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#dead poets society imagines
ash5monster01 · 8 months
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hii could i request a neil perry smut, similar to the charlie one. With a Taylor Swift song!! Love your work🤍🤍
New Romantics
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Pairing: Neil Perry x FemReader
Warnings: 18+, lust, sexual attraction, smut, mentions of nudity, oral, p in v, first time, fluff
Summary: Neil Perry falls for you out of no where. In his minor crisis over his feelings for you, you find yourself feeling the exact same about him. After all a forbidden romance was far more interesting than the boring life you both had stuck in Welton.
a/n: I’m so sorry I absolutely got carried away with this but sweet precious little Neil and Taylor Swift. It’s genius.
word count: 5,234
Masterlist
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Neil Perry didn’t really care about girls. That didn’t mean he wasn’t attracted to them, of course he was. He just had far more important things to focus on than obsessing over a girl and her looks. That also wasn’t to say he didn’t care about those things either. Hell he had seen plenty of naked girls from the magazines Charlie stole from his father. He just never had in person and he was okay with that. He had things to focus on like school and pleasing his Dad. If he obsessed over girls like Charlie or Knox did he wouldn’t be able to keep up with the important stuff. At least that was what he thought until he saw you.
Neil had never been bothered by girls attending Welton like the other boys had. He’d rather them be comfortable and not distracting while he was here. Guys like Hopkins were the ones that couldn’t leave them alone. That was how he had ended up spotting you. Hopkins was leaning over you, hand pressed into the wall, his free arm trying to snake its way around your waist. Your heel came down so hard into the boys foot Neil actually heard him whimper.
“I told you to leave me alone!” you seethed, Neil’s eyes lifting to see your long hair swinging violently in your pony tail, bright eyes wide, nostrils flared. His heart stopped. You were damn near the prettiest thing he had ever seen. He was so distracted by the hills of your lips, imagining them pillowy soft against his own, he didn’t even notice you were now looking at him. A look in your eyes that could kill with your hands planted tightly on your hips.
“You want a go?” you asked, narrowed eyes and bright teeth shining behind your perfect red lips. Neil visibly gulped before shaking his head, clutching his books to his chest. You scared him. Yet not in the way you should. You scared him because for the first time in his life he found himself unable to deny his attraction.
“No, no. I uh, no” your head tipped back, the roll of your eyes so heavy he swore they almost disappeared. He wished your head would tip back like that looking up at him, touching him, taking care of him. The thought made his heart constrict in his chest, because he had never thought that about a girl before. It was as if he couldn't stop it, there was just something about you that made his skin tingle with anticipation. He had never had that before.
“Whatever Perry, find something else to entertain you” you scolded, briskly walking past him, shoulder brushing against his own. Unable to avoid it, another thought of you laying underneath him, with that fiery look appeared, and he actually had to close his eyes to shake the thought away.
So Neil spent the better part of the entire week trying to chase away thoughts of you. It was exactly what he had been afraid of. All consuming, distracting thoughts that he couldn’t seem to make go away. He had zoned out through three entire lectures before realizing he had a serious problem on his hands. He needed a way to get you out of his system and fast. Yet every time he was close to getting himself to stop he realized having thoughts and feelings for you was the most exciting thing to happen all year. The most exciting thing to ever happen in this school actually. At least since Keating had started teaching.
“Hey Neil, do you have the latin notes?” Charlie asked from Neil’s bed, surrounded by homework he was behind on. He preferred to catch up on it in the presence of his best friend rather than Cameron. Charlie didn't need a lecture about trying better at school from any one other than his father. Cameron had a habit of acting a lot like his Dad.
“Um, no actually” Neil gave him a sheepish look, long finger pushing the wired glasses up his nose.
“What do you mean no? You take notes even when Cameron helps us with math” Charlie sat up, confusion flooding his entire face. He just expected Neil to throw the notes over, he had never said no before.
“I was distracted” Neil shrugged, unsure how to properly explain himself.
“Something is up with you, you’ve been acting weird all week” Charlie shook his head, trying to read what was going on in Neil's head. Thing was it was usually Neil having to tell him what to do, not the other way around. As Charlie sat there trying to figure it out Neil felt the answer bubbling in his chest, ready to jump out at any moment. “What is going on?”
“Y/N” Neil blurted, nerves making his skin feel like it was on fire under the stare of his longest and oldest friend. The minute the name left his mouth he winced and squeezed his eyes shut, unable to watch Charlie as he processed this random response.
“Y/N? Like the Y/N in our latin class that tells Mcallister to eat it when she forgets her homework?” Neil opened his eyes and nodded, embarrassment covering his cheeks in a bright red.
“Since when do you even talk to her?” Charlie asked, arms crossing over his chest as an amused look covered his face. Neil never talked about girls, so this was a first.
“I don’t, but I can’t get her out of my head” Neil groaned as he gripped at his hair, more dirty images of the girl flashing through his mind. He needed help and as soon as he could get it.
“No way, Neil has a crush” Charlie snickered and that’s when Neil dropped his head on his desk, a defeated grunt escaping his lips.
“That’s the thing, it’s not just a crush” now that peaked Charlie’s interest, his best friend getting all squeamish about a girl was bound to be interesting.
“Not just a crush?” Charlie asked, eyebrows high in amusement. This was pure entertainment for Charlie, Neil embarrassed about a girl. Normally it was Neil being embarassed when Charlie said gross things about a girl.
“I can’t stop thinking about her. I watched her stomp on Hopkins foot and next thing I know I'm thinking about kissing her and..... other things" Charlie laughed loudly, eyes crinkling shut because for the first time it wasn't just him getting all hot and bothered over a girl. Hell it was Neil of all people.
"Wow, I did not expect this" Charlie said once he had finally calmed down, still amused over the predicament his friend was in.
"Stop laughing man, I need your help. I don't know what to do and if my grades slip because of this my Dad will kill me" Neil pleaded, not enjoying his friends amusement one bit. Charlie had been fighting attraction his whole life, Neil had never found anything worth it to be attracted to. At least until now.
"Look there's only one way to get rid of an itch, and that's to scratch it" Neil furrowed his eyebrows, confusion covering his face.
"I don't think that's true, actually the worst thing for an itch is to scratch it" Charlie rolled his eyes at his friends literalness and shook his head.
"Not that kind of itch, look you're not gonna stop thinking about her until you at least talk to her. Even better way to scratch it is to do all the things you're thinking about but let's start with baby steps" Charlie told him and Neil somehow turned even redder, the idea of even acting on his thoughts embarassment enough.
"Fine, I'll talk to her but that is it"
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Welton sucked. Truly since the moment you had been here. The last thing you needed was to be harrassed by boys who had gone here so long without girls they'd have no idea how to act when one finally showed up. Yet your parents made you anyway the minute it became co-ed and it was exactly like you had predicted. Almost every boy in the school harrassed you, sexualized you, made slimy comments, and out right direspected you. A small part of you sympathized with them not being taught but at the same time you didn't feel the need to deal with it. It wasn't your job to make them decent human beings, it was their mothers, and all their mothers abandoned them here. So all you could do was put them in their place when they tried to mess with you. You had yet to meet a Welton boy that respected you.
You liked to pretend it didn't bother you but it did. You hadn't really gotten close to the other girls and all the boys ever did was tear you down. Everyone in this school was too bored and tired of everything. All they could do is mess with each other while they all waited for their escape. Especially you, waiting for that train you knew would never come. Didn't matter anyway, your parents were no better than this no good school. So all you could do was watch as they all flirted with each other, disgusting displays of undeceny, practically wearing scarlett letters like the Nathaniel Hawthorne book. Little did they know yours was better, you just hadn't bothered to show it.
Being young it was easy to play innocent, like being in this school wasn't putting you on the road to ruin. So everyone in this school could play dumb but they all knew what being here meant. It meant saying goodbye to the finer things in life, accepting a life of successful educational pursuits, with no passion for life behind it. So you continued to listen to girls cry in the bathroom at night and see the distraught faces of the boys when they realize now that their on this train they will never be abe to get off. Too focused on the progressive classrooms without realizing living their life held the best lesson for them. You hoped Keating would help them realize that, before it was too late at least. So that was what you thought about once English class had ended, the teacher yet again surprising the students in the classroom.
"Y/N?" turning you spotted Neil Perry, the dreamy dough eyed boy that sat two seats behind you. You had yelled at him last week, you hadn't meant to but people like Hopkins made you so mad anyone that happened to be in the cross fire could end up burned too.
"Hey Neil" you smiled lightly at him, hoping you wouldn't have to add another boy to the list of Welton imbeciles.
"Hey, uhm. I uh-. Could you-?" you watched as he stumbled over his words, eyes darting around your face, looking anywhere but your eyes. You realized he was nervous and he was also trying his best not to disrespect you. That was new.
"Take a breath Perry, I promise I'm not going to stomp on your foot" you chuckled, hand gripping his shoulder to ease the tension slighty. Finally his eyes met yours and they held so much adoration you swore your heart melted on the spot.
"I was wondering if you had the latin notes?" your eyebrows furrowed, surprised he was asking about notes. Especially since he was friends with Meeks who was top of the class. He spotted your confused face and the panic set in again.
"I mean yeah, but isn't Steven always on top of that stuff?" you asked as you began to dig through your bag, looking for the notebook.
"Yeah which is exactly why I don't want him to know I've been forgetting to take notes" at this you laughed lightly and Neil swore his heart stopped. He had made you laugh, Charlie was right. So far this conversation had already done so much for Neil, when all at the same time it was making his feelings for you absoltuley so much worse.
