#Richard Cameron x reader

[got-the-cheese-touch]

Neil Perry is the kind of boyfriend who will always hold the door open for you. It’s no use trying to open a door yourself, he’s just gonna block you until you relent.

Todd Anderson is the kind of boyfriend who will write little notations in the books he reads when he gets to a line that reminds him of you. (Collective “awwww” right here)

Charlie Dalton is the kind of boyfriend who always needs a hand on you. He can’t help it, you’re a magnet. He needs a hand on the small of your back, guiding you through a door, his hand on your thigh when he drives, etc.

Knox Overstreet is the kind of boyfriend who will spray the cologne he wears on his sweaters or sweatshirts before you come over because he knows you’ll be leaving his room with one and he likes the thought of his scent trailing around with you.

Steven Meeks is the kind of boyfriend who never forgets a date. “Happy birthday” “Happy anniversary of the first time you came to a poet’s meeting” “Happy anniversary of the first time we held hands in the snow”

Gerard Pitts is the kind of boyfriend who will never let you carry a bag on his watch. Doesn’t matter if he has a backpack of his own, give the bag to him. You shouldn’t have to lift a finger when he’s here.

Richard Cameron is the kind of boyfriend who will never let you pay for something when he is with you. He claims he’s being a gentleman but really it’s just because you always give him a thank you kiss after.

[readbyred]

may i request how the dps boys would react to realising they have a severe crush on a, preferably shy, reader! tysm <\3

Oh, I've been waiting for dps requests! Sorry for my late replies everybody, I got demotivated again because tumblr deleted a few of my x reader posts (and a few others). But I'll try to not let that happen again if I can even help it

I think Knox would have such a silly time trying to approach you. Because we all know he’s awkward, but determined at best and, well… pushy at worst. I'm trying to go with the version I saw in a play, because thankfully they cut out the party scene which means he’s still delightfully insufferable but not awful. Anyways, he would jump on every occasion to talk to you. And then just. Stand there. He’d try to give you flowers and poems, everything really. But he loses brain cells every time he’s around you. At least you’re both equally stressed about social interactions. He gets a little braver when you give him a smile or any other sign you like him. Not less awkward, but a bit more motivated to go for it. His main problem is that he can't read you well and despite being big on feelings and all, he still has a hard time actually talking to you. Clumsily, he showers you with over the top things, that most would find cringey but you think of as endearing. And if he thinks there's a chance he’ll lose you, he’ll confess right away. I think he is brave and pretty open about feelings. Just stressed out

With Neil, it's not an issue at all that you're shy. He’s more so taken aback by his own strong feelings. Because he wasn't expecting to fall this hard. But give him like five work days to process and he’ll be all in. I feel like he would take his time to confess but he’d make it known that he cares about you. He’d be checking up on you every time he can, bringing you coffee, asking to practice lines together, go to the movies in town. Even before you two start dating you just wake up and half of his sweatshirts are in your drawer (he likes to borrow you his clothes if you’re cold) and your desk is littered with poems he shared with you. He’s a gentle lover, but he knows what he wants and when the time is right Neil has no problem confessing

It's much funnier with Cameron because this boy is in panic mode 24/7. At first he legit thought he was sick because he always felt dizzy and distracted around you. And he’s a traditionalist. Everything has to be perfect when you’re around. Like he beats himself up about every little mistake he made around you. But also makes a point to treat you RIGHT. If you’re shy he might not know how to approach you at first, because he’s not sure if you’re even interested. And how to make you like him. After much teasing (mainly from Charlie, of course) he gets fed up with his friends and decides to make a move. It might not be the most romantic when he does, but it's sweet and genuine

Another one that would take time to confess is Meeks. He’s pretty quick to accept that he’s crushing on you. He’s like, yeah obviously they are amazing, now what do I do with that? He tries to give you things. Small things. Like maybe he could borrow you a book that you’ve wanted to read for a long time of buy you a coffee/tea if you’re out in the town. He doesn't explicitly say that he liked you but it's easy to tell and he’s not one to be shy about it either. So when you guys do get together, you already know his more… romantic side

On the contrary, Charlie takes time to process his feelings. He had crushes before, but real feelings (strong ones at that) aren't the norm for him. Sometimes he catches himself losing his cool around you and it messes with him so bad. He would probably ask Knox for advice. Which is a bad move. But he figures that at least his friend is more familiar with having those sorts of feelings. Nothing much comes of it because I can't imagine Knox giving him any good advice on the subject, but after he was able to talk about liking you, he decides to just go for it. Well, in small steps. Primarily because he’s just not an intense guy, but also because he’s surprisingly mature when it comes to respecting your levels of comfort. Doesn't mean it gets boring though, it's Charlie we’re talking about. Once you get together there's not a one dull moment with him by your side

With Todd, it might be difficult at first. He’s overwhelmed by fis feelings and has a tendency to talk himself out of making any sorts of moves. Why would you like somebody like him? He tells himself he doesn't have a chance, surely. It only confirms his suspicions when you don't take initiative. It's only after he’s been moping around for a few days that Neil approaches him about it and proceeds to give him shit for not doing anything to let you know his feelings. He’s like, bro, so you care about them so much that you’d rather not have them in your life because you want them in your life so much??? Make it make sense. So with Neil's encouragement, he tries to at least talk to you and see where it goes from there. Still shocked when you end up returning his feelings. You’re in his poems now, even if it's not very obvious (he's not as straightforward as Knox, so it's not ‘i love (yn) and I want them to be mine’ kind of deal). This is the only one where I'm sure you might have to make some sort of a move. Todd’s like a spider - he’s more scared than you are and if he could, he would just silently hang out in the corner of the room you’re in. But he gets a little braver after he starts feeling more secure

Lastly, Pitts is not as bad as Todd, but still takes his time. He’s comfortable with liking you and he knows what he likes, but he’s not in any rush to make things official. So any time he has any chance to talk to you, he does and just wants to see how things go from there. He jokes around with you, asks to come study together, tries to be close. He does care, just in a more chill way than some of the other poets would. If you two have been talking for some time, he would have no problem asking you to go out with him, doesn't make you feel pressured or anything. If the others are cool with it he will do his best to have you come to their meetings at night as well. So you do not only get an awesome boyfriend out of it, but also a great friend group

[sustiawan-author]

Richard Cameron SFW Alphabet . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁

The long awaited content for your favorite, morally grey redhead! This is dedicated for my Cameron girlies sitting in the corner, waiting for content. I've got u.

A = Affection (How affectionate are they? How do they show affection?)

This is so cute because he's like... the opposite of Neil. He doesn't show affection too overtly, okay, I'm sorry. But you know what he does?

Richard has this thing where he makes sure your needs are taken care of. Often times, he slips on your shoes for you while you sit on the bed, and even kisses your ankle like a sweet oath before putting it on. But you have to pretend you didn't see or else he'll get bashful and deny it.

He calls Todd a stiff but my God is he one lol. But you find it cute. You don't mind. You like to tease him a lot about it.

He's such a 'but what will they say?' guy to a fault. Obviously. So you pull his arm and whisper real nice to his ear for him to settle down, and you have a talk to him about his problem. He listens, and you comb his hair tenderly.

It ends with him crying against your shoulder. He regrets it all, even after years being out of Welton Prep. It's like he's been doused with a bucket of ice water. He's so glad he's met you.

Richard would've worked himself to death ('m not kidding) had you not been with him. All he needs is for you to put your arms forward and softly call out his name and he'll surrender.

His touches (when in public) probably limit to a hand on your waist or a bit lower to your hips if he's tired, but he absolutely melts when you flirt with him all sweet. He just forgets resolve and does not care anymore — to home you'll go!

B = Best friend (What would they be like as a best friend? How would the friendship start?)

Honestly, I have to say you two probably met at university at the very least. He isn't the friends to lovers type y'all. If he wants you as his woman, then as his woman you'll be.

That's it. This is who you sign up for.

He'll spot you as "that cute girl across the room" (his words), and he'll begin 'courting' you. Like some wild animal.

But it's alright, he's the traditional type. Almost to a fault. He gives you roses one day, a nice dainty bouquet, and some courtesy chocolates. They're so tart and nice, and you can't help but question the rumors going around about how 'stuffy' and 'rigid' he is.

"Oh, thank you," you beamed, hugging the gifts tightly. He just looks down on you with a proud, half lidded gaze,

"It's no problem, what's not to give?"

He's entranced, girl. LOL.

C = Cuddles (Do they like to cuddle? How would they cuddle?)

(Don't tell anyone) He LOVES it. So much. Probably relies on them a little bit.

Come on, he's a man deep down alright. He loves being hugged and loved by a beautiful woman and you are the only one he wants.

You probably end up cooing and doting on him a lot because he's so cute. And this might be the right time to tell you he makes BIG money, girl (more on the next letter!)

D = Domestic (Do they want to settle down?How are they at cooking and cleaning?)

Okay, hello, this man brings home mighty cash. And he's so stable too.

Fine, in the context of poetry and art, he's an admitted loser at it. But that's only because his values align elsewhere; he's so ready to settle down, be loved by someone he devotes his life to, and treat them as they deserve to be treated.

There's a reason why he comes home at night with exhaustion on his eyelids, and somehow you still get presented with a medium-sized, deep turquoise velvet box that's shaped like a heart. Inside is a lovely necklace with an ornate ruby as the charm.

You kiss him with devotion and say your 'thank you's against his lips. He accepts them, limp with exhaustion. His briefcase plops on the floor as you take his hands. You're so proud of your husband. ଘ(੭◌ˊᵕˋ)੭* ੈ♡‧₊˚

G = Gentle (How gentle are they, both physically and emotionally?)

He's gentle to you, not so much with himself;

Richard isn't too comfortable with anything below excellent. It's how he's been raised. When you mess up, he takes a deep breath, kisses your head and cleans the mess together with you — in any shape or form.

But when he makes a mistake? He feels like a total screw-up. He doesn't know what to do, he beats hinself up, he scowls and tries harder but he never takes it out on anything — let alone you.

One time, you noticed him being quite hard on himself, and you prepared him a cup of hot tea, some biscuits you made, and massaged his shoulders. He melted against you and cried against your lap.

This man is an anxious mess of someone who always tries their hardest. Reassure him and you'll be great.

H = Hugs (Do they like hugs? How often do they do it? What are their hugs like?)

He's the sweetest, most tender hugger. You feel so safe in his arms, it's like a shield around you.

Richard always has everything — and I mean every little thing — under control; he manages the bills, does the taxes (he prefers doing them for you, but you assure him you'd like to sit by him and accompany him. He's so thankful for this), and he always makes sure you get the best of the best. That's what he promised your father before he married you anyway, and he's big on keeping promises.

He hugs you when you're sad, brushes your stray hair away and kisses your forehead and temples. He lets you sit on his lap facing him, rubs your back, assures you you're his bestest girl and "we're gonna go through this together okay, hun?"

Yeah.

I = I love you (How fast do they say the L-word?)

Quite slow ^_^ he wants it to mean as much as he values it, and he's a bit more modest with his emotions, so even he has to figure it out first.

But when he pursues you seriously, it'll only take him less than 2 months to profess. He knows what he wants, and he is not looking to waste your time.

He planned the whole thing out; dinner, nice refreshments, then under the moonlight will he tell you about his feelings. He even took note from Keating's lessons, albeit his love-hate relationship with them, and got a bit sentimental with it.

But it was all thrown off the hook when he saw how gorgeous you looked in your dress, all dolled up and ready to see him, smiling sweetly as you took his arm and greeted the night.

He blurted it out before the pasta even got to the table.

J = Jealousy (How jealous do they get? What do they do when they’re jealous?)

Richard would never admit it, but he gets more than a little bit bothered if his old alumni paid a little bit more attention to you than necessary;

They came over to your house, and of course Richard insisted you two serve them your prided jars of homemade cookies and some warm tea.

Charlie probably brags about his stocks being higher than usual or whatever it is business people discuss, and when you came downstairs, all went hurrahs in excitement to see how you're doing.

Once they all had their fair share of greeting you, of course your man had to dish them his classic "alright, alright, guys that's enough! settle down"

Yeah. You like him that way.

K = Kisses (What are their kisses like? Where do they like to kiss you? Where do they like to be kissed?)

He does NOT want me to answer this one folks.

He kisses like a promise, like a little secret shared between the two of you. Only you know how truly sweet he can be.

He kisses to taste you, to tenderly encompass you in something that is truly his and yours, to grasp your chin between his thumb and forefinger and whisper something adoring against your lips.

