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al1v3-p03ts-s0ci3ty · 21 hours

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One shot idea: Neil (or Todd) admitting to the other that they like them

(THIS TOOK SO LONG IM SO SORRY-)

Thank you so much for the ask!!! I haven't written much lately so this was a nice start! This ideas been sitting in my notes app for a while so thank you for getting me to finally write it!!

[Authors note! This is set in the 90s. There are mentions of Welton but just imagine that the timeline got shifted up a bit. They're all in their mid 20s. Also the cat name Allen IS based off of that super cool fruity poet Allen Ginsberg.]

Cramped in a small apartment full of boxes that seemed to pile to the ceiling, Neil and Charlie sat on the scratchy carpet of their new home.

They'd spent their whole morning moving box after box from the U-Haul truck, up 3 flights of stairs and finally into their apartment.

"Once we're done moving all this stuff maybe we could have a housewarming?" Neil said, taking big breaths between words. Both Neil and Charlie were completely exhausted from carrying things around all day.

"Maybe we could get the guys to do all the unpacking for us." Charlie joked, although there was a hint of seriousness in his voice.

Neil chuckled at his friends joke and a short silence followed.

"Do you think it was the right thing to do?" Neil's voice was quiet.

"What?"

"To move out, I mean... I know it's for the best and I should just move on..."

There was a pause. "But?" His friend chuckled sort of awkwardly trying to break the tension.

"I'm just gonna miss him." Neil responded, his tone was completely genuine and if you listened carefully you could hear his voice break.

Of course, they were talking about their friend Todd.

Neil and Todd had been inseparable since the day they met in Welton Academy. They spent every waking moment in each others company, they shared a room together, they had classes together, they went to Dead Poets meetings together.

Now, Neil had developed a crush on Todd during this time, and as much as he'd like to say "it's not a big deal" or "it was just a small crush" he'd be lying.

After a long talk with Charlie about his feelings for Todd they both decided that maybe he should move out. He'd spent a long time living with Todd, maybe it was time for a change?

"Well of course you're gonna miss him! You've been in love with him since the day you two met, that's not gonna be easy to get over-" Charlie wasn't even able to finish his thought before Neil cut him off.

"I'm not in love I just-" He couldn't possibly sound more defensive if he tried.

"Look, Neil." There was a short pause before Charlie spoke again, he needed to think of the right words. "You wanna get over him, right?"

"Yeah..."

"Then you're gonna spend some time apart from him..." He turned to face his friend. "If I'm being honest... I always just assumed he felt the same way about you."

"Don't do that, Char."

"Hey, I'm just being honest." Charlie's words came out in an unusually transparent tone.

/////

Finally, they had their place set up. Their apartment had an open floorplan with a small living room and kitchen that was separated by a short bar and stools. There was a hall that connected their bedrooms and bathroom to the living room.

A small couch, coffee table, tv. They tried to make it as homely as possible given that they'd only lived there for a few days. And it worked for the most part.

"When are they supposed to be here?" Charlie asked from behind the kitchen bar, he was watching the packet of popcorn turn in the microwave.

Neil glanced towards the clock they hung above the front door, it was 6pm. "Around now... Maybe they're just running late?"

And then, almost comically, someone knocked the door. Charlie seemed unphased by the sound and made no effort to answer the door. He was such a great host.

Neil pulled the door open. There was already a smile already plastered on his face before he saw his friend's.

They hugged then exchanged greetings and complimented the pair on the new apartment despite the fact that they barely had time to properly decorate, there were still a few boxes here and there.

"Hey." Todd was the last one in the room. Everyone else had gone into the living room and were making themselves at home. But for now it was just Neil and Todd in the doorway.

"Hey..."

There was chatter coming from the living room but the sound seemed fuzzy from where the pair were standing in the hall. Neil definitely wasn't paying attention, especially with Todd right in front of him.

"Oh!" Todd rummaged through his tote bag and pulled out a book, it had post it tabs sticking out the sides as though it had been annotated. "Here." He handed the book to Neil.

"Thanks..." Neil takes the book in his hands and glanced down at it for a moment.

"I forgot to give it back to you after I borrowed it, and then... Well you moved out..."

It was a small copy of The Great Gatsby, ironically though Neil related to the main character as they both had friends in their lives that they had sort of a 'gay yearning' for. Though, neither of them would ever really admit it.

"It was good!" He began. "It was really good." Although Todd was obviously excited to talk about the book, he still spoke in his usual quiet voice. "Daisy was my favourite character by far."

"I knew you'd love her." Neil said, glancing back up at Todd from the book with a smile on his face.

Now that the other boys had settled into the apartment they were, rather loudly, discussing what they should do together.

"Monopoly?" Pitts asked.

Charlie shook his head. "No way, Pittsie."

"Why not?"

"It's too basic. We should play a more exciting game...hmmm."

Neil lightheartedly rolled his eyes before making his own way into the room with Todd. 'Typical Charlie.' He thought. It was obvious Charlie knew what he wanted to play yet he was making everyone wait, he was so dramatic. 'Maybe he should join the theatre.'

Then, suddenly, Charlie's face lit up. "Twister!"

/////

After a too long game of Twister and a few rounds of Uno, Todd was exhausted. Beside him on the couch was Neil, it took everything in him to not lean against his friend and rest his head on his shoulder.

The group was laughing about something, Todd couldn't tell what exactly it was, he was just so tired. The only thing on his mind at this point (beside Neil) was going home and getting some sleep.

God knows what the time was by now. His eyelids were heavy and he had to stop himself from leaning back against the couch and passing out. Neil noticed, obviously.

"You doing okay?" He whispered. His voice was barely audible in comparison to the other boys.

All Todd could do was nod.

"Tired?" There was a sweet smile on Neil's lips.

That smile... Todd could feel his cheeks getting warm. He nodded again. "Just a little..." He replied with a yawn.

Neil's laugh was the sweetest sounding thing you could ever dream of hearing... Or at least that's what Todd thought. "Just a little? You look like you're gonna fall asleep."

Todd lazily shakes his head, earning another laugh from Neil

"You can stay the night if you want... That might be easier than taking the bus."

"Really?" Why did Todd sound so surprised? Of course Neil would let him stay the night, he wouldn't make Todd take the bus alone, especially so late.

"Of course!" Neil smiled wide.

/////

Once the other boys had left and the only remaining people in the apartment were Charlie, Neil and Todd, Neil gave his friend a tour of the new apartment. It didn't take long as the apartment was relatively small and Todd had already been there for a few hours, however, he did like humouring Neil. He was always so theatrical.

"This is where you'll be staying." He said while mimicking some kind of fancy host, it made Todd laugh.

The room was small but cosy nonetheless. Theatre posters in frames lined the walls, he had a vanity that he used as a desk and there was a strip of photo booth pictures of Todd and Neil tucked between the mirror and the frame. Todd tried so hard to seem unphased by it, though his rosy cheeks gave him away.

He had a bookshelf that was more than full already, the middle of the shelves were sagging under the weight of the many, many plays and novels he owned.

Of course there was a box or two in the corner, Neil hadn't had time to move many of his smaller things into the room yet.

"You sure I can stay the night in here?"

"Don't be ridiculous, of course you can."

Neil left the room to give Todd some privacy as he got changed. Todd couldn't help but look around at the room. He was so used to all these things being in Neil's room- 'his old room.' Todd corrected himself- in their apartment, but now they were here.

He put on his fluffy pyjama pants and an old loose shirt before he made himself comfortable on Neil's bed.

Soon after, Neil came into the room wearing different clothes, clothes that Todd had seen him wear before. Now he was getting nostalgic, Neil had only moved out a week ago.