"Has something been on your mind?" you found yourself asking as you finally found the notebook and moved to hand it to him. Neil gulped nervously and chuckled.
"Uh, I guess you could say that" he said, adding the notebok to his mountain high of textbooks. "Thank you for this, and also I thought Hopkins deserved it just so you know. That's not how you treat a lady, especially you"
"I'm nothing too special, but thanks" you smiled softly at him, not expecting this. All the boys you had run into this year had been so vile. Who would've thought Neil Perry was a sweet heart.
"You're everything Y/N" Neil told you, stare hard as if the look itself could convince you of your worth. Your skin instantly started to crawl, your neck heating up, because damnit Neil Perry was cute and he just said you were everything.
"Would you want to study for latin together? My roomate goes to the library every night from six to seven so we could then" you found yourself saying, unsure why you had seemed to cave. You swore you weren't going to allow Welton boys in but you forgot how real gentlemen had acted and Neil was starting to take your breath away.
"In the girl dorms?" the color seemed to suddenly drain from his face and you snickered, the way he was so shy making you gigle like a young school girl. After all it was what you were but so many of the rude boys and vicous girls had thrown bricks at your cool and innocent structure. Hell you could build a castle from how many they had thrown at you. Yet, even if every day at this school was a battle maybe a night with Neil Perry could be a dream.
"Yes, Mrs Leonard reads in her room around that time. You won't get caught, promise" you told him, assuring him that the hall monitor wouldn't be on duty if he stopped by. Neil suddenly found himself nodding, the idea of seeing where you sleep every night, where you change, sending him into over drive.
"Okay, uh, sounds good. I'll see you then" you smiled softly before nodding and leaving him behind, a smirking Keating from his desk staring the young boy down.
"Should I be worried?" he teased and Neil shook his head, the tips of his ears red.
"No, we're just friends" Neil lied, right through his teeth, and Keating just laughed.
"My boy, you don't look at friends like that" Neil nodded, a blush permanently etched across his face as he rushed to tell Charlie because the only way he would survive the night was learning the expertise of someone who was a master at sneaking onto the girls dorm floor.
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If you were being honest you half expected Neil to not show up. He wasn’t really known around the school to cause trouble. So when he showed up at your door, 6 o’clock on the dot, your heart fluttered. He had rid himself of his formal school uniform, now in sweat pants and a white t-shirt that he had covered in a long sleeve flannel to keep warm. The way he looked warmed you over as well.
“You came?” you found yourself saying out loud, stepping out of the way for him to slip easily into the room.
“Yeah, I wanted to spend time with you” Neil told you, honesty dripping from his tongue like honey. You watched as his eyes scanned your room, taking in the differences, and possibly the similarities to his own. Then his eyes landed on you and it wasn’t hard to miss the way they had darkened.
Neil almost rubbed his eyes because he had pictured you in a silk night set hundreds of times. It was how most of his fantasies would start. Now here you were in front of him, a silk red set laying softly against your skin. Long legs bare and for him to see. Maybe he was day dreaming again. Surely this couldn’t be real? He was going insane and he was going to start losing it. First his grades then he won’t be sure what planet he is even on.
“I didn’t take you for the sneaking around type?” you finally said, surprised goodie two shoes Neil had not only snuck away from his dorm floor but snuck his way onto yours.
"I'm not, but lately I've learned some risks are worth taking" Neil told you, hard stare set on you. You weren't one to fall easily into guys but for some reason the way Neil looked at you made your skin crawl. You allowed his stare to wash over you, refresh you, and for the first time you allowed yourself to think it was possible to be something with Neil Perry. After all you could be the new romantics and even though heart break was a national anthem you both could sing it proudly. Neil was a reminder that the best people in life are free.
"Um, here are your notes" Neil finally spoke into the silence, nervously gulping as he returned the notebook. It was damn near impossible to copy the notes when thoughts of tonight seeped into his mind, doing things in your dorm bed that no dorm bed should ever see. The minute he would get his focus back he would stumble upon some hearts you doodled and it would start the process all over again. He wished he could get every single heart tattooed on his body.
"Oh perfect! I'm glad I could help" you told him, taking this notes and turning to set them on your desk. You used this moment to catch your breath, no longer looking at Neil Perry like something you wanted to corrupt. Yet that was exactly how he was looking at you because the red fabric covering the curve of your ass was making him want to bite it like an apple, any taste of you willing to soothe his internal war of lusting after you. He was so distracted he hadn't even noticed you had turned back around and had caught him practically drooling over you.
Quickly his eyes snapped up to yours, unable to read your face. He waited for any type of reaction, more than likely one similiar to when you bruised the hell out of Hopkins foot but instead you just sat there, staring back him giving no clue as to what you were thinking. Little did he know this was poker and you were about to play your ace. When you're a teenager you are too busy dancing to get knocked off your feet but afterall you need love and all you want is danger. A forbidden romance could be exactly that. You knew starting something with him the rumors would spread like wildfire but the thing about rumors is even if they were terrible and cruel most of them were true. So what would it matter if they had one more brick to throw at you. Neil still didn't have a single clue as to what was happening as you took a step closer to him.
"I can leave, I didn't mean to upset-" Neil froze as you held up a hand to stop his apology. For the first time since you had a caught him a smile broke across your face.
"Please stay" you told him, your eyes now practically begging for the boy who had been falling apart for you all week. Neil's shoulders relaxed as he nodded, a soft smile on his face as he realized you were looking at him like he looked at you.
"Okay" he told you and before he could process what was happening next your arms were flinging around his neck, mouth sealing against his own. Eyes wide and unsure hands quickly turned into holding onto you like at any moment you would disappear and this wouldn't be real. Your lips were as soft as he imagined, you tasted sweet like sugar, and now that you were so close he could smell your shampoo. His senses were trying to take it all in, commit it to memory, because until now it was just what he had imagined and now you were pressed against him, mouth hot against his own and chest pressed tightly against his. You weren't wearing a bra, he had noticed immediately and now he wasn't sure he would survive this. Surivve you.
"Is this okay?" you asked as you pulled away, panting to catch your breath but Neil didn't answer because now that he had a taste he couldn't stop. His lips were now trailing down your neck, your perfume clinging to him, and he vowed to never wash it away. Charlie was right about scratching that itch but he needed it fully taken care of. One kiss would not solve over a weeks worth of painful pent up sexual feelings for you.
You read his message loud and clear and as his lips continued to taste every visible inch of skin your hands were pushing the flannel off of his shoulders. The fabric dropped to the floor and now your fingers were curling under the hem of his white t-shirt and he only removed himself from you for a second to allow you to remove it completely. Your head fell back in a gasp as his cool hands slipped underneath your own shirt, pressing softly into the flesh of your back, and impossibly closer to him. You had planned on studying, truly, but now that he was flush against you, his length against your stomach you realized you might never think of latin ever again.
"Take it off" you whispered in his ear and he finally detached himself from your neck, careful to not leave any marks. His eyes searched yours for any uncertainty but you didn't seem uncertain at all so he didnt hesitate to grip the red fabric and pull it over your head, lifting your hair with it. His eyes dropped instantly, taking in your bare form, hair swooshing down, and making you look like an angel. He realized none of Charlie's dirty magazines could never ever compare to the real thing. To you.
You realized his nerves and slowly grabbed his hands in your own. You gave him a reasurring smile as you lifted them, placing them directly on your chest. Nervously his hands cupped around your breasts, squeezing softly as he determined exactly what it felt like. He didn't want to hurt you after all. Your head tipped back at the feeling, a small whimper leaving your mouth and he realized he much preferred that one over Hopkins. As if his body was on auto pilot his mouth moved to cover your own, to swallow your whimper, and sear it into his heart forever.
Your hands fell up one his shoulders, guiding him towards your dorm bed. Neil’s hands only left your chest when the back of his knees met the edge of your bed and he fell down into it. Propping himself up on his elbows he watched as you shimmied out of the silk shorts, leaving you in a white pair of underwear, a small bow right in the center. His eyes locked onto it like a missile to its target as you lifted yourself to straddle his lap. Neil fell back in the sheets, groaning as he squeezed his eyes shut.
“Fuck, there is no way this is real right now” he spoke his thoughts out loud and you giggled lightly, leaning down so your face was hovering right over his.
“You treat me like I’m worth something Neil Perry, because of that I have no issue allowing myself to feel things for you” you whispered to him, wanting him to know that in this shit show of a school at least there was one other kindred spirit just like his.
“You should know you’re the only person I’ve felt things for ever” he told you in return and you smiled before sweetly kissing him, something you planned on doing for as long as you could.
You deepened the kiss once Neil’s hands gripped your waist, planting you firmly above his erection and trying desperately to not rut into you like a needy dog. Yet he was failing miserably because he could feel you everywhere and the sensation of your bare chest against his own was about to become much better. His thoughts were halted when your fingers curled into his waist band, head pulling away from his own as your eyes flashed to his bare torso. He looked at you pleadingly, begging you to do anything, so you stood up, tugging the sweatpants down along with his plaid boxers.
Never would you have guessed Neil Perry would be naked in your dorm bed yet here he was, in all his glory, clearly doing everything he could to last. Which he wasn’t going to much longer because now your were on your knees, delicate fingers tracing along the vein on the underside of his cock. The image more perfect than the first time he imagined it, the first time he had imagined you. “I’m gonna take care of you”
And then your tongue was licking a long stripe from the base of his dick to the very top. Your lips closing around to give it a soft kiss and Neil felt tears beginning to fill his eyes, a desperate mess and so needy for you. The effect you had was dangerous and he was done for, officially. He should just drop out. Then he couldn’t think of that any longer as your mouth finally closed around him, taking as much as you could. He rutted against the back of your throat, your hands palming his balls and he felt himself begin to tremble. You only smirked at the reaction, sucking him for all he was worth.