He kisses like he's going to be there with you forever, like time stops and nothing else matters in this world. He knows you're his world, his globe, his life, all the essence that keeps him rejuvenated.

He needs you.

L = Little ones (How are they around children?)

Awkwardly sweet. He doesn't know what to do with his hands.

Say, you're supposed to babysit your best friend's son for the day, and for some reason he keeps babbling specifically for Richard.

You just stir his food on the stove and casually ask your husband to 'please watch over the baby, dear.'

He ends up reading a sports almanac for the tot.

Don't be mad at him, in his eyes it's genuine effort. And it keeps the baby occupied and entertained!

When the baby falls asleep after all is done, Richard smirks proudly at you.

'Ready to be a father,' he boasted, snaking an arm to your waist and leaning down to give you a kiss.

Lol.

M = Morning (How are mornings spent with them?)

He's a groggy guy, but he'll wake up early before the first bird even gets to chirp.

Richard kisses your temple, tucks you further in the blanket, slip into his robe and slippers and spends his time downstairs, on the porch.

He watches the neighbors go by on their bikes or on their daily stroll and smokes his pipe, polishing it with his satin handkerchief before and after each use.

Then he'll probably make you some pancakes (which lacked in sugar, so it just tasted like wheat) and diligently added a heap of blueberries and maple syrup on top.

You ate it together.

N = Night (How are nights spent with them?)

He is exhausted. The only leisure day for him is Saturday, so he'd prefer his nights then to be uninterrupted.

You'll run him (or both of you) a bath, and soak there before spending it in front of the fireplace. If it's Sunday, then he'll do his due work with the papers, pens, and manila files strewn across the carpet and coffee table. But if it's Saturday, then he'll just have an arm around your shoulder and discuss your next date out.

He has a scheduled life, okay. And you respect it (and find it attractive) 👀

O = Open (When would they start revealing things about themselves? Do they say everything all at once or wait a while to reveal things slowly?)

AWWWWWWW If you've actually seen him, you'll know how sensitive he is.

From the beginning, he likes to talk about you, and he loves it when you talk about yourself. But when you asked about him, he nervously stammered.

He couldn't believe a girl as gorgeous as you could care so much about someone like him. It's impossible! he thought, but you beg to differ.

The more you spend time with one another, the more you knew about him. Richard told you about his mother, how he used to help her knit when his father's not home. He also spoke somewhat lovingly about his old man, how he used to take him to his work to learn all about the industry, even when he was small. But he also told you about how much pressure he faced when he was younger, how difficult it is to keep up with the others.

But he never, ever complains. Especially not when you smile so brightly each time he brings home something he bought on his own, or when he sees how beautifully you've decorated and maintained the home he's bought for the both of you.

He would never, ever think of trading his life with another. Not a chance.

P = Patience (How easily angered are they?)

He's a grumpy little baby, according to you. Never with others, just with you. His girl.

He would never openly admit if he's struggling or frustrated with something, unless you're there; then it's all "Aw, honey, I nicked my finger :((" or

"Man! I was excited for that game. Now it's all bull," and plops on your lap.

You just giggle and brush his hair back, kissing his forehead. Then he melts into your touch and you realize it was all a ruse.

Q = Quizzes (How much would they remember about you? Do they remember every little detail you mention in passing, or do they kind of forget everything?)

Honestly, he's like a basic man, besides the fact that he stores every single thing he knows about you in his organizer.

Yes, he has a book dedicated for data inputting. That's Richard Cameron for ya.

He puts in your birth date, your favorite color, your favorite fabric, your favorite dress outlines and even ones he loves most on you, the spendings he's put out for you and planning for what's next (a.k.a. a section dedicated for you only).

Self explanatory.

R = Remember (What is their favorite moment in your relationship?)

Awwww he loved it when he took you to his parents' house and after (the very intense) dinner, you two sat on his doorstep and just... talked.

He held your fingers since they were freezing from the autumn cold, and you heave cold breaths against his blazer.

None of you wanted to go inside. He was giggling happily, all kissing your hair and hugging you close.

He wishes he could relive it again.

S = Security (How protective are they? How would they protect you? How would they like to be protected?)

Okay, he is way too protective. It's like?? Your wife won't run or get kidnapped if you leave her side for one second dude you can chill out.

No, I'm so serious he is such a type-A so when you have to be separate from him, you have to be back at the time you tell him, or at least give him a call or a heads-up inbetween or else he'll get all anxious and worried about your wellbeing.

Your presence takes over his life girl </3 please take care of bro

T = Try (How much effort would they put into dates, anniversaries, gifts, everyday tasks?)

A lot. And I mean... a little worryingly so.

He takes things seriously, has a principle that anything in life should be done with utmost excellence or else it's not worth it at all. This bleeds into your relationship in... interesting ways!

He gets you a teddy bear for your first anniversary. No, not those drugstore ones, an actual luxury brand teddy bear with a bejewelled neckline. Yes, its eyes sparkle too. And yes, you loved it.

He also planned a nice dinner with a view and an orchestra singing in the cafe (he aligned your schedules with the timetable the restaurant provided just to be able to see them), and you adored him the rest of the night.

In return, you've gifted him a nice watch with your initials embedded within it. He cried at the restaurant (he just couldn't hold it in) and ended up cuddling your teddy bear until you two got to the car.

U = Ugly (What would be some bad habits of theirs?)

This is so funny but he'd think you two are possibly the best couple out there in comparison to... like, anyone and everyone.

You've told him not to boast, but his life's hard work is invested in your relationship. It's hard for him not to!

Richard makes sure each time you two go out together that you are feeling your utmost best so he could relax the whole evening and! Well! Pridefully shove your existence to every conversation he can join.

You remind him later that everyone began rolling their eyes, but he shrugged and got some grapes for you two instead.

V = Vanity (How concerned are they with their looks?)

A lot. PLEASEEE did y'all see the GIF where he was joking around with Todd? Richard loves looking his best.

If Neil takes his time on doing house chores, Richard makes sure to put meticulous effort in ironing his shirts, gelling his hair, and even putting his trousers on the neatest he could.

He just knows looks mean everything in a shallow world, okay.

W = Whole (Would they feel incomplete without you?)

YES. Lol.

I know I talked about secure attachment and all that on Neil's post, but with this boy? If you ever leave him, his breath would be taken out of his throat.

He's the sobbing breathless and stutters, struggling to sy how he feels type.

Please take care of yourself. If you ever even fall sick with the slightest fever, he would never leave your bed. And this creates such a moral conflict because he knows he has to work but seeing his darling all red in cold sweat and whimpering in pain leaves his heart aching too much for him to think straight.

He ended up calling out of work. Don't worry, of course he scheduled it ahead. Classic.

X = Xtra (A random headcanon for them.)

He loves your childhood home. If you still lived there before you got together, once you did, he'd ask to visit you there almost every week.

It gives him a nice sense of optimism about the life you two could build together, and seeing your old pictures on the wall from when you were small tugged a heartstring he didn't even know he had in him.

Also he finds your bed there really snug.

Y = Yuck (What are some things they wouldn’t like, either in general or in a partner?)

He doesn't like any sense of laziness or sloth.

Richard is... a hard worker, to say the least. He's stable, he's reliable, and he's straightforward. He would be way down if his partner takes advantage of that or worse, refuses to meet him halfway.

He loves your spontaneity, but he also values the stability he could bring. If you two could find a good balance, then he'll find it so much more magical to cruise the waves of your love.

Yes, he calls it that.

Z = Zzz (What is a sleep habits of theirs?)

He puts in snore blockers, like those clamps on your nose to keep you from snoring.

Richard read an article once or twice about the statistics of people's lives being affected negatively by sleep apnea and he's been shaken ever since.

It's okay, you take it off for him if you wake earlier and kiss him good morning right after.

Howzzat for a redemption arc, baby?

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[jentrovert]

Time Marches On

(Richard Cameron X Fem Reader)

Oneshot

Synopsis: After the death of Neil Perry, your brother Knox brings you to one last poet’s meeting. As a falling out with Richard Cameron ensues, you seem to be the only one capable of seeing his side of things.

Warnings: Talk of suicide, death, grieving, mention of firearms, arguing, swearing, minor violence, a kiss, angst with a semi-happy ending.

｡ﾟ •┈୨♡୧┈•ﾟ｡ *

Author’s Note: Based on the movie Dead Poets Society, but obviously a bit different. Reader is about a year younger than Knox, and is referred to by she/her pronouns. It’s difficult to be neutral for every appearance and capability, but I do try to be pretty general. Let me know if you see anything to the contrary. Thanks, guys. X

꘎♡━━━━━♡꘎

Neil was gone. It was easy to say, impossible to process. On paper, he was dead; mentally, it just wasn’t true. He was still around, you’d see him tomorrow, or maybe over spring break when he and your brother would dare each other to go swimming in the frigid water. Everything was fine; everything was normal. Until it finally got quiet, the night you sat in the dining room after his funeral, shivering under a blanket by the radiator. Everyone had excused themselves to their own rooms for the night. Even watching your older brother sob, which you seldom witnessed, you managed to keep it together. Only once the silence crept in, engulfing the room and everything around you, screaming in your ears to be heard, did you finally crack.

 

First it was one tear, then three, and then before you knew it, you were a broken mess on the floor. The winter cold seeped through the old walls of your childhood home, bitter and unforgiving of your circumstances. A cruel reminder that the world wouldn’t stop after this, on the contrary, it would keep hurling at you just as harshly as it had before.

 

You hadn’t been the closest friend of Neil Perry, but he’d known your brother for years and had become something of an honorary brother by that point. It was easy to picture their group of poets, affectionately called “dorks” by you, all joking and picking at one another as they always did, huddled up in their quaint little cave that you’d been invited to on a handful of occasions. They were happy and smiling, filled with admiration for each other as they read off their newest theatrical composition. They were poems that bestowed hope to each boy, giving them the promise of an eventful, passionate future. You hadn’t admitted it at the time, not in front of your brother, but it gave you hope as well.

 

“Why?”

It repeated itself on a frustrating loop in your mind.

 

Didn’t Neil love his friends? Weren’t they worth living for? Didn’t he know how dreadfully you’d all miss the boy?

 

You were aware of how selfish those questions sounded out loud. It wasn’t about any of you; you knew that. And part of you wanted to wring Thomas Perry for the way he treated his own son. He’d failed him in every way a parent could. You wanted to blame everyone that ever wronged your brother’s friend, but deep down, you knew the thing that had pushed Neil toward the decision he made was bigger than all of you. You didn’t know if you felt more helpless wondering what you could have done to save him or by considering that there was nothing anybody could have done at all. A small part of you wanted to feel angry with Neil, angry at the state he’d left you all in, but you knew that was just as ridiculous, too.

 

It was incomprehensible. He looked so great in that play the night he died, and so excited to do what he loved. You were all so proud of him. You would’ve hugged him so much tighter if you’d known it was the final time.

 

The struggle of trying to keep quiet in the late night made you cry even harder. You considered each of Neil’s schoolmates, how they were probably doing the exact same thing you were, and how they definitely had more of a right to cry than you did.

The image of Neil with a gun in his hand continued to claw and tear its way into your brain regardless of how much you struggled to shove it away. You didn’t want to see it; you just wanted him to put it down. You wanted it so bad that you started mumbling it aloud. You begged God, you begged the universe, you pleaded with anything that would listen, but no one answered, and you knew no one ever would.

 

Before you realized it, you were fast asleep on the linoleum, and unbeknownst to you, Knox had placed a pillow by your head and two extra blankets over your body whilst you slept, unsure if he should disturb your slumber or not. In the early morning hours, you found what your brother had done and immediately knew the culprit. There was no doubt it your mind Knox hadn’t slept at all that night.

You smiled faintly into your pillow, grateful that your brother always made the effort to care for you, even in his own strife. Sure, you made fun of him constantly, but you loved him a lot, and you did miss him when he was away at boarding school. You loved his friends, too. You wanted nothing more than to take all of their grief away and make everything better, but it didn’t work like that. You were powerless in the situation.

Not long after that, you learned that Knox’s friend Charlie Dalton had also gotten expelled from the school they attended. You were shocked, to say the least. It was the last thing those boys needed to lose another friend. When probed, your brother informed you that Charlie had actually attacked one of their other friends, Cameron. Apparently it had something to do with a lie Cameron told, and it had really crossed the rest of them. Now, you knew Cameron, and you knew Charlie. You also knew that they liked to bicker back and forth, mainly because their personalities differed so significantly, but nothing too major. Charlie was an avid rule-breaker, and Cameron was terrified to stray away from the straight line he always walked.

