would knock so harshly at 11:23 at night? It’s a good four hours after your date, so it definitely can’t be Neil.

You open the door, clad in pajamas and a frown. “Seriously, Charlie? You’re gonna wake the whole neighborhood.”

“Did he kiss you?” Ah, straight to the point. He’s never one to beat around the bush.

“What’s it to you?” You defend. “You didn’t care about that possibility when you wanted me to date him.” You cross your arms. Why the hell is he so upset? You don’t understand anything about this. His motives, his feelings, right now, they’re more confusing than he’s ever been. Well, save for one night. Oddly, this reminds you of that dance a few years back. You don’t want that to happen again, so whatever’s going on has to stop.

He opens his mouth and then closes it like he’s actually considering what he wants to say for the first time in his life. “I just…” A defeated expression tugs his face down. Your heart plummets. You rarely ever see him crestfallen. The last time was four years ago, and you had hoped you would never see him like that again.

He turns to walk away. He can’t do it, he just can’t. He’s walking so fast the pavement under his feet is a blur, and you chase after him.

“Charlie, what are you-“ He turns, seeing the confusion on your face.

When he looks at you, all Charlie can see is love. He loves your voice, the curve of your lips, the way you do anything and everything. In that moment, when he sees you with tired eyes, his inhibitions flee like rabbits from a wolf. Maybe, just maybe, he can.

Before you can ask, yet after you see the fire in his eyes, he grabs your arm and cuts you off.

“Can I kiss you?”

You’re taken aback for a moment, lips parted, not speaking a word. His hair is messy and the tear tracks on his cheeks glisten in the street lights. It’s like everything you’ve ever wanted has sprung to life before your eyes. “Yes, but-“

He presses his lips to yours, effectively cutting off any further communication once again. His grip on you softens as his hands reach up to cup your face. Your eyes flutter shut, and a million different things race through your mind. All you can consciously think is that you never want it to end.

When he pulls away, breathless, something new is shining in his eyes. “I hope that wasn’t bad for a second kiss.” He smiles. He’s still worried, more so than he’s ever been, but that was the most amazing thing he thinks he’s ever done.

“Second? Charlie, that was my first.”

He pauses. “So Neil didn’t kiss you?”

You laugh, and upon seeing his even more excited face, you laugh so hard you double over. He joins, and your giggles are probably too loud for how late it is. “No! God no, he told me to pretend because you were watching.” Your voice comes out humorous and strained, with so much joy behind the tone that Charlie can feel himself starting to laugh again. “Were- Were you in the restaurant for our whole date?”

“Yeah.” He chokes out. “I couldn’t just let the love of my life date some other guy without my knowledge, right?”

“Oh, totally. Maybe you should ask me out next time, then, to completely avoid this whole scenario.” He pulls you in, laughing against your shoulder.

“Sure. Yeah, I think I will. Next time, I’ll make sure of it.”

#solar eclipse.#charlie dalton x reader #charlie dalton #dead poets society #dead poets society x reader #dead poets fandom #dead poets fanfic #dps #dps fanfiction #dps fandom #dps x reader #dps charlie

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inlovewithdeadpoets · 8 months

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for the lonely people

#dark academia #dark acadamia aesthetic #light academia #the secret history #donna tartt #tsh #dead poets society x reader #dead poets society aesthetic #dark academism #choatic academia #lonliness #academia aesthetic #romantic academia #dark academia aesthetic #booklr #bookblr

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writersmacchiato · 7 months

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Todd can’t help the way he feels about you.

You’re kind to him, always nice, so patient. Never getting annoyed when he stumbles over his words or goes quiet as he gets lost in his head trying to think of the best response, forgetting to answer.

It’s why when he overhears your friend teasing you about a crush, his heart instantly sinks to his stomach, feeling sick, because there’s no doubt in his mind that it’s not him.

It could never be someone like Todd who would hold such attention from you.

Things like that didn’t happen to Todd.

He should leave it alone. He should forget he ever heard anything. He should really leave you alone, his senior of one year, and find friends his own age.

But he doesn’t seem to click with anyone else.

He felt desperately like a puppy scorned of any attention when you first smiled at him, all kind angles, nothing malicious in the way you talked to him so nicely.

You’re overcompensating, with your kindness. For all the bad things that have happened to you. You’ve let him into your life, sharing things that not a lot of your friend group knew (not that Todd knew this, to him it was common knowledge). And he’s surprised that your life isn’t perfect.

For all the shitty, horrible, terrible things that have occurred, you’re just as determined to be the opposite. To be a light instead of the darkness that is so easy to succumb to.

“I didn’t have a lot of friends growing up,” you whisper to him one night, sneaking away from the party with your lukewarm drink and his soda that’s beginning to taste flat.

Your head leans against his shoulder and he tries to breathe evenly, to be the perfect shoulder for you.

“I was really lonely. It felt like no matter what I did, I never fit in. People liked me, but no one wanted to be my best friend. So, I guess I never want anyone else to feel like that.”

Todd thinks about that night a lot. The weight of you against him, how the air was crisp, and the scent of your shampoo drifting into his senses.

He wonders if you’ve brought him into your circle out of pity. If you don’t see him as a friend, but as a past version of yourself laden with no friends. If you’re trying to reach into the past and rewrite the story. He doesn’t like to think about it too much because it hurts.

Really, he should try to spend less time thinking about you. But the more he tries to forget, the more he thinks.

He can’t stop thinking about the word crush. His dictionary has been opened to the C section so many times that it has a natural crease there now, flipping to the page as soon as he opens the book.

Crush: a strong but temporary feeling of liking someone.

It could be just a harmless tease from your friend. As far as he knows, there is no one who you could have a crush on. He watches you a lot, and there’s not a lot of people you spend frequent time with outside of your friends and him.

This endless thought that could be nothing that is leading him into a slow descent into obsession. It bothers him.

Someone who could yield your affections must be someone special, worthy of such attention.

But what if it’s not? What if it’s someone who wouldn’t be careful with your heart, wouldn’t take the time to learn the workings of your mind? What if your feelings are not temporary?

Todd loses sleep over it, worry gnawing at the edges of his thoughts until he’s become edgy.

You notice, of course, that Todd will withdraw into himself. With gentle coaxing, he’ll return but sometimes he stays stuck.

Lately he’s been stuck and nothing you’ve done has been able to break through.

He shocks you by finding you in the library, clearly still caught in the webs of his overthinking mind. Appearing normal as he pulls out a textbook and notebook, pen tapping against the palm of his hand.

The words blurt out of his mouth, rushed through in a painful exhale that sounds more breathy than he intended. He hadn't even meant to say that.

“You have a crush?” He asks.

And then stops, breath hitching, heart beginning to race.

He doesn’t want to know. Can’t bear to watch the way your lips form the name of someone who isn’t him.

Instead, you smile at him. Shrugging your arms and sighing.

“Not you too! Everyone is pestering me over it.” You avoid the question, Todd is quick to notice.

“I overheard Meeks.” Todd says.

“He’s such an instigator.” You roll your eyes.

Todd knows you well enough to know that you’ve purposefully not answered him. It brings a small flutter to his chest.

“Do you?”

It’s painful, to dig in and search for an answer that he know will hurt. Rubbing salt into the wound that is his aching heart. But he has to know. It’s like an itch he can’t reach.

“Yes, Todd, I do. Although calling it a crush is silly. It’s much stronger than that.” You say, very quietly.

Or maybe Todd can’t hear you well over the sudden rushing in his ears.

“Oh.” It’s all he can manage.

Crush, is simple and small. Temporary.

Stronger than a crush? Well. That’s not so simple or small.

“Todd, can you look at me?”

He can't. Eyes glued to the floor of the library, feeling his cheeks flush with warmth and his stomach twist into knots. Slippery and hot as he tries to calm the sudden urge to be sick.

You reach out to grab his clammy hands, giving them a firm squeeze. He manages to squeeze back.

“It’s okay, breathe.” You count out the breaths for him until they’re no longer shaky.

His cheeks are still flushed, but not with anxiety. Feeling the sweat on his neck begin to cool. Stomach settling.

“Todd, I really like you. A lot.” You grin. “I have a crush on you.”

“Why me?”

“Because you’re you.”

Todd has another fitful night of sleep, but this time it's because he can't stop thinking about the moment in the library. Flushed with embarrassment, but also with a giddiness. Thinking of what you had said, to him alone and him only:

"I'm infatuated with you, Todd Anderson."

#todd anderson x reader #dead poets society x reader #dps x reader #todd anderson imagine #dead poets society imagine #dps imagine #dps #dead poets society #todd anderson #i dont even know if i like this anymore #but here have some writing!!!!!!!!!!!

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sorencd · 8 months

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EVERYONE ADORES YOU (AT LEAST I DO)

pairing: neil perry x shy!reader

word count: 1k

a/n: here it is! i finally got around with finishing it :) anyways NEILNEILENEILENEMWA

masterlist

the piece of paper you erratically scribbled your poem onto crumpled as you clutched it harder in your clasp, your palms sweaty and jittery. no matter how hard you tried convincing yourself that the other students in your class are all mature, sensible, and rational people, it never ceases the perpetual fickle thumps of your heart.

it annoyed you to no end. how easily it was for situations like this to put you in a wave of emotions. you took a deep breath for the upteempth time before standing up on weakened legs. it always annoyed you, how you’re this impossibly nervous to speak in front of a crowd of people. numerous times has people told you to just ‘tough it out’, but it was never that easy.

you slowly walked to the front on shaky legs and a laser focus on the board, trying to ignore the few stares the others had on you. it felt like a million people had their attention on your every single movement, and amongst the handful of observant stares, lies a worried and concerned one. neil knew how shy you were and it takes a bit of coaxing for you to peek out of your shell. he could already tell that you were having a hard time from the moment he saw you clutch your piece of paper.

you were standing close to the board with your back against it, now everyone was surely looking at you. you couldn’t help but tilt your head downwards and you tried muttering a word out, any word at all. but nothing came out.

"ms. (y/l/n)?"

the invisible weight that rested upon your shoulders made its presence known as you heard your name being called, depriving you of the ability to properly function. the air was acting as if it was non-existent and the atmosphere was suffocating. it made you feel trapped, you hated it. it was hard putting this much pressure on yourself, but you didn't know how to avoid it. no matter how many words of encouragement you mumble out of your lips, it all never seemed to help. tears were starting to prick your eyes as you tried rubbing your hand against your clothes to maybe relieve the stress that had you on a chokehold. it came to the point where you couldn’t take it anymore, and made a beeline for the door to exit the room, ignoring their calls and not hearing the footsteps that came after yours.

standing outside the hall was refreshing. it was empty during these times due to class hours and you were so grateful that no one would see you crying because you were so shaken up by merely presenting to an audience. you slid down and crouched against the wall and held your face, your feeble attempts of wiping the tears away proved useless and you rested a hand atop your chest to atleast give you some purchase from your heaved exhaling.