“I’m not, I’m not gonna make it” he stuttered out but before he could succumb to his needs you were releasing him with a pop, a small smirk on your face as he lost his orgasm. You felt only a little guilty as he looked at you so wounded.
“Don’t worry baby, I want us to finish together” you told him, now standing as you slid your panties down your legs. Neil cursed himself for hardening quickly again at the sight. You sucked in a sharp breath as the cool air met with the wetness of your core and before you could straddle Neil again he was sitting up and gripping your hips, fingers digging softly into the flesh of your ass.
“Could I-, could I taste you?” he nervously asked and you smiled at his shyness before nodding. Neil stood, allowing you his place on the bed where you allowed yourself to relax. “This is my first time”
“I’ll teach you” you encouraged and he nodded, now dropping to his knees himself. You had been so worked up that when he finally dared to run a finger through your folds you were tightening around nothing. Neil took a moment to explore, really see what it all looked like, a curious thumb pressing to your clit. When he heard you take a sharp rush of air in he looked up alarmed and you just chuckled.
“That’s the sweet spot handsome” you explained and he took this information in as he continued to look. In a daring moment Neil leaned forward, tongue dragging through your folds before pressing firmly on your clit again. He was shocked to find how good you tasted, not expecting it to be like this. The moment he realized how much you liked it he dug in like it was his last meal. Savoring it and hoping to keep your taste on his tongue the rest of the night.
Neil was a fast learner. After only a few more tips and adjusting his position he had you wreathing beneath him, you fingers practically trying to rip the hair out of his head. You could feel him rutting against the side of the bed and the minute you felt your stomach begin to tighten you pushed him back, panting out heavy breaths. “I need you inside of me right now”
Neil blushed and you leaned over to dig for the one condom you had come to Welton with. You had never planned on using it and now you realized you needed to figure out how to get more. You sat up and rolled the condom on for him before moving to lay on the bed the correct way. Neil followed your lead and settled himself between your legs, dragging the tip through your folds. You moved to put your own hand down there, lining him up before nodding at him. He pushed in slowly, his length stretching you sweetly.
Neil realized no day dreaming could compare to the sight of you naked underneath him and the way your warmness enveloped him inside of you. Once he was fully inside he couldn’t stop himself from dropping his head down and sucking your nipple into his mouth. You hissed at the pleasure it gave you, realizing he had gotten more comfortable during all of this. Slowly he started to move inside you, sucking so hard at each breast you realized he was leaving them covered in hickeys. You grabbed his head, pulling it up to kiss his mouth as he begun to hit the sweet spot inside of you.
Of course he couldn’t seem to leave your breasts alone, hands finding them as he kissed like you were his and he was going to keep it that way. Soon enough he was pounding into you like his life depended on it, you prayed the other girls couldn’t hear the bed squeaking or your moans. You wished you could let out the pornagraphic sounds you were holding back to avoid getting caught.
You felt your stomach begin to tighten again and Neil could feel you clenching around him. His thrusts began to get sloppy and in a moment of courage he took his hand and behind to rub your clit just like he learned and you were milking him for all he was worth in seconds. Neil allowed himself to finish as well, practically falling on top of you as he collapsed, the euphoric feeling making him dizzy.
“I guess even though we didn’t study you at least learned something” you said, pressing small kisses into the side of his neck. Neil chuckled lightly, lifting himself up to look in your eyes.
“I hope you know this wasn’t my intention. I mean I’d thought about it but I was at least hoping to take you on a date first” it was your turn to giggle and you pulled him down to give him a quick kiss.
“I know, that’s why I let you do it” you told him and he smiled, leaning back down, and hugging you close.
“I plan on keeping you” he whispered into your skin and you smiled, a hand running through his hair, him still inside of you, and warming your heart for the first time all year.
“Baby we’re the new romantics”
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heliads · 3 months
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LISA REQUESTS ARE OPEN AHHHH!!! I have been waiting for this moment!!
Could I pretty please request Steven Meeks (my beloved) with a female reader? The reader is a student at Welton who’s disguised herself and pretended to be a boy at her family’s request since Welton doesn’t accept girls but she was smart enough to get in and her family wanted her to have a good education. Since she’s friends with Neil and Charlie, she gets invited to be a part of the Dead Poets Society, and because of that she gets to know Meeks and gets closer to him, but she feels terrible about lying to him. So one night at a Dead Poets meeting, she stands up and admits to being a girl, and though she’s terrified about them reacting badly the other Dead Poets promise not to tell anyone because she’s their friend (except for Cameron, obvs, but the others kind of bully him into promising). And then afterwards she has a one-on-one conversation with Meeks where she tells him how she feels and he admits he feels the same (and maybe he even felt the same about her when he thought she was a boy but was scared to say anything) and it’s just really cute?
Of course, if you don’t wanna write this that’s totally cool!! Thanks in advance, and I hope you’re doing well, beloved!! <3
'the secrets that we keep' - steven meeks
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a/n: in the fic, b/n stands for boy name. since reader is pretending to be a boy, you need a boy name for Vibes and Plot
Although dutifully called on by schoolboys to change the age-old protocol, Welton Academy has never admitted a girl to their brilliant ranks. For reasons of religious purity, single-minded pursuit of study, and otherwise knowing how easily distracted teenage boys are by a pretty face, the doors of this bright school have shut in the face of willing and able female candidates for years. It is a long-standing rule, as familiar as not running in the halls or sneaking off campus to engage in underage drinking. Similarly, this rule is about to be ignored by yet another student, and this one is you.
Headmaster Nolan firmly intended to maintain this rule. Your parents wanted a good education for their daughter. Never before has such a violent clash rocked the hills of Vermont. Not in a while, at least. It took many, many heated arguments and a good deal of defensive letters, plus a promise to secure an internship at a nearby hospital for the son of Headmaster Nolan’s good friend, a certain Mr. Perry. Also, you would have to promise to keep the whole girl thing under wraps.
This may seem impossible, but they were the terms of your acceptance to the prestigious school, and you were willing to live by them. No doubt Headmaster Nolan would be watching you like a hawk for even the smallest of slip ups, but you don’t intend to give him even a second of victory over you. You’ll play according to his rules, and you’ll ace your classes at the same time. Wouldn’t it be funny if one of Welton’s brightest pupils was a girl?
These were the sorts of thoughts that helped tide you over the summer until your first day of school. When that inevitable day came around, though, you couldn’t help but feel paranoia wrap around your stomach with cold, digging claws. This whole idea seemed impossible. How could you possibly pretend to be a boy the whole time you were at the school? You could cut your hair short and deepen your voice, stomp around the halls and act as if you were just like the rest, but what a thing to do. Still, whenever you think about quitting, you think about the triumphant expression on the headmaster’s face, knowing he’d assigned you the one task he thought impossible. If you were going to do anything, you could at least prove him wrong.
With this mindset in place, you move your belongings into Welton. You’ve been given a single room, as the headmaster decided that having a roommate would only complicate things. Smart move there; it might be difficult to hide your evident lack of masculinity from someone who’d be with you around the clock.
There are plenty of singles in the Welton dorms, the students placed inside for various reasons. It’s nothing uncommon. Still, it does draw a fair amount of attention during move-in, as students pretend not to openly stare at you while you’re unpacking your luggage to see what kind of kid could manage to pull the lucky slot of a dorm room all to themselves.
One group of boys in particular seems keen on making your acquaintance, although their attention, unlike that of many of the other students coincidentally passing by your door, seems pleasant instead of demanding. Their apparent leader, Neil Perry, drops by to say hello. Always glad to see a new face, or so he’d claimed.
Neil was the first, quickly followed by his new roommate, Todd Anderson, plus Neil’s best friend, Charlie Dalton. An additional entourage of Gerard Pitts and Steven Meeks joined them soon enough, and a redheaded Richard Cameron followed up the tour, although judging by the not-so-subtle hostility in everyone’s glances his way, Cameron would be the least favored of the whole group.
At first, you’re terrified to have that much attention directed your way. Your goal was to skate under the radar, only making friends when you absolutely had to so you could both avoid detection and focus on your studies. Although it might make for a lonelier experience, staying undercover was far more important. Your parents were sacrificing a lot to keep you in Welton’s halls. You couldn’t afford to disappoint them by getting caught all because you started feeling alone.
However, none of the boys seem to notice that you’re not what you claim. They take up your explanation of having recently moved there readily enough, as it would explain why they’d never heard of your boy name before. You picked that one out earlier that month as if it were a new notebook or yet another school supply: B/N. It’ll be tricky to remember to respond to that name, but no trickier than any other part of this little scheme.
Besides, once classes start to kick up, all of you have far bigger fish to fry than unraveling the precise identities of the latest addition to the friend group. Soon, questions about where you grew up and how you managed to get yourself cast down to Hellton are replaced with frantic trig study sessions and grievous Latin complaints.
If there’s one class none of you seem to mind at all, though, it would be English. The other boys heard rumors that you’d be getting a new teacher, but none of them knew a thing about this Mr. Keating. The general consensus is that English this term would be no different from English at any other time of year; plenty of assigned readings, loads of essays required to be written under short durations, and all of the other joys that a required literature course often brings.