"Hey!" Neil said. 'He looks so cute when he smiles.' Todd thought.

"Hey..." Todd replied in a whisper.

"You comfortable?" Neil joked. "You can sleep there, I'll be on the couch."

"What?" Todd sounded offended on the behalf of his friend.

"What?"

"You can't sleep on the couch, Neil- this is your room. Y-you should sleep in here."

Neil shook his head. "You're my guest. You should have the bed."

"But it's your apartment."

Neil was still stood in the doorway and Todd was still sat on the bed. Suddenly the energy in the room shifted, like there was something lingering under the surface of their conversation, something important and unspoken.

"Well you're already on the bed, Todd." Neil chuckled. Quickly though, Todd got up, stumbling a little at the speed at which he stood.

"Neil, I'm not letting you sleep on the couch."

"Well I guess we'll both just have to sleep on the couch then." Neil joked, though Todd didn't laugh, and just like that the air was tense.

"I'm not letting you sleep on the couch."

There was another pause between the two and they were both facing each other directly now.

"Then... I guess we'll just have to share the bed." Neil suggested, mostly joking. Key word being 'mostly'.

"Yeah..." Todd replied, his voice came out soft and quiet. "M-maybe we will..."

It's not like this would be the first time they shared a bed. Some of those nights at Welton got cold and those blankets were barely enough to shield one person from the temperature. Besides, it's not like anything was going to happen...

/////

Todd sat comfortably at the head of Neil's bed, the pillows and cushions had been distributed between the two and they had propped them up behind them like makeshift backrests. Their hushed laughter filled the room.

"You're kidding." Neil said, in a playful tone.

Todd shook his head and even though he was still laughing he spoke with complete certainty. "I'm not."

"Allen really misses me?" Neil sounded somewhat surprised. Even though they had adopted the cat together some time ago it still surprised him that their cat could miss him.

"Of course he does."

"Well I guess if he misses me so much then I'll just have to move back in." Although he was being sarcastic, there was a trace of truth in his voice. Maybe he would have to move back in for their cat... And no other reason.

Todd let out a brief chuckle. The apartment was a lot quieter now and it was nearing the early hours of the morning and they had to keep their voices down. "So you'd move back in for the cat but not for me?" He joked but he still managed to sound somewhat offended.

"Oh come on..." Neil paused and took a moment to look up at Todd from across the other side of his bed. "You know I'd do anything for you, Todd."

Todd averted his gaze, he'd rather look anywhere else than look at Neil right now. He could feel his cheeks heat up, maybe he could just blame it on the temperature of the room, maybe Neil wouldn't even notice. Todd wanted to change the subject, he didn't want to talk about Neil being gone anymore, but he just couldn't get it off his mind.

"It's weird not having you around the apartment anymore..."

"It's only been a week." Todd could practically hear the smile on Neil's face, he was always smiling about something or another when they were together.

"Well... It's been a long week."

Now this was silence. Not exactly awkward or even anxious, but something else. Something remained between the two of them.

"Your room’s nice." Todd finally deflected the conversation onto something else, something easy to talk about.

"I-" Neil began. He could read Todd, and if he was going to change a conversation topic it must've been for a good reason. "You think so?"

"It's... Very you."

Neil chuckled. "I kinda figured that it's always been 'very me'. It is still all my stuff after all."

"Right- no- yeah-... You know what I mean." Todd shook his head, he was laughing with Neil now.

"I get what you're saying. It is a little different." Neil glanced around his room as if it had been the first time he's ever seen it. He began mentally nitpicking at the changes he'd made.

"Oh?"

"Well for one," he started, "that huge cat scratching post isn't in here anymore."

"Yeah..." Todd looked around now too, he was picking up on the subtle things that were different about the room that used to be so familiar to him, silently missing the things that Neil had left in his old room.

"It's different without Allen, that's for sure, it's quiet." He chuckled. "And it's different without you constantly being in here-"

"I wasn't constant..."

Neil playfully rolled his eyes at his friend's disagreement. "It sooo was." Todd only responded by shaking his head with a disbelieving look on his face. "You were in my room all the time."

"Well... It'll be good to have this new space, right? And I'll have the apartment to myself." Todd was more talking to himself than talking to Neil, almost like he was trying to convince himself that Neil moving out was going to be good for them.

"I'll miss you being in here so often... It'll be so quiet."

"You're living with Charlie, it's definitely not gonna be quiet." Both boys laughed to themselves. It's like the world outside this room had stopped and they were the only two people in the world.

"Yeah." He continued to laugh. "I guess you're right."

"It might be a good change of pace?"

"Maybe..." Neil only half agreed. "I'll miss the quiet though... I'll miss you."

Their eyes met and Todds heart skipped a beat. "I'll miss you too..."

The room went quiet again. "We should probably get some sleep." He said awkwardly, breaking the tension. Now it was Neil who was deflecting and trying to change the subject. He got off the bed and started haphazardly moving the pillows and adjusting the sheet beneath them, not necessarily doing anything but just trying to make himself look busy.

"Neil...?"

Neil felt his world stop for Todd in that moment.

"Yeah?"

"Did... Did I d-do something wrong?" Todd asked, his voice was quiet, almost like he didn't want Neil to hear him.

"What?"

"To make you want to move out... Did I do something wrong?"

Neil shook his head profusely. "No way. Todd you're the best roommate anyone could ask for."

There was a pause, Todd wasn't sure if he should leave the conversation there or not, but he was curious.

Finally, he asked. "Then what was it?" It was inevitable that Todd would ask Neil this question sooner or later.

Neil sighed, he had to make up something. "I thought it would be better to get out of the apartment, ya know?"

But Todd just looked up at him from the bed, unmoving. It was obvious that Todd didn't believe him.

"I thought it might help me..." Neil took a deep breath as if he was bracing himself. "I didn't want anything to come between us." He said about as much as he could without giving himself away.

Todd shook his head. "What do you mean?"

"It's just..." He sighed. How could he possibly explain this? "It's not a big deal."

"Then why can't you tell me?"

The air was thick and the pauses they took between talking felt like eternities.

"I didn't want anything to change between us, that's all." Now it was Neil who had turned his gaze away from Todd.

"Why would anything change?"

"I kind of..." He took another deep breath, his lungs filled with the cold night air that poured through his half open window. "Had a small... Crush on you while we were living together." He barely even glanced at Todd after he said this, he wished he could read Todd and tell just how he felt.

He had about a million questions for Neil but all he could manage to choke out was-

"W-what?"

"It was just a small crush really, it was barely anything." He stuttered and stumbled over each word, with every sentence he let out he felt like he was letting out more and more that he couldn't take back.

"You... You m-moved out because you had a crush on me?"

"Yeah...." He nodded briefly before turning to Todd.

"But... you only moved out a week ago..."

The brunette nodded. He felt like there was a lump in his throat and a pit in his stomach.

"D-do you still... Feel like... That?"

Neil let out an awkward chuckle. "I guess so, yeah."

"You moved out to get over me?" Todd was still somewhat smiling, like he didn't believe it was true.

"Yeah." He nodded. Neil was a lot calmer now that it was out in the open. He thought this would've gone a lot worse than it did.

Todd let out a sigh of relief, which Neil immediately noticed.

He scanned Todd for any sign of discomfort or anger, though he didn't pick up on any. The only other time he'd felt this anxious was when his father showed up unexpectedly in the audience of a play he was in. But he'd rather not think about that.

"What?" Now that he was at ease he could finally do something besides just stand there and look anxious.

Todd dismissed the question by shaking his head, although he was still smiling. "It's just..." He lowered his voice. "I-I've gotten that advice before."