"(y/n)?"

you quickly lifted your head up at the voice above you, shock filling your veins. it was neil. he must've been so worried because of your sudden departure.

"are you okay?" neil asked in a soft tone, his voice waking you up from the daze you didn’t know you were in, you didn’t notice how tight your chest was. you couldn’t fully focus on the words that came out of his lips and you couldn’t fully process what was going on. you looked so small, keeping your knees close to your chest and beads of sweat continued running down your forehead. he knelt down beside you and sat down on the ground, not wanting to intimidate you if he were to stand up and talk down on you. he wanted you to feel comfortable with him no matter the circumstance.

“i’m-i’m sorry..” you hid your hands, no longer being able to hold back the tears that your eyes desperately wanted to release. you know yourself that it’s no good trying to bottle up your feelings, but you weren’t exactly good at doing that and you had a difficult time expressing your thoughts. what an amazing combo bestowed upon you. “i shouldn’t have made a scene.. i was being overly dramatic.”

neil patiently waited for you to pour everything that was flooding your mind out, not wanting you to get overwhelmed by immediately telling you how to handle things. he didn't want you to pushing down and invalidating your feelings. he gently rubbed your back in circles, his warm touch steadying your ragged breathe and pulling you back from the headspace you threw yourself in.

"they're probably laughing at me right now. i'm not going back in there."

he saw your lips quiver at the thought of possibly returning inside and resuming where you left off. you bet the class paused because of your sudden outburst, you felt ashamed. another batch of fresh tears and a soft sob resounded into the quiet hallway. just the mere scene of you being so vulnerable and your cheeks painted with tears shattered neil's heart into a thousand fragments─ it felt like a knife jagged itself into his heart,

"they're not. you don’t have to talk in front of all of them. i could talk to mr. keating, i'll ask if you can just present in private. just you and him. how does that sound?"

your heart squeezed at each syllable that entered your ears. neil knew just what you needed to hear, you don't know what you'd do without him. he saw you give a weak nod and your nose scrunched up while you wept a little bit more.

"you're doing great, (y/n). you can always try again! don't push yourself too much, my love. if they heard the poem you wrote, i know they'll love it as much as i did! i'm proud of you."

now you were full on sobbing. neil pulled you into his arms and stroked the back of your head and tenderly kissing the spot behind your ear. a gesture that you've grown to love everytime he did it─ he always knew what to do.

"we'll go back in whenever you're ready, sweetheart."

#neil perry #neil perry x reader #dead poets society #dead poets society x reader

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aquacrypt66 · 11 months

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Dating Neil Perry ♡

You met him when the two of you were in a play together, he was a bit shy at first but once you got to know him he really warmed up to you.

Practice lines together when he's gonna be in the play.

So many dates. Cafe dates, fairground dates or picnic dates mostly, but anything you wanna do, Neil is up for it.

He brings you to the Dead Poets meetings so you can watch and read (only if you'd like to tho).

You'd end up being good friends with the poets, especially Charlie and Todd.

Hand holding is a must, he loves it.

He isn't overly into PDA, but in private he's all over you.

Compliments. And cute nicknames. Constantly.

Very romantic.

He rambles to Todd about you all the time. He did this before you started dating as well, so much so that Todd was pleading for him to just ask you out already.

#neil perry #neil perry x reader #neil perry headcanons #dead poets society #dead poets society headcanons #dead poets society x reader #x reader #i love him sm

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lilahisntsadanymore · 9 months

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Neil helps his best friend's sister with Latin. The problem is - he has a crush on her, but knows they could never be together. After all, he couldn't date Charlie's family, it's against the rules. And secondly - Neil is sure Y/n wouldn't have ever talked to him if it wasn't for the tutoring.

Pairing: Neil Perry x dalton!fem!reader

Words count: 1.5k

Warnings: none

«────── « ⋅ʚ♡ɞ⋅ » ──────»

Tutoring

"Thank you for helping me, Neil." Y/n said as she closed the door of her room. She stopped for a moment and then added, "I didn't ask if you wanted something to drink. Shall I bring tea? Coffee? Juice?"

"Water would be perfect," Neil sent the girl a smile.

As Y/n walked to the kitchen for two glasses of water, Neil unpacked his bag. He had some notes that could be helpful for whatever Y/n could need help with. He was a year ahead, so the things she was learning now, he knew cold.

At least tutoring let him spend some time with Y/n. Charlie wouldn't have a problem with his best friend and his sister having a thing, but that wasn't the problem. The Daltons were rich and that was the problem. If it wasn't for the tutoring, Y/n probably wouldn't even have talked to Neil. Neil's family wasn't poor, they had enough money to send him to Welton, but his father worked hard for this.

"Okay, I'm back!" Y/n announced, setting the cups with water on her nightstand, far away from the books.

"Great, so, what do you have a problem with?" Neil asked, taking a seat by Y/n's desk.

The girl sat down on a chair next to him, smiling. "Oh, you know... Latin." She giggled awkwardly, putting a strand of her hair behind her ear.

Oh, how beautiful she looked in that moment. A bit blushed, smiling awkwardly. Neil was mesmerized and almost forgot what he came here for.

"Yes, but what in particular?" He tried masking his infatuation. And he was good at it so far.

"You know what, the desk feels uncomfortable for two people, doesn't it?" Y/n grabbed the book and tossed it onto the bed. "Let's sit there, shall we?"

And so they did. In front of each other, with their legs crossed. Neil forgot about his glasses, but he quickly reached into his bag to search for them.

Now Y/n seemed to be a little mesmerized. She hadn't seen him wearing glasses before and that was a very flattering model for him. Neil looked so attractive.

"Glasses suit you," the girl complimented, "do you ever wear them, you know, outside of studying?"

"No," he chuckled, "I don't need to." Right after this he said it, he scolded himself, in his head of course, for saying it. To make it less awkward he added, "Although thank you."

"No problem." Was it Neil's brain playing tricks on him, or did Y/n sound disappointed by his reply? "Okay, so let's start."

"What shall we start with? Do you wanna start from the beginning, or...?"

"No, no, not from the beginnings. I understand the basics, but it's get pretty difficult later on..."

"Yeah, languages have that thing where they get harder the more advanced they get."

The joke made Y/n smile. She pushed Neil playfully and he theatrically pretended it hurt him.

"Maybe we should start with ACI?"

"Accusativus cum infinitivo," Neil smiled at the memory of Charlie laughing at the word 'cum' every time, but to Y/n it just seemed like a kind smile sent to her. "Alright, let's start."

«────── « ⋅ʚ♡ɞ⋅ » ──────»

"I don't get it, Neil, I just don't!" Y/n whined pathetically. She felt truly hopeless if even Neil couldn't help her.

"No, Y/n, calm down, please, and listen to me." He ordered in a lower, but still kind voice.

Y/n looked at him with worry in her eyes. Worry and fear, but she wasn't scared of him. She was scared of not passing the class, failing her whole education.

Her eyes are so beautiful, Neil thought, she looks like a lost, little doe.

"I know what your problem is," he continued, "you don't know the declensions."

"Well, have you seen how many of those are there?"

"Yes, there are five. But why can't you remember them? From what I've seen today, you don't have a problem with conjugations."

"There's only four of those. And they just make more sense, you know? They feel natural to me. Meanwhile how am I supposed to remember it's puella, puellae, another puellae, puellam, puella with the funny line above the a and vocativus is the same as nominativus?"

"Not to brag, but I must be a really good teacher because you've just recited the first declension in singularis."

"I did?" Y/n beamed at the realization. "Neil, you're amazing!" She threw herself onto Neil, closing him in a very tight hug.

They were laying down on the bed. Neil was on his back and Y/n was on top of him. This moment lasted a bit longer than it was appropriate.

Y/n raised herself up, she went back to sit in the spot she was. She realized how inappropriate it was. She thought Neil must've felt so awkward right now. So she began apologizing and explaining.

"I'm sorry." She said. "I made it awkward, didn't I? I don't know what got into me. I guess I just- I don't- okay, there's no explanation," she knew she might take the explaining too far, but she didn't know how to stop this stream of words. "There is an explanation, actually. I like you, yes you've heard it right, I like you. More than a friend, I've had a crush from you since I met you."

Neil sat back in the cross-legged position. He was astonished by this confession. Not because he didn't feel the same. The thing was he did feel the same, but had no idea Y/n would, so he never prepared himself for this moment. He didn't know what to say, because it seemed so impossible to him. It was never supposed to happen.

"Oh no," a whine came from Y/n's mouth, "I knew I shouldn't have said that. I'm so sorry, again. The way we looked at each other today, I thought the feelings were mutual."

"Y/n, calm down." Neil tried to keep his voice relaxed. He didn't want to make himself seem too excited, that could creep the girl out. "I do feel the same."

"You do?"

"I do, I just didn't know you would. That's why I've tried to keep it to myself."

His confession gave Y/n a bit of confidence. "You weren't so good at keeping this a secret today, the way you looked at me was... giving me signals, let's say."

When this problem was solved, there arised another. What were they going to do with it?

"So... what happens now?" Y/n asked.

"I'm asking myself the same question."

"Should we tell Charlie?" Tell him what though, Y/n? Y/n asked herself, This confession didn't change anything, you're not suddenly dating.

"No," Neil laughed, "I don't think he's ready. I don't think he's mature enough."

Y/n nodded with a smile on her face, but didn't say anything. So Neil continued.

"Would you like to start going on dates?"

"Sure, I would love that. What's your first date idea?" Y/n gave Neil a cheeky smile.

Neil's hand suddenly happened to be on Y/n's, intertwined by the fingers. "I will take you to my rehearsal. Afterwards, we can go eat something or have ice cream. What do you say?"

Without an answer, the girl scooted closer to him. Eventually, she gave Neil a reply. "I say, it is a nice idea. You must look so good on the stage, doing what you love to do."

In that moment, Neil blushed, but what made him blush even more, was Y/n's next action. She put her hand on his jawline and pulled him in for a kiss.

He didn't hesitate to kiss her back, but decided to let Y/n stay in control of the pace and everything else. It was a slow, very romantic kiss. It wasn't awkward, it felt as if they kissed so many times before, their lips co-worked just perfectly.

Soon, Neil's hands found their way to Y/n's waist to pull her closer. A moment later, the lovers were laying down on the bed again. But it wasn't going to go anywhere further than this kiss. Neither of them were ready, besides they've just confessed their feelings, it would be too quick.

After a while, Y/n pulled away, letting Neil and herself catch a breath. She laid down next to the boy, taking his hand in hers. She felt him rub her hand with his thumb. It felt so reassuring. Whatever happens later, we'll get through it.

If Charlie finds out, then he finds out and there's nothing he can do about it. If he doesn't like it, it's his problem, he should be mature enough to understand it.

If the parents find out, either Y/n's or Neil's (it didn't matter, because whoever found out, they would tell one another), then that would be a problem. But Neil was sure he would do something about it, he would make up a solution. It wouldn't be the first time he went against his parents' will.