 

“Hey, (Y/n)?” Came your brother’s voice, along with a weak knock on your open bedroom door.

 

You looked up at him in acknowledgment, turning away from the blank schoolwork in front of you.

 

He shifted uncomfortably from one foot to another. “We’re having our last poet meeting with Charlie.”

 

You blinked at him, fighting the painful lump that formed in your throat. “Oh” was all you managed to croak.

 

“If you’d like to come with me…”

 

With a shaky breath, you nodded, standing from your desk. “Let me get my coat.”

 

There was a heavy weight on your shoulders as you trudged through mounds of snow. The turns were familiar; the same branches snapped under your feet. It was equal parts haunting and comforting to see the cave coming into view. Once inside, you weaved around rocks to find your usual spot. You offered firm hugs and empathetic smiles to each of the boys who’d already arrived, taking extra time for Todd, who sat off to the side. You hadn’t known Todd for long, as it was his first year at Welton, but strangely enough, he actually seemed to have gained some confidence since the last time you met. You’d honestly expected the opposite, given how close he was to Neil, but you were proud of him nonetheless. You were proud of them all, and you let them know such.

 

Everyone mingled half-heartedly with one another, doing their best to raise the spirits a bit. You finally managed to question one of them about their English teacher, whom you hadn’t known as well as they did, but knew their dead poet society was founded by his encouragement. Just as Pitts was about to answer, Charlie came strolling into the cave, and everyone turned their attention to him.

 

���Alright, we’re all here, I guess,” He stated, barely loud enough to hear, keeping his hands stuffed in his trench coat pockets as he scowled at the floor.

You could tell Knox wanted to say something to the boy, as this had been Neil’s best friend, but he didn’t. Charlie looked bitter, scorned. He didn’t bother with greetings or formality as he took a seat on a rock near the entrance.

 

Knitting your brows, you peered around at each of them, then back to Charlie.

 

“What about… Cameron?”

 

“What about him?” He barked, gawking at you like you had grown two heads.

 

You hummed in thought, caught between not wanting to overstep and also wanting to speak your mind.

 

“Listen, Charlie,” You started carefully, gripping at your jacket hem, “I know that you’re angry-“

 

“Angry?” He cut you off. “Angry? That lying bastard wasn’t invited, (Y/n).”

 

“Yeah, I gathered that,” You quipped.

 

“Then what are you so confused about?”

 

It was almost comical the way the rest of the boys’ heads went back and forth between you as you squabbled. Your brother attempted to interject, but you dismissed him.

 

“I know he messed up, Charlie-”

 

“He didn't 'mess up’… He got our only role model, the only support we had, thrown out! As if we weren’t grieving enough!” Charlie gestured to the people around the room.

 

Your jaw clenched. “Stop interrupting me. I know what you think happened, but Cameron is grieving too.”

 

You’d known Charlie for a long time. The two of you butted heads in the past over trivial things, as he had a habit of deliberately trying to work your nerves, but it was never like this. Emotions were at an all-time high; that part was clear.

 

“Think? (Y/n), you weren’t even there; I know what happened!” His volume grew with each word he spoke, hair falling over his eyes.

 

You could feel heat rising in you from anger, a stark contrast to the freezing air around you. “Charlie, Cameron is a teenager who freaked out and made a bad decision. I really think you’re all dog piling him.”

 

“He got me expelled!” Charlie’s face turned a deep shade of red as he shouted, each syllable emphasized by the fog of his breath and an echo off the cave walls.

 

“Are you joking?" You jutted a finger at him. "You got yourself kicked out!”

 

Charlie looked fiercely taken aback for a moment, but quickly snapped out of it. “Are you saying we shouldn't be pissed off at him for what he did to us? What he did to Keating?”

 

“I didn’t say your anger wasn’t justified, but for God’s sake, nobody put puppet strings on you and forced you to hit Cameron! I’m sorry you have to leave Welton, but that was dumb as hell, Charlie. Don’t you realize that all of you and Keating might’ve gotten kicked out if Cameron hadn’t blamed him?”

 

The rest of the group exchanged looks, completely at a loss. None appeared to handle this kind of confrontation well.

 

Charlie’s feet were heavy as he stood, his voice much lower but still venomous. “Why the hell are you defending him like this? Are you two shagging or something?”

 

You took a sharp inhale at the accusation, gaping at the male in front of you. You glanced over at the other poets, whose cheeks were collectively warm with embarrassment.

 

“Are you kidding me, Dalton? Look, just because you can’t do anything remotely nice for the opposite sex without getting something out of it, doesn’t mean the rest of us function that way,” You snapped.

 

“You know what?” He scoffed. “You weren’t even part of this group, you were just a tag-a-long for your goddamn brother.”

 

“Fuck you.”

 

“Guys, please!” Your brother shouted, looking so distressed he might cry.

 

Charlie was unfazed, and turned to lean against a rock.

 

“She and her boyfriend started it,” He shrugged, cold as the Vermont frost outside.

 

You knew this wasn’t Charlie. He was hurt, mourning the gaping hole now present in his heart. He wasn’t angry at you, not even Cameron for the most part; he was angry that Neil had been taken from them; he was angry at the world. Even so, it still stung.

 

“You know, Charles,” You muttered, starting toward the exit. “You can point fingers in every direction you want, but it won’t change a damn thing about what happened.”

 

Knox tried to grab your arm, but you shook him away, pivoting to face Charlie one more time. “Have fun at your new school.”

 

With that, you briskly made your way back toward Welton, listening to the arguing between Knox and Charlie fade behind you. You hated what death could bring out in people. On one hand, you understood their anger toward Cameron, but on the other hand, you knew there was more to the story than that. Cameron was devastated just like they were, and now completely iced out by the people he had left.

You knew how much all the boys looked up to Charlie, and due to his discrepancies with Cameron, you were aware of how the rest of the group tended to treat him. Their loyalty lied with Charlie, no matter what. Even Knox would roll his eyes and get annoyed with the youngest boy, but you understood Cameron better than that. He was a kid who’d been conditioned to do everything by the book, to never oppose an authority figure, and to fear all the adults around him at all times. It was something the rest of them usually couldn’t comprehend.

You chose to take Charlie’s words with a grain of salt. Eventually you would reconcile. Though he was partially right, however; you weren’t an official part of their society; you didn’t even attend Welton. He also wasn’t wrong about your infatuation with Richard Cameron. You were closer in age, and you actually got along quite well. You were the only one capable of persuading him to sneak out on nights he was being particularly stubborn. Meeks had teased that “Of course a pretty girl is what convinces Cameron to break the rules,” which made everyone but him erupt into laughter. You’d spent most poetry meetings exchanging fleeting glances and casual touches, ones that went undetected by the rest of the group. It was something that never really got the opportunity for discussion.

 

You were so lost in thought you almost didn’t notice the solemn redhead sitting on Welton Academy’s front stoop. Just as you reached the parking lot, you saw him from your peripheral; his head hung low as he absentmindedly fidgeted with something in his hands. After taking a second to look back in the direction you’d come, you ultimately decided to approach him. You weren’t sure if he even wanted to talk, but you were certainly itching to. Once he caught sight of you, he rose from his spot, expression a mix of relief and guilt. He was happy to see you, you could tell that much, but it was obvious he also feared what you might be getting ready to say to him.

 

As you opened your mouth to greet the boy, the next step you took was immediately met with a patch of ice that caused you to tumble forward. You shrieked in surprise, arms flying forward to brace your body for impact. However, Cameron was quick to catch you. He grunted at the initial collision but was graceful at steadying you back on your feet, only after holding you in place for a brief moment.

 

“You okay?” He murmured, gazing at you with eyes that seemed heavy and tired—the kind of tired people your age shouldn’t know.

 

“Yes- Yes, I’m fine; thank you, Cameron,” You stammered, trying and failing to collect yourself under his watchfulness.

 

“Are you sure?”

 

You nodded shyly. “I appreciate it. I would’ve eaten that concrete if it weren’t for you.”

 

He chuckled under his breath, managing a small smile. That’s when you noticed the purple ring around one of his otherwise bright emerald eyes.

 

“Cameron!” You gasped, taking his face in your hands, which caught him off guard. “Oh… Your poor eye.”

 

His face was already flushed from the cold, but it spread as you inspected him closely from different angles. You grimaced at the injury, shooting him a sympathetic look that made him shake his head at you.

 

“It’s fine, (Y/n). I deserved it.”

 

You released your grip with a huff. “That’s not true.”

 

He looked at you as if that were the most ridiculous thing he’d ever heard. “Yes, it is. I'm sure you know what I did.”

 

The shame in his voice made your shoulders drop, and you placed a hand on the boy’s forearm.

 

“Cameron…”

 

“Neil was the one who took me in, introduced me to everyone.” He studied the ground like it was the most interesting thing in the world. “And I… I got his best friend kicked out. I got his favorite teacher fired. I made all his friends miserable. That's what I did for him in return."

 

You examined him for a moment—the way his lip quivered as he wrestled with the urge to cry. He looked away, hiding his face.

“I wrote a poem for him.”

You looked down at the folded piece of paper in his hand. “Cam-”

 

“I don’t know why I did it, (Y/n). I don’t. I loved Mr. Keating. I thought that’s what I was supposed to say. The way they spoke to me… I didn’t want to let anyone down; I panicked. I didn’t want us all to get expelled or something- Mr. Nolan, he- I didn’t want to…”

 

You could tell by the way his voice was cracking that he’d begun to cry, and you ran your thumb over his arm to try and comfort him. It was disturbing to see so many people in your life crumbling like that, and even more so knowing there was nothing you could do about it. You couldn’t stand it anymore, and drew him in for a tight embrace.

 

“Cameron…” You spoke softly. “Nolan manipulated you. He's an asshole. He needed someone to blame besides himself, and he wanted it to be John Keating. So he picked out the one student he knew was under his thumb and fed you what to say. A vulnerable kid he knew would fold at the thought of disappointing him. He’s the bad guy in all this, not you. Him and Tom Perry. It was never you.”

 

Cameron looked up at you with glassy eyes as you pulled away. You couldn’t tell if he believed what you were saying or not. He didn't respond one way or the other.

 

“Why are you still here?” You wondered suddenly. It dawned on you that most of Welton's students had left for the holiday already.

 

Cameron’s eyes drifted downward again, his voice almost a whisper. “I asked my mother if I could go back and visit after Neil…” He didn’t finish the sentence. “She told me that she and my father didn’t pay tuition just so I could leave all the time.”

 

“That’s all she said to you?”

You were perplexed.

 

“They just want me to be good and focus on school,” He added, almost as if it were normal.

 

“Oh, Cam,” You nearly broke down crying yourself.

 

None of these boys deserved to be treated this way, not at all.

 

Your fingers trailed up to his chin and lightly directed him to face you. A single tear spilled over his lashes, which he hurried to wipe away.

 

“I shouldn’t have told on Charlie. I screwed up. I screwed up badly.”

 

You contemplated how a mother could hear her young son under such duress and not rush to his aid. It was the least they could do to comfort their own child, who now had no one to turn to. For a split second, you worried if Cameron would ever have the same thoughts that Neil did, and the idea terrified you.

 

“I want you to understand you’re worth so much more than that mistake. Even after everything, I bet Keating still believes in you. In fact, I know he does. And if Neil were here-” You took a breath. “He wouldn’t hold it against you for long. I'm confident in that.”

 

Cameron offered a fragile, half-cocked smile.

 

“They’ll forgive you one day,” You continued. “I know how bad it feels right now, but you need each other. And once you’re done with this school, you’ll go on and do amazing things, because you’re too smart not to.”

 

Neither of you realized the way you gradually began to lean in closer as you spoke.

 

“You’ll grow up, become even more handsome, then probably have a family or run a business, and never have to think about some of these people again.”

 

“You really think that?” He uttered, trying not to sound as desperate as he was.

 

You were close enough then to run a hand through his ginger strands of hair, your other hand finding purchase on the back of his neck. It wasn’t clear whether you were feeling bold or just emotionally vulnerable, but it seemed to surprise you both equally. You’d been way too nervous to try anything like it previously, but now you understood how short life truly was, and you weren’t going to waste any more of it.