Neil just gave him a confused look.

"Meeks... He thought I should've m-moved out when I... Told him I liked you."

Neil went speechless, his mind was racing. It all made sense now, thinking back to all the times he even considered that Todd felt the same way about him. It all made sense.

"What?" Neil choked out as his lips formed a smile.

Todd reciprocated his smile. "Just before you moved out..."

The two boys shared a glance and the room seemed to shrink, pulling them closer together.

"Really?"

"...yeah."

"Charlie had his suspicions." Neil joked. He tried keeping the conversation light hearted, he knew that Todd didn't hold up well under stress.

"I thought it was so obvious-" Todd mumbled, he hid his face in his hands.

In hindsight it was incredibly obvious. It was ridiculous that they had no idea that the other had feelings for them until now.

"I... I guess I just never noticed before." Neil sat back down in his original position on the bed. "I thought I was the obvious one." He laughed.

"Really?" Todd's voice came out like a mouse, he peeked at Neil from behind his hands.

"Oh yeah!" He nodded reassuringly. "Remember all the valentines' I made you?"

"Oh my God-" The shorter boy covered his face with his hands again, embarrassed, his face flushed red. "I had no idea."

"Really? No idea?"

Todd silently shook his head in response.

Neil hadn't noticed his cheeks heating up until he saw himself in the mirror. His face was bright red and there was a sweet smile on his face. He never even dreamed that this day would come. Not only was he able to confess to the love of his life, but to hear Todd say in his own words that he reciprocated those feelings, it just meant the world to him. Maybe this was the beginning of something new?

Carpe Diem.

#my post #my fic #fanfic #fanfiction #dead poets society #neil perry #todd anderson #anderperry #dps #dps fic #dead poets society fanfiction #dead poets society fandom #charlie dalton #steven meeks #gerard pitts

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ash5monster01 · 4 months

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Hiii. Could I request a Neil smut? Maybe it is her first time and he's all soft and sweet? Thanks!

First Time

Pairing: Neil Perry x FemReader

Warnings: 18+, established relationship, smut, readers first time, fluff, dirty talk, p in v, oral, nudity

Summary: it’s your first time and Neil seems like the perfect choice to take your virginity considering how gentle and caring he is.

word count: 2.2k

Masterlist

You had always considered sleeping with someone before marriage. Yet that consideration wasn’t taken lightly. You had swore to yourself that if that was what you decided to do it had to be with someone who was worth it. Which never seemed likely considering Harvard was a big place with a lot of people. Yet somehow amongst all of them you had stumbled upon Neil Perry. Found him studying in library, a sadness to the air around him, but the most genuine eyes you had ever seen. It explained the reason why you had half a mind to even sit next to him in the first place. The rest was history.

You had dated almost the full four years of college and it was no doubt in your mind that he was the one for you. You were going to marry Neil Perry even if it’s the last thing you do. All of this is why you had officially decided you were ready to sleep with him. That and the fact it was getting harder and harder to pull away from him. So when he reaches your dorm room, wearing a ivy green sweater pushed up to his forearms, wire glasses hung low on his nose, and grey sweats, your excuse is you’re only just a girl. A girl with an entire meal for a boyfriend. You’re supposed to be studying but none of your books are open before you’re straddling him on the bed.

“Someone missed me today huh?” he teased with a light squeeze to your waist and you fight everything in you to not roll your hips on top of him.

“I always miss you” you tell him, hands holding yourself up on his firm chest. He had filled out since Freshman year, more meat on his bones, yet just as lean.

“Even when you’re with me?” he asks, hands reaching to remove the readers that were meant for studying he never got too.

“Sometimes, but only if we haven’t talked in a while or were busy doing other things” this sentence has him pulling you down to meet his lips which you happily accept. You can tell he’s surprised when you deepen it but it lasts only a moment until he matches the pace and dares his tongue past your lips.

“I gotta say baby, I’m loving this mood you’re in” he says trying not to sound to breathless when he pulls away and you grin, hands dancing along his chest and to his abdomen.

“What do you say we remove this pesky sweater?” you grin deviously and he raises his eyebrows as your fingers start bunching the fabric up, revealing an expanse of skin. Your mouth practically waters at the happy trail now revealed to you, hair he had also just grown in the last few years of college.

“You sure baby?” he asks but you don’t need to answer because you’re practically lifting him by the sweater to get it over his head, taking the white T-shirt underneath with it too.

“What, want me to remove mine too?” you ask and his mind actually malfunctions for a moment, unsure of how to respond because he truly had only seen you in a bra a few times. He never comes up with a response because now you’re lifting the red Harvard t-shirt above your head and revealing the white lace bra from underneath. He visibly gulps, eyes darting between your chest and face as he tries to comprehend what’s happening.

“Listen, baby. If we start this I’m not sure I’m going to be able to stop. I also have play practice in two hours and it’ll be so much harder leaving knowing I have you in bed like this” Neil tells you and you chuckle.

“Two hours is plenty of time, and you can always come back after” you tell him and his whole face reddens all the way down to his neck.

“You’re being serious, you want to do this?” he says and you nod almost instantly.

“I’ve already made up my mind, the only way I’ll stop now is if you’re not serious about me. I don’t want to do this and then have you leave me behind” you tell him and his face instantly softens towards you, hands pulling your face to his own.

“I’ve been serious about you ever since that day you sat with me in the library” and his confession is enough to make you kiss him again and Neil doesn’t miss the slight roll of your hips. You know you have his attention now based on the way he’s started to harden beneath you, no longer fighting the urge. Just as your tongue darts past his lips you grind against him again which makes him put his hands on your ass, holding you in place because one more movement and he’d be harder than a rock. That’s what you wanted anyway.

After a beat you break apart from his lips, something he protests to but stops when he realizes you’re reaching behind you to unclasp your bra. His throat has gone dry and as much as he feels panic rushing through him it is also paired with excitement. He knows not to stop you again, that you’re on a mission. So he does the only thing he can think of and just watches as the fabric loosens and slides down your shoulders. You don’t have to ask if he likes how you look considering he is now fully hard against your backside.

“It’s okay baby, you can touch me” you whisper to him like it’s your secret. He hesitates only slightly which has you guiding his hands and placing them over each breast. Your nipples harden under his palm which urges him to finally grope. The feeling of his hands and look of awe in his eyes has you grinding against him again. Now lost completely in your touch he leans up and places a nipple in his mouth. Your arms wrap around his neck as a moan bellows from you. Once he has given both breasts his attention you push him back down onto the bed, needing more skin to skin contact. His stomach jumps when you slide off him, shimmying down his body and curling your fingers into his waistband. His pants were tented and he couldn’t believe you were about to pull them off right now. Your lips meet his pelvic bone which makes him gasp.

“Shit, baby. Please” and you know exactly what he means. So you pull the sweatpants along with his boxers down, allowing him to spring free. Your brain short circuits as you look at the sheer size of him. You need to taste him immediately which is why you give no warning when you suck the head of his cock into your mouth. The precum is sweet on your tongue as Neil moans out, hips lifting to find some relief.

Seeing how well he responds you suck as much of him as you can into your mouth. He’s whining needily which urges you in to suck him for all he’s worth. Seeing how hard he has gotten for you has made you so wet you can feel it soaking through your underwear. When it all becomes too much for him he pulls you off, not wanting to finish before pleasuring you. “My turn baby, been dying to taste you for so long now”

Your eyes can barely leave his cock, now covered in your spit and hard against his stomach. It clearly needs attention but he wants to take care of you. So Neil lays you back in his spot, his own hands dipping underneath the fabric of your pants and pulling them down your legs. Neil’s eyes never leave your body as it is fully revealed to him. As much as you want to be shy you know you shouldn’t be based on the way he is looking at you, so you open your legs for him to see. “You’re so wet baby”

“All for you” you tell him and he grins, finger reaching out and sliding through your folds. Your head falls back when it bumps against your clit and Neil smiles before repeating the same action with his tongue. He had imagined how you would taste hundreds of times but this was better. You tasted so much better than anything he could’ve conjured up. Neil is no longer worried about going too far and has started to devour you like a man starved. He’s so good and you are so glad you finally decided to do this. Imagining going back to a life without Neil eating you was a life not worth living.