In the worst case, Y/n and Neil would have to wait until they finish high school. After that, they would be adults, free to do whatever they wanted to. Whatever was going to happen, everything would work out in their favour.

#neil perry x y/n #neil perry x reader #neil perry imagine #neil perry #dead poets society one shot #dead poets society x reader #dead poets society imagine

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multifandom-imgns · 1 year

Note

to give me a character + a trope

Neil Perry x Reader

Opposites attract.

(I hope this is the right way to request if it then i apologize in advance)

ps: nooo it's the right way, thank uuu <3

i hope you enjoy!!

my requests are always open for give me a character + a trope.

Neil Perry + opposites attract: gender neutral!!

you met neil because of steven.

you were sneaking to welton in the night cause you had something that your parents give you for steven.

there's no need to lie, you hated welton with all your heart. the students here have always had to be perfect. that was something you appreciated. yes, you were getting good grades, and that was enough for you to pass the classes.

even you hate the school's system there were one person you always look up to, neil perry. he was your opposite, he was everything you want to be. unlike you he can talk to his parents about his future, but you were just following your parents' dreams.

i guess that was the reason you fell in love with him.

"steven?" you whispered and looked around. where was he?

"steven has to deal with something, with gerard." you heard neil. "i can help if you want."

"well, i just have to give these to steven."

neil smiled at you and walked towards you. you knew there was nothing special going on, you knew he only loved people like him.

you gave him the books and smiled.

"so, how was your school?"

"nothing but classic welton."

"yeah." and that's how the conversation ended. he didn't say anything and the silence began to be uncomfortable. "i have to go, good night then."

"wait, not right now." he grabbed your wrist and walked to his room really fast. you assumed that this was a 'sleep' time control.

he rushed you into his room, almost pushed you.

"y/n, is there a problem?" you heard todd's voice. he was your best friend after steven. "why did you dragged you secret crush in your room?" he said while laughing.

"i didn't."

"thank you todd, you just ruined my love confession."

you looked at them in surprise. "what? can somebody tell me what's going on?"

"well," neil said as he put the books on the table. "i was gonna confess but thanks to your best friend, it ruined."

"you like me?" you still don't understand, or simply you don't want to believe.

"i didn't like you at first, but over time you changed my mind. taking care of you or spending time with you was my favourite thing. i love helping you in trigonometry. "

you smiled. "trigonometry?"

"yeah," he laughed. "don't you like me?"

"i do neil, but i'm just shocked. it was unexpected."

"then, so that you won't be surprised, I'm telling you that I'm going to kiss you." he said while walking towards you.

"hey! i don't want to see my two friends kissing." todd closed his eyes. "please find another room."

"then please turn your behind todd." neil said as he came close to kissing you.

you stopped him by grabbing him by the shoulders. "i wanna kiss you to neil but i don't think it's a right time." you smiled and kissed his cheek. "see you tomorrow then?"

"yeah, see you tomorrow." you left the room smiling.

when you closed the door, you heard neil tell todd that he ruined your first kiss moment. you laughed silently and walked away with a big smile.

#imagine #multifandom imagines #gif imagine #dps imagine #dead poets society x reader #dps x reader #dead poets society imagine #opposite attract #x reader #gender neutral reader #male x reader #neil perry imagine #neil perry x you #neil perry x reader #steven meeks x reader #todd anderson x reader #short imagine

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sallymareeq · 6 months

Text

Under the Willow Tree

⚠️18+ [Minors DNI]⚠️

Summary:

"He moved a hand to your face, caressing your smooth cheek, and in that moment the world disappeared." A picnic under the willow tree with your "best friend" Todd. sappy lovey romantic poetic smut ok this will def become a series

Notes:

reader can be any race and weight as long as they are not bald :) comments are highly appreciated

It had been a year since the Welton Henley Hall merge and you had been living on the new west wing of the ‘strictly girls’ boarding houses for a while. Through classes you had finally made friends with boys you found respectable. You had your little group, Neil, Knox, Poppy, Charlie, Meeks and Pitts, Cameron, you and Todd.

You and Poppy had been the first to join Mr Keatings english class and she, being the extrovert she is, immediately connected with the horniest boy in the room, Dalton. Through being dragged along on awkward dates you did get to know Charlie and thankfully also his wingman Neil. Through Neil and Charlie you were introduced to the rest of the poets.

You began forming a connection with all of them, helping Neil rehearse for his plays because you loved to watch him act, working on a radio with Meeks and Pitts, going on walks with Knox to pick flowers, and getting study tips from Cameron.

But the time you cherished the most was the time you spent reading and writing and talking with Todd. Todd, like you, had a shy exterior, you had to be introduced by friends and at first your conversations were awkward and stilted, punctuated by furtive glances and blushed cheeks but eventually you just clicked. Todd soon became your best friend and you each saw a side of each other no one else had.

Late afternoons you would read Whitman under a willow tree in a hidden patch of the forest, sometimes Todd would get up and start dancing and laughing as he read, grabbing you by the hands to spin you around until you both tumbled over. One of Todd's favorite activities though was listening to you sing. Once he found out you could, he spent a week begging you to sing him something, even a little, until you finally agreed, under the condition that you got to play with his smooth, dirty blonde hair.

You had always wondered what it felt like, it always looked so soft and clean. So one warm Saturday afternoon, sitting on a blanket under the willow, Todd slowly lay his head in your skirt as you began to sing. An old gospel song you had learnt in sunday school, years ago,

As I went down in the river to pray Studying about that good old way And who shall wear the robe and crown Good Lord, show me the way.

Todds eyelashes fluttered shut as you ran your fingers back through his hair, reveling in its softness,

O brothers let's go down Let's go down, come on down Come on brothers let's go down Down in the river to pray

A soft smile crossed his rosy lips and you began to notice the light dusting of freckles against his alabaster skin.

As I went down in the river to pray Studying about that good old way And who shall wear the starry crown Good Lord, show me the way.

You stopped singing as Todd sat up, twisting so you faces were inches apart, his hair was messy, his lips slightly parted and his blue eyes were clouded with love. His hands were either side of you against the tree in an almost protective position and in a slow, dream-like trance you raised your hand to feel his cheek with your thumb. His skin was soft and warm and connecting to it like this stirred something inside you. He continued to breathe, staring longingly into your eyes as you moved your fingers across to his lips, so soft and inviting, his warm breath brushing your fingers. He moved a hand to your face, caressing your smooth cheek, and in that moment the world disappeared. You saw, as if from a bird's-eye view, two young lovers under a willow tree, body’s so close they shared the same air. A boy with his blue sweater, unbuttoned collar peeking out the top and khaki pants. A girl, her hair tied with a bow, wearing the boy's oversized cable knit sweater and a small skirt. You watched for a moment, admiring how perfect they looked together until you heard, or rather felt your name whispered against your lips.

‘Y/N’ the poet breathed ‘can i’ he glanced down at your rosy lips ‘may i kiss you?’

Your lips met fully as you fell into his warmth, he tasted like sunset and home. You lifted your chin as he pulled you in, gently placing a hand on the small of your back, pressing you as close as possible. You arched into him as you deepened the kiss longing to feel more of him, your hands moving from his warm chest to his soft hair. It felt like flying, kissing Todd Anderson, so gentle and yet so firm, so sweet and so lustful, a dance in perfect time. You broke the kiss, only to catch your breath and Todd rested his forehead against yours breathing, his now glossy lips revealing a row of perfect white teeth.

‘Wow’ he sighed

‘Wow’ you looked into his adoring eyes.

And as Todd opened his mouth to speak again a sudden need rushed through your body and you kissed him passionately. He was taken aback for a moment but quickly tightened his grip on your waist, holding your body's flush, together you rose to your knees as you leaned back into his hands. Todd kissed you hungrily, in a way you couldn't expect from him, and as your tongues met you felt yourself grow increasingly aroused at the closeness.

Todd slowly began kissing down your jaw to your neck eliciting soft moans as you began to tug at the hem of his sweater. He leaned back and removed it with a cat-like grin that you had never seen before but that made you want him more than possible. You lifted your arms as he removed your (well his) sweater and began feverishly unbuttoning your tight, white tshirt. His long fingers made quick work of your shirt as he pushed it down your shoulders, still kissing you hotly. He leaned back, hands on your waist, to admire your flawless skin. He ran a light hand over your collar bone as you melted to his touch, his hand traveled down your side, carefully avoiding your breast, to your stomach where he rubbed his thumb over the skin. He looked up at you through his long lashes then down at your low cut, blue floral bra, and more importantly your soft round breasts.

He glanced up again questioningly,

‘Please Todd’ you whispered ‘Touch me’

That confirmation was all he needed to cup his large hand around one of your breasts, kneading it softly and groaning at the feeling. He moved his head down toward them and glanced up a final time before his wet mouth connected with the skin covering your sternum. Slowly he traveled down your cleavage before moving to your left breast leaving small love bites in his wake. You hummed in pleasure as he pulled away the fabric, his hot breath hitting your exposed nipple. He sucked it into his mouth, tongue circling the sensitive skin causing you to whine breathily. Once he was satisfied with the left he moved on to the right still groping the left as he did. Once he had you leaning back on your arms, squirming and moaning his name he pulled away, you whined at the loss of connection until you saw him begin to unbutton his white shirt. You sat up staring longingly as more of his pale, lightly freckled chest was revealed, his muscles were taught and clearly visible, he looked as if he was carved from stone and as he shrugged off his shirt you felt your mouth begin to water. You sat up fully, holding him by the shoulders, cheeks touching as you breathed in his scent, distinctly masculine, like freshly washed sheets or a newly opened book, it filled your chest and stomach and back as you shut your eyes and basked in it. You moved together, not kissing, but breathing, feeling the pull of each other's energy.

You ran your hands down his freckled shoulders observing the rise and fall of his muscles, down his forearms covered in light blonde hairs, to his hands, silky and veined. You brought his hand to your mouth kissing the pads of his fingers and slowly inviting his pointer and middle into your mouth, you licked and sucked sensuously as he stared at the lustful sight. Drawing back, you licked saliva from your lips and continued your exploration. As you began kissing down his chest, feeling his warm skin you caught a glimpse of his bulge, straining against the front of his pants. He lowered himself onto his elbows as you savoured the feeling of his abs on your lips, you felt his hand brush through your hair to your cheek as he lifted your face and looked lovingly into your eyes.

‘hey, you know you don't have to do anything you don't want to right?’ Todd said earnestly

“Little you know” you began to quote as you sensually crawled up his body, ‘the subtle electric fire for your sake playing within me.’ you finished with a soft kiss to his lips.

‘Whitman’ He smiled

‘i fear i am in love’ you mused

‘And i quite the same’ he whispered hot against your lips ‘O to draw you to me, O to be yielded to you, coming naked to me at night,'

'And you to be yielded to me, in defiance of the world’ he spoke as if kissing, moving and breathing and teasing.