This, however, was not to be the case. From the moment Mr. Keating opened his mouth, all of you knew you’d be in for a treat. Some of you were less hesitant to embrace Mr. Keating into your hearts, namely Cameron, but the rest of you have been quick to appreciate what you have. For once, you’re having fun in class. Who could have an issue with that?
And, when Neil swoops by your seat and asks you if you’d be willing to engage in the first meeting of the new Dead Poets Society out in the woods that evening, you know that the impact your new teacher has on his students is far more drastic than even you’d envisioned. You agree readily, and the rest of your friends look pleased with themselves for managing to boost their numbers with such an agreeable fellow.
If there was one boy who looked the happiest that you’d be joining them after hours, you’d have to say that it was Steven Meeks. Although he may not be the loudest of the set, Steven has quickly been rising through the ranks in your mind. He’s been working on this radio set almost nonstop with Pitts, but every time Steven accomplishes even the smallest of achievements, he immediately has to put everything aside to rush to your side and tell you all about it. It’s wonderful to watch him, how his eyes light up as he talks, hands waving wildly in the air while he talks about receiving signals and communication potential.
You should know better than to get attached. There is a significant chance that your whole ruse will be revealed sooner rather than later, and you’ll be unceremoniously removed from Welton, never to speak to any of these boys again. Still, watching Steven’s ginger curls fall messily about his bright eyes, tracing the path of his hand absentmindedly combing back the strands so he can focus on repeating the information he’s just learned, you can’t help but wonder if maybe this one connection wouldn’t be so bad. Your friends wouldn’t turn you in.
Besides, cutting yourself off from Steven sort of feels like chopping off a limb. When the lot of you sneak out from the dorms that evening, running and howling through the forest, Steven stays by your side the entire time. Dry leaves crunch underfoot, and the moon hangs low and bright overhead. Your heart beats erratically from its cage in your ribs, and you wonder how you could ever have been afraid of something like this. This is living, you decide. You and Steven in the endless night, laughing like crazy, more free than you’ve ever been even as you live your greatest lie.
The first meeting of the Dead Poets Society is a wild success. You take turns reading off various stanzas and prose, alternating between oohing appreciatively at a particularly good turn of phrase and teasing each other wholeheartedly whenever someone provides the opportunity. Despite the jokes, the atmosphere in the cave is reverential, almost. Everyone believes in the strange spirit that’s bewitched all of you, the knowledge that what you’re doing here will make you gods of men. It’s entrancing and awe-inspiring and the first thing you ask the next morning is when all of you will be meeting up to do it again.
Charlie breaks into raucous laughter. “See, that’s the spirit we want! Even B/N here wants more. We’re high off poetry, imagine that.”
You scowl at him, even as the others laugh along. “What do you mean, even B/N? What the hell is that supposed to mean?”
Charlie rolls his eyes. “Nothing, honestly. Just that you didn’t seem all that inclined to hang out with us at the start of the semester, that’s all. We got worried you didn’t like us so much, but obviously that’s not so anymore.”
You arch a brow incredulously. “Of course I like you guys! Would I put up with Neil’s monologues if I didn’t? Or Cameron’s bullshit? Or all of you howling in a cave past midnight so we can pay homage to dead poets worldwide?”
Steven snorts, more at the disbelieving look on Cameron’s face than anything else. “Now that’s a vote of sympathy if you’ll ever get one. I, for one, never doubted you.”
Charlie scoffs loudly. “Of course you didn’t, Steven. Anyone who listens to you ramble on about the benefits of the modern radio as much as B/N would have to be your best friend. Honestly, I’m surprised that didn’t scare him off more than anything else.”
Steven’s face falls, and to cover up for it, you say quickly, “I don’t mind the radio talk. Honest. It’s interesting.”
“Sure it is,” Charlie says a little too loudly, “So’s the company. Anyway, B/N’s right. How about tomorrow night for another meeting? Bring your best limericks, I want to be entertained.”
Neil breaks into choking laughter. “Absolutely, your highness. All your jesters will do their best to make you crack a smile.”
“It’s an honor and a privilege, you know that,” Charlie defends himself.
As you watch the friend group devolve into cackling laughter, you can’t help but meet Steven’s eyes across the table. Instead of getting caught up in the mock argument between Charlie and Neil, he hasn’t lost focus on you for one instant. When he catches you looking, he smiles quietly and mouths, thank you. You smile back.
The meetings of the illustrious Dead Poets Society carry on for weeks. As they go, you realize that you’ve never had friends like these, and it feels as if you never will. They’re the best, brightest bunch of boys in the world. You trust them more than you do anyone else. Those sacred spaces in the caves off campus, baptized by moonlight and wild imagination, make you feel more like you than anything else.
Except, of course, for one secret that still hangs in your way.
You haven’t told anyone that you’re a girl. Your silence carries with it the weight of your studies at Welton. If you want to stay, no one can know. It’s as easy as that. Still, in the quiet, happy moments when the wild laughter fades and you’re left looking around at the faces of the boys who have become your brothers, you can’t help but wonder if maybe you could tell them after all. Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad if they knew. Maybe they would even help you maintain your cover.
It would be nice to have a little bit of this burden off of your shoulders, after all. It feels as if every waking moment not spent studying is chained to making this lie work. Every time someone talks to you, you’re certain they’ve figured you out. This sort of paranoia is driving you mad, and being able to finally share the secret feels like a relief akin to offering a drink of water to a man dying of thirst.
The opportunity to share comes up sooner than you expected. At one of the Dead Poets Society’s meetings, Neil turns to you with a slight frown when they’re asking around for someone else to share a piece.
“B/N, do you want to go next? You’ve been quiet all meeting, I don’t want to speak over you accidentally.”
You shake your head a little too quickly. “No, no, I’m good. Just thinking.”
This, more than anything, attracts attention. Charlie grins, leaning over to you dramatically. “Thinking about what? World domination?”
You snort. “I’ll leave those plans to you, thanks.”
“Come on, B/N, talk to us,” Neil urges. “We’re friends, aren’t we?”
Your breath hitches in your throat. This is it, your chance. They’re all here, all willing to hear you out. If not now, then when?
“Alright,” you begin, “There is something I do need to say. I’ve, uh, been keeping a secret from you. A pretty big one.”
Charlie arches a brow. “A big secret? Let me guess, you’re secretly a teacher in disguise sent to keep an eye on us.”
This would usually elicit a laugh from you, but tonight you’re so worried about getting this right that you can’t even muster up a weak chuckle. “Not quite, Charlie. I’m–” The words dry up in your throat. How do you say this, after all this time?
The other boys stare at you expectantly. You’ve started now, you can’t back out anymore. “I’m a girl,” you say in a rush. “My parents wanted me to get a good education so they sent me to Welton. The headmaster really didn’t want to let me in, but he only allowed me to enroll if no one knew I was a girl. He said he didn’t want to mess with his pristine record of only letting boys inside or something. It’ll still show up on my college record that I went here, and he wouldn’t have to handle the difficulty of more girl students. I’ve been pretending to be a boy this whole time, but I’m not. I’m a girl.”
The words hang in the air. For once, the cave is absolutely silent. You can hear quiet breathing all around you, nothing more. Your eyes are fixed on the stone in front of you, resolutely refusing to meet anyone’s gaze. You’re certain that if you were to look up, you’d only see disgust or disbelief on their faces. This was their sacred space, and you’ve broken it to bits with your secret. You never should have told them. You never should have thought you could pull this off in the first place.
Just when you’re debating the merits of running for the dorms to get out of here, Charlie starts clapping loudly. You jerk up, expecting him to be mocking you, but instead his expression is celebratory. “Let’s go!” He says. “I’ve been waiting for a girl to go here forever. Of course Headmaster Nolan would be an asshole about it. Wow. Can you get more of your friends to enroll, too?”
You stare at him incredulously. “You’re not mad?”
Neil breaks in. “Why on earth would we be mad? That’s totally cool. You’re like a spy or something. We should write a poem about it. Maybe even a play.”
You can’t help but laugh at that. “It would be an honor to be your muse, Neil. But seriously, you’re all fine with it?”
“Of course we are,” Charlie assures you. “Jesus, have you really been worried about that? What were we going to do, kick you out? Your secret’s safe with us. We’re not rats.”
“We’re not?” Cameron chooses this moment to pipe up.
Immediately, he’s hit with death glares from every other boy in the cave. “No, we’re not,” Neil says firmly. “And if anyone even hints to an administrator or other student that B/N’s not a boy, they’ll get their ass kicked. Is that understood?”
Cameron nods, not meeting your eyes. Still, you have a feeling he’ll keep your secret.
Pitts raises a hand. “If you’re not a boy, is B/N your real name?”
“No,” you answer him. “I’m actually Y/N.”
“Sick name,” Charlie comments.
You swat him on the shoulder. “Shut up, Charlie.”
“Nuwanda,” he says in a dramatically injured tone.
Just like that, the tension is diffused. Once you’ve been assured a few more times that no one will say a word about your inherent lack of boyhood, the agenda turns back to poetry more. It’s like nothing even happened, except everything did. Your friends still support you. You feel more free than you could have even imagined, knowing that everything worked out.
On the way back to the dorms, you hang back a little, wanting to take in the events of the past hour by yourself. Steven notices and joins you.
“So,” he says quietly, “Y/N.”
“Y/N,” you affirm. “It’s not too weird, is it?”
“Trust me, it’s not,” Steven says. “This actually answers a lot of questions for me.”
You cock your head to the side. “What do you mean?”