“Fuck, I need to be inside of you baby” and you nod eagerly, grinning at the slick that covers his chin. He watches as you reach to the bedside table, opening the drawer, and grabbing a condom you had stashed in there. Neil knows now you had been planning this all along. He wastes no time putting it on before lining up at your entrance. Your hands hold his biceps, eagerly waiting the moment he’d break that barrier for you. Officially make you no longer a virgin.

You’re whimpering as he runs his tip through your folds, on the verge of begging him to do something when finally he pushes in only slightly. You wince which makes him freeze. “It’s okay, keep going”

“You sure?” and you nod, holding him close as he slowly moves inside. It doesn’t take long for the pain to turn to pleasure and Neil closes his eyes, trying to think of anything else other than the fact that you were practically sucking him in. Usually the image of Nolan in his underwear did it for him.

“Please move” you whisper and Neil nods feverishly, slowly pulling his hips back before thrusting back into you. You don’t expect the low moan to rattle out of you due to the movement and once it reaches Neil’s ears he finds a quick pace, pumping into you like a man who no longer has anything holding back.

“Shit, you feel so good” Neil doesn’t think he has ever experienced this type of bliss before. There will never again be no better feeling in the world especially because the girl he loves so much is now marked entirely as his. You have no idea about the ring he has stashed away for graduation, and you have no idea he had planned on marrying you since the first day you both met. He would’ve been fine waiting until marriage but for once he finally understands why it was so good to wait for the right person. Yes, sex could be about the feeling but when you love the person you’re experiencing it with it adds an entire layer of pleasure. Charlie never understood that, Neil couldn’t wait to tell him. Charlie deserved this feeling too.

“Baby, I’m so close” you pant out, and Neil smiles as he leans down to kiss you. He can feel the way you clench around him and he knows he won’t last long. So he moves to speed up the process. You gasp the moment his hand meets your clit, and his mouth meets your nipple. Neil may have been a virgin but he also knew Charlie all his life. He was an expert because of his friend by senior year of high school.

The action alone has you coming undone in seconds, clenching around him so tightly Neil’s movements falter for a moment. When you relax into the mattress, a blissed out look on your face, Neil finds himself letting go and finishing right behind you. When his body weight lands on top of you, you can’t help but smile. Your hand meets the back of his head, fingers running through his hair as he kisses your neck.

“I can’t believe you expect me to still go to play practice after this and remember my lines” Neil says which has you giggling in an instant and Neil hisses when you flutter around his dick still buried deep inside of you. Slowly he pulls out, both of you breathing heavily from the action.

“I’m sorry baby, I just couldn’t wait” you tell him and he smiles as he kisses you sweetly.

“I can’t wait to tell Charlie” he says once he pulls away and you roll your eyes at the mention of his friend. One you had only met once or twice on a Winter or Summer break but knew was Neil’s best friend.

“Of course you would say that” you tell him because whenever Neil accomplished anything his first instinct was to always call Charlie. Charlie heard he got the lead in the play before you did. Yet after everything they had been through together, sometimes you just had to deal with it.

“What, he’s my best friend” Neil defends as you just giggle and pull his lips back to your own.

“Yeah well tell him he has to share”

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good--merits-accumulated · 9 days

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If we for a moment forgo canon events and disagreements then I do wholeheartedly hope and believe that Todd and Neil get married during the '70s. It's a sunny afternoon on the perfect day in mid-spring and the light is at its thickest and most golden and Charlie got registered as an officiant just for this day and not everybody's present - Meeks can't make it from Switzerland on short notice, but they get a photo of him and prop it up on the coffee table at the perfect angle to see. Neil keeps wondering if he's going to get the pre-wedding jitters and does end up pacing around the living room early in the morning, but it's less cold feet and more impatience. (Turns out it's kind of hard to get cold feet when your almost-husband is sitting drowsily on the couch to keep you company and he keeps almost nodding off and you keep remembering all the ways in which you love him.) Ginny barges in at noon with hairspray and a sewing kit and insists on making bouquets with shitty grocery store flowers for both of them and Todd's suit ends up with a hastily added elbow patch and Neil's tie doesn't match his pocket square, because one's from Cameron and the other's from Knox. (Something borrowed, something blue...) It's perfect. In the end they go out on the balcony and Charlie's wearing this really tacky priest outfit, just really shitty fabric so that he's probably sweating bullets, and the collar's come untucked, and at the last moment Chris shrieks, "You forgot your bouquets!" and throws one with such good aim it hits Todd in the face. But they get through the vows and both of them only cry a little, because Cameron cries enough for all of them combined, and then that's it - over - and married. And as Charlie beams and says they can kiss there's a well-timed shower of rice from the balcony above, and congratulations, from some upstairs neighbours and well-wishers. Pitts catches the kiss on his expensive video camera and he also catches the cheering, which is so loud that, four blocks away, a lone man packing up his street food van pauses in closing boxes and thinks that there must be a party going on. He's right. And at the end of the night when the last loved one leaves and shuts the door gently behind them to not disturb the newlyweds lying together on the couch, silent with happiness, it's still perfect. At that moment it doesn't matter that there is no piece of paper, or no registry office, or that if Todd has an accident Neil might not be able to visit him in the hospital room. There will be tears for those things, but they come later. For now they're married. The beautiful thing never changes.

#reader i will freely admit - i HAVE spent all of today reading articles about the 2004 San Francisco Winter of Love.#and i HAVE spent all of today crying about it in intermittent bursts. you would too #anderperry #dead poets society #todd anderson.#neil perry #dead poets society fanfic #dead poets society fanfiction #anderperry fanfic #anderperry fic #tristan writes #i guess. this got away from me #also. go listen to vienna teng's song about this - city hall - right now

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inahallucination · 1 year

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teacher neil who asks his hubby to chaperone a field trip becuz theyre short one person

featuring: parents flirting with their kids’ hot teacher

todd alternating between seething/glaring and being amused

neil, being oblivious to all of this

all of the students recognizing todd from neil’s stories

todd accidentally getting added into the parent groupchat and having to be like “um im here for my husband. who is the teacher.”

he’s an honorary member anyway

todd gets flirted with too but he doesn’t realize

eventually tho he gets that its all in good fun

he still makes sure to announce himself as todd perry, neil’s husband, even tho technically he’s todd anderson-perry

if neil knew he would enjoy the drama

but he doesn’t

the parent groupchat will have people sharing advise or tips or whatever

and todd, with no child, will be like “damn i gotta try that” with his husband ig

does this count as a teachers au if so im back bitches if not im still here besties

#anderperry teachers au #anderperry #dead poets society #dead poets #deadpoets #dps headcanon #dps fic #dps fanfiction #anderperry fanfic #anderperry fanfiction #dead poets society fanfiction #todd anderson #Neil Perry #Dead Poets Honor #dead poets headcanons

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rrcenic · 6 months

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on graduation night, todd sees neil in a dream. it’s not the first time, but it is the only instance where neil isn’t simply part of a plot. he just…stands there. and todd knows. he knows this is as close as he will ever get to saying goodbye.

and yet, neil does not speak. it’s strange, the usually bubbly boy doesn’t say a word. and todd screams, and pleads, “i love you, i love you, say anything, please”

and when todd has yelled himself hoarse, he sits. and neil sits. and todd stares, and whispers.