‘Your body to me is sweet, clean, loving, strong,’ you spoke kissing his jaw

‘Your eyes are more to me than poems,’ you began traveling back down his neck

‘Your lips do better than play music,’ down his hot chest

‘The lines of your cheeks, the lashes of your eyes, are eloquent to me,’ over the hills and valleys of his toned abdomen

‘This face is flavor’d fruit ready for eating.’ you unbuttoned his trousers

‘You give me the pleasure of your eyes, face, flesh,’ unzipping them slowly

‘You take of my hair, breast, hands, in return,’ kissing his hip bones

‘Our flesh, and even a part of our flesh,’you lock eyes with the sandy haired poet, light eyes now dark with lust,

‘seems more than senses and life.’ he finishes for you as you remove his trousers and boxers in one fluid motion, freeing his throbbing member.

Todd sucked in a breath, cock twitching at the sudden cold as it sprung from his boxers. You stared in awe at his glistening member, already dripping with precum, it was large, more than 6 inches, and erect. You looked up at him unsure.

‘I have never done this before’

‘Its ok’ Todd assured ‘I'll tell you what feels good and what doesn't’

And you trusted him to do so.

You leaned forward, taking the tip into your mouth as you tasted him, warm and slightly salty, but knowing it was Todds made it taste like lust. You lowered, taking as much into your mouth as you could, Todd hummed with pleasure and let out a low moan when you felt the tip hit the back of your throat.

‘Mm yes, perfect’

His praise swallowed you whole as you began acting on instinct, taking what couldn’t fit into your mouth in hand, you began to bob your head up and down, slowly hitting the back of your throat every time. Your mouth filled with saliva and precum, dripping out onto your chin. Todd lovingly used his free arm to hold back your hair as you worked. His head fell back as he continued to groan and whisper your name like a prayer. You felt him guide your head faster and you swirled your tongue slightly causing his hips to buck. This involuntary show of desire caused you to moan around his cock, sending vibration through his body, his lips came together to stifle a moan and he whispered breathlessly.

‘Fuck Y/N im getting close, should i-’

But his words were cut off by a long, drawn out ‘fuck-’ as you took his entire length into your hot, wet mouth. He gripped your hair tightly and you felt his cock twitch as hot salty liquid shot down your throat, you swallowed as much as you could, longing to be filled with his love, and as you pulled back, come and spit dripping from your chin to your breasts, he stared, open mouthed.

‘If I am to have so much, let me have more, Drunken and crazy with love, swing in its plummetless sea.’ he recited

You bashfully wiped your mouth as you sat back on your heels.

‘Oh my- that was perfect’ Todd spoke

His eyes scanned your body

‘i have never bared witness to something so breathtakingly beautiful’ he started, holding you with a loving gentleness, ‘so sweet, so lovely’ he smiled as he began to lay you down,’so kind and fulfilling’ he removed your skirt exposing your matching floral panties, now soaked, ‘and sensual’ he mouthed at your navel, ‘something i want’ he breathed pressing a kiss to your hip bone, ‘something i need’ kissing the other, he moved to face your hot core, leaving wet kisses up your thighs ‘bid away matters of the mind, and think only with your heart’ Your head falls back, mouth open wide as you arch into the feeling of Todd's wet tongue running over your panties, but before you can moan out his name he captures your lips in a wet, sensuous kiss, the friction of his tongue being replaced by his long, capable fingers. He hooks his fingers under the waist of the garment and looks to you for permission before slowly pulling them down.

‘I have never done this before either’ Todd admitted as he leaned forward to kiss you

‘I trust you Todd’ you felt him grow harder at your words.

With newfound confidence he tentatively swiped two fingers through your folds, stopping when he felt you shudder at contact with your sensitive bundle of nerves. He quickly glanced back up at you,

‘Good or bad?’ he questioned,

‘Good… really good’ you breathed as he began to circle your clit.

You stared lovingly into his face as he slowly widened his circles until he stopped at your entrance,

‘Todd’ you said softly,

‘Hm?’ he looked up at you in that Todd way, mouth slightly open, blue eyes innocently questioning, dirty blond hair parted to one side.

‘Im a virgin’ you breathed against his lips,

The thought had never crossed your mind since you came to Welton, Poppy had always talked about sex and how great Charlie was in bed but you had never met anyone you thought you could trust with your body, so open and vulnerable, until you met Todd. With him everything just felt so right, a perfect boy, a handsome man, a lover.

‘I want you to be the one’ you whispered,

He kissed you softly, much slower than before but something felt different, like he had transferred part of his soul with that kiss and just as slowly and with as much care, he pressed his warm finger into you. You both shut your eyes, enjoying the sensation, he groaned at the feeling of you clenching around his long nimble finger, growing almost unbearably hard. You moaned loudly as he curled his finger hitting a spot that sent a rush through you.

‘Please Todd- Please’ you whined biting your lip

‘Please what petal, please what?’ Todd urged, eager to please

‘Faster’ you panted.

Todd was a fast learner as he soon found a pace that had you heaving for breath and begging for more all at once, he slowed slightly but before you could complain he added a second finger, pumping them into your throbbing core.

You bit your lip as a mix of pain and pleasure rocked through your body

‘Is that o-’ you swallowed Todd's question in a kiss that neither of you could ever forget, hot and wet and sweet, your tongues working in harmony, both of you making obscene noises as you felt the knot in your stomach grow tighter.

‘Todd i need you’

‘Im here, i'm here whatever you need’ he breathed still pumping in and out of you

‘I need all of you please’ you whined needily.

‘Ok’ he removed his fingers from your warmth and smoothed your lust onto his already hardened cock.

Kneeling in front of you he teased your entrance with his tip as you gazed dreamily up at his figure, the gold afternoon sun peaking through the branches left his pale skin gleaming with sweat. He looked down at you, laying sprawled on the blanket, had it been only this morning you considered each other friends, no, you had been much more from the moment your eyes met. Love. love was the only word to describe how you felt as Todd leaned his forehead against yours and slowly, slowly pressed his way inside of you. The world disappeared inch by inch as his length filled you up, you felt no pain this time, only an all-encompassing sense of wholeness. Your thoughts, feelings, memories became one as he slowly began thrusting into you, nuzzling into your soft hair and breathing heavily. It was just the two of you, breathing and moaning as you moved closer toward a shared bliss. You sucked at his neck, nibbling on a spot behind his ear that made him let out an almost whimper. He raised the hand that wasn't supporting him to your neck, not to choke but to feel your pulse. The feeling of his strong, smooth hand at your neck sent you reeling as you whispered his name frantically.

‘yes, Todd, Please, I love you, i love you, fuck, fuck’

With every thrust he lightly kissed your face, your cheeks, nose, eyelids, running his fingers through your hair. This moment was nothing like how Poppy had described it, not hot and dirty and rough and loud and forbidden, it was warm and sweet and kind and lovely and true. A moment of connection between two fated souls, under the shade of a willow tree.

The feeling was beyond words, beyond feeling, it was poetic. The passion in his movements pushed you to the edge of what you knew to be true, staring into his deep blue eyes, you knew you were close, you both knew. His movements slowed, becoming more sloppy as you both teetered on the edge of release. Your lips connected as you felt a wave of pleasure crash over you both, the feeling so great you moaned into each other's mouths. You rode out your orgasms, panting between kisses, Todds face buried in your neck. He rolled onto his back and you snuggled into his warm chest, listening to his heartbeat.

“I would quote whitman but right now i can only think of you” he sighed

You giggled as you passed him his pants.

He redressed clumsily as you gathered your clothes and jumpers.

You sat together talking quietly as he buttoned your shirt and you fixed up his hair.

“You're so good to me Todd” you smiled as he fixed your collar.

‘Well i just love you’ he said so casually he even took himself by surprise,

‘Where ever did I find you’ you shook your head smiling contently.

You lay with your head in his lap this time, reading Whitman while he picked the surrounding wildflowers, as you put the book down Todd blushed, he had made you a flower crown. You sat up and turned so he could place it on your head.

He smiled ‘you look like a woodland nymph’

You picked a small white flower- a spring beauty- and stuck it in his still slightly messy hair.

‘You're so very pretty Todd’

As the sun grew orange in the sky you began making your way back to the courtyard, probably looking like a pair of strays, hair full of flowers and clothes a mess, holding hands and smiling blissfully.

#Smut #Fluff #Fluff and Smut #pining #friends to lovers #todd anderson #dead poets society #dead poets fanfic #todd anderson x reader #dead poets society x reader #todd x reader

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faerieroyal · 1 month

Text

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thinking about charlie, who will call you every single pet name known to the english language, and use them so much that sometimes you wonder whether he remembers your real name. thinking about charlie, who always insists on having his arm around you when the two of you are in public, no matter if it’s around your shoulders or your waist. thinking about charlie, who will absolutely cover your face with kisses when you’re upset until you laugh from how much it tickles, and have the most smug smile on his face when he’s accomplished it. thinking about charlie, who will attempt to write a saxophone melody just for you, and even if it doesn’t turn out quite like he wanted will feel like the sun has started shining in his chest when you smile at him after he plays it for you. thinking about charlie, who as much as he craves validation, eventually comes to find that yours is the only laugh he really cares about hearing after he’s told a joke.

thinking about charlie, who is always so jovial and takes so little in this life seriously, but who is deadly serious about his love for you; as much as he tries to bring light and levity into other people’s lives, you are the light in his life, and he will be damned if he doesn’t love you with the same determination he gives to telling jokes and causing mischief - strong, steadfast, with all the warmth and power of the sun he cannot help but remind people of, and that he insists he sees every time he sees you smile.

˚୨୧⋆｡˚⋆

dead poets society taglist: @fairyofthehollow, @lovings4turn, @agentlilicarter, @renqiisnce !

general taglist: @maddipoof, @thatmagickjuju, @talkingturnedtoscreamss, @malafvma, @auxiliarydetective, @heliads, @oneirataxia-girl !

( send me an ask if you want to be added to a taglist !! )

#(.⋆꙳‧ my works !! ‧꙳⋆.)#— ❥ dolly’s many thoughts !!#— ❥ dolly’s beloveds: charlie dalton !!#— ❥ requests !!#— ⟢﹒dolly's darlings: nova star !!#charlie dalton x reader #charlie dalton headcanons #dead poets society x reader #dead poets society headcanons #dps x reader #dps headcanons #gender-neutral reader

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augiewrites · 6 months

Text

"secret admirer" - dead poets society (part 2)

summary: a group of boys catches y/n's eye in keating's class

pairing: anonymous!dead poet x gender neutral reader

word count: 600+

previous | next

Keating’s class wasn’t like the others at Welton. Walking into the classroom felt like a warm embrace and Keating himself stoked the fires of his students’ creativity.

But not today—not for Y/N.