It’s hard to tell in the darkness of night, but you swear his cheeks have started to heat up. “Well, I realized– or, I thought, really, I was sort of still deciding that for myself, I mean– Well, Y/N, I think I love you.”
Silence in the forest. “You love me?” You ask cautiously.
Steven scratches his head. “Yeah, I do. Hadn’t really admitted it to myself yet because I thought you were a boy. There was a lot of reflection going on. This makes a lot more sense, though.”
You can’t help it, but break into laughter. “I’m fascinated by that. What have the past few weeks been like for you?”
“Very confusing,” he answers. “Still a lot of questions left unanswered.”
“Like what?” You ask.
“Like if you like me,” he says quietly.
You smile again. “Well, I thought that one was obvious. I love you too.”
Steven stops walking completely. “Really?”
“Really,” you laugh. “Now come on, we have to get back to our dorms before an administrator notices we’re gone.”
Steven sighs dramatically. “The administrators are the last thing I want to talk about right now.”
You think your smile might never fade. “Me too. We’ve got plenty of time for that, though.”
Plenty of time indeed. The rest of this term, then on and on until both you and Steven can sum up perfectly what it feels like to be absolutely happy. For now, though, you think you’ll let the sensation of him taking your hand for the first time to lead you back through the forest do the explaining for you.
requested by @faerieroyal, i hope you enjoy!
dead poets society tag list: empty for now!
all tags list: @wordsarelife
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(Not my gif)(Somewhat requested by two anonymous')
D-Fighting and somewhat making up with a shit ton of angst. Apologies in advance. Also, this isn't as edited as most of my other work so sorry for that lol.
True love is supposed to transcend every other thing within a persons life. Regardless of how much a person may grow, their feelings for their loved ones should never wither away: it should remain in place, fluctuating but strong, always lingering even when times get tough or circumstances change. Charlie Dalton had been the love of your life for years, a permanent fixture of your adolescent years, and no matter how many phases you'd been through or how many interests had run their course, your feelings for him had never died, they'd merely grown alongside you.
The problem was, it wasn't you who was changing this time, it was Charlie: and the more he changed, the more he seemed to drift away; the distance between you growing greater and greater the less he seemed to resemble the boy you'd come to know. Had he shown you that he loved you just as fiercely as the day you got together, the changes wouldn't have mattered. Hell, they barely even mattered now, you still wanted him; still loved him, it just seemed like he didn't love you. You were willing to accept a decline, a little wedge between the two of you, but this wedge seemed more like a canyon that kept you apart, one that only you were still trying to traverse.
You were doing everything in your power to hold onto him and not let go, fearing that if you did, he wouldn't bother stopping to pick you back up. That he'd leave you in the dust, that he'd go off and find someone new, someone who he'd grow to love just as much as he'd once loved you; just as much as you still loved him.
Therein lied the issue. You'd held onto him too tight, tried too hard, pushed too much. In trying to keep up with him and stay within his life, you'd wound up suffocating him when all he'd thought he'd wanted was space. He wasn't even sure what he'd wanted, he just knew that he was experiencing things he'd never thought of experiencing before, living his life like he was suddenly reborn, going out into the world and keeping himself busy, too busy to be held down by someone who couldn't understand, someone who didn't feel the same things he was feeling in that pivotal, life changing point in time.
The argument had been quick; a fact that you weren't sure made things better or worse. You fought over him cancelling too many dates, over him barely paying attention to you even when you did hang out, about how nowadays, it only ever seemed to be you who was trying to make an effort and keep the two of you as close as you once were. He'd told you that that was too close; and the comment had made you sick. He'd called you clingy and told you that he had other things on his mind than making time just to be with you, that his world didn't revolve around you any more and that that was the reason you were so upset.
And maybe part of that was true. Maybe you did hate that his world didn't revolve around you but that was only because yours had still revolved around him. That no matter how many friends you had, or how much school work, or how much money you'd intended on making at your part time job, you'd always made time for him. You'd done it because he was what mattered most to you, and that was the revelation that made you feel the worst. That he was the most important thing in your life and that these feelings of yours were nothing but unwanted and seemingly pathetic. That was what made you walk out the door.
A part of Charlie hadn't even realized what he'd said, and maybe that was why your sudden silence had came as such a shock. Why, when he sighed and turned around to try and reason with you, the sight of you just ...gone was so jarring. You'd simply walked out of the room without a word and he'd immediately wondered if he'd gone too far, if, in his own mix of confusing emotions, he'd said something he didn't realize the depths of.
No, that couldn't be it. He was changing, you both were changing, and you both were growing and getting busier. You should be more understanding, that was it. This was on you, he'd reasoned, and you were just being dramatic, dramatic enough that he shouldn't entertain the idea of following you out the door; even if he had a uneasy feeling in his stomach that was urging him to do so. He didn't have time to fight, he'd give you space and you'd talk later, the same way you always did when you had a little spat: you'd come to see things his way, you always did....
Except you didn't. Ring. He was calm when he'd called you after classes, expectant and ready to smooth things over with the same ease he always did. Ring. Waiting. He wasn't concerned, sometimes it took you a minute to reach the phone, move across the room or shove things off your lap, etc. Ring. Now he was a little confused, a bubbling feeling of anxiety rising in his chest against his will. You rarely ever took very long to get to the phone, especially at this time of day when you were usually just getting home from your own school. Ring. Were you still mad at him? Ignoring him? It wasn't like you to not want to work thing out as soon as possible or at least give him the time of day; even if it was just to tell him you didn't want to talk. Ring.
He knew you were home and perhaps that was what made the distance feel so much larger in that moment. You were miles apart at any given moment and yet it had never felt as far away as it did right now. Perhaps it was because at a certain point in your relationship, he'd forgotten that you'd lived a life outside of his own. That you were not just a fixture in his life that was always just a single phone call away like you had been for so long. You'd made it so easy to forget and that's part of what makes him feel so terrible. It was your actions that made the distance so bearable, it was your willingness to always be there for him, and while he dialed the phone for a second and then a third time, he stood to wonder if you'd actually, finally, given up. And because of that, he was scared.
He was scared because he couldn't remember the last time he did something that would warrant him being called your boyfriend. You'd hardly seen each other in the past few months, hardly even kissed or had an exceptionally fun time on one of your dates.
You'd planned the last few hangouts, made the journey out to the town Welton was in because you knew that there was only so much he could do in one night. You'd held his hand first, made the conversations; ones he could barely remember due to how little he'd paid attention, expressed how much you'd missed him. You'd brought the blanket, the snacks, the gift for him; a book that was still sat unopened on his desk. He opened it now and it was perfect for him: a collection of jazz poetry, the exact thing he'd told you about getting into the last time the two of you were together and he'd wondered then and there how often you listened more than he did.
He wondered how long there'd been this divide between the two of you, how long things had been this bad, how long he'd been this bad. He'd never intended for it to happen; no one ever does, he'd always envisioned you by his side, beside every version of himself regardless of what it looked like, and yet, he'd chased you away in order to find himself.
Now, all he found was how much he missed you, how much of himself was cradled in your hands, your heart; lovingly crafted in your image and the image he'd wanted to become for you. You'd held him tightly yet carefully in gentle hands for so very long and now it feels as though you've dropped him, sending his body crashing to the floor and leaving him shattered in sharp, broken fragments, fragments that belonged to a once whole and foolish person.
The days go by and you continue to ignore his calls. Your mother takes some of them for you and he has half a mind to call you childish but he knows that he fits the bill better than anyone else. He cast you aside like a child who gets a new toy and forgets about his old ones, the ones who once meant the world to him. And the toys still do, they never lose their value, it's just that they have to be taken away for the child to remember them again, to remember how much they meant to them and to show them that things are not permanent, that they won't always be sitting on their bed, waiting for them to come back and pick them up when they please.
He calls your best friend in a last ditch effort to reach you before he loses the last of his resolve and just plain travels to your town to confront you in person. You're there beside her when he calls and your friend scoffs when he confirms who he is. He hears her tell you that it's him and he doesn't catch what you say but he hears your friend let out a giddy noise before saying that you don't want to talk with him. He's certain that you told her everything when she seems to pointedly adlib the words "she wants some space." before telling him to stop calling and leave you alone, hanging up before he can even begin to respond. He supposes he deserves that.
What he doesn't deserve, what he'll never deserve, is to lose his best friend; especially while they're still so young. You were close enough with Neil to warrant your attendance at his funeral, and it's there that he sees you in person for the first time in weeks. He hates to admit that the first thing he thinks of when he sees you is how you're still just as beautiful as he last remembered, even as you're dressed in black and obviously distraught, eyes rimmed in red the same way his are.
Your eyes meet only once: they catch for a minute, locked together with dark swirling emotion, and it takes everything in him not to crumble; everything inside him shattering in noisy collisions as he does his best to stay silent and strong. He feels sick, genuinely sick, and he's not sure which grief is which as he stands there motionless yet trembling, half expecting to pass out or puke; whichever comes first.
He watches you hug your acquaintances, exchanging mournful phrases and prayers and condolences and he watches with baited breath as you near the boys. He hears you and the boy both apologizing, you for their loss, them for the fact that this how you'll see Neil for the final time; without the cushion of recent happy memories.
You reach him in a matter of minutes, the wait both too long and too short, and though you stand closely in front of him, there's still an unbearable distance between the two of you. He feels the tension, the hesitance, as though you don't remember how to be near him and the thought of that breaks his heart for the umpteenth time that afternoon.