“i’m sorry”

and finally, neil raises his head.

“why?”

todd laughs, rough and wet.

“i’m sorry that i wasn’t enough to keep you here.”

and he knows. he knows it’s just a dream. but oh god, when neil cups his cheek, he can feel it. he can feel the warmth and the rough fingertips and the indent of the small mole on neil’s inner arm.

“todd. todd, my love. this was never your fault”

and todd is angry. angry at himself, because he believes this dream-ghost-hallucination neil. he trusts him. because how could he not?

“i am proud of you. i am proud of everything about you. i am proud of who you are becoming.

i love you, todd anderson. do you know that?”

todd wakes with a start, and for a minute, he is confused. where is neil? why isn’t he there, in the bed beside him?

and it hits him. and he cries. as he has cried every night, and will cry every night. sobs shake his body, doubled over in bed.

15 years later, in the dedication of todd anderson’s first published book of poetry, there is a dedication.

to neil- i have never doubted your love. not once. i miss you every day

#nics stuff #is this fanfiction???#i guess #my writing #my art #nics dps stuff #dead poets society #dps #dps fanfiction #dead poets society fanfiction #nics fics #anderperry #anderperry fanfic #one shot #hurt/comfort

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marshh-com · 6 days

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i was scared, neil (but i wanted to)

“I don’t know what to think,” Todd admits quietly, quickly, like speaking burns his tongue.

They sit with that for a moment, and Todd begins to wonder if Neil heard him.

“Me neither,” comes the faint reply, and Todd is left with no time to digest that before Neil has stood.

—

Chapter three of my Anderperry fic has been released! I’m releasing chapters biweekly, and i’m very excited for this project to be out in the world! It’s basically a canon-compliant retelling of DPS through Todd’s perspective! There’s some scenes from the movie, some lines from the book, and some of my own creation all bundled up into something i consider as my baby. i really have enjoyed writing this, and it’s allowed me to really work on my skills as a writer! i hope you enjoy 😋

#dead poets fandom #dead poets society #anderperry #neil perry #todd anderson #fanfic #fanfiction #dead poets society fanfiction #poetry #dps #dps boys #dps fandom

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pancake-lovy · 3 months

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Would anyone read Dead Poets Society one-shots/imagines written by me?

Once I finally get back to working on the ones I'm supposed to post...

FUTURE: I've already added the DPS characters to the list of people I write for. I just need ideas...

#pancake stories #dead poets society #dead poets society fandom #dead poets society fanfiction #dps fandom #dps fanfiction #dps imagine #dps boys #dps headcanons #dps #steven meeks #gerard pitts #neil perry #todd anderson #knox overstreet #richard cameron #charlie dalton #nuwanda #and possibly more

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cauliflowertree · 1 year

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ohh can i also please have this

ੈ✩‧₊˚ oogie boogie -> give me a scenario + a character and i’ll write a small dialogue for it [100-150 words]

with neil perry and skating on a frozen lake? where he’s worried about you getting hurt but quickly relaxes once you reassure it’s frozen enough or something? thank youu <33

neil’s nervous on ice.

"i'm not so sure about this, y/n," neil trembles, surveying the ice from a safe distance, reaching to pull you back from being so close. "you could get really hurt."

"neil, stop worrying so much. the ice is way thick enough for a little skating!" you laughed, dropping down to the snow to put your skates on. "i'll prove it," you added, determined.

"no, please don't. let's do somethin' else. we could practice for the play coming up!" he thought quickly, anything to distract your from your course.

"we've practiced all week, we can take a day off," you shook your head, stepping onto the ice cautiously so you didn't fall over. "it's perfect!" you squealed, becoming more confident as you controlled your balance.

"are you sure?" neil asked, nervously taking his shoes off.

"positive, there's more people skating down there. i promise you, it's fine. i see people doing it every year," you assured him, skating along to the left as neil walked a distance to try and see the people you were talking about behind the trees.

he huffed, satisfied that the ice wouldn't break and swallow you both up. "alright, gimme a second!" he smiled, fiddling with the laces of his boots. "here i come!" he yelled, stepping onto the ice and skating after you.

🏷 @imabee-oralizard @mad-elia @velvetcloxds @natashxromanovf @masivechaos @juneberrie @goodoldfashionedluvergirl

#neil perry x you #neil perry x reader #neil perry imagine #neil perry #dps fanfiction #dps dialogue #dead poets society fanfiction #dead poets society dialogue

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trouvailleamor · 8 months

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“Did you think I was good?” Neil asked. “Last night, in the show. I rehearsed for weeks.”

“It is a foolish hobby to waste your time on,” his father said.

“But was I good, Sir?” Neil asked. When his father said nothing, Neil let out a sigh.

from I am to see to it that I do not lose you, a Dead Poets Society fix it fic

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charliedaltonssaxaphone · 2 days

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Dead poets as specific A-Level courses-

Neil- THEATRE AND PERFORMING ARTS! probably needed to convince Mr Perry to let him as long as he did Biology alongside it and sociology to defend the gvays. OR, he would go to the performing arts club or perform in the plays and beg his teachers not to tell his father. He stopped talking to his parents and applied to London's academy

Todd- ENGLISH LITERATURE (would hate english language, but that's just me projecting lmao) alongside textiles and would crotchet a final piece and maybe philosophy because im projecting again I JUST CAN'T STOP PROJECTING MYSELF ONTO HIM

Charlie- PHYSCIAL EDUCATION because he reminds me too much of the people in my sixth form who did physcial education, politics and criminology (but would go to smokers and hit his peach vape and sell them to everyone)

Pitts- He would do cooking and bring treats that he baked and shared it with everyone. Pitts would also english language because he got 1 grade 9 (or A*) in GCSE'S and art because he is intelligent but in a creative and artisitic way!

Knox- Knox would get an apprentenship at his local law firm and fall in love with every woman that comes in OR would work at a grocery store and have his Joe from YOU moment

Cameron- LAW, POLITICS AND SOCIOLOGY. He would try to defend right wing ideologies and be best friends with the teacher, probably stinks up the entire room! Yes, I would get annoyed with him and prove him wrong.

#dead poets fandom #dead poets society #dead poets society memes #dead poets society fandom #dps #dps boys #dps fandom #dead poets society fanfiction #dead poets #dead poets society imagines #dead poets society headcanons #dead poets headcanons #dead poets fanfic #charlie dalton #neil perry #todd anderson #knox overstreet #richard cameron #gerard pitts

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ash5monster01 · 4 months

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Goes On

Pairing: Charlie Dalton x OC!FemReader

Warnings: 18+, depression, mentions of suicide, heavy topics, eventual smut, slow burn romance, fluff, gender themes/stereotypes.

Summary: Against his best efforts Charlie has to start at a new preparatory school after the tragic events that took place at Welton. The very events that led to the loss of his best friend and getting expelled in the first place. He has no plans to make friends let alone get close to anyone ever again. That is until he meets Evelyn and her interesting group of friends. No matter how hard he tries to push them away he finds it to be impossible. So he caves and in the end learns that life can still be enjoyable even if it feels like everyone is against you.

a story in which a 17 year old boy who feels like his life is over, discovers that it can still turn out alright in the end. All because he fell in love with a girl and rediscovered the hope he lost.