 

“(Y/n),” He hesitated, looking worried. “You should probably go. I really don’t deserve…”

 

“Yes, you do.”

"But... Why?"

You beamed at him with the most playfulness you’d mustered up in days. “Carpe Diem?”

 

After staring at you shortly, he reciprocated the sentiment, and gently pressed his lips to yours. His hands found the most respectful place they could on your waist, although a bit shaky and unsure. The feeling was foreign and somewhat awkward at first, but you wouldn’t have changed it. It was a soft and simple kiss, one that gave you butterflies. The moment didn’t last very long, but it was plenty for the time being.

 

When you finally pulled back, Cameron looked like a deer in headlights, to which you couldn’t help but giggle. You marveled at the pattern of freckles dotting his scarlet cheeks, unconsciously reaching to brush your fingertips over them. You could feel the dry tears that lingered there. He relaxed under your touch, and with a newfound bravery, he tilted his head and gave the palm of your hand a light peck. You savored each other’s company, content to stand out in the elements as long as you could hold onto that comfort for a moment. It was all the validation you needed.

 

“Maybe not today or tomorrow, maybe not even a year from now, but everything is going to be alright. I promise.” You leaned and gently took the paper from Cameron’s grasp. “Now let’s go read this for Neil.”

 

And he trusted every word you said.

 

Knox was going to avoid telling Charlie what he’d accidentally stumbled upon when he went to check on you. As much as he wanted to murder Cameron for everything—that now involved moving in on his little sister—it was an issue that could wait for another day, he decided.

[redsummermoon]

*slams credit card on the counter*

Lovely writer, I need some more Cameron propaganda. Maybe he gets teased by Charlie for not having a first kiss or something, so the reader calls him over to unknowingly stand under a mistletoe. Then mistletoe kisses???? And cheesiness?? Yesuuuuhhh. Anyway, you’re great, you’re great. Have a great day.

FIRST TIME POSTING A FIC IN SO LOOONG OMG happy holidays y'all i can't wait to get into writing again ! thank you for requesting🥰

Secret Santa

Richard Cameron x reader CW: female reader, erm i think that’s it, oh reader knits [1.4k words] 

Charlie’s house is glowing, every inch decked out in chaotic holiday cheer. Strings of multicolored lights twinkle from the ceiling, and the faint scent of pine mixes with the warmth of hot chocolate and crackling firewood. The record player spins a jazzy Christmas tune in the corner, and the room is packed with the poets.

You’re sitting cross-legged on the floor beside the tree, cradling the books Todd gave you for Secret Santa. They’re perfect. Thoughtful and carefully chosen, complete with his quiet little notes scribbled on the first pages. Warmth blooms in your chest as you glance at Todd, who’s smiling shyly from across the room.

Cameron sits on the floor in front of the coffee table, carefully unwrapping his gift from Charlie. You watch as his meticulous fingers peel back the wrapping paper, exposing a festive box adorned with snowflakes. He lifts the lid with the same care he approaches everything, as if the box might hold some kind of secret.

Inside are three things: a tube of lip balm, a small handheld mirror, and a bag of Hershey kisses. Cameron tilts his head, his brow furrowing.

“Uh…” he begins, pulling out the items one by one. “Charlie, what is this?”

The room quiets slightly, everyone leaning in to see what absurdity Charlie has orchestrated this time.

Charlie, who is perched on the arm of the couch wearing a Santa hat tilted jauntily to the side, bursts out laughing. “It’s a first kiss care package!”

Cameron freezes, his face turning red as he clutches the bag of chocolate.

“A what?” he stammers.

Charlie grins, holding up a finger as if ticking off points. “First, lip balm. Obvious reasons. Gotta keep those lips kissably soft, my friend.”

A snort escapes from Neil, who’s sprawled on the couch with Meeks.

“Second,” Charlie continues, holding up an imaginary mirror, “the mirror. So you can practice with yourself and get the angle right, you know, for when the big moment happens.”

Cameron’s jaw drops. “You’re kidding.”

“And third,” Charlie says, gesturing dramatically toward the bag in Cameron’s lap, “Hershey kisses. Just in case the real thing never happens.”

The room erupts in laughter, Neil nearly falling off the couch and Knox covering his face as he shakes with silent giggles.

You glance at Cameron, who looks like he might combust. His ears are bright red, and he’s gripping the mirror like it might shield him from the teasing.

“Charlie!” you say, though you’re struggling not to laugh yourself. “That’s… thoughtful, I guess?”

“It’s absurd!” Cameron protests, holding up the lip balm like it’s evidence in a courtroom. “What am I supposed to do with this?”

“Use it, obviously,” Charlie says with a smirk. “Trust me, your lips are gonna thank me later.”

Cameron groans, burying his face in his hands. “This is humiliating.”

Neil was next to open your gift, and you should’ve been paying attention to Neil as he opened the knit sweater you’d poured hours into over the last month, but your focus was elsewhere.

Cameron had just excused himself, mumbling something about needing another drink. It wasn’t convincing, not to you. His tone was tight, and his body language screamed discomfort. It wasn’t hard to guess why.

Setting down your mug of cider, you stood and followed him into the kitchen.

The bright lights above the sink felt jarring compared to the dim, cozy glow of the living room. Cameron stood by the window, his back to you, hands resting on the counter as he gazed out at the snow-covered yard. His reflection in the glass looked a little sad, and your heart clenched.

“You okay?” you asked softly, stepping closer.

He startled slightly, glancing over his shoulder. “Yeah,” he said quickly. Too quickly. “I’m fine.”

You raised an eyebrow, leaning against the counter. “You don’t sound fine.”

He hesitated, his gaze shifting back to the window. “It’s nothing,” he muttered.

“Cameron,” you said gently, taking a step closer. “Come on. It’s me. You can talk to me.”

He sighed, his breath fogging up the glass in front of him. “It’s just… Charlie,” he admitted. “Sometimes, I don’t know how to handle him. He means well, I guess, but…”

“But he doesn’t know when to stop,” you finished for him, your voice warm with understanding.

Cameron nodded. “Exactly. I know it’s all jokes to him, but it’s not always easy for me to laugh it off.” He turned to face you, his expression a mix of frustration and vulnerability. “I just wish he wouldn’t make everything a spectacle.”

You smiled softly. “That’s Charlie for you. A walking, talking spectacle.”

That drew a faint laugh from Cameron, though it was tinged with resignation.

Your eyes drifted upward, catching a sprig of mistletoe hanging above the two of you. You smirked. Of course, Charlie. Who else would’ve strategically placed mistletoe all over his house?

An idea sparked in your mind.

“Hey, Cameron,” you said, your tone light as you stepped closer. “Come here for a second.”

He blinked, clearly confused but obliging. “What is it?”

You reached up gently, touching his jaw to tilt his head back so he could see the mistletoe. “Look up.”

His eyes widened as he took in the green sprig tied with a red ribbon. “Oh.” His voice was soft, barely above a whisper.

You let your hand drop but stayed close. “You know what this means, right?”

He swallowed nervously, his gaze flickering from the mistletoe to you. “Uh, yeah.”

A teasing smile tugged at your lips. “Good. Because you still owe me a Christmas present.”

His brows furrowed slightly. “I do?”

You nodded, your voice dipping into something more serious but still playful. “Mm-hmm. A kiss. It’s tradition, after all.”

Cameron stared at you, his face slowly turning a deep shade of pink. For a moment, you thought he might bolt, but then he surprised you.

“I, uh…” He cleared his throat, then nodded quickly. “Yeah. Okay. If… uh, if that’s what you want.”

Your teasing smile softened into something gentler. “I wouldn’t ask if I didn’t.”

Cameron hesitated for only a second before leaning in, his movements careful, almost shy. When his lips met yours, it was sweet and tentative, a kiss that spoke of nervousness but also something genuine.

The warmth of it spread through you like the glow of Christmas lights, and you couldn’t help but smile against his lips.

When he pulled back, his face was bright red, but there was a small, almost dazed smile on his face. “Was… was that okay?” he asked quietly.

“More than okay,” you replied, your heart feeling as light as snowflakes.

For a moment, the two of you just stood there, the kitchen quiet except for the muffled sounds of the party in the other room.

“So,” Cameron said after a moment, his voice still soft but with a hint of playfulness. “Does this mean I don’t have to use Charlie’s ‘first kiss care package’ after all?”

Before you could answer, the kitchen door swung open, and there he was, Charlie Dalton, grinning like a mad man. “Well, well, well,” he said, clapping his hands together loudly enough to startle both of you. “Looks like my Secret Santa gift paid off!”

You blinked at him. “Your Secret Santa gift?”

Charlie sauntered into the kitchen, completely unbothered by the looks you and Cameron were giving him. He gestured dramatically to the mistletoe hanging above your heads. “You’re welcome, by the way. Planted that bad boy all over the house just for you two.”

Cameron groaned, his face turning beet red as he scrubbed a hand over his face. “Charlie…”

“What?” Charlie said innocently, though the mischievous twinkle in his eye gave him away. “It’s the season of giving! And what better gift than ensuring you finally got your first kiss? Honestly, it was starting to get painful to watch.”

You couldn’t help but laugh, the sheer absurdity of it breaking through the moment’s tension. “You’re ridiculous,” you told Charlie, though there was no real bite in your voice.

“Ridiculously thoughtful,” he corrected, crossing his arms with a self-satisfied smirk. “Anyway, you’re welcome for the push, Cameron. You can thank me later.”

Cameron groaned again but this time smiled faintly, his eyes darting to you. “I think I’ll stick to thanking her.”

Charlie threw his hands up dramatically. “Fine! Fine! Be ungrateful. But don’t think I’m not claiming this as my greatest Christmas miracle yet.” He winked at you both before backing out of the kitchen.

As the door swung shut behind him, you and Cameron exchanged a look, his blush still lingering but softened by the small smile on his face.

“Well,” you said, stepping a little closer and taking his hand, “miracle or not, I’m glad it happened.”

“Me too,” Cameron said, his voice quiet but sure, his fingers lacing through yours.

From the other room, Charlie’s voice rang out, “Merry Christmas, lovebirds!”

[strawb3rryshake]

hi, i love cameron so much, i would save your hcs abt cameron if u ever make one, pls do bbg😞❤️‍🩹

(@wordssricochet this is for you. and me. I hope you enjoy <3)

my richard cameron romance headcanons (pt. 1?)

- “I want a church girlll that go to church, aNd ReAd HeR bIbLe-��

- i’m joking… kind of.

- i bet he’d try to uphold the “no sex till marriage” rule tbh

- ANYWAY

Pre-relationship:

- alright look i feel like cameron is so dense😭

- like he wouldn’t realize you like him like that unless you’re really bold and asked him out early on

- but that’s no fun, SO. we’ll start from the beginning.

- cameron’s not a “love at first sight” kind of guy, he has to really get to know someone first

- so when you started gravitating towards him in the group, asking him for help with schoolwork, and sitting near him during supper, he had ample opportunity to talk to you

- the poets probably didn’t realize anything suspicious until you started snapping at charlie to leave cam alone and generally being on his side of things (or, at least not groaning and scoffing when he got too annoying)

- charlie was probably the first to notice, and the moment you were a little too quick to defend cam or perk up at him being mentioned, he kind of went “oh no. you can’t be serious.”

- naturally, whether you confirmed his suspicions or not, he told the rest of the poets

- and THAT was when things changed.

- cameron likely wasn’t fully aware of his feelings until the other poets started teasing him about it like they knew something he didn’t. for example, why was he taking more time than usual to get ready in the morning? why was he always fixing his hair or his uniform more when you were around? why did he always smile at the things you said? why did he always make weird faces when the other poets did anything physical with you? why was he slightly (and only slightly) more lenient about bending the rules if it was you who suggested it?

- suddenly he was hyper aware of every time you two made eye contact while laughing at something. suddenly he was hyper aware of every time you two accidentally brushed shoulders while walking. suddenly he was hyper aware of the smirks on the other poets’ faces whenever he leaned over to help you with your math homework.

- he started panicking, basically. he wanted to always be perfect around you and he overthought every interaction and this poor boy was a mess on the inside

- of course, cameron wasn’t going to admit a thing to the other poets. if they knew, then they’d surely tell you, and that would be an absolute mess. no, they’d just have to never find out.

- they found out and totally exposed him when you weren’t around.

- after vehement denial and arguing, he finally admitted to them that okay, maybe he did like you.