You're at a loss for words the same way he is, even when he wants to scream apology after apology at the top of his lungs. You're unsure what to do and there's only one thing his mind can manage to conjure up, roaring at him to act out the same way it's been roaring at him to see you for the past few weeks. He closes the distance and latches onto you, pulling you into him with a muffled sob, the tension in his body easing just barely as your arms wind around him, tightening enough to nearly steal his breath away.
Its a hug that suffocates him, and he happily lets you. He'll be the next to join the dead out of all the society member if it means you'll never let him go again.
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sxtapee · 1 month
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𝐃𝐄𝐀𝐃 𝐏𝐎𝐄𝐓𝐒 𝐒𝐎𝐂𝐈𝐄𝐓𝐘 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 ★
♫ my dead poets society masterlist !!
neil:
there’s nothing here yet..
todd:
there’s nothing here yet..
charlie:
there’s nothing here yet..
pitts:
there’s nothing here yet..
meeks:
there’s nothing here yet..
cameron:
there’s nothing here yet..
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darling-i-read-it · 2 years
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Jealous?
Charlie Dalton x fem!reader
Word Count: 1.7k 
Warnings: charlie being a dick, pettiness, insecurity 
Author’s Note: Omg I am so sorry this took so long I don’t know why I literally love charlie so much. I hope you enjoy what I came up with!
Requested: by anon, Hii! Id like to request a Charlie Dalton x fem!Reader where she catches him staring at other girls on 1 of their dates and gets jealous so on the next dps meeting (which she often goes to after being invited) instead of sitting on Charlie’s lap or making out in a corner which is what they normally do she decides to sit next to another one of the poets (like meeks/todd/neil) and starts playfully flirting,cheek kissing then Charlie gets jealous runs out the cave,they have an argument, and make up!
Summary: the request 
I don’t own these characters. They belong to author/director/creator
(not my gif)
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You knew Charlie probably better than anyone else in the world. It was unintentional. You hadn’t set out to like each other, quite the opposite actually. You avoided him at all costs. You heard the rumors about Dalton and you had no intention of getting mixed up with him. 
He made sure never to look your way when you were around. You were exactly the kind of person he would actually get feelings for. So when you hung around Neil he left, arguing that he had homework to do or something. 
You avoided each other at all costs. 
Until one day you didn’t. 
You and Charlie were obsessed with each other nowadays. It was easy for anyone to tell by the way your eyes lingered on each other and the way you spoke without actually speaking. It was ridiculous. Everyone expected Charlie to be the least likely to actually have a steady girlfriend. Imagine everyone’s surprise when he was one of the first. 
You teetered back and forth on your feet as you stood out in the courtyard. You were waiting very patiently for Charlie to come outside of the school for your date. As you checked your wristwatch, you started to think perhaps he had been caught by a teacher or something. 
It was a dark and dewey night. You could feel the rain from earlier still on your skin as you shivered into your jacket. Your stomach was rumbling. You knew you should have eaten something earlier. You knew Charlie was gonna be late. 
As soon as you thought it, Charlie emerged from one of the downstairs windows. He was sent off by Knox who was waving in the window. You waved back at him, holding your arm close to your body as Charlie rushed over to you across the courtyard. 
“Took you long enough,” you whined, trying not to sound actually irritated but getting your annoyance across. Charlie threw his arm around you. 
“Sorry, Todd took forever to give me the signal. I’m giving him far too much responsibility.” You rolled your eyes. 
“I like him. I think he’s nice and respectable, unlike someone,” you joked. You got into the driver's seat of your car. Charlie rolled his eyes, a lopsided smile on his face. 
“I’m respectable.” He put his hand on your thigh jokingly. You swatted it away, laughing with him. 
“And I’m starving.” 
You soon came to a small 24 hour diner you two frequented. It was close to the school in case there was an emergency and there was usually only one waitress working so you two could mess around as much as you wanted before leaving. While Charlie was at school it was one of the only times you actually got to see each other. 
“Are you getting a milkshake?” you asked Charlie, sitting down in the booth across from him. 
“Of course I am. Two straws.”
“Because how dare we use one straw between the two of us. I have never touched your lips ever. It definitely would be awful if we swapped saliva.” Charlie smirked at you, leaning forward over the table. 
“Is that an invitation?”
“When is it not?” 
You missed him. You hadn’t seen each other in a couple of days because you were both so busy. It was hard getting him to sneak out of that prison masking as a school. You were about to kiss him, just because you wanted to, when the waitress approached. 
You looked up at her, startled to find it wasn’t the regular one that was working. 
“Good evening,” she said, voice chirpy. She looked about your age. You might even be going to school with her if you thought hard enough. “How are you two today?” 
“Fantastic,” Charlie said, grinning brightly at her. You glanced between the two of them. You didn’t like the subtle way Charlie was now leaning away from you. You didn’t like his charming smile or the way his eyes were twinkling. 
You weren’t a jealous person by nature. 
But you were dating Charlie Dalton. A person in that predicament is bound to have some worries. 
“Where’s Mabel?” you asked, voice curt. You cleared your throat. You hadn’t meant for it to come off that aggressive. She hadn’t done anything. 
Mabel was the normal older woman who took your orders. Though, you never actually ordered. She usually just brought out your regular orders. 
“She’s taking a couple days off! I’m Sel though. I may not be as quick as her but I swear I can write just as fast.” You smiled gently. 
“Well we’re gonna get two vanilla milkshakes to start off if that’s alright Sel,” Charlie said pleasantly. Your smile fell. 
“Sounds good! I’ll be right back with that.” Sel left as quickly as she had come. You gave Charlie a look. 
“What happened to our two straws?”
“You made such a big deal about it. I wouldn’t wanna give you any diseases.” 
You pursed your lips and nodded. Great. 
-
The Dead Poets meetings were something you had grown used to. You loved going. At first you felt like you were intruding on something rather private. They were all a close knit group, talking about genuine poems and they’re meanings. It wasn’t something you would expect from Charlie but as you met the others, you understood how much it meant to every single one of them. 
They had grown to like having you there. Todd took minutes and you held everything, helping out, flipping through a dictionary when you were asked. They were your friends now. 
You and Charlie walked through the cave together. You were behind him. You were running late, no surprise there. You had driven over and he had come in separately. When he tried to kiss you, you politely declined. 
Maybe you were still a little annoyed about the date a day before. 
“No need to clap! We have arrived,” Charlie announced as you walked inside. Everyone else was already there and seated. You rolled your eyes, putting your hand on Meeks’s shoulder as you walked past him. You got the courtesy nods and the chorus of ‘you’re late’’s. Charlie sat down at his spot in the corner, patiently awaiting for you to sit on his lap like usual. Instead, you walked past him. 
Maybe this was a bit much. But he needed to understand how much you meant to each other. 
You sat down between Neil and Knox. You crossed your legs, putting one foot underneath Knox’s leg, leaning against the back of the chair. 
You could feel his eyes boring at the side of your skull. 
“Did we miss anything exciting?” you questioned, putting your hand on Neil’s leg. He looked over at you, slightly startled. 
“Nothing yet. We just started,” he explained. 
“Good. I always love the first poem of the night. Really sets the tone.”
You watched very carefully as Charlie didn’t stand up. You looked at him, dead in the eye, letting him know that you both knew what you were doing. He clenched his jaw and tried to breathe evenly. 
But he waited patiently until the end of the meeting to say anything to you. 
You were all leaving, chatting over each other, muttering about classes and teasing about tests. You were walking back to your car, cleverly parked far away to avoid detection when Charlie rushed up beside you. 
“What was that about?”
“What?”
“You know what.” You gave him a thin look. He grabbed your arm, pulling you back to him. You quickly ripped it away. 
“Oh I’m sorry. Should I have sat next to you? I thought maybe because we’re separating our milkshakes we should also rearrange the seating arrangements,” you suggested. Charlie closed his eyes, breathing harshly through his nose. 
“I knew it was about that.”
“Good. Glad you can still read my mind. Can you read Sel’s too?”
“I’m sorry. I don’t know what I was thinking.” “Me neither.” You shook your head, stepping away from him. “And it hurt me. We only have so many nights together and you spend it ogling the damn waitress Charlie.” The boys were dispersed but you could feel them lingering around. Knox was probably hiding behind a tree to eavesdrop. 
“I’m sorry. You know I love only you.” He grabbed your hand. “I didn’t mean it. I swear.” 
“You swear Dalton? Because I won’t stick around if you’re lying.” “I’m not lying.” You gave him a look. He grabbed your other hand. “I swear it.” 
“Did you like feeling jealous Charlie Dalton?” 
“No. I absolutely did not.” 
“Remember that,” you whispered. He nodded. 
“You’re really scary when you’re serious. I don’t like it.” He paused. “I kinda like it.” 
You both laughed dryly, breaking the tension. 
“We’re gonna be okay yeah?” he whispered. 
“Yeah. Probably. Don’t be a dick anymore.”
“I sure try.”
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dps-cheeks · 11 months
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I really want more Meeks and Charlie imagines and headcanons with the reader, not just them individually with the reader but also them together with the reader as well.......Is that so wrong to ask.....
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Can you believe after two years I’m finally writing a pt 2 for Unpredictable (Knox x f!reader) !!!!
It’s true hopefully it will be out this week!
I randomly got on here today and reread the imagine and felt inspired to write a second part so yay ☺️
Yes dance with joy like my fav two boys right here 😂
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dearsnow · 7 months
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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).
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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.
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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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lesbiann-betch · 1 month
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sometimes you just need to rewatch dps and end it right after the play
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tomowiki · 3 months
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I had to make this .