Masterlist

Chapter List:

Prologue

One

Two

Three

Four

Five

Six

Seven

Eight

Nine

Ten

Eleven

Twelve

Thirteen

Fourteen

Fifteen

Epilogue coming soon

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good--merits-accumulated · 17 days

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in the absence of Things To Write i've been refining some snippets from the fair folk AU, so here's a prose-y update:

#posts made for an audience of one (me)#in any case the fair folk au functions mainly on the principle of: what if Neil was Angrier?#or more accurately: what if the anger was closer to the surface?#i can sit here all day and say it's about fairies! or it's about found family! or it's about oaths and breaking them!#but the truth is that underneath those it's about men being beasts and that's about it #tristan writes #dead poets society fanfic #dead poets society fanfiction #dead poets society #anderperry fanfic #anderperry #ah i hate sharing my writing. fortunately nothing is permanent in this world

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inahallucination · 1 year

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anderperry but the first time todd kisses neil, neil straight up passes out

#its a funny image in my head kdsf #like maybe he's already really tired or something #running on adrenaline #but yeah #you guys remember that one post i made that was like the first time todd flirts with neil its during soccer practice and neil #gets hit in the face with the soccer ball #and todd gets too scared to flirt with him ever again #like that #todd only ever kisses him after neil reassures him he wont pass out again for two weeks straight #dead poets society fanfiction #anderperry au #anderperry #neil perry #todd anderson #anderperry headcanons #dead poets society headcanons #dps headcanon #dead poets headcanons #dps headcanons

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whisper-my-serenade · 8 months

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revelations

a hypothetical chapter in the life of neil perry (featuring a concerning amount of james dean references)

word count: 4512

cw: emotional abuse/manipulation, implied self harm

It wasn’t until Neil Perry arrived at Welton Academy that he realized his family was painfully middle-class. All the boys in his class had summer homes, trust funds, Roman numerals tacked onto the ends of their names, and not one of them, to Neil’s knowledge, had gone to public school. He was twelve years old, had more brains than he knew what to do with, and, for the first time in his short life, he was alone.

It hadn’t been his idea, of course—his father’s detractors were quick to call him a “social climber”, a name his father detested, and yet he had no hesitation sending his only child to boarding school and inundating him with schoolwork just for the chance to say he had a son who was a Harvard-graduate doctor. Neil didn’t understand the appeal of the whole scheme—it was costly, time-consuming, and had put his mother in tears on multiple occasions—but according to his father, he wasn’t supposed to. “You’ll understand when you’re older,” was the chorus that came every time Neil tried to ask why he had to leave his friends and go to a school so far away. He was not, though, too young to understand the sacrifices his father was making to send him there, and thus why it was imperative that he be the best student possible.

Neil was not much one to question what his father said. His mother had taught him that from the time he was old enough to comprehend it: his father was the man of the house and his authority was not to be questioned. It was better for everyone involved to just give in. There were incentives to being good, too—Neil always remembered the pride on his father’s face when he was told that he was the smartest kid in his elementary school, how they’d all gone out for milkshakes after, how the story was repeated at Thanksgiving and Christmas and Easter to the never-ending praise of his relatives. By the time sixth grade was done and the course of his life was suddenly set in stone, Neil figured the whole Harvard thing had to be pretty easy, seeing as he was doing so well with the plan so far.

And then Welton actually happened, Neil began to mature, and it was no longer so simple.

As it turned out, it took a lot more than brains to make it in a place like that—there was a whole new social code to learn, much higher standards than he was used to, and not a familiar face to guide him. He called his mother every day that first week, feeling desperately homesick and missing her kind, soft voice, her cooking, the way she held him when he was upset. She repeatedly assured him that everything would work itself out, but he was nearly inconsolable. He was surrounded by boys he didn’t understand, teachers who were no longer impressed by his every movement, all to reach a goal that was as mysterious to him as the distant planets. “You’ll understand when you’re older,” she said, parroting his father’s words, when he asked why he was sent away. He didn’t understand why he couldn’t just know now. ‘Older’ seemed a very long way away.

By the time he was fifteen, and two years into Welton, things were better. As it turned out, he was not the only outcast at the school, and it didn’t take long for him to form an inviting, if not close-knit, group of friends to lighten the weight of the constant pressure on him. His father’s expectations were as high as ever, but he was on track to make it through. His future was some vague, shiny thing that was still just a little too far away to touch, and he was okay with that.

The summer of 1957 came barreling in, Neil waving goodbye to his Welton friends and retreating back to the cold air-conditioned walls of his house, enveloped in a sense of solitude his home used to be respite from. But he was Neil—could not stand to be alone—and he sought company wherever it could be found.

Most of his friends from elementary school were still around, going to the local public school and planning on becoming electricians, construction workers, maybe working at a bank if they were real high achievers—a far cry from Neil’s Ivy League destiny. Little kids could get along with anyone, really; you pretend to be dragons with someone on the playground once and suddenly your mom is driving you to their house or you’re playing little league together. But Neil had grown since then, the others had grown too, and now he felt it was like meeting whole new people, a whole new self to introduce them to.

That summer, it was a boy named Henry who taught Neil how to smoke cigarettes and sneak into the movies and play spin-the-bottle and kiss the girls it landed on. Neil remembered him as a kid, spinning wild tales that no one ever quite believed but were all ravenous for anyways, and he still carried himself with the same bravado, the eagerness to prove his manliness, and thus, his worth. Neil sometimes felt like he was a little pet to Henry—the dandy going to a fancy boarding school who would not understand the habits of the lower class, even though they’d grown up in the same neighborhood—and the other boy would have him around for show-and-tell purposes while the rest of them play-pretended maturity. It was a summer of drinking root beers on the sidewalk in front of the corner store, pretending they were real, watching little kids kick a ball down the street and acting like you were superior while secretly wishing to be among them, to be young again. Neil felt like James Dean. It was wonderful.

☽ ☼ ☾

“You and your fucking James Dean,” Henry hissed, spitting on the ground like he was chewing tobacco. “What’s so special about him, anyways?”

Neil laughed, flicking a bottle cap over and over off his thumb. “I don’t know, I just think he’s great. You’ve seen Rebel, you’ve got to admit he looks cool as all get-out.”

That was not the full truth. Neil was, in fact, quite obsessed with James Dean, a matter he kept deeply hidden out of embarrassment. There was something alluring about the man’s smile, the gleam of mischief and discontent in his eye, the flawlessness of his slicked-back hair and the messiness of his personality. To Neil he was magical—Rebel Without a Cause had flipped his twelve-year-old self’s worldview upside down, sneaking out of Welton for the very first time to see it, then doing it twice more. He couldn’t explain the fascination, it just was what it was. His death was colossally tragic, but even the grave could not keep that man out of Neil’s head.

“‘Get-out’, what the hell is wrong with you?” Henry laughed, poking fun, as he often did, at Neil for his verbal piety. What could he say, it was the way he was raised—every time he swore, he could hear his mother’s voice in his head, telling him God didn’t like it. His friend Charlie from school said it was a Catholic thing.

Neil laughed too, not really thinking it was funny, kicking a pebble along the ground.

“I think he looked cool,” said Mary-Ellen, Henry’s girlfriend of an astonishing (for their age, and for Henry,) two months, who was the only other movie buff of the group and the closest thing to what Neil would call a true friend.

“Oh, of course you do, Mary-Ellen,” Henry said, standing and taking out a carton of cigarettes and a pack of matches, putting one white stick in his mouth and discreetly glancing at the street around them, making sure no one was watching, before he struck the match and lit it. He breathed out, gray ashy smoke filling the air. “You’re just as bad, swooning over all the hunks in Photoplay.”