- it definitely still took a while for this cute (and admittedly terribly annoying) mutual pining thing you two had going on to get anywhere

- even when you both started getting a little more physical (lingering hand brushes, letting your shoes/legs touch while sitting down, nudging each other before making a comment or joke), a little more obvious (spending more time together without the others, unconsciously copying each other, him being notably chivalrous for you), and a little more curious (“wait, did they do that because we’re friends or because they like me?”), there was a sort of standstill

- cameron’s very prideful and very protective of himself, he wasn’t going to risk rejection and the awkwardness that comes with it. he wasn’t going to complicate things and risk ruining a friendship he’d grown to really appreciate.

- until the others teased him about it until he had enough. fine. he’d ask you out if they’d stop bugging him about it.

- he was beyond anxious that entire next day. he put it off as long as he could, not being able to focus in class, being unusually quiet in the hallways, that sort of thing. but when everyone was sent to bed for the night, and you and him were the only two left, he finally blurted it out.

- “hey, so uh… would you wanna go hang out this weekend? without everyone else?”

- “…like a date?”

- “yeah. if you want it to be.”

- and you smiled. and you told him you’d love for it to be a date. and finally, it felt like a weight had been lifted from his shoulders.

Dating:

- cameron’s definitely a good boy, the kind you’d take home to your parents and when he leaves they’d go “what a nice boy” bc he’d be polite and respectful the whole time

- if you’re also a bit of a goody two shoes (like me) you guys end up becoming the tired parents of the friend group

- in the beginning of the relationship most planned dates are more on the formal side (he’s very traditional and wants to impress you) but over time he loosens up a bit and dates get more casual

- i don’t really see him using pet names, the only nicknames he’d use would be versions of your name (unless someone was flirting with you, but we’ll get to that in a moment)

- if you’re the type to use pet names, he’s fine with it as long as they’re not… embarrassing. please don’t call him your little carrot cake (or do, please do, just to see the way his entire face turns red)

- (btw he’s typically good at keeping his cool but you’d learn how to make him blush bc us gingers are so pale and blush WAY TOO EASILY and you’d think it’s adorable when he gets nervous)

- he gets jealous pretty easily and would start getting protective the moment it seemed like someone was flirting with you. if it was a stranger hitting on you, that would be one of the only times he’d call you by a pet name, just so they’d get the hint and leave you alone. if it was someone he knew, who was aware you two were together, he’d either wrap an arm around you or straight up tell them to back off

- speaking of physical contact, affection!

- generally, he’s not huge on pda. especially not in class because he’s trying to focus. in hallways he might be okay with brief kisses or little hand squeezes but that’s about it

- when he holds your hand he does the little thumb rub

- sometimes you two sneak into his room when charlie’s not around just to cuddle and enjoy each other’s company for a bit

- He props himself up on his elbow and talks to you as you lay next to him, his hand absentmindedly sliding through your hair or fingers tracing up and down your arm

- I have this hc with every freckled character but sometimes during these moments you lean over him and count his freckles or trace shapes between them. he acts like you’re weird for doing it, but when you see his eyes eventually flutter shut and a soft smile form on his lips, you know he doesn’t mind.

- kisses with him are very slow and sweet. it actually took a little while for kissing to be anything but 100% innocent because he’s a little scared of taking things too far

- he really loves holding you close and breathing you in and letting his brain relax for a few moments

- he likes doing favors for you and helping you out when he can

- the first time you stole clothes from him he didn’t notice until you were sitting with the other poets to study one evening

- “is that… my sweater? where did you even get that?”

- he acts annoyed but deep down he finds it absolutely adorable

- if you ever left a sweater or something in his room he’d hold it close to him all night and pretend you were there

- he loves when you compliment him. even the smallest compliment is enough to boost his ego. the poets start begging you (jokingly, kind of) to stop telling him things because he always talks about it and it’s insufferable

- the two of you brag about each other a lot to the others. some of them find it amusing, but the others want to cover their ears and groan until you stop.

- there’s quite a bit of banter between you two. he loves debating things with you because he wants to hear your opinions (and he wants to win). i feel like you guys would jokingly insult each other too, in the kind of way where it’s okay if you say it but if the other poets say it you tell them off

- actual arguments send him into a bit of a panic, though. he knows he has flaws and that he’s defensive and prideful and struggles to admit when he’s wrong, but the last thing he’d ever want is to hurt you

- issues in the relationship might come up and linger for a while, but at some point he pulls you aside to talk about it (and apologise if need be)

- it takes a while for him to use the L-word. he thinks it a lot, but thinking something and saying it are two completely different things, and he takes it pretty seriously.

- the first time he’d ever say it would likely be during a more tender moment between you. he’d mumble the words against your lips or against your skin, then quickly pull away and say that you don’t have to say it back or anything but—

- “i love you, too.”

- “…oh.”

- he’d get a little embarrassed and try (and fail) to fight back a big smile

- he’s already terribly soft for you but hearing you say these words becomes his new weakness

- altogether i just think he’d be the sweetest boyfriend and you’d both learn and grow a lot from each other

- things might not always be the easiest between you two but you’ve got yourself a keeper, please don’t break this boy’s heart

i hope you guys enjoyed these, i wasn’t planning on the lists being so long but i got a little self-indulgent along the way (i hope they’re still realistic and i don’t sound crazy). i tried to cover all (sfw) bases but knowing myself i’ve forgotten a few things and i’ll just have to make more cam content in the future

[wantsomegaycake]

The Aftermath

Richard Cameron x Fem!reader

this is literally just an English assignment that I turned into a fanfic. enjoy

Warnings: Mentions of suicide (Neil), blood, fighting? It was after/during Charlie punched him so take that how you will.

Neil had done it, he had finally done it. The poor kid had killed himself. 

It was after months of stress from his father, going behind his back to join the school play when his dad was stressing about his academic abilities, all A’s, but never enough for the old man. His dad had caught him in the play, waited until after it was over to drag him out to his car, take him home. His father had pulled him out of his boarding school, telling him he would go to a military school, that he was going to become a doctor. It was too much. Neil killed himself. 

Richard didn’t know what to think after that. The poor boy was everyone’s friend, everyone liked him, especially Charlie. The two had known each other from when they were toddlers. Richard and Charlie were roommates, so any friend of Charlie’s basically a friend to him. He liked Neil too. Everyone did. The news shook both of them to their core. Separated them, tore their group apart, especially when Richard suggested it might’ve been the fault of Mr. Keating, who encouraged him to join the play. In Richard’s eyes, he was killed because that stupid English teacher pushed him to do something out of his comfort zone, to be himself, to try. Richard was easily manipulated by older, more stable teachers, like the principal. Of course it was Mr. Keating’s fault. He’d believe this to the end of time. Charlie did not agree. 

It all spilled over in the attic of the school. Richard had told the principal his thoughts on that damn English teacher, and now he was to be fired from his position. Richard felt proud of himself. He did it! There would be closure for Neil’s death now that the man who pushed him was gone. Charlie did not agree. He was told this, told that it was all this teacher’s fault, that he should let him fry, and the anger boiled over into a punch aimed directly at Richard’s nose.He went to their dorm after that, sat down on his bed with his red hair in his hands, wanting to cry from the sting of the punch and the sting of rejection from the other boy. He knew that Charlie, his dear roommate, was going to be expelled, following their English teacher out the door. He felt an overwhelming swell of guilt in his chest, knowing that he was to blame. 

And then she came through the door.

Not all the way through, just standing there in the doorway wringing her hands anxiously. She was always anxious, always like a scared dog that wanted to help but didn’t know how. That's what he liked about her. She was so damn kind, so damn caring, but so damn anxious. So she stood there, giving him space, but letting him know she was there for him. 

Richard eventually looked up from his bloodied palms, his eyes watery, the blood still dripping from his nose trailing a small stream down the crease of his lips, sliding across his chin. He sniffled, wiping his face on the sleeve of his collared shirt, the dark red a stain on the wrinkled fabric. Her brows furrowed at that: Richard was such a neat freak, his clothes always steamed and folded and hung. Seeing him this frazzled was a jarring realization that he wasn’t as ok as she first thought. She took a step into the room.

“Don’t come any closer.” He muttered this, half hearted and weak. She knew him, knew how he would say things but didn’t mean them, not really. She knew his language, the one unspoken and filled with double meanings, but she knew better than that. She took another step into his room, taking a deep breath.

“I don’t… want to leave you alone right now.” Her voice is just as weak as his. Damn it, he was her friend too. She lost a friend too. She was hurting too. 

RIchard scoffed as she continued towards him, wanting nothing more than to feel her soft touch on his face, wanting nothing more than to hold her close. “I don’t need your fake ass pity. I don’t need you.” The sharp glare on his face almost stopped her, making her hesitate. She knew better than to believe him in this language he was speaking. She sat down beside him on his bed, her lips pursing as she took his hand in her own.

“I’m not pitying you, Richie. I’m just…” she huffs, looking away from him. Her heart aches for him, losing two friends in a week, one from a gunshot and the other from betrayal. “I worry about you. I don’t want you to end up like Neil.”

This makes him pause, his eyes softening. God damn it, why did she have to be so kind to him? He knows he doesn’t deserve it. He's so damn tired, he can’t help but lace her fingers through his.

“I wouldn’t. I would never.” He solidifies his statement with a squeeze of her hand, his soft brown eyes tracing her round cheeks, her pouty lips, her kind gaze. He hates her. Hates that she cares for him even after he got Mr. Keating expelled on a faulty basis. He won’t even forgive himself for that, but she easily accepts him with open arms. This makes her hum softly, looking up at him, her dark eyes scanning his cheekbones, his pale, bruising skin, the blood smearing his freckled cheek. She reaches out, wiping away the blood with her thumb. 

“Charlie really did a number on you, huh?”

This makes him chuckle, leaning into her soft hand, his eyes closing as he sighs. His breath is warm against her wrist, reminding her that he’s alive, that he’s not like their friend. “God, that's an understatement.” He pauses, just enjoying her soft touch on his face. He can’t forgive himself. It shocks him that she’s so kind. He looks up at her with sad, defeated eyes, filled with regret for giving in to the authority of the school, blind in his hurt.

“Why do you care for me? Why don’t you leave me? Why do you… why d’you forgive me so easily?”

She huffs, her brows furrowing slightly as she looks at him, sees how defeated he is, and her heart softens further. She shrugs, her gaze turns onto the floorboards. She doesn’t really know. She should hate him, she should despise him for expelling her best friend and getting their teacher fired over something he wasn’t a part of.

“I don’t know.” His heart sinks a little further, and he tilts his head to lean deeper into her palm, his own frown growing on his face. He hates himself, right down to the core. He doesn’t understand how someone like her could love him. He presses a soft kiss to her palm, then her wrist, then her shoulder with a soft tug to her arm, pulling her closer to him. She hums, just leaning into him, letting him hold her until he feels better about himself and his actions. Even if he doesn’t forgive himself, she forgives him, and even if he doesn’t truly understand it, he’ll accept the affection he’s starved for. He wraps his arms around her waist, just holding her close and burying his head in her shoulder, trying to keep himself from breaking down again. 

[gracelandtoolover]

dead poets society masterlist

neil perry

nothing yet

todd anderson

nothing yet

charlie dalton

nothing yet

steven meeks

nothing yet

gerard pitts

nothing yet

knox overstreet

nothing yet

richard cameron

nothing yet

[star-dust-stuf]

Richard Cameron x panic attack!reader

title: hold my hands, close your eyes

warnings: nausea, angst

a/n: yes it’s me with another cheesy story that I hope you’ll like because Cameron is over hated. not my gif, not proofread, excuse any typos I have a bad habit of it. as always babes, enjoy!

-

I heard the boys coming down the hall and my stupid hands wouldn’t stop shaking, I hid in the corner as much as I could, my breaths becoming more shaky when I thought about what had just happened. I put my hands over my eyes and turned my back in the corner I was trying to squeeze into but I wasn’t lucky enough to hide from Cameron who didn’t alert the others, mainly because was too concerned.

He got to me, I didn’t think he saw me will he tapped me on the shoulder and I jumped, letting a shriek slip my lips. He saw my red face, covers in tears and my eyes swollen letting him know I’ve been crying for a while. “You ok?” He whispered.

I bursted out, “no!” I choked on my breath.

“Ok- ok, it’s ok!” He pulled me into his chest, I continued to choke on my breaths as he rubbed my back.

“You’re shaking-,” he said, pulling me out to view me. “Y/n, what happened?”