Context:
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lettersfromzephyr · 6 months
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ash5monster01 · 3 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!
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First Time
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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
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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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heliads · 1 month
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If requests are still open :) Something for dead poets society, just sth with the gang having a good time, maybe trying to stage a play in the woods? Tbh just a everyone lives and is happy AU with fluff and winter and hot tea! (while I love this book I havent read it in a very long time...)
ok consider an everyone lives au but they are not 100% happy. (i am incapable of not writing angst my apologies) also this is movie dead poets society not book because i have not yet read the books whoops. hope you enjoy xoxo
'and it's not tonight' - dead poets society
masterlist
Todd Anderson is looking out the window at a gray, blustery morning, when they ask him if he’s going to be alright. It wasn’t quite certain before then. It’s not quite certain now, either, even after he answers.
“Of course,” he says somewhat unconvincingly, “Why do you ask?”
Behind him, Charlie Dalton raises a dubious brow. For once in his life, he’s holding himself back, but the situation requires discretion, and who is he to mess up at a time like this? He’s already been warned about treating Todd like a glass doll rather than a paper mache target, but even Charlie can tell that now is the time to pull a few punches. The hollows under his friend’s eyes are far darker than they were a couple of months ago. He wears unease like a well-traveled coat, thin at the elbows and rubbed raw at the seams.
“Look at yourself,” Charlie answers at last, “You’re exhaustion walking. And don’t tell me otherwise, I’ve got eyes.”
“I should hope so,” Todd remarks, and permits himself a small curl of his lips up into a half-smile. Half-smiles are good, though. Almost there to the real thing. So he’ll tell himself, at least.
Even a half-smile can let Charlie know that he’s alright. The other boy breaks into a well-intentioned snorting laugh. “Hey, ask any girl in town and they’ll tell you I’ve got beautiful ones. ‘Sides, Anderson, you know everything’s alright. The stuff with Neil was cleared over, right? He came back.”
“He came back,” Todd repeats somewhat weakly.
“Yeah, yeah, he came back,” Charlie confirms, walking over to clap his friend on the shoulder, shaking him a little bit just to mess with him but mainly to get his affections across. “He’s a little more tired than he used to be, and we’re all plenty scared from what could have happened, but overall we’re glad to see him again. His parents realized they messed up in the nick of time, and even if they wanted him under watch for a little bit, he’s back and we’re back and everything’s alright. Capiche?” He asks dramatically, wiggling his eyebrows for a bit of flair.
“Since when are you Italian?” Todd asks doubtfully.
“Since the situation requires it,” Charlie answers him, and slings an arm around the boy’s bony frame. “Come on now. The snow’s cleared up, and even if all that does is remind us how little grass grows on our campus, it means we can go into the woods again. I’ve been talking to the boys and we all agree that it’s time to dust off our finesse with literature. What do you say, Todd? You up for another rousing poetic exchange tonight?”
Todd jerks his head up and down in a hasty agreement. “Yeah. Neill’ be there?”
“Yeah, and me, and Knoxie, and everyone else you forgot to mention,” Charlie says in a tone of mock outrage. “God, you live with the guy, don’t you? Can’t you spare some excitement for the rest of us, too?”
Todd rolls his eyes, and finds the grace to elbow Charlie in the ribs. “Spare me the self-indulgence, Dalton. I’m glad to see all of you.”
“Don’t I know it,” Charlie affirms. “It’s been a while since we were all together, yeah?”
Todd blows out a low breath as they walk back towards the halls. It has been a long time, or it felt that way, at least. After the– after the incident after the play, in which Neil was found in his father’s study with a gun in his hands about to blow the trigger, it was decided that all of the pupils of Welton Academy would go home for a short period of time to clear their heads and come back ready to face the end of term. 
Mainly, Todd thinks it was so rumors couldn’t spread about just what happened with Neil Perry to take him out of school, and he’s glad for it. Neil doesn’t deserve to have everyone whispering about what happened to make him decide that the best thing for his life was to end it. Neil deserves the world, and none of them could give it to him.
That was the worst part of it all, Todd decides. The guilt, how it wrapped around him in wires as strong as the heaviest chains of iron. He couldn’t escape it. If he was really Neil’s friend, he would have known. If he was really Neil’s friend, Todd could have stopped him. If he was really Neil’s friend, Todd wouldn’t have found out about the attempt the next morning, quietly awoken from drowsy sleep by a Charlie Dalton with eyes like a stricken soldier as he lurchingly informed Todd that Neill Perry had tried to kill himself the night before. And none of them had known. And when his father had taken the gun away, Neil fought and screamed for it, worse than he did when he tried to convince his parents that he wanted to act, louder than he protested that he would be sent away to military school.
And then they were alone. At home. The worst place for boys to be. Should you grieve the friend who is not dead? Do you call each other on the phone, and ask if you have been playing any sporting games with other boys your age, or if you have given any thought to the fact that your friend might not have wanted to die if you had praised him more in class, or clapped louder when he performed, or said something– anything– to this beautiful, brittle boy?
They don’t say any of that. They think it quite loudly, but unspoken thoughts do not travel well over the telephone. The flittering ghosts of would-be words tend to get lodged in the coils of wire from receiver to housing, across the street and over the miles of terrain until they reach the abode of the boy on the end, who also has a lot to say but won’t. And then they both stay silent. And they both know exactly what the other wanted to say anyway. That is how friendship works.
They came back, though. Welton sent out a series of letters to usher back the pupils, even had its secretaries working overtime to call the people who never seem to answer their mail. There was another rush of cars and luggage to the dorms, and then they were settled in again. Todd had wondered if he might be assigned another roommate– anyone other than Cameron, God, but preferably Neil still– and then the door had opened quietly and Neil was there again, trying for a brave smile, and saying, “Todd?” in a voice that had once rung pure and true through a theater that loved him.
Todd loves him for it. He’d embraced Neill with open arms, felt the air punch out of his lungs in one strike, but it came back. He came back. They were alright again, sort of. They might be alright in time, but time is what they have.
Now they’ve all been waiting for the snow to melt, and treading on thin ice around topics they don’t dare broach. Neil has been a good sport, never making them feel awkward for wanting to treat him like a china doll. He was good before, too, though, and– It gets hard to tell sometimes, that’s all. Hard to tell when he genuinely is unbothered and when he’s superbly good at pretending otherwise. They stick to safer subjects anyway.
At last, though, the ground is firm, the weather not terrible, and Charlie’s gone and rallied the troops for a night out there. At first, Todd’s first instinct is to panic. They aren’t supposed to be having any more meetings of the Dead Poets Society, not since Keating was the scapegoat for all the trouble and everyone cracked down on what makes a good boy want to escape, but over time he realizes that it’ll be alright. Some things are worth the risk. Making Neil smile again is one of them.
They meet at midnight. Todd sits awake with bated breath, even though the act by itself isn’t even all that unusual. They’re teenage boys. Staying up until the moon hangs high and lofty in the sky is expected, not uncommon. Still, a delicious shiver of inherent wrongdoing whispers down his spine when Neil walks slowly into the center of their shared dorm room and says quietly, reverently, “It’s time.”
As if the others had been waiting upon that very proclamation, the remaining boys peer out into the hall immediately after Neil and Todd silently close their door behind them. Their eyes meet with shared secrecy, shared triumph, and they make their way down the wooden stairs and out into the bristling chill of night. The stars are out tonight. We are all out tonight.
They all start heading out into the woods. Charlie takes off like a flash at the end of a matchstick, hurtling at a runner’s sprint across the hills, and the others follow him at varying speeds. Todd begins walking at a normal clip until it occurs to him that he doesn’t see enough heads bobbing around him and he turns to see Neil hesitating by the door.
They lock eyes, and Todd sees a whole host of things swimming in brown irises, fear and apprehension and a sick sort of guilt that makes Todd’s stomach squirm in sympathy. He gives Neil one last moment over the threshold, then jerks his head towards the others, putting a little faux arrogance into the gesture in the hopes that an actor might appreciate an act in someone else and remember what it is like to trust oneself again.
Neil accepts the move and grins, his teeth flashing in the moonlight. “I’ll race you to the caves,” he calls, and begins to run, his footsteps sure and strong.
Todd stares after him, an astronomer watching his first comet, then takes off after him. The grass is dry and quick under his feet, spread out under each footstep like the wake of a speedboat. The wind, already coarse, pulls at Todd’s skin, his hair, his clothes, but not even the strongest gusts could keep him down. Somehow, he’s already to the edge of the forest, and he lets out a loud, delighted whoop. A barbaric yawp, if you will. Somewhere in the back of Todd’s mind, a dark-haired man in a comfortable brown sweater smiles indulgently, and chalks up another small victory to the wonders of poetry.
The second his war cry leaves Todd’s throat, the other boys swarm him like moths to a flame. Someone claps a hand over his mouth, and around him, laughs echo into the crunching of leaves underfoot. 
“Don’t be so loud, you’ll get the professors on us in no time,” someone admonishes, but then a different boy cuts in, “Don’t be stupid, we’re far enough out that we can all be shouting,” and Todd’s punishment is lifted and he can yell once more. His defender– Neil, it must be, no one else can make their voice ring with glory like that in just a few words– joins in in the triumphant calls, and then they’re all shrieking up to the stars above, here we are, not boys and not men, bold enough to scream and young enough to never listen.
Todd thinks, as they run through the forest, that it’s been a while since he let himself go free. He hasn’t listened to his mind in a long time, hasn’t let the words roll around in his brain, loose marbles of similes and paraphrased poems. His musings are dusty, dark things most of the time, but sometimes the light catches them just right and they glow like sapphires. He could write a thousand stanzas if he wanted to, right now, and everyone would listen.