Mary-Ellen shrugged, scooting closer to Neil on the curb to fill in Henry’s empty space. “They’re interesting, though, aren’t they, Neil?” That was Neil’s other guilty pleasure—reading Hollywood tabloid magazines. Movies had always been an escape for him, and dammit if he wasn’t going to try and make the magic last long after the credits finished rolling. Mary-Ellen was the only person he knew who would read them with him (and provide them—Lord knew what his father would do if he caught Neil buying thay stuff).

“Ha, Neil probably only likes them for the Jayne Masfield spreads,” Henry said, taking another hit of the cigarette and blowing the smoke to the wind. Neil had to admit, it was attractive. He couldn’t quite see whatever Mary-Ellen saw in Henry, but there was something about the easy way he carried his masculinity on his shoulders that Neil admired, his own always feeling a bit like Atlas carrying the weight of the heavens.

☽ ☼ ☾

Neil knew why his dad was the way he was. His own father died when he was only nine, killed in action somewhere in the French countryside, a closed-casket funeral. His mother had spiraled, instilling her two surviving sons with religious fervor and the willpower to defy the tragedy of their father. But then there was the Depression, Thomas Perry’s college degree doing him little good in finding stability for himself and his new wife (and the children they were supposed to be having, that kept not appearing). Several miscarriages and a New Deal government job later, Neil was born into a somewhat-satisfied middle-class family. But Thomas wanted more, more, wanted Neil to inherit the opportunities he felt he’d missed. He was their only child, their only chance—he had to be perfect.

There were things his parents didn’t talk about—Neil assumed that was the case with every family. His grandfather was not brought up; Neil assumed there was embarrassment there, bitterness about his wasted life and early death. His parent’s troubles conceiving was another sore subject—it was only brought up when Neil was being scolded, when he needed reminding about how he was lucky to be alive, how hard his parents had worked to even bring him into the world. It was his father saying those things, forcing his wife to leave the room in tears. He called her “sensitive” behind her back. “Typical woman,” he’d say to Neil with a short, clipped laugh. And then he’d glare when Neil didn’t find it funny, too.

☽ ☼ ☾

“Oh, Natalie Wood’s so pretty,” Mary-Ellen said with a sigh, staring at the cover photo of the woman in question, wearing a wide-brimmed hat with a striped scarf wrapped around it. They were both on their stomachs on the dark wooden floor of Neil’s bedroom, elbows propping them up. Neil’s small portable radio bubbled in the background, playing Young Love by Tab Hunter. “I’d give anything to look like her,” Mary-Ellen went on, stroking a finger over Natalie’s pale printed cheek. Neil loved Natalie, too, remembered her from Rebel lying in James Dean’s well-built arms.

Neil gave her a little laugh. “Come on, you’re plenty pretty already.”

Mary-Ellen blushed heavily, glancing at him. “You think so?”

“‘Course. All the guys are after you for a reason.” It was true一she was really pretty, in the way Neil found most girls pretty, like looking at a painting. When he tried to think about it, he often saw girls in the same way he saw God—unearthly, distant, untouchable. Being near them, kissing them, made them tangible for a moment, but then they pulled back and the moment, the feeling, was gone. Neil never quite got the hang of religion, and he never quite got girls.

“Well, I’m not a glamorous Hollywood star yet, so I think she’s still got me beat.” The two laughed as Mary-Ellen began flipping through the magazine, looking for interesting articles or photos. Something about a musical starring Doris Day that was coming out soon, a write-up about Jayne Mansfield (Neil internally groaned, remembering Henry’s comment), and, “Oh, what's this?”

Mary-Ellen laid the magazine in front of him, revealing a full-page photo of a handsome man amid some greenery, the opposite side showing photos of him doing various manual labor tasks. “Oh, that’s George Nader,” Neil said, still studying the photos. “He was in Congo Crossing—Henry and I snuck out to see it last year.”

“Well isn’t he a dreamboat,” she said, both their eyes transfixed on the page.

“Yeah,” was all Neil could think to say.

Because he was a dreamboat. Neil figured he wasn’t supposed to say it, being a guy and all, but he’d been thinking it since he first saw the man. Dark hair perfectly slicked back, thick biceps visible below the his cut-off shirt sleeves, a playful grin on his well-carved face. He was the perfect masculine man, and yet there was something in the way he was looking into the camera that twisted something in Neil’s gut.

“Here, ‘article continued on page ninety-three,’” Mary-Ellen read, picking up the magazine and flipping to the indicated page. For a split second, Neil wanted to tell her to stop and stay on the pictures, but he retracted the thought before it could leave his mouth.

☽ ☼ ☾

Mary-Ellen left the magazine there that night, surely by accident. They got caught up in conversation (they always did) and then her mother came around asking for her home, and his mother came up asking for her to oblige, and she did, and Neil was alone again. His father wouldn’t be home from work for another few hours, and he had some algebra he knew the man would insist he start studying to give him an edge for the next upcoming school year, but Neil couldn’t bring himself to do it. Instead, he picked up the magazine, flipped it to the page he had admittedly been thinking about all afternoon, and stared and stared and stared until his brain started to rot.

☽ ☼ ☾

“Dirty Commies, back at it again. Problem’s just been getting worse, ever since McCarthy died,” Mr. Perry said, frowning at the newspaper in front of him. It was after dinner, and the Perrys were completing their nightly ritual of sitting in the same room, fulfilling completely different tasks. Mr. Perry was reading the newspaper articles—he only read the headlines in the morning, so he could make comments at work. Mrs. Perry was mending one of her son’s shirts, the repeated motion of her hand and needle a smooth wave. “Boys will be boys,” she had said fondly when he told her of the tear. Neil was on the other end of the couch, a copy of Moby Dick in his hand but his mind making no attempt to comprehend it. Still thinking about the stupid magazine.

Mrs. Perry sighed, as she always did when her husband brought up politics. She didn’t like the subject, she’d tell her son when he was out of the room. Men making messes out of things, as per usual. She didn’t like how partisan it was—couldn’t they all learn to get along?

“Do you have something to say, honey?” Mr. Perry asked sarcastically, and Neil froze up in his seat. He hated when his dad was like this, picking fights because he knew he could win.

“No, no,” his mother replied, as quickly and casually as she could. She hated Joe McCarthy, but only Neil knew that.

His father scoffed, folding the paper and laying it on the end table next to him. “I can’t read any more of that crap. You should have gone into politics, Neil, maybe fixed a few things in this country.”

He shrugged. “Not too late,” he replied, half serious.

“Hm, no, you’re too much like your mother for that, too soft.” He smiled a little. It was not something he took pride in, his emotional hurricane of a son. But the words now were not said with malice, only a father’s fondness. All three of them smiled, because they knew it was true.

☽ ☼ ☾

The next day, he found the magazine.

It was Neil’s fault, really—he was stupid enough to leave it lying on the floor, open to the only page he thought worth looking at, when his father came in to check on the state of his summer schoolwork. It had, predictably, sent him into a rage that Neil could have no reaction to other than sitting on his bed, eyes at the floor, nails digging into where he held his arm, eyes downcast, taking the beating. Thomas Perry never laid a hand on his son, but his tongue was much sharper than his fist ever could be, and was much better at finding Neil’s weak spots.

“...son of mine reading filthy, common trash like this?” he roared, ripping the magazine apart straight down the center. “Who at Harvard is going to let in some nancy who spends all his time off in Wonderland instead of studying, huh?”

Neil felt the anger and shame rise in him, tears pricking behind his eyes and, despite his better judgment, he bit back. “It’s just fun, it’s harmless, it’s—”

“Enough out of you! I don’t work my ass off every day to send you to that school just for you to come home and fill your brain with this garbage.” He threw the tattered pieces of glossy paper on the floor. “Let me guess, it’s those friends of yours, hm? They put you up to all this nonsense? Was it that girl?”