They had never been so distracted in their life. Just walking into the classroom, Y/N debated asking Keating for a pass to the infirmary. Knowing they were being observed is one thing, but knowing exactly when is a whole other scenario.

Especially when they have no clue who’s eye they’re under.

Despite their nerves, Y/N took their usual seat. Two rows from the front, on the farthest row to the left. Not too close to be the center of any teacher’s impulse, but not too far away to get distracted by the rest of the class. Today was different, though. The only thing Y/N could bring themselves to care about was their classmates.

Y/N angled themselves in their seat in order to take in the classroom as students trickled in. In honesty, Y/N should have realized sooner that the culprit was in their English class—the amount of passion their classmates had shown throughout the year had never failed to take them by surprise. After all, Welton was not a place for passion.

Their eyes landed on a group of boys huddled around Knox Overstreet’s desk. Memories of the boy reciting a pathetic—albeit sweet—love poem to the class flooded their mind. The group of boys did always seem to be more enthusiastic about the class than most.

Despite telling their roommate they didn’t want to play detective, Y/N themselves straining to hear bits of their conversation—something about a book and finding a new meeting spot. They didn’t hear much as Keating entered the room and made his way to the front of the class. Charlie Dalton caught their eye as the group disbanded, sending them a wink and making a finger gun gesture at them.

Y/N couldn’t help but roll their eyes.

Dalton was a mere annoyance on a good day.

Todd Anderson walked to his seat in front of Y/N, and gave them a sheepish smile as he shrugged a shoulder in a “what can you do” gesture.

Y/N decided that was enough detective work for the period as Keating began a boisterous speech on Romantic contemporaries. All they wanted to do was lose themselves in Keating’s whimsy for the next hour, but a familiar envelope laying inside their desk compartment stopped any hope they had of forgetting about their admirer.

Moving as discreetly as possible, Y/N pulled out the letter along with their notes and textbook. The whole world muffled as they read:

From afar, I gaze, A silent, secret admiration, Your light shines bright, In my quiet contemplation.

And when you laugh, a melody, It dances in the breeze, I cherish each sweet note, With every sigh, I'm at ease.

Oh, how I wish for closeness, To bridge this gap in fate, To hold you near, not distant, To share life's love, not wait.

x, Yours.

Y/N couldn’t help the smile spreading across their face, nor the blush that accompanied it. They were so engrossed in the feeling that they didn’t notice the satisfied gaze they were receiving from afar.

The rest of the period passed in a haze, and Y/N was thankful Keating wasn’t a fan of pop quizzes. Y/N could barely focus on where they were, let alone absorb anything meaningful from the lesson.

Their eyes locked on Steven Meeks—thank God Keating had called him by name that period—shoving his notes in his backpack.