The Dead Poets Society reaches the caves and a hush falls among the crowd. Slowly, they edge inside, eyes wide. The rock faces and crumbling caverns should be different, Todd thinks, something should mark the passage of time and all the awful things that have twisted their fates since the last time they sat together and thought of prose, but the stones still look as they did the last time they were here. The moss grows in familiar patterns, albeit a little thicker in certain patches now that it hasn’t been scuffed by boots in a month or so, but one of Charlie’s magazines that he forgot to take back with him turns up under some spiderwebs, and Todd’s favorite place to sit is still just as inviting. Maybe, then, the only thing that changed was them. Maybe that’s all that needs to happen.
“So?” Meeks asks, settling into a seat, “What are we doing tonight?”
“Poetry, duh,” Charlie answers him, rolling his eyes fondly. “We’re the Dead Poets Society. What else would we do, peruse our textbooks?”
This earns him a vengeful swat on the shoulder from Meeks, but even Charlie can admit that the question was fair. They’ve read plenty of poems, they’ve written a few, they’ve even gone off and run some improv limerick challenges, although Todd notes that they haven’t brought nearly enough alcohol for that tonight.
After a few moments’ thought, someone suggests a play. It might be Todd. Instantly, the idea is accepted, and roles are divided out. They’ll be doing Hamlet, since there are plenty of long sticks outside and everyone is quite fond of the idea of pretending to run each other through. Pitts is already practicing his death rattles, except he’s not very good at it, and it sounds more like he’s hacking up a lung or two.
Neil, though, is glowing at the idea, and even though they haven’t got any scripts so everyone is mostly just planning on paraphrasing the hell out of one of William Shakespeare’s finer works, Todd gets the idea that Neil has a few memorized soliloquies rattling around in his head already.
Good, then. They’ll enjoy tonight, and the next night they’re out here, and the one after that, too. It has been a very long winter, but Todd has caught his first glimpse of new spring, and he gets the feeling that warmer, sunnier days aren’t the impossibility they seemed a few weeks ago. The days are healing, and they will too. And so the Dead Poets come back to life.
requested by @reinekes-fox, i hope you enjoy!
dead poets society tag list: @faerieroyal
all tags list: @wordsarelife
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Making out with Todd Anderson would include~ (+ dry humping)
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(Not my gif)(Requested by anonymous)
- Regardless of how long you’ve been together, Todd has a tendency to dance around the fact that he wants to kiss you; not really knowing how to ask and assuming that he has to ask; as opposed to just doing it. So he’ll sit close to your side and fidget, pondering the best way to go about asking you long enough for you to take notice of his sudden and seemingly unprompted nervousness. 
- If you’re going to be making out then you’ve probably been together long enough for this anxious behavior to make you curious. He’s grown comfortable enough in your presence for his typically awkward personality to melt into one of happy confidence so his stilted attempts at conversation and the way he’s playing with his hands; pulling you away from whatever it is you’re doing, has you putting on your detectives hat, trying to figure out what’s wrong. 
- Depending on how much experience you have with him, you’ll either realize right away and smile, leaning in to kiss him yourself, or you’ll watch him curiously, growing nervous yourself before he quietly and clumsily scooches closer, leaning in and asking “can I?”, reaching to hold your face in his hand. 
- And thus, the fun begins. 
- Todd really doesn’t enjoy doing anything in public so you’ll only ever really kiss in the privacy of your rooms: sometimes with a record or the radio on; though you don’t really need it to make things special. 
- Sometimes you’ll be in bed, laying face to face as you kiss lazily, gazing into each other’s eyes whenever you part, the sound of rustling sheets and the occasional whispered conversation the only thing that can be heard between you. The two of you can spends hours just laying there, kissing then talking then kissing again. 
- Other times you’ll sit on his lap; a move that he particularly enjoys, his face tilted up as you kiss him slow and steady, a bit more passionate than the scenario stated before. You’ll start off sitting beside him but it won’t be enough; a little too awkward and clumsy for your tastes, so you’ll take matters into your own hands and climb on top of him, steadying yourself on his shoulders as he races to accommodate you. 
- Todd has zero experience when it comes to intimacy so he’ll haphazardly latch his hands onto you in an effort to keep you balanced, awkwardly holding you in his lap before he manages to relax into it; his hesitating hands finally finding a comfortable place to rest. 
- You’ll have to teach him as you go; especially if you want to consider yourself his first kiss, giving him teasing instructions the first few times you’re together, coaxing him out of his shell and proving to him that you don’t mind his inexperience. To this day he still thinks about the first time you kissed him, insisting that it wasn’t hard as you smiled at him sweetly, telling him all the steps in order before giving him a much appreciated example. 
“First, you do this.”
- But once he’s truly comfortable, he’ll crawl out of his shell and occasionally surprise you with his sudden bursts of giddy bravery: smiling at and teasing you as he pulls you in for a kiss himself. You’re always happy whenever he does, pleased by his apparent trust in you as he allows himself to be himself. 
- The two of you move in sync, neither one of you controlling the other or fighting for dominance. He’s willing to give and you’re willing to take and he’s always happy to come to a silent agreement no matter what the outcome is. 
- He typically likes to take things slow when he kisses you: moving his lips against yours in a soft and deep kiss, acting as though he’s trying to commit the experience to memory. 
- But he also doesn’t mind when you speed things up or kiss him back with a lot more passion: sometimes he even enjoys it, feeling as though it’s a testament to how much you like him. Sex is one thing, making out is another: if you kiss him like that even when you aren’t looking for anything else then you’ve gotta love him, right?
- Sometimes he’ll speak between kisses, saying your name as you attack his lips and asking you questions: some insecure, others completely irrelevant to what's going on. He’ll also murmur out compliments and “I love you’s” while you kiss, feeling the need to show his devotion and love; as if he wasn’t already. 
- Once he’s really relaxed into it, his hands will occasionally come up to your face and hold it softly, his thumbs brushing against your cheek bones and his fingers dancing against the sides of your neck. 
- He loves when you play nice: playing with his hair, wrapping your arms around his neck and holding him close, peppering kisses over his entire face before you focus on just his lips; he loves it all. It really makes him feel loves; for once!
- He loves any kind of kiss: whether it be on his lips, cheeks or forehead. But he especially loves when a kiss lingers; even if it has to be quick: when an intended peck turns into a little too long kiss and your lips seemingly refuse to part. 
- He almost always wants to keep his shirt; and everything else, on due to his insecurities but it doesn’t stop you from moving things along, accepting his discomfort without any complaint before asking “well you don’t mind if I do, do you?”; smiling as his eyes widen and his stutters out a “no.”. 
- When he’s feeling brave, he’ll occasionally recite poetry against your lips as if he’s teasingly trying to seduce you, somewhat out of breath as the two of you recline back against the bed, smiling into the kiss and giggling at his words. 
- Realistically, you would; at some point, make out in his dorm room and Neil or one of the other poets would walk in on you, resulting in him getting half fives and/or slaps on the back from all the other poets the next time he saw them. 
- The first time you rolled your hips against him, he was sure that it was a mistake and tried his best to hold himself back, embarrassed by how quickly his body wanted to react. But then you did it again … and again …and again, and before he knew it, he’d broke down and asked what you were doing, swallowing hard as you asked if he didn’t like it and saying a quiet “no”; the rest of his sentence dying in his throat. 
- He lets out whimpers even when you aren’t literally rubbing against him so be prepared for some of the prettiest little noises you’ll ever hear; sometimes resulting from just a simple kiss or innocent touch. 
- It’s easy to work him up: his hands grasping and sliding frantically to hold onto your flesh, tightening almost painfully against you, his face breaking away from yours to pant and look you in the eyes or to look down and watch the way your body moves, a flush high on his cheeks. 
- His hands almost always stay latched onto some part of your body; usually your back or hips. Even as you grind down on him, he’s still so respectful: merely wanting to pull you closer rather than grope some part of you. 
- The closer he gets to finishing, the clumsier his kisses become. He keeps having to remind himself that he needs to kiss you back; and subsequently remember how to kiss you, so sometimes it’s easier to just let him sit back and enjoy as you push him over the brink; his eyes locked on your form like you’re a work of art and/or his hands pulling you closer until you’re completely pressed against him. 
- Occasionally, his hips will roll up into yours; a bit clumsy and jolted like he isn’t even meaning to, but then he’ll move just right and pull a moan from your lips and he’ll feel like he’s on cloud nine. He’ll start to move with you and hit that spot over and over again, reveling in the sounds you’re making just for him. 
- If you want to make him fall in love with you, kiss his neck and jaw as he cums. The feeling of you loving on him as his hips buck into you for those last few sensitive times, paired with your hand holding his cheek, drives him crazy. He’ll also enjoy it if you play with his hair while he rests his head on your shoulder, his breathing evening out while he rides his high. 
- He can’t help but smile when you give him a finishing peck, saying a chipper “love you” while you go to get yourself cleaned up. He’ll sit there in awe and repeat it back to you all slow and drawn out; as though he’s realizing just then exactly how much he loves you. 
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sxtapee · 2 months
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𝐀𝐁𝐎𝐔𝐓 𝐌𝐄 ★
♫ welcome to my blog !!
- minor!!
- my name is loeka
- music lover
my rules
the outsiders masterlist
the marauders masterlist
mid90’s masterlist
dead poets society masterlist
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multifandom-imgns · 11 months
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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!!
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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.
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