I gasped, “ok, no- it’s ok let’s go to my room.” He led me up the steps but we where spotted by Keating, his form turned worried when he saw Cam practically holding me up the steps.

“Cameron?” Keating got to us, I hid my face under the crook of Cams arm he had around me, he understood the embarrassment.

“She- not- she needs a little break that’s all.” Cam kept it simple.

“Alright- take care.” Keating watched with sympathy as he brought me to his room.

He shut the door behind him and grabbed tissues from his desk as I sat on his bed. “Just take deeps brea-!”

I cut him off when I began to cry again. “S- s- sorry!” I choked.

“That’s ok….” He dried my tears with the tissue in his hand.

I shook horrendously and didn’t stop, “oh I feel like I’m going to be sick!” I put my hand over my mouth.

“Here, hold my hands.” He took my cold hands and held them in his, “close your eyes and take a big deep breath!”

I did so, it was a little shaky but he knew I was trying to calm down and stayed with me till I did. He got me water and ice for my eyes, he gave me his blanket and waited for me to tell him what happened.

“I- i was called into N- Nolan’s office and my mom was there…”

He listened, not interrupting me through my over breathing. “My mom was just shouting at me- over and over-…” I took a deep breath before I cried again.

He rubbed my back. “She didn’t believe me when I said I was trying with my stupid grade- my dumb grades!” Cam bit his lip.

“Anyways, I’ve never liked people yelling at me, not even the embarrassment for Nolan being there through the whole thing.”

He nodded, “hey- I’ve had stuff happen to me too, trust me.” He laughed a little when I let a smile spread across my face.

When we were about done Charlie came in, his gaze sat on us and my swollen eyes. “y/n?” He closed the door. “You ok?”

I nodded, Cam rubbing my back up and down making sure I don’t go into a crying fit again. “Bad day.” Cam replied.

Charlie nodded, “want to go in the leaves with us outside, they’re tons and Pitts made a huge pile.”

I smiled, “sure!”

After I talked to Cameron it felt much better, he knew about how shouting and screaming can effect a person and their emotions and he did as much as he could to help me through it.

[teddyduchampsglasses]

Hey if you're taking request (I couldn't see anywhere that said if you were or weren't sorry) could you do a Richard Cameron x reader with insomnia please?

Richard Cameron x Reader With Insomnia 

Paring: Richard Cameron x gender neutral reader

Movie: Dead Poets Society 

Summary: What it would be like dating Richard Cameron while having insomnia 

Warnings: Mentions of insomnia

Word count: 1,330

• At first, your sleeping disorder was a problem in your relationship, as Cameron was someone who went to bed at exactly seven every night, while you were up into the late hours of the morning, around five, six, or later. Your sleeping schedules clashed because Cameron was awake extremely early, getting up in morning just around the same time you were finally drifting off to sleep, while you didn't get up into late in the afternoon or sometime during the night; when he was awake, you were asleep, and when you were awake, he was asleep. You practically had no time to spend with one another which was a large issue between the two of you. And Cameron, being the light sleeper that he is, it was almost impossible for him to get sleep while you were up and about, rummaging through yours or his dorms, where ever he chose to sleep that night, causing him to easily be woken from his slumber. Your options were extremely limited. 

• The meetings were the first domino that fell among the two of you, the sessions were the first option that came about. Of course, they weren't as private as the two of you had preferred, Charlie constantly throwing things at the two of you or Neil would politely call upon Cameron to assist him with something, but the two of you would take whatever time you could get. Richard and yourself loved cuddling with one another during the frigid get togethers, sitting with your head upon his shoulder and his arm wrapped appropriately around your waist while coved in a small throw blanket. This action often caused one of the other poets to exclaim “Ew! PDA!” On your way to and from each of these conferences, your boyfriend would always hold your hand and allow you to wear a jacket or sweatshirt of his as you both looked up towards the sky, admiring the stars as the two of you talked and caught up.

• Cameron soon began taking every opportunity he possibly had to be around you, practically deprived of the love an affection he received during the meetings. Logic had seemingly suddenly kicked in when he got the idea to just go to your dorm during his free time. He would sneak into your room, trying to be as quiet as he possibly could, as not to wake you, by slowly shutting the door, quietly creeping around your room, basically memorizing where every squeaky floor board was placed around your room, before slowly crawling upon your bed. He always made sure he would rid of his shoes before entering your domain, as to lessen the possibility of causing a disruption. Anyway, once he had successfully made it upon your bed, he would retrieve his homework before combing his hands through your hair, brushing a few strands from your face so he could admire you before beginning to quietly hum to himself. This chain of events would usually slightly wake you, disrupting your sleep as you felt someone way down the free side of your bed before placing their fingers upon your hair. “Hello?” You'd mutter out, sleep still laced within your shaken up voice. “Its just me, my dear,” Cameron would respond before running the back of his hand across your face, caressing your cheek “go back to sleep.” You'd slightly hum in response before obeying his order, letting yourself fall back into a deep slumber, much more relaxed within his grasp.

• He would also disappear into the depths of your room whenever he wished to nap; although, these types of occasions were rare, for one: Cameron didn't often have a lot of free time on his hands, and two: He didn't usually take naps due to his productive sleep schedule. But even so, he would still pace in the direction of you room during the study halls in which he found himself dozing off to sleep during, his eyelids becoming heavy as he felt it become increasing hard to hold up the weight of his own head. He would trudge into your room before kicking off his shoes, dropping his books and jacket before promptly jumping upon your bed, the entire mattress rattling as he did so, sinking into “his side” of your bed. Usually, the two of you would sleep in various different positions, what ever felt most comfortable in the moment, but your favorites included sleeping upon your stomachs, face down into the pillows upon your bed while Cameron draped his arm across your back, you also favored simply laying upon your backs, facing the ceiling while you held hands, your fingers laced together as you placed your leg over one of his own, your ankle attempting to twirl itself around his. You also enjoyed when the red head laid upon his back, giving you access to wrap your arms around him, toss a leg across his waist, and successfully place your head upon his shoulder as he wrapped his arms around you, clasping his hands together upon your rip cage before letting his face relax into the top of your head.

• During the weekends or vacations, the freckle covered boy does his best to stay up late with you, but it’s practically impossible. He cant even seem to stay up past 10:30, already yawning and dozing off to sleep as a result of his extreme exhaustion. He’ll arrive at your dorm around three or four-ish in the afternoon, brining snacks and activities along with him. You’ll spend a few hours chatting with one another while eating your favorite foods; you’ll gossip, cuddle, and possibly play a few card games while giggling amongst each other. But, by 8:00, he is always already blinking himself awake, at 9:00, he’s practically sleeping where he sits, and at 10:30, he’s out cold. You always respect his attempts though, and the couple hours you do get to spend talking and laughing with one another is something you’ll always cherish. And besides, it always gives you the opportunity to draw idiotic images upon his pale skin while he rests. 

• Cameron is always there to comfort and have your back whenever you show up to numerous classes exhausted and extremely sleep deprived. Your eyes will be blood shot due to your lack of sleep but also the multiple hours you most likely spent crying, begging your body to just shut down and let you rest. If a teacher is giving you a hard time due to you yawning or resting during their lesson, the male will waist no time to jump in and stand up for you, politely explaining the situation to the teacher. He’ll lean over and rub your back, caressing your skin as you let yourself relax, your head placed in your arms. There has been many times Cameron has arrived at your dorm around lunch time to check on you, just to find you curled up into a ball in the corner of your bed, sobbing violently, exclaiming your frustration and how you haven't slept in multiple hours. He is always there to comfort you in anyway you request; holding you in his arms as he brushes the hair from your vision, kissing your tear stained skin before rubbing your back and whispering comforting words into the silent room.

• One morning, he woke up with you sleeping peacefully in his arms, rays of sun casting onto your face through the cracks and crevasse of the curtains, the lighting accentuating your perfect features as Cameron just admired you. He practically started crying as pride coursed though his veins, so extremely happy that he was comforting enough to help you sleep, even if it was just a once in a life time occurrence; waking up to the warmth of your body in his arms as the scent of you filled his nostrils will be a memory engraved into his mind for the rest of his life.

[deathmybride]

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ midnight at noonday | dead poets society (part 2) *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3

ship: Surprise! x fem!OC

warnings: still none

summary: Clare attends her first classes at Welton.

word count: 3222

a/n:

By the time Neil left, I had only half an hour left to settle into my room, and with such an exhausting trip up, all I could manage to do was pray I wouldn’t nap through the bell. As I dozed, I saw visions of slender fingers laced between my own, loam-brown eyes blinking slow with adoration, and dimples deep enough to hide a fairy in. If I had the strength, I would get my notebook and scribble out some lines to settle my mind, but I could scarcely keep my eyes open. In that moment, I cursed my father for passing on his poetic heart to me. Surely if he had left me to develop normal interests like sports or baking, maybe I would have a better lock on my heart, or at least I wouldn’t be so foolhardy with the key. I rolled over with a groan when I heard the door swing open and in stepped my father, a breath of fresh air in a place so stifled with tradition. Still, I scowled at him.

“Oh, Clare.” He hurried over as soon as he saw me bundled miserably on the bed. “You must be exhausted.”

“Yes.” I grumbled, feeling his hand soothingly stroke my hair. “No thanks to you.”

“Now, I’m sorry I couldn’t help you get up here.” He brushed his thumb over my cheek, his face softening with compassion. “You know I had to-”

“Hold the fort.” I finished, sitting up and folding into his arms. “Something awful happened.”

“Sweetheart, already?”

“Yes.” I held onto him like a lifeline, crushing his fine white shirt in my fists. “When is this place going to feel normal?”

“Soon. Soon, darling.” He kissed my forehead. Tears welled in my eyes.

“Everyone was talking about me like I couldn’t hear them. I froze completely. It was horrible.”

“I’m sorry. Oh, Clare, I’m sorry.” He wiped away the first tear that fell on my cheek. “I should have thought this through a bit better, huh? If only I’d organised somebody to help you or-”

“It’s okay, Dad.” I sniffed and wrung my fingers on my eyes, willing myself to get a grip on my emotions. “It wasn’t so bad.”

“No?”

“No. That wasn’t even the awful thing I was talking about.”

“No? Well tell me about that, maybe I can fix it.”

“I sort of… Well, I can’t really explain it.”

“Come on, Miss Keating, you’re a poet!” He smiled encouragingly. “Just give it a shot.”

“Well, this group of boys helped me with my bags, and… Well, they invited me to their study group tonight, which is nice.” My father raised his eyebrows in a look that said ‘stop beating around the bush.’ “Dad, have you ever met someone who shines so brightly it feels like the whole world is in shadow?”

A knowing smile passed over his face, and his eyes shone with delight.

“I think I understand now. I felt that way about your mother when I first saw her, like my eyes refused to see anything but her.” He looked wistfully out the window for a passing moment, then met my gaze again. “You’re growing up, Clare. I know such big feelings can seem invasive and frightening, but they are things we all must go through. There is a poem by John Clare- your namesake- that describes this feeling praecise. I will leave it in your room tonight. But now, you must go forth and conquer the academic frontier of Latin. Leave your emotions here for later.”

“Thanks, Dad.” I flung myself at him for one final embrace, which he returned with enthusiasm.

“Any time.”

The rest of the day passed in a state of extreme academic focus. My first-term determination to learn every detail of every class had yet to be stamped out by the doledrom of traditional teaching, so the rest of the world took the backseat as I filled my exercise books with excessive notes. The only things left tugging my focus were Neil Perry, excitement for my first English class of the year, and the prospect of socialising at the study group later that night. Thankfully, Neil wasn’t in my Latin class, so I was able to get on with things without a hitch. I sat in the row behind Steven, though we had to stay quiet under Mr McAllister’s watchful eye. He was not in my Trig class either. I found myself in the mostly empty classroom, and sat down beside that odd read-headed boy from the hallway before. We were both a little early and the teacher was nowhere to be seen. I cast a glance at him, but he seemed to be ignoring me. Having wounded my pride terribly, I was determined to let him know I was as normal as the next person, so I grit my teeth and tapped him on the arm. He looked up, eyebrows raised in mild surprise.

“Hi.” I said, offering him a little wave. “Cameron, right? I’m Clare Keating.”

“Hey.” He half smiled, looking puzzled. “So, uh, you do talk, then?”

“Yes, of course.” I laced my fingers together and rested my cheek on them. “You caught me at a bad time earlier.”

“Right.” He glanced behind me at the door.

“Will I see you at the study group tonight?”