They had to act, and it was now or never.

~~~

part three

#dead poets society #dead poets society x reader #dps boys #dps #dps fanfiction #todd anderson #neil perry #steven meeks #gerard pitts #charlie dalton #knox overstreet #todd anderson x reader #neil perry x reader #steven meeks x reader #gerard pitts x reader #charlie dalton x reader #knox overstreet x reader #dps x reader

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dearsnow · 8 months

Text

THE LAST TIME

- ten out of the countless times you have seen neil perry, and nine where you saw him alive. (neil perry x gn! implied to be shy reader, fluff to angst, canon-typical main character death, major spoilers for dps but i assume you’ve watched it before, i included my own poetry so i hope y’all like it, sad face emoji i teared up while writing this).

word count: 9,006

a/n - thank you so so much to my beta readers @sorencd and @chuudidit for reading this massive piece, i appreciate you endlessly <3 this was definitely a labor of love, one that i took a considerable amount of time to write and edit. i adore dead poets society and poetry in general (i have written 130+ poems and never plan on stopping) so i definitely needed to put my thoughts into words lol 😭 anyways, i hope you enjoy, because i definitely enjoyed writing this for you.

When Neil Perry first saw you, and god, did he see you, he knew nothing would ever be the same again.

You were simply sitting there under the old tree just outside the borders of Welton with a book under your nose and the soft rays of a flashlight filtering through your hair. You had one knee up, holding the book in a gentle balancing act as he stared. Charlie gave him a nudge, eyebrows raised and a tease on the tip of his tongue, but Neil couldn’t even move. He was completely and utterly dumbstruck. The moon was hanging above your head, full and bright, drowning you in a poetic haze. You flipped a page and he could feel his heart beating in his chest. He thought he had never seen anything so beautiful before, and he had no idea why.

After a long minute, he peeled his gaze away from the figure under the tree and followed the other dead poets to their second ever meeting. From the corner of his eye, he swore he saw you glance up at him when he passed, but no one else seemed to notice.

When Neil and the poets were walking back to Welton, you weren’t there- something Neil noticed instantly. Of course, being who he was, Todd noticed that Neil noticed, and Charlie noticed that Todd noticed, and before he knew it, Neil and his fixation were the new tortured topics of the evening.

“Oh, love at first sight! The most beautiful kind.” Charlie teased, clasping his hands and spinning around. “How romantic.”

Neil shook his head, trying desperately to clear his suspicions. “It’s not like that. I swear, it’s not even a crush. I just thought it was weird.”

Cameron chimed in with a slightly hushed tone. At least he was aware of the fact that they were quickly approaching the earshot of every single person in Welton Academy. “I wonder where they came from. I mean, it couldn’t have been comfortable or safe to be out here at night. Especially alone.”

“Same. What do you think they were reading?” Neil responded, quick to try and put the teasing behind him. Despite his efforts, the teasing carried long into the night and the days following it. It seemed like nothing and no one would ever let him forget he ever saw you.

He would find out later that you were reading a poetry book.

He saw you for the second time on a trip to the main town. He recognized you instantly, from what little knowledge of you he had gained. You had the same hair, the same stature, the same book tucked under your arm as you peered into the musty old bookstore in the back corner. Just Todd was with him this time, and he definitely knew what was up.

Todd glanced at him, a warm expression on his face. Once again, Neil was entranced.

In the new glorious daylight, he noticed things he never could’ve before. The undertones of your hair, your skin, the way you seemed to glow even when you dipped into the shadows. He saw the pure beauty of you in a manner he had never seen anyone else in before. He took a step forward, pulled towards you somehow as his heart beat a mile a minute. The bookstore loomed over you, cracked and imperfect, yet casting the evening in a scene plucked out of a storybook. You turned, seeming to have seen him in the window’s reflection, and he flinched. He almost had a heart attack as his brain registered the color of your eyes and exactly how your mouth pulled up into a smile. Quickly turning away, he grabbed Todd’s sleeve and hightailed it out of there. Todd followed, as he always did. Neil was enamored, and Todd could tell.

“Do you think they saw me?” Neil gasped, pulling Todd into the square’s corner. He was panting lightly, red-cheeked, with a lopsided grin on his face. Todd had never seen him nervous, much less shy. In fact, he was the opposite- friendly, inclusive, and not the type to run away from a challenge. Something must have been different about you.

Todd raised his eyebrows. “Probably, Neil, they looked back.” He, too, saw your eyes, though he was mostly focused on the anxiety coursing through his veins rather than committing them to memory.

Neil’s gasping breaths were definitely louder than they needed to be. “Oh god, they definitely saw me. They probably think I’m a creep. Jesus, it’s definitely over.”

“What’s over?” Todd put a hand on his shoulder worriedly. “There was nothing there to begin with. They’re just a person, you’ll be fine.”

“Way to kill my dreams, Todd. Look, can you promise me that you won’t tell this to anyone else?” Neil asked, suddenly very serious. He glanced around like someone would waltz into the trash-filled and truthfully disgusting corner. The bathrooms were just around the bend, and he could smell it.

Intrigued, Todd nodded.

“I need you to say it. Promise me.” Neil whispered. His coat crinkled as he moved closer to Todd, the material dipping around his sweater. The fall air was the perfect background for whatever Neil was trying to get up to.

“I promise.”

Neil grinned boyishly and glanced around the corner again. “This is stupid, but I think I’m in love.” From the look in his eyes, Todd could definitely tell. His friend was suddenly more animated than he had been in a very long while, and he knew that he would do anything to keep him that way. His caution, however, took over.

“Don’t get ahead of yourself. What if you never see them again?”

“And what if I do?” Neil breathed. “What if I see them tomorrow, or the next day, or a week from now? What if I see them every day of my life because I just went out and said something?”

Todd shook his head. “Just be careful, alright? There’s a very good chance that nothing will come of it.” Neil clasped Todd’s jacket, quirking his eyebrows.

“No.”

“What do you mean, ‘no’?”

“Just no.”

The first time you saw Neil Perry, you didn’t even know you saw him. You were sitting under a tree, reading an Emily Dickinson book you bought in the town’s bookstore. It was a way to relax to you. A way to forget all of your troubles and just enjoy the wonders of the world. You don’t know why you picked that tree, or why you stayed so long you had to use the flashlight you so hastily packed, but life has its ways of pulling you towards something you didn’t know existed.

The scenery was absolutely beautiful, even at night. You wrapped your thick coat tightly around your shoulders. The fall leaves beneath you gave a crackle and the moon hung high above your head, slightly illuminating your page. Welton Academy loomed just outside of your line of sight. It was beautiful, too, but something about the cold stone walls made you shiver.

As time slipped away, you began to hear a hushed cacophony of boys around your age coming out of the school to the side of you. They had their hoods up, laughing and giggling like they were in some sort of secret club. You looked up, and one of them stopped dead in his tracks. You could see his breaths clouding in the night as the others urged him forward. Your eyes drifted back down to your book, as if you were embarrassed. The moment broke, and he was on his way.

You weren’t there for his return back to Welton.

The second time you saw him, you noticed him a lot more clearly. You were window shopping just outside of the bookstore. Even though the building was dusty and marred, it smelled like home. It smelled like stories and adventures and comfort. You were a frequent visitor to this place, and one of the owner’s best customers.

He often set up his new imports in the big, yellow-tinted window in front of you. As you gazed in, you noticed a face appear in the space next to you. You turned around partially, meeting his dark brown eyes. Your heart skipped a beat as you stared at him.

It was an electric moment. His lips were slightly parted, and the gray clouds above him were engorged with unshed tears. You gaped at him, dumbfounded, as milliseconds ticked away like hours.

Before you knew it, he had sped away with his friend in tow. Huh, you hadn’t even noticed he had a friend. All you could think about was the fact that he looked familiar, and the fact that he was the most handsome boy you had ever had the pleasure of locking eyes with.

His stature reminded you of the boy by the tree, the boy from Welton Academy. There was just something about him that screamed “you saw him once in a dream”.

Somehow, you thought one simple thought: you were in love with someone you did not know.

When Neil saw you for the third time, and the third time you saw him, he worked up the courage to talk to you.

Mr. Keating was instructing the boys outside yet again. They were in the courtyard, taking inspiration from the world around them. From leaves, patches of mud, anything that struck their fancy.

You were taking a walk by campus. Once again, you didn’t know why; you just were. The boys were not a quiet group, and you could hear their shouts very clearly. You strained your ears, hoping to hear one voice in particular. Of course, you didn’t know what his voice sounded like, but you were listening anyway. If you were right, and he was a boy from Welton, maybe you might be able to catch a word or two.

That’s when Neil spotted the person walking loops around the front of campus. Maybe, for the first time, you could be his inspiration.

He looked over his shoulder, quickly trying to assess whether he could slip away unnoticed or not. No one seemed to be looking at him. He left his group behind and jogged up next to you.

You saw him coming. Even from a distance, you knew it was him. Your heart began to pound in your ears, loud and fast and just a little bit lovesick. You were right.

“Hey!” He exclaimed. You took a small step back. Your nerves were on their highest setting and your mind was reeling. What did he think of you, you wondered. More importantly, who was he?

As he approached, you put on your best nervous smile. “Hi.”

“My name’s Neil.” He said, reaching out a hand for you to shake. You complied quickly, saying your own name in turn. His palms were slightly damp, but you couldn’t blame him. Yours were probably worse.

The moment your hand held his, fitting perfectly under his fingers, he knew you were made for him. “I saw you in town the other day. Do you like books?”

Your voice was hesitant, unsure, and Neil wished he could reach out and smooth the wrinkles in the sound like an old coat. “Yeah.”

“What were you reading?” Neil asked. He tried to stamp down his own nerves, but something about you made his breaths flutter in and out like butterfly wings. It was a feeling he was completely and entirely new to.

You shifted the bag on your shoulder to your hands, reaching in to pull out the book. “Oh, Poems by Emily Dickinson. It’s not the traditional type of book, but I love poetry.” Your cheeks began to warm. You knew nothing about this boy. What if he thought poetry was stupid, just a lesson in his English class and nothing else? How could anyone know how much those words meant to you?

Neil beamed, big and wide and lovesick. You truly were perfect for him, he thought. Poetry. You certainly were poetic, with those gorgeous eyes and an equally beautiful mind. “I love poetry too.” He breathed.

Your tense smile turned genuine. “You do? That’s awesome.” A quiet flutter started to pick up in your heart.

“Yeah. You know what?” He grinned, “my friends and I have a sort of poetry club. The dead poets society- we do readings, original works, whatever the members are feeling at the moment.” He sucked in a silent breath, pausing just enough to let his reeling mind decide on what he wanted to say. “It’s at night in the old Indian cave.” You nodded along to his words, growing increasingly intrigued the further he carried on. This dead poets society began to excite you. It was all you ever wanted in life: a community of like-minded people sharing the verses that made your heart tick. “If you want, I mean, you should go to our next meeting. It’s tonight.” Neil offered. He could tell his words were cycling through your mind, finally catching up to his proposal.

You wanted to join the dead poets society so badly it made your heart ache. A little inkling, though, in the back of your head, sparked a pit in your stomach. “Would your friends be okay with me being there? I… I don’t exactly know them.”

Neil was head over heels. You were so wonderfully lively, in the way that a breeze touching his eyelashes with the tips of its fingers would be. You were exactly how he expected, and exactly who he needed.

He waved away your concern with the flip of a hand and a laugh. “Don’t worry about it. The others bring guests too, and gosh, I’m sure they’re going to love you! Especially Todd. I’m sure you two would get along real well.”

“Then I’ll definitely be there.” You replied. The sparkle in your eye shot Neil at full force. You were excited, smiling, happy. He made you happy. He mentally patted himself on the back.

“Great!” Leaves rustled from behind Neil, and you could see a group of boys approaching in the near distance. “Shoot. I gotta go, but make sure to show up. I’ll be waiting for you.” He whispered, leaning in closer to you before turning around to walk towards the group. You felt cold air where he had once been, and you wished for a moment that he would come back. His friends, however, were hooting and hollering, and you thought you could hear a kissy noise or two. You shook your head, a shaky warmth creeping its way up your neck, before turning to walk away.

You were going to go to a secret meeting in a secret cave at a hauntingly secret hour, and you had never been quite so excited in your entire life.

The fourth time you saw each other was the dead poets society meeting. You were brimming with nerves beforehand, shaking fingers gathering your materials as you tried to prepare for waltzing into a place with people entirely unknown to you. The bag you were holding contained a couple of your favorite poetry books, your own poems scratched in the empty spaces on certain pages that really inspired you. You weren’t entirely sure if you wanted to read a poem out loud, especially your own work, but earlier in the evening, you resolved to “go with the flow” and do what the others were doing. You hoped you wouldn’t have to regret that decision later.

After putting everything together and making sure to turn off your light and close your door, you slipped out of your house into the black night.

The scenery on your walk was entirely too beautiful. You never noticed just how much the bark on trees formed swirling patterns, or how the stars seemed to twinkle on their own. The ground under your feet was littered with fallen leaves in fiery shades and clumps of moist dirt. You began to smile just a little bit, thinking of a poem you had written when autumn had first started. That is surely what you would say if the dead poets wanted you to speak.

Nothing felt greater than breathing in the crisp, cold air and swinging your arms as you stepped along the path less traveled on.

When you finally reached the cave, heart significantly lighter, the sound of laughter floated up to your ears. It was bountiful and boyish and beautiful. You peered around the edge of the cave entrance, and Neil’s eye immediately caught on you.

“Come in, come in! We’re just about to begin.” He called. You stepped fully into the light and glanced around at your company.