Neil’s mouth opened and closed again, gaping like a fish. He was helpless when it came to scoldings like this.

“You stay away from her, hear me? She obviously likes you—don’t need you getting mixed up with types like that.”

Neil gulped. He knew his next line—it was practically scripted for him. “Yes, sir.”

“And I don’t want to see another glimpse of anything like that—”he pointed to the scraps on the hardwood, “—in my house ever again, understood?”

“Yes, sir.”

☽ ☼ ☾

That was not the first time Neil questioned his purpose in living. It came on him in waves every so often, binding him to wherever he sat, eyes wide with terror—sometimes filled with tears, sometimes dry as a desert. Couldn’t there be something more than school and college and work? Could something be greater outside the airtight walls his father had built around him? Wasn’t there someone who thought about things the way he did—wanting, hoping, praying to break free?

That night, he felt the wrong words ringing in his head. All the opportunities he’d been given, needed to get into Harvard, yeah, he’d heard that before. She obviously likes you. That was new.

Every time he’d hung out with Mary-Ellen flashed through his head like a movie, and he couldn’t shake the feeling that he’d missed something in their relationship. Was the whole thing much less uncomplicated than he’d gone through the years believing? He almost laughed at the thought that she could have a crush on him. There wasn’t anyone better to dream of than sad, soft, screwed-up Neil?

Neil stared at the scraps of the magazine. Somewhere in the pile, the warm eyes and keen grin of George Nader stared back. He knew that if this were a movie, this would be the point where he’d run back down the street calling Mary-Ellen’s name, or go to her house and try to sneak in her window, desperate to declare his love for her. If this were Rebel Without A Cause, he would whisk her away in his Mercury Coupe and take her to the old, run-down mansion to play family like small children, his father be damned. But this was not a movie, and Neil was no James Dean. Even if he was, there would be something missing—he had no Plato. The story wasn’t complete without Plato.

Why did it seem that everyone else around him was obsessed with boys and girls and relationships? Neil had never felt anything like that particularly strongly—was something wrong with him? It couldn’t be that he didn’t want any of that—he did—but why was it that every time he tried to picture it it seemed like a piece of the puzzle was always missing? And why did it hurt so much to think that? Why couldn’t he just want whatever his father wanted? Wouldn’t that be so much easier?

He thought about praying, asking the Lord for forgiveness (he wasn’t sure what for, it was just what you were supposed to do) and to iron out whatever was wrong with him so he could go on with his life and live out his father’s dreams. But the words didn’t come, and Neil begrudgingly thought that if God made everyone perfect, then this wasn’t something He could fix, was it? It was Neil’s fault, Neil was the mistake, and Neil was the one who had to find that missing piece. Maybe if he found Mary-Ellen, got his Hollywood ending, he could solve it. Maybe he would take her to that old mansion and there would be no Plato and that would be fine and no one would have to die and he would go home to his parents and they could all just go on living. Maybe if he kissed her until he couldn’t breathe he would find himself enjoying it and realize it had all been a fluke. But when he tried to picture the moment, it was James Dean’s face in his head.

He curled up on the floor, back to his bed frame, shoving the ruins of the magazine out of his sight. He couldn’t stand to look at it. He couldn’t stand himself. He kept driving his nails into his arm, coating the freckled skin until it was covered in bruised half-moons. He tried to breathe, doing his best to keep the tears from falling—and failing, like everything else he’d ever done.

☽ ☼ ☾

It must have been late at night when his mother came in, wrapped in her robe and with her hair bound in rollers. She forced open his window—the room was very stuffy, he realized—then sat down on the bed next to him, mattress spring creaking under the weight of her.

Neil loved his mother—loved her soft voice, her clear blue eyes, the softness of her wrinkled hands. She had crow’s feet from the way she smiled with her eyes, and the same dimples Neil had. The two of them were more similar than they were different, always had been. He felt more relaxed around her than he ever did his father, her expectations lighter and her words gentler. How many nights had an argument broken out between father and son and it was her arms he crawled into, that caressed his hair while he cried, told him everything would be okay?

Sometimes he wished she would speak out—stand up against the mistreatment of her son, speak her true beliefs. But how could he blame her for her cowardice when he was the same way?

He was too big to be held now—they both knew it—but that didn’t stop her from putting an arm around him, gently rubbing his neck as he buried his head into her shoulder blade.

“Did he tell you?” he asked in little more than a whisper.

“Yes,” she said quietly in return.

“I didn’t think it was that big of a deal,” he said, shifting slightly to lay his head against her.

“It’s not, darling, it will pass. These things always do.”

“But he was so mad. I don’t get it.”

“You’re different from him,” she said, staring off into some unknown distance. “You always have been.”

Neil sat up, not moving her hand from his shoulder but using his own to cover his face, sinking into his knees. “Why can’t I ever be good enough for him? What does he want from me?”

“Neil, you are good enough,” she responded tenderly. “He wants a family he can be proud of, and you make him proud.”

“But it’s not ever enough—there’s always more, more, more that I have to do, something else I have to be. What if I can’t do all of it?”

“You can, love. I know you can.”

“I can’t.” A bitter silence consumed them.

After a long minute, his mother took a deep breath, taking his face in her hands and turning him to look at her. “He loves you. No matter what you can or can’t do, he loves you.”

Neil was silent for a moment, his jaw tightening.“He doesn’t act like that’s the case.”

His mother sighed, releasing him, taking his hands instead. “Don’t take it so hard, Neil. He’s not trying to hurt you—you’re just letting your emotions get the best of you. That’s a woman’s job,” she laughed, but he didn’t laugh with her. “Why don’t you go to bed, darling? You’ll feel better after some sleep.”

He sighed, shoulders sinking down. “Alright,” he said, mostly just to please her.

She stood up, leaning down quickly to give him a kiss on the forehead. “I love you, Neil.”

“Love you too,” he said, and watched her walk away.

☽ ☼ ☾

Life went on, as it always did.

The local movie theater was still playing Giant, so Neil snuck out to see it for a third time. He ran into Mary-Ellen on the way there, and she decided to go see it with him, so it was the two of them side-by-side in the dark, cool theater. She asked if he was excited to go back to school, back to his far-off world of yachts and nepotism. He said yes, meant it mostly. About halfway through, she curled up against him, her head on his shoulder and he knew that, if he had been there, Henry would have been furious. He didn’t really care, though; didn’t care if his parents came home early and found him gone or if he didn’t get into Harvard or anything. He’d make it through. He always did.

He watched as James Dean stumbled drunkenly around the screen, bemoaning his lost love in his career’s eleventh hour. There was something bitter in the performance, some prophetic knowledge that his actions—ironically, the very same he was portraying—would mean he’d never see this film to completion, that audiences would flood its theaters to mourn him. How unhappy had he been, Neil wondered. Was his success not all it had been cracked up to be? Had there been a part of him that maybe wanted to be crushed in the metal shell of that car?

Mary-Ellen moved her hand to rest on top of his. Neil made no motion in return. When it ended, they both sat in their seats, completely still, the brightening house lights glinting off the tear tracks on Neil’s face. He felt incredibly, fantastically alone.

(tagging folks who commented on the companion piece to this! @noblerinthemind @cowboylexapro )

#another piece of dpscu lore :)#this has actually been done for a bit but writers block is kicking my ass and I feel like feeding you people #I swear it will end up ao3 when I have an acceptable amount of it #dps #dead poets society #dead poets society fanfiction #dps fic #neil perry #anderperry #even tho todd technically isn’t in it lol #phoenix writes :D #my post

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