“Which study group?” He frowned. “Neil’s?”

“Yes, Neil’s. He and his friends helped me with my bags.” I said pointedly. His eyes flashed with veiled panic. “Such gentlemen.”

“Right, uh yeah. They’re stand up guys.”

That was the extent of our conversation.

Next class was Chemistry, and to my luck, I found an empty seat beside Todd. He offered me a tight-lipped smile, but kept his eyes on his desk for the most part. It made me sad to think he might never like me at all after I had blundered so terribly the first time we met, but I tried to stay positive.

Finally, it was time for English. On the way, I bumped into Steven who was being trailed by a very tall and gawky boy with a light brown flat-top who introduced himself as Gerard Pitts.

“You guys got English next?” I asked as we wove between swarms of boys heading in all directions.

“Yeah, we do.” Steven nodded.

“You excited?”

“I don’t know about ‘excited.’” Pitts scoffed.

“Why not? I think English is the best thing in the world to study.”

“What Pittsie means to say is we’re sure we’d enjoy it more if we had a more interesting teacher.” Steven said diplomatically.

“I think you might be in luck.” I flashed a grin. “I’ll say no more. See you guys there, okay?”

We said our goodbyes and I slipped into the crowd. I was fairly small compared to most of the older boys, so I made quick time moving between them and was one of the first to arrive at the classroom, besides Todd and a rake thin little boy with a runny nose. I put my books on the desk behind Todd’s, wanting to avoid being in his eyeline lest I feel compelled to make conversation. The room, like most of Welton Academy, was fairly bare, with standard wood desks in four rows of five, a green chalkboard at each end of the room, and a few bookshelves laden with textbooks, and a proud little American flag on the wall beside the windows. I noticed that The Captain had started to add his special Keating flair to the room already with portraits of his favourite poets hanging around the room.

Soon enough, the classroom began to fill out. I caught sight of The Captain himself peeping in from his office. He offered me a wink. Back to business. I turned around in my seat and assessed the damage. Of course, I spied Steven sitting beside the sickly boy, and Pitts a few rows behind him. Cameron in the seat beside me, and then Knox two rows behind me. Oh, please let Neil be here… I looked around frantically, but he was nowhere to be seen. Feeling deflated, I turned to Knox and waved.

“Hey, Knox!”

“Oh, hi.” He smiled politely, but had to shout over the ruckus.

“Having a good day?”

“Eh.” He shrugged. “How good can it be? I mean, business as usual, huh?”

“I suppose.” Admittedly, I wasn’t having a great day, but I’d barely had time to stop and wallow in it. “Do you like-”

Knox’s gaze had drifted past me and he got a mischievous look in his eye.

“Hey, Spaz! Spaz!” I turned around just in time to see that ill looking boy turn around and get pelted with a ball of paper. Before I knew it, I had balled up a sheet from my notebook and landed it right inbetween Knox’s eyes. He spluttered, looking around for the culprit.

“Over here!” I waved. “Don’t be a jackass, huh? What did he ever do to you?”

He looked scandalised and began to protest, but something else caught my eye. Neil and Charlie had arrived and were getting settled on the last two available seats. Charlie sat at the very back in the corner and Neil was one across and a row back from me. He looked quite exhausted, so I stared until I caught his eye and waved encouragingly. He smiled in acknowledgement, then turned around in his seat to talk to Pitts. I felt a horrible wave of embarrassment at his dismissiveness and my teeth found purchase on the pad of my thumb. A ball of paper glanced off my shoulder and I looked up to see Charlie grinning cheesily at me. He blew me a kiss, to which I made an exaggerated ducking motion, threw a glance over my shoulder at where it would have landed, and wiped my brow in mock relief at the close call. He put a hand on his chest, jaw agape with phoney indignation.

Rolling my eyes, I turned around, just as The Captain made his grand entrance. He strolled along calmly, whistling the 1812 Overture and clutching his clipboard. As he passed by me, I collected my exercise book and hymnal and filed out after him. The eyes of every boy in the room followed us incredulously. I had been in classes at Chelsea with several first-time students of my father, but I had never seen a group so sceptical of his methods; and he had barely done anything unusual yet. I stood by the door and held it open, surveying the confused faces and trying not to feel embarrassed.

“Well, come on.” The Captain poked his head through the door briefly, then disappeared again.

Neil was the first to stand, to my delight, and the rest moved at his example. I couldn’t hide my smile. I knew he would take to The Captain the moment I saw him. Oh, he’d be a perfect boyfriend… He flashed me a grin on his way past, half amused and half quizzical. I followed him, feet moving without my command. I felt like a sad little lamb in love with a shepherd. I trailed behind him until we came to a hallway furnished with Welton banners, a stuffed deer head and antlers, and a few cabinets with trophies, class photos, and a few other pieces of Welton memorabilia inside. Neil- being quite tall- gravitated to the back, so I regretfully left him behind, pushing my way to the front beside Steven. The Captain stood quite calmly, though palpable excitement simmered under the surface.

“Oh Captain, my Captain.” He stated in a voice of quiet authority, pausing to drag his eyes across the motley crowd before him. “Who knows where that comes from?”

I knotted my fingers together to keep from raising my hand, wanting the others to have their moment. Besides, the last thing I wanted to be labelled was a know-it-all.

“Anybody?” The room was silent except for the honk of the sick boy blowing his nose. “Not a clue? Miss Keating?”

“It’s from a poem of the same title by Walt Whitman about the death of Abraham Lincoln, who he never actually met, but felt very connected to.” I spilled my guts a little bit, but I managed not to tell everyone about how unusual the poem was in context of Whitman’s larger body of work, given its simple rhyme, metre, and theme.

“Indeed. I wonder who taught you that.” He winked. “Now, in this class, you can either call me Mr Keating, or- if you’re slightly more daring- ‘Oh Captain, my Captain.’” A murmur of laughter passed through the room. “Now, let me disperse a few rumours so they don’t fester into facts. Yes, Miss Keating here is indeed my daughter, and the First Mate on this ship. In keeping with the nautical theme, you might like to call her Skipper, but use your discretion lest you meet with a grizzly end. I know I will later.” It’s true, I could have killed him for bringing that insufferable nickname across continental borders. “Secondly, yes, I too attended Hell-ton and survived. And no, at that time, I was not the mental giant you see before you. I was the intellectual equivalent of a ninety-eight pound weakling. I would go to the beach, and people would kick copies of Byron in my face.” Another murmur of laughter, a little louder now. Laughter, however quiet, is what had fed him all his life.

The rest of the lesson was spent stirring the boys into a state of awe at the school halls they had taken for granted for so long. I learned that Pitts struggled to read aloud with emotion, watched Steven put his Latin knowledge to work, and had my suspicions confirmed that Charlie was the class clown. Neil stayed quiet, soaking in The Captain’s words. As we crowded in to look closely at the class photos from close to a hundred years ago, I watched him as his eyes reflected the lights above. It was as if something had passed over him, changing him. An epiphany he was yet to fully realise.

“I think you really got to them, Cap’n.” I said, giving him a quick side hug as I left to get cleaned up for dinner.

“Thank you, dear.”

“I can’t believe you told them that stupid nickname, though!” I aimed a half-hearted smack at him.

“Couldn’t let you off too easily, now could I? Lest you forget my nickname here was Sasquatch.” He flashed the back of his hand that was covered in wiry hair. “If I let the boys come up with their own, it could be a lot worse.”

“As if!” I rolled my eyes. “Okay, I’ll see you after dinner?”

“Sure, sweetheart, see you then.”

I headed out into the hall, and down to the courtyard, where, to my surprise there was a boy waiting for me. He was fairly attractive with a lot of golden-brown hair and a sort of self-assured stance. I didn’t recognise him, but he made a beeline for me straight away.

“Hey, Skipper!” He called for me, smirking. That was enough to piss me right off, but not wanting to have a confrontation, I walked straight past him. “Hey! I’m talking to you! Hey! Miss Keating?”

“Yes?” I turned my head in acknowledgement, but kept walking.

“Hey, uh, sorry about that, I figured your dad wouldn’t have told us to call you that if you weren’t cool with it.” 

His tone of voice was polite enough that I thought I may have misjudged him.

“It’s okay. Can I help you?”

“Uh, yeah! Well, uh, first of all, my name is Daniel Stanley.” He offered me an enthused handshake. “And, well, me and my friends were hoping you’d join our study group. You're already hip with English and we think you'd be a real asset.”

“Oh, jeez, I'm sorry. I'm already with Neil Perry's study group.”

“Perry.” There was a scoff in his laugh. “Of course.”

“What about him?” The disrespectful tone was enough for me to stop walking and turn to face him.

“Well, I mean, of course he got to you first.” He smiled knowingly. “I mean, I know he’s desperate to be valedictorian and tops at everything, but I didn’t think he’d get his teeth in you immediately. Like, jeez, at least give the rest of us guys a chance.”

“Well, I’m sorry, but it’s not Neil’s fault. In fact he wasn’t even the one who asked me to join.”

“Well, no…” He faltered for a second, then doubled down. “But he’s the reason you joined, right? That smile, those eyes!”

“Huh?” I gaped. “Well, what do you expect me to say? ‘Oh, I’m sorry, Neil. I can’t study with you ‘cause you’re too pretty! I can’t have people thinking I’m shallow, can I?’”

“I just think you should have a more open mind. There are plenty of gu-groups out there with just as much to offer as him.”

“Well, my mind’s about as open as it gets.” I turned on my heel and started to walk off, but he kept pace with me.

“C’mon, just give me a chance.” He flashed me a coy smile.

“Oh.” I felt a wave of guilty discomfort come over me. “Is that what this is about?”

“What?” He tilted his head a little.

“Well, y’know, I’m the only girl in the school, and… uh… oh!” I caught sight of my guardian angel in the distance. “Charlie! Hey, Charlie!”

He turned around with a delighted grin on his face, said something to the boy next to him, and then jogged over.

“Hark!” He put his hand on his heart dramatically. “Yonder maiden fair, how doth thee doing?”

“I’m good, thanks Charlie.”

“Hello, Dalton.” Stanley grumbled.

“Hello to you too, Stanley. How can I help you, dolly?”

“Oh, I just wanted to say ‘hi.’” I raised my eyebrows at him and glanced at the other boy. He seemed to get the message.

“Oh, jee, Danny, did you hear that? She just wanted to say ‘hi!’ Isn’t that just swell?”

“Peachy keen.” Stanley pinched his brow.

“Hey, I think Meeks is looking for you, how about you and me walk and talk?” Charlie linked his arm with mine and began to march swiftly towards the dorms, leaving me no time to say goodbye.

“Thanks for saving me.” I said softly when we were far enough away.

“Hey, Stanley’s a square.” He turned to me with the most genuine smile I had seen from him so far. “And anyway, loyalty to the study group is to the death, I hope you know that.”

“Figures.” I giggled. “Y’know he was trying to get me to switch study groups, but I gave him what for.”

“Oh really?”

“Yeah, I said ‘Mr Stanley, I would go to war for my study group. I know we haven’t had a session yet, but I’m enlisted already and I take this very seriously.’”

“Good on ya, chicky.” He grinned. “You want me to walk you to your room?”

“If you don’t mind.”

“Of course.”

I couldn’t help but remember what Neil had said this morning, and felt a new flood of gratitude, and reassurance of his honesty. Some of the most upstanding people at this school indeed.

[got-the-cheese-touch]

medicine

law

business

engineering.

these are all noble pursuits and necessary to sustain life.

but poetry,

beauty,

romance,

love,

these are what we stay alive for.

happy aniversary dead poets society. you make me bawl like a little baby every time.