They were giggling and shoving, gaping at you and Neil with a sort of uncertain certainty. Some were standing, some sitting, a couple moving around, and all of them male. You took a seat next to Neil, between him and the boy you saw with him in town. He gave you a meaningful nod and looked to Neil, who was opening an old, thick book. He was frightened to so much as speak in front of you, as silly as it might have seemed.

“Attention, dead poets. Today is another wonderful night.” He announced, voice deep and commanding and humorously theatrical. “I went to the woods because I wanted to live deliberately… I wanted to live deep and suck out all the marrow of life! To put to rout all that was not life… And not, when I came to die, discover that I had not lived…” His voice trailed off, and someone from the back of the cave echoed his last word. He closed the book with a snap, and the boys began to murmur excitedly.

Neil took a seat and turned to you, a glimmer of something sweet in his eye. When he looked at you, all he saw was magnificence. “Who wants to start?”

A boy jumped up. In his fist was a crumpled piece of paper, which he made a show of unfolding. “For those of you who don’t know,” He said, with a pointed glance at you, “my name is Nuwanda, and today, I actually made a poem.”

A couple boys yelled in support, and Neil gave you a nudge. “Charlie Dalton.” He whispered, making sure to not alert the others. You thanked him with a shy nod. Then, as “Nuwanda” was starting to begin his woefully homemade poem, Neil put his arm around your shoulders.

His touch sent jitters through your entire body, lighting you up like a firework. It just felt so right, so natural, so breathtaking. It felt exactly like shaking his hand and feeling his eyes and seeing his breath hang in the air- like it was destined, written in the stars, utterly perfect. You leaned into his touch, feeling his warm breath fanning over the back of your neck and shoulder. “To live, to learn, to die,

my boys,

to see, to love, to burn.

To touch, to know, to harm,

my dear,

to eat, to reap, to sow.”

Charlie recited. For someone who seemingly took poetry lightly, he wasn’t particularly bad. He put more passion into his words than most other boys you knew. In fact, you’re sure he would be a great writer if he put more than an ounce of effort into it.

He took a bow as the room erupted into applause, Neil’s arm still wrapped around you. He could feel it too, the electricity. He wanted nothing more than to bottle that feeling and keep it forever.

Charlie sat, staring at you and Neil with a smirk on the corners of his lips. “Hey, why don’t we let our guest take a crack at it?”

The cave filled with a rumble of excitement from all of the poets. Neil’s brows were furrowed, but he gave an urge of support anyway. “If you want to, of course.”

You wanted to. Energy thrummed throughout your company, filling you with a sense of confidence you rarely had anywhere else. For once, you truly wanted to speak up. The air was crackling with a sense of anxious anticipation, and you could smell the love each boy held for each other. They knew, somehow, that the moment meant a lot to Neil, and they were willing to put aside any inhibitions to help him enjoy the night.

“I’ll go.” You uttered. Neil’s face lit up as his previous worries slunk away into the night.

You pulled out a book from your usual bag and opened it to the page you knew so well you could recite the poem it held without looking. And, of course, your own poem was scribbled in the margins.

Everyone was attempting to peer over your shoulder, to take a glimpse of what made you a poet. Having attention on you was an odd feeling, like ants crawling along the back of your spine. You took a deep breath. “When you die,

the beetles will still sing.

The trout will still jump,

and the earth will still rumble.

When you die, the moon will still turn

and the stars will still burn.

When you die,

The lakes will still ripple

and the trees will still creak

and I will lower you into the ground

and I will cry so hard the world stops moving.”

As the last words left your lips, a profound silence enveloped the group. Then, all at once, it exploded.

“We’ve got a real poet in here!” Came Charlie’s teasing (yet not entirely unkind) voice. “Truly Keating material. What sparked your creative melancholy?”

You felt yourself glowing as you sat. If you were being honest, you never could have imagined that anyone would genuinely enjoy your work. That notion was entirely unfounded and untrue, considering they were a group of poets, but it persisted nonetheless. “I don’t know, really. Just the notion of losing a loved one, I suppose.”

When Neil saw you, in that moment, when he heard your voice, he couldn’t breathe. He knew so little about you, yet you pumped his pulse up to be as fast as a racehorse. He wanted, no, he needed to learn everything that made you you. He needed to know what you looked like when waking up in the morning, or how your fingers felt threading through his hair, or your deepest, most desperate passions. He needed to be so close to you he could feel your heartbeat through the fabric of your shirt. He was intrigued.

When he first discovered acting, he felt the same exact way- a burning desire to learn, to know, to discover. If you let him, he would recite his lines all the way into your heart.

The meeting continued as the sky grew ever darker, complete with poems and rhymes and words spoken in deliberately lyrical tones. You fell into every verse and every story as easily as you would if they were written in a book. You began to learn every name in the room, and they quickly caught on to yours. It was a community, a group of people that began to feel like home.

Of course, by the time they decided to end things, the stars were full and bright. The sun would surely peek its head out of the fog in a couple hours. You were smiling harder and more genuinely than you ever had before, with Neil by your side, and Todd on your other. As they all stood up to leave with boisterous whispers, Neil turned to you.

“Will you come tomorrow? And the next, and every day after that?” His question was so excited, so innocent, like he didn’t know that you would kill for the chance to be near him and everything he held dear.

You smiled. “Of course. I’ll be a dead poet for life.”

Your eighth encounter with Neil was not a lucky twist of fate. He got permission to leave school for some something or other that you never bothered to find out. Now, it was just you two and the big town square looming in front of you.

In truth, it wasn’t that big, but when you’re standing at the beginning of a new day with the boy that holds your heart, everything feels intense.

He took hold of the sleeve of your sweater, as he so often did, and you descended upon the shops.

“Come on, you’ve absolutely got to try the milkshakes at Tom’s Ice Cream Parlor! They’re just the best. Hurry, hurry!” He tugged you along, a bright smile on his face. God, how you loved him.

You had grown closer in the past five dead poets society meetings. Often, he would stay with you in the cave long after the meetings had ended. You would talk about whatever crossed your mind in the moment, and he would spin stories out of thin air. He didn’t ever seem to talk about real life things, though. His work at school, sure, but anything outside of that was uncharted territory. When you asked him about his family, he just clammed up.

You laughed as he weaved through the clumps of people with you in tow. “Slow down, Neil! You’re gonna get us killed.”

The sound of your voice, especially your laugh, was something Neil had come to relish. He would keep you talking all day if it meant he could hear that giddy ring in his ears every time he craved your presence. “You’ve just got to go faster. The line is horrific at this time of day.”

“This place had better be good.”

“It is, believe me. It’ll be the best you’ve ever had.”

When you arrived, bodies hot and just a little uncomfortably sweaty, the sight of the ice cream parlor was a welcome one. He led you through the doors and ran his fingers through his tousled hair. You wished you could do it for him. The line was, unsurprisingly, quite long. You made idle chat, but his words fell on deaf ears as you stared at him.

“…he was real impressed when Charlie played his sax. Mr. Nolan, though, he definitely wasn’t-“ And, before you could think about it, before the screaming in your head could tell you no, you reached up and smoothed the cowlick that always seemed to mess up his part. When you pulled your hand away, he was beaming.

“Thanks.” He said, simply. You smiled back at him.

“No problem. So, what happened to Charlie afterwards?” You questioned. Neil gave you a look, one you had come to realize meant “I’ll tell you later”.

As you stood three people away from the front counter, Neil fumbled around in his pockets. “Shoot, I could’ve sworn I brought more money than this…” He muttered. He pulled out a dime and three pennies, all slightly covered in the fuzz from his jacket pocket. “I’m sorry. I don’t know, I must’ve spaced out- I’m usually so good about things like this.”

You took his arm with one hand and slipped the other in your pocket, rooting around for any spare change you had. “Don’t worry about it. I’m sure I have more than enough.”

You did not, in fact, have more than enough. You had a single quarter and a spare button. Pooled together, you could get exactly one milkshake and have his three pennies left over. Neil looked at you regretfully.

“You take it. I’ll get one another time.” He said, putting on a smile. “I’ve had too many sweet things today anyways.”

You would not accept this as an answer. Not here, not now. He deserved all the good things life had to offer, and you would be damned if he didn’t get them- starting with this milkshake. “It’s alright, you have it.”

Neil looked at you with furrowed eyebrows. “You should have it, really.” He would be damned if you didn’t get what he dragged you out here to experience. If he could see your face, smiling and sticky-lipped, after taking a sip from something he contributed to, he would be the happiest man on earth.

The back-and-forth was getting nowhere and you both knew it. “Why don’t we just share it then? Ask for two straws?” You sighed. “It’s the best solution.”

He paused. It wasn’t ideal, and it wasn’t the life he wanted to give you (if this was any indicator), but it would work. Everything would work as long as you were there. “Okay. Yeah, let’s do that.”

There was another quick conversation about which flavor to choose, but you settled on one that you both liked equal amounts. You discovered that he had far different tastes than you milkshake-wise. If you were any less filtered, you would’ve told him his opinions were downright wrong.

You sat with him, smiling so hard you thought your face would break as he finally told you what happened to Charlie. Apparently, Nolan had reprimanded him as he so often had to do, but Charlie couldn’t stop smiling during the lecture. Eventually, Nolan just stopped mid-sentence and ushered the boy out the door. Apparently nothing and no one could ever crush Charlie’s spirit, not even the hardships of wooden rulers.

You leaned in to take a sip absentmindedly. As you reached your straw, you felt the tip of Neil’s nose brush against yours, and you realized you were so close to him you were almost kissing. You pulled back quickly, a hotness enveloping your cheeks.

“Sorry.” You uttered, trying not to look him in the eye. You were so mortified you almost killed yourself on the spot.

Neil, however, was overjoyed. He felt your breath on his chin and it was all he could think about. You, close to him, like you would’ve touched him if you hadn’t pulled away. He relished the feeling.

He shrugged, trying in vain to make it seem like he was just simply all right with it. “It wasn’t a problem,” He said, before noticing that the milkshake was running dangerously low. “Hey, why don’t you take the last sip?”

You cocked your head slightly. “Why?”

“Because I never want to be the one to end it.” He grinned. You shook your head, the corners of your lips rising up as he let out a little laugh. You adored his laugh.

“If you say so.”

That conversation stuck with you a long time after it happened.

It took four more dead poets meetings for Neil to ask you to go somewhere with him again. By the twelfth experience, though, you knew him like the back of your hand.

He loved acting. Loved it. He loved it so desperately that he was willing to face the wrath of his father to pursue the play he was casted in. Oh, and you learned about his father through whispers, mostly from Charlie. Neil, he told you, would never say a word about him. Tyrannical, inhospitable, red-hot like fire and ice-cold like ice. You knew of his mother, too, and her quiet indifference. Neil held a special place in his heart for Todd, the new boy at Welton. He loved puppies and poetry and soft scarves. Not the scratchy ones, as those irritated his neck. He wanted to be an actor in the future, but his father wanted him to be a doctor. He loved so many things, and yet could not have them; however, he definitely hated when people felt sorry for him.

So, you weren’t sorry. You felt his desires like a burning in your gut, stripped away piece by piece, but you were not sorry. You loved him.

You needed him to be fulfilled in every way possible, and you were not sorry. He was going through so many conflicting things, and you were not sorry. You were hopeful.

Life would turn around, you told him. He would see. In ten years, he would be on Broadway, waving at you and Todd and Charlie from the stage. He would be great, and you knew it.

“I’ve never skated like this before. Are you sure it’s safe?” You asked, standing at the edge of Welton’s lake. It was late in fall, with powdery snow dusting the edges of the ground, but the lake may have been in the process of freezing still. Neil took your gloved hands.

“Trust me, it’s good.”

He often asked you to trust him, and you always did. There was just something in his deep, dark eyes that whispered exactly how strong he was.

You took a tentative step onto the ice, nose already feeling the cold burn of pre-winter air. The ground under your feet was slick, but it held. Neil walked backwards, gently guiding you, and you followed.

You found a sort of rhythm in the movements, pushing off with your feet and letting them slide forward on the ice. Neil’s face was tinged with red as you skated on flat shoes, never letting go of your hands. You laughed, truly and honestly. The world spun around you in a blur, white and brown and beautiful. The air snuck through the gaps on your clothes, but you did not care. In that second, it was just you and Neil and the most beautiful day you had ever known.

His eyes softened when he looked at you. Even through the lack of words, he knew exactly what you were thinking. That crinkle by your eyes, the curve of your lips, your laugh. You were content, happy even, because he brought you here. When you reached the middle of the lake, leaning against him, trusting him, he felt a fluttering in his stomach.

Throughout his days with you, he had come to discover the person behind the book, behind the shy smile. He could firmly say that he knew you, and he loved you even more for it.

He knew your favorite book, which jokes made you laugh so hard tears formed in your eyes, your favorite ice cream flavor. It wasn’t his, but it was completely and entirely you. There was nothing he adored more in the world than you.

You stared at him with a smile gracing your lips as you came to a stop. He reached his hand up to your face and brushed a small snowflake away from the corner of your mouth gently. His hands were soft.

He leaned in closer, so close you could feel the heat radiating from his face. It was now or never, he thought. Carpe diem.

Neil pressed his lips to yours, and all of your feelings exploded from your connected flesh like dynamite.

He was warm, so warm. You kissed him fervently with your arms wrapped around his shoulders like you were dancing. He had finally done it, put to action the kind thoughts he had expressed, and you were glowing. There were stars in your tightly shut eyes, and you reveled in how they spun.

Neil’s mind was racing as you didn’t pull away. He didn’t know what he expected, but you pulling him closer was not his first thought. He most definitely didn’t mind.

When you finally broke the kiss, you were both panting feverishly and looking starved for more. Your combined breaths hung in front of your faces.

“We should do that again.” He whispered. You huffed a laugh, feeling every bit as blushy as he looked.

“Only if you’re okay with never stopping.”

It was a week and a half before Neil’s big play, and the twenty-fourth (maybe twenty-fifth, you had lost count) time you saw him. It was also your tenth official date.

“Date” may have been a loose term, as it was more practicing lines than talking, but the atmosphere was quiet and calm at the café you sat in. There were grainy pictures of favorite customers on the wall and the chairs were just the right amount of wobbly. It felt like a place where you could relax without abandon. Neil’s hand was on top of yours and he was staring deep into your eyes as he spoke line after line, trying to steel his nerves and push past the stress of his approaching deadline.

“If we shadows have offended, think but this, and all is mended, that you have but slumber’d here while these visions did appear. And this weak and idle theme, no more yielding but a dream, gentles, do not reprehend: if you pardon, we will mend: and, as I am an honest Puck, if we have unearned luck…” He hesitated for a moment, eyes unfocused. You squeezed his hand in support and he gave you a small smile. Clearing his throat, he continued. “…now to ‘scape the serpent’s tongue, we will make amends ere long; else the Puck a liar call; so, good night unto you all. Give me your hands, if we be friends, and Robin shall restore amends.”

You gave a quiet cheer and clasped your hands together. “I think that was your best runthrough yet! I’m so proud of you.”

His eyes lit up as he gazed at you bashfully. “You think?”

“Absolutely. You’re good, you’re really good. You could probably perform tomorrow if you wanted to.” He smiled and ran his fingers over his fleece sleeves as you spoke. If you were in the audience, he was sure he would be able to do anything. “In fact, you could perform any time you wanted to. You’re just that amazing.”

You were so impressed by the sheer amount of talent and emotion he had that you just couldn’t help but smother him in compliments. Every single one was true.

Neil tucked a piece of hair behind his ear, blushing like a madman. Every time you said something kind about him, his heart leapt for joy. “What about you? What have you been working on?” He posed. He had heard your poetry before, of course, but you always seemed to be creating something new.

You pulled out a book from the bag sitting next to you and flipped around. There was one specific poem you wanted him to hear. One you had written about him.

When you found it, you turned the book sideways so you both could see and pointed at it. “This one.” Neil tilted his head, opening his mouth to read it aloud. “I think,

if I was blind,

I would still know your face.

The curve of your nose would call to me

and your eyelids would flutter under my touch.

There is no one else, no one at all

who could make the pads of my fingers

see the entire world.”

He gazed up at you with a starstruck expression. “Is this about anyone in particular?” Neil leaned forward and dipped his head down to rest on his propped-up hand. He had a grin on his face. He absolutely knew who it was about.

“I wrote that one for Meeks. He’s just so cute, don’t you think?” You teased. Neil’s mouth dropped open as his expression turned to comical shock.

“I’m wounded, my love! How dare you.” He shouted, throwing his arms up. You started laughing as he continued his theatrical expressions, much to the dismay of the café workers.

“Be careful, we might get thrown out!”

“I’ll throw you out myself if you don’t stop laughing at my demise.” He furrowed his eyebrows and scrunched his nose as you giggled from your seat. “I’m so lucky to have you.” He murmured, suddenly as soft as a spring rain. You ran your fingers over his hand underneath the table, finding every groove like it was your own.

“And I’m lucky to have you. I love you, you know.”

Neil smiled gently. “I love you too. So much.”

You sat in that café for a few hours more, until the workers had to politely remind you of their closing hours. You laughed and talked and felt the sheer joy of being with the boy you had begun to consider your soulmate. He was a star, shining his light and illuminating you with his rays. Too often, however, the brightest lights fade within the snap of a finger.

“I hope that when I die,” Neil wrote, right before your thirty-first meeting,

“God will send me back to Earth.

He will say,

‘Live again. Run again,

hope again,

plunge your body into ice-cold water again.

Hate again,

and cry again,

run your fingers through the grass again.

Kiss them again,

press your palms to their faces again,

and lose them again.

Let yourself feel again,

and never forget

that life is what matters,

not death.’

And I will say,

‘I promise

to do everything I have ever told myself I could not do

again and again and again.’”

He closed his journal with a thump and tucked it into his drawer calmly. That was something he would rather not share with anyone, not even you.

The day was cold and drizzly, but he stood up with a kind of manic smile. He walked out of the doors of Welton and into your awaiting arms.

You both sat down on a park bench under the cover of a tree. Your seats were slightly wet and very cold, but it didn’t matter all that much. You were just glad to be there with him, with Neil. He was the love of your life, and any time with him was well-spent.

“What are you thinking about?” You asked softly. He was the same as he always was, you thought. But his eyes were welling up with tears and you just felt the need to ask, like some unearthly force was telling you that you needed to.

He leaned back, putting his arm around the back of the bench with a sigh. “I’m trapped.” He was smiling, but there was such an utter lack of humor behind it that it made you shiver. You shifted closer to him, leaning your head on his shoulder as a silent sign of comfort. By this point, knew everything there was to know about Neil Perry- even the parts he tried to keep hidden.

“How so?”

“I don’t even know, I just… I want to be an actor. That is what I want to do for the rest of my life. But I can’t, and I’m trapped, and no one can help me, no matter how much they try.” His voice was sullen, but he was still smiling. Curse him for trying to make you feel better even then.

You placed a kiss on the back of his hand and threaded your fingers through his. Your heart ached for him. You knew there was nothing you could do about it, though, and that’s what made it even harder. Holding his hand, telling him it’ll all work out, everything ultimately did nothing for his situation, and you cursed the being that forced him into this position. If you could scream into the night, into the big, black sky to execrate the universe, you would. You did, in the future. You regretted not doing it sooner.

“I’m sorry.” You started, squeezing his hand. “ Just keep going, alright? I promise you, in the future, none of this will matter at all. You just have to stick with it. The world will find a way of figuring it out.”

His face formed a more genuine smile as he laid his head on top of yours. “Yeah. I guess it will.”

The last time Neil Perry saw you was the night he had been anticipating, dreaming about, and dreading: the night of his play. He was prepared. He knew every line and cue by heart, and yet he was still nervous. He was so nervous he could hardly think.

He stood behind the curtains listening to the chatter of the audience. The rest of the cast members and some of the technicians were scrambling to put everything in place, but he just stared at the dark walls of fabric separating him from his new life. That was it. He was going to put on the best performance of his goddamn life.

The lights dimmed, and he stepped away to take his place.

When it was finally time for him to make his entrance, Neil did it with flourish. “How now, spirit! whither wander you?” He spoke. Cheers came from the audience, whoops and hollers from the dead poets. He could hardly keep himself from smiling.

Then, he saw you. You were grinning wide and large from your seat, giving him that quiet encouragement he had always loved. You whispered his name, and Neil could hear it in his heart.

He was having fun. So much fun. With every line he spoke, with every movement he made, Neil was sinking deeper and deeper into the play and his love for acting. He didn’t remember the last time he had ever felt that alive.

But with every sinking, there comes a point where one drowns.

His father was there. When had he come? Neil hadn’t seen him before. God. He was burning a hole in the back of his head with his piercing gaze, and it took everything in Neil not to turn and run. That was it, he thought. He was done. But gods be good, he was going to finish his play. He would not let his father ruin this for him.

By the time he was speaking his last lines, the ones he had practiced with you, he barely remembered his father was part of the audience. The curtains closed, and the audience exploded into cheers. He could hear your voice, he swore he could- he was the happiest man on Earth. He had put on the performance of his lifetime, and he couldn’t be more proud. Until, of course, he was dragged out the door by his father.

He was back home before he had even registered his father’s anger. All he could feel was emptiness as the gnawing hole in his stomach expanded to encompass his entire being.

“We're trying very hard to understand why it is that you insist on defying us. Whatever the reason, we're not gonna let you ruin your life. Tomorrow I'm withdrawing you from Welton and enrolling you in Braden Military School. You're going to Harvard and you're gonna be a doctor.” His father stated, eyes sharp. Neil let out a noise of protest.

“But that's ten more years. Father, that's a lifetime! I won’t be able to see any of them again, not one person I knew before. You can’t do this to me, you just can’t.” Tears formed in Neil’s eyes, and as he looked at his mother, she was feeling the same way. And yet she said nothing. He could feel himself becoming increasingly more desperate.

His father scoffed. “Oh, stop it. Don't be so dramatic. You make it sound like a prison term. You don't understand, Neil. You have opportunities that I never even dreamt of and I am not going to let you waste them.”

Neil rose to his feet, suddenly angry. He needed to fight for this, for himself. He couldn’t just let one man take away everything he had ever loved. If he couldn’t see you, his friends, if he couldn’t act, there was no purpose in his life. “I've got to tell you what I feel.”

Neil’s mother reached for him. “We’ve been so worried about-“

“What? What? Tell me what you feel. What is it? Is it more of this, this acting business? Because you can forget that. What?” And just like that, it was gone. Neil sat back down, staring blankly at his lap. He couldn’t do it. He couldn’t do anything because he was just a stupid boy who wouldn’t listen. His father scoffed once again before leaving the room.

His mother, ever the soft one, paused.

“I was good. I was really good.” He whispered. She sighed, urging him to his feet.

“Go on, get some sleep.”

Neil nodded, still in a trance, before trudging to his room. That was it. He was done. He would never see you again, no matter what, and it hurt him so badly he didn’t know what else to do. He ran his fingers over his things lightly before removing his shirt. That was it. He grasped his crown of twigs and placed it on his head, staring out through his open window. The cool air kissed his body sweetly, like your lips on a rainy day. He took a deep breath.

It was time for his last act, his curtain call, his final carpe diem. There was no warning, and yet there did not need to be one. That night, that cold, bitter night, he knew what he needed to do.

The last time you saw Neil Perry, he didn’t see you. He couldn’t see you. It was December 18th, and you had been asked to read a poem at his funeral.

God, the word “funeral” hit you like a train. Neil was dead. His sweet demeanor, his gentle words, his soft hair, they were all going to be covered in dirt within the next few hours. You couldn’t stand it. The world needed so much more of him, but terribly, horribly, the world did not deserve it. No one deserved him.

It was odd, you thought, how the sound of one gunshot could replay over and over again in your mind without you ever having heard it at all. The boom, the thud, the scream. It was all so clear in your mind.

As the priest spoke, you felt an emptiness pool in your guts. He was really gone. Your Neil, your poor Neil. You sat between Charlie and Todd, all three of your faces streaked with tears. You could feel more welling up in your eyes, and you let them free without a care. Neil was dead, and nothing else in the world mattered.

In a way, you couldn’t believe it. He was just here, warm and happy and yours. When you got that phone call, you almost joined him. Nothing was worth it anymore, nothing at all. The eulogies, the sobs, they faded into the background as you stared down at the ground.

Before you knew what was happening, you were standing at a podium with a piece of paper clutched between your shaking fingers. Neil’s mom looked up at you in silent support.

You took a breath, so much like the breaths you always took before reading a poem and yet so different. Neil could not hear this one.

“When you died,

the beetles still sang.

The trout still jumped,

and the earth still rumbled.

When you died, the moon still turned

and the stars still burned.

When you died,” Your voice cracked. Looking out into the audience, at people you didn’t know and people you knew so well you could identify them by a strand of their hair, it was too much. Hot tears slipped their way down your face as the pit in your stomach grew ever-wider.

“The lakes still rippled

and the trees still creaked

and I lowered you into the ground

and I cried so hard the world stopped moving.”

There was a murmur throughout the audience, choked sobs and utters of agreement. “For Neil, who lived as he died and died as he lived.” You rasped.

You were quickly ushered away from the podium and back into your seat.

Neil was one in a million. There was no one else in the history of ever that could make you feel so amazing. Like you were a real person, like you mattered. He made everyone feel that way, but something in him burned for you in a way that you believed was unique. And, of course, you burned for him the same.

The rest of the service went by in a blur. Everyone around you began to get up, and you knew it was time. As you sat there, still as a rock, when everyone went to say their final farewells, you were extinguished.

You felt a gentle tap on your shoulder. When you looked up from your tear-soaked lap, Todd was there, and he clasped your hand. “Let’s go.” He whispered. “Let’s say goodbye.”

You pulled a page from the book by your feet and shoved it into your pocket. It was for him, it always was and it always had been.

“In some other universe, I found you again.

Maybe in this one we held hands, gently and honestly,

or leaned against each other’s shoulders on the train,

or sobbed against each other’s shirts when we crashed and burned,

because anything with you

means flying too close to the sun.” It read.

As you stood in front of his casket, you could hardly bear to focus on his pale face.

He was cold, so cold. The embalmer had done well with his head, but there was so much that just looked off. He didn’t look like your Neil. He looked empty. You gripped his hand and brushed a lock of hair away from his eyes. It was winter, and he was colder and paler than the snow.

You held him far longer than what was deemed socially acceptable before tucking the page into his lapel and swiftly walking away.

You weren’t there for his burial, and you knew you couldn’t be. It was just too much. If you had seen his casket close, if you had watched them shovel dirt on top of the wooden box, you would’ve dropped to your knees and screamed. Much like you’re doing now.

You sat on that same old park bench, knees clutched up to your soaked chest, sobbing harder than you ever had before. Your Neil was gone and you could never see him again, not ever.

When you saw Neil Perry for the last time, and god, did you see him, you knew nothing would ever be the same again.

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