[sustiawan-author]

Maritza's PERMANENT WRITING TAGLIST ✎ᝰ.ᐟ⋆⑅˚₊

If my babies wanna stay top-notch updated about all of my recent writings THE SECOND IT RELEASES, please like this post so I'll note your name down and add you to the taglist of every single fic I put out from here on out (✿ᴗ͈ˬᴗ͈)⁾⁾

(Character-specific taglists are coming soon in the future once I've got more put out ^_^)

[ash5monster01]

DPS Masterlist

Main Masterlist

all works include a femreader. requests are open for any of the boys. I hope you enjoy <3

Charlie Dalton

Getting Red

Only Thing Left to Live For

Snowed In

Red Lips 18+

I Can See You

First Snow

You’ll Be Okay

Perfectly Me

Guilty as Sin? 18+

Turn Back Time

The Best I Could

Not The Same

Just The Way You Are 18+

What I Always Wanted

Not So Cocky Now 18+

Christmas Tree Farm

Truths Of Our Past series

Goes On series

Getaway Camp series

Neil Perry

New Romantics 18+

First Time 18+

Sick Day

It’s Just Practice 18+

In The Woods

Not Prepared 18+

The Hot Doc 18+

Todd Anderson

Study Buddies

Enough For The Both of Us

All (not including reader)

Trapped in Time

It’s Not Christmas Without You

One’s Hour Has To Come

A Dead Poets Holiday

[redsummermoon]

Hello! I love your writing, to start. I know you said you only like to write for Charlie, buuuut sense you also asked for ideas, I thought I’d mention this one I had! So I’m the odd man out and actually have a fascination with Richard Cameron. I know, don’t hurt me. But I was thinking of a scenario with a female reader and a sort of “enemies to lovers” fic with Cameron? Basically where they’re complete opposites. Maybe the reader is popular and rebellious, and of course Cameron is himself. They’ve got nothing in common except the poetry meetings they like to go to, and they really just make snarky comments back and forth the whole time. Then finally (sense it’s fall) they end up going to a Halloween party. (Perhaps there’s drinking involved?) And Cameron ends up seeing the reader in her costume, that by 50’s standards might be a little risqué, and he’s like “how tacky, girls shouldn’t dress like that”, but secretly he ends up like … 👀❤️ And then smooch

Anyways, that’s my idea. Feel free to ignore. Thanks, love 💗

Of course my first request is cameron😒 (IM KIDDING) 

Thanks for requesting!! I hope I did your fascination justice❤️

Something More

Richard Cameron x reader CW: use of Y/N, female reader, blonde hair reader, underage drinking, making fun of nervous stuttering [2.9k words] 

Cameron had never understood Y/N.

Sure, she was smart. Probably too smart for someone who spent most of her time breaking rules with Charlie Dalton or getting involved in Neil Perry’s theatrical antics. Cameron could almost tolerate Charlie’s rebellious streak. After all, they were roommates, and you had to pick your battles. But Y/N… there was something about her that made it impossible for him to simply look the other way.

It wasn’t that he hated her. At least, Cameron didn’t think it was hatred. Maybe it was the way she always seemed to one-up him. Like when she managed to sweet-talk her way out of trouble for sneaking into the theater building late at night, or when she got away with challenging the headmaster’s every word without consequence. Charlie thought she was brilliant, and Neil seemed to gravitate toward her, especially during their impromptu play rehearsals. But to Cameron, Y/N was the embodiment of everything he wasn’t. Free-spirited, fearless, and… reckless.

He sighed, adjusting his tie in the reflection of the small dorm mirror. "Rivals," he muttered under his breath. That was what he’d settled on. They were rivals. Even if he didn’t quite understand why it bothered him so much.

Cameron knew he was no rebel. He liked rules, structure, and order. It was what made him who he was. But then came Neil’s ridiculous idea of reviving the Dead Poets Society. Neil had made it sound poetic and adventurous, a hidden escape from the suffocating walls of Welton. It was, of course, the exact sort of thing Charlie and Y/N would love.

Naturally, Cameron wanted no part of it. Sneaking out after curfew, wandering into the woods, all for the sake of reading poetry in secret? It was a direct violation of school policy, and Cameron wasn’t about to jeopardize his future over some poetry club. At least, that’s what he had been planning to say when Neil invited him.

But then, of course, he overheard Neil mentioning Y/N would be there.

He had no idea why that changed things, but suddenly, Cameron felt a knot tighten in his stomach. She’d be there, laughing, breaking the rules, and Cameron knew exactly how it would play out. She’d have that smug look on her face, as if she’d won some unspoken battle between them. She’d act as if she was braver, bolder, and once again, she’d leave Cameron in her dust.

"Fine," Cameron said to Neil, trying to hide the nervous edge in his voice. "I’ll go."

He hated the way his palms started sweating the moment he agreed, and the anxiety that knotted in his chest only tightened as the hours passed. Sneaking out wasn’t his thing. But he couldn’t let Y/N have this. Not this time. He wouldn’t give her the satisfaction of thinking she was more daring than him.

Later that night, as Cameron made his way through the shadows of Welton’s halls, he tried to calm the rising tide of his nerves. His heart pounded in his chest, each footstep feeling heavier than the last. This was wrong. Everything about it was wrong. He shouldn’t be sneaking out to the woods, shouldn’t be joining some secret society that defied everything Welton stood for.

But when he thought of Y/N, laughing and teasing him about being too scared to join them, he gritted his teeth and pressed forward.

The night was heavy with silence, the kind that pressed against Cameron's ears, heightening his anxiety as they made their way into the woods. Neil and Charlie led the group, their low murmurs and laughter breaking the stillness every now and then. Cameron lagged behind, mentally cataloging every risk, every infraction, every possible way this could go horribly wrong.

Then there was Y/N.

She darted ahead of the group, her footsteps loud as she ran through the leaves, laughing as she threw her arms out wide. “This is it, boys! The start of our revolution!” she shouted into the night air.

Cameron winced. “Shut up,” he hissed, jogging up to catch her. “We’re still too close to the school!”

Y/N only grinned, glancing over her shoulder at him with a playful glint in her eyes. “Relax, Cameron. No one’s going to hear us out here.”

“They will if you keep yelling like that.” He grabbed her arm, tugging her back toward the group. “Do you ever think? We’re supposed to be sneaky, and you’re—”

Before he could finish, Y/N spun around, eyes wide in mock innocence. “Me? You think I’m the problem?”

“Yes!” Cameron’s voice cracked slightly, his frustration rising. “You’re always so loud—”

Y/N leaned in closer, yelling, “Am I?”

He groaned, placing his hand over her mouth to stop whatever retort she had coming. “Just... quiet.”

For a moment, Y/N’s eyes locked onto his. They glimmered with mischief as Cameron rambled on about the consequences if they got caught. She wasn’t even listening. She never listened. Then, without warning, she licked his hand.

“Ugh!” Cameron pulled back, wiping his hand on his blazer.

Y/N smirked. “Thanks for the taste, Cameron!” She winked, then darted ahead, disappearing into the trees.

Cameron stood there for a moment, seething as her laughter echoed back at him. “That damn girl,” he muttered under his breath, before hurrying to catch up with the others.

• • • • • ☽ ☼ ☾ • • • • •

A few weeks later, they’d settled into their usual spot in the woods, the group began their poetry readings. Neil always read with confidence, Charlie with charm, and even Knox, when not obsessing over some girl, could manage to stumble through his lines.

Then there was Cameron, who dreaded his turn.

“I-I think I’ll go next,” Cameron announced, clearing his throat as he stood up, gripping the poetry book a little too tightly.

Y/N leaned over to Neil, whispering loud enough for Cameron to hear, “Brace yourselves, boys. Here comes another thrilling performance from Mr. Perfection himself.”

Cameron’s face burned. He shot her a look, but Y/N just smiled sweetly, batting her eyelashes in mock innocence. He started to read, his voice wavering on the first line.

“Wh-Whose woods these are I think-I think I know. H-His-his house is in the-the village though.”

Y/N leaned in closer, whispering to Charlie. Cameron figured she would be making fun of his stuttering.

Cameron shot her another glare, stumbling on his next line. “H-He will not see m-me stopping he-here.”

Charlie snorted under his breath, but Neil shot Y/N a warning look. She rolled her eyes, crossing her arms and leaning back against a rock. Still, the damage was done, and Cameron barely made it through the rest of the poem without losing his nerve.

Later, when Knox started talking (again) about his girl troubles, Y/N took it as her cue to play matchmaker. “You just need to be bolder, Knox! Girls love confidence. You’ve gotta show her you’re the one!”

Cameron sighed, rubbing his temples. “Y/N, can you not? We’re trying to read poetry, not solve Knox’s love life.”

She turned to him, eyebrows raised. “What’s wrong, Cameron? Jealous? I can help you with your stuttering and your girl problems.”

He scoffed. “I don’t have girl problems.”

“Oh, really? Then why is your face red every time I’m around?” Y/N shot back.

• • • • • ☽ ☼ ☾ • • • • •

Lately, Y/N has been… different. She’d still tease him, but it wasn’t with the same sharpness, the same eagerness to provoke a reaction. Her jokes seemed half-hearted, like she was holding something back.

One evening, after Cameron had finished reading his poem, without stuttering for once, he looked up to see Y/N staring at him. Not smirking or rolling her eyes, but actually staring. For a second, Cameron thought he might’ve imagined it, but when he caught her gaze, she quickly looked away, focusing on the ground.

What was that about?

“Hey, Y/N,” Cameron asked after the meeting had ended, the others already making their way back toward the school. She stopped, turning to face him, the moonlight casting soft shadows over her face. “You… didn’t make fun of me tonight.”

She blinked, a slow smile creeping onto her lips. “Would you rather I had?”

Cameron shifted uncomfortably, unsure how to respond. “No, I just… I noticed.”

“Maybe I’m getting soft. Or maybe you’re getting better,” Y/N shrugged. “See you at the Halloween party tomorrow.”

Before Cameron could reply, she brushed past him, her arm grazing his as she walked by. He stood there for a moment, confused, flustered, and less irritated than he usually was after one of their encounters.

That damn girl.

• • • • • ☽ ☼ ☾ • • • • •

Cameron adjusted his soldier's uniform for the tenth time, nervously scanning the cafeteria. The decorations were tacky but festive, with paper bats hanging from the ceiling and pumpkins lining the tables. People had gone all out with their costumes, and the music blaring from the speakers set the perfect atmosphere for the Halloween party at Chris’s high school.

Cameron wasn’t usually one for these kinds of things, but tonight, he was trying to make an effort. His friends were really excited and that kind of energy was contagious. He spotted Knox and Chris almost immediately. Knox was beaming, dressed as Batman, and Chris, right beside him in a Batwoman costume, clung to his arm like they were in their own little world.

Knox caught Cameron’s eye and waved him over. “Cameron! You made it!”

“Yeah, wouldn’t miss it,” Cameron said, though his eyes were still darting around the room. “You guys seen Charlie or Y/N?”

Chris and Knox exchanged a look before laughing.

Cameron frowned. “What?”

Knox shrugged, grinning. “You don’t want to know.”

Cameron’s confusion only deepened. “What do you mean by that?”

Neil strolled up at that moment, wearing a Dracula costume that, somehow, actually suited him. His cape billowed dramatically as he greeted them. Cameron wasted no time.

“Neil, where’s Charlie and Y/N? They said they’d be here.”

Neil shook his head, chuckling softly. “Trust me, Cameron, you don’t want to know.”

Before Cameron could press further, the doors swung open, and Charlie made his grand entrance. Dressed as a pirate, complete with an eyepatch, a fake sword strapped to his waist, and a slightly tipsy grin, Charlie swaggered into the cafeteria.

“There he is,” Knox said, laughing as Charlie made his way over.

“Cameron!” Charlie greeted him loudly, saluting to his friend. “Good to see ya, soldier boy!”

Cameron’s nose crinkled. “You’ve been drinking already?”

“Sir yes, sir!” Charlie smirked, holding up a cup of punch. He shoved the cup into Cameron’s hand. “Here, have some. Courtesy of me and Y/N.”

Cameron eyed the cup warily but took a sip. His throat burned slightly from the spike of alcohol, and he shot Charlie a look. “You spiked the punch?”

Charlie wiggled his eyebrows. “Of course. It’s a party, Cam! Loosen up!”

Cameron sighed, lowering the cup. “Speaking of Y/N... where is she?”

Charlie’s eyes lit up with mischief, and he let out a low whistle. “Oh, just wait until you see her. She’s… well, you’ll see.”

The noise of the party seemed to dull as the doors swung open again, and in walked Y/N, dressed as Marilyn Monroe. The crowd parted like the Red Sea as she moved through, her heels clicking against the floor, and every head, boy and girl alike, turned to stare.

Y/N wore a tight, black dress that shimmered under the dim lights, with a plunging neckline that left little to the imagination. The back was almost entirely see-through, revealing glimpses of her skin with every step. The dress ended high on her thighs, adorned with frills that swayed as she walked. A long strand of pearls hung from her neck, falling gracefully down from her ruby-red lips as she held a pearl between them. Her hair was perfectly styled in soft, platinum blonde curls, pinned in a way that mimicked the iconic Marilyn Monroe look.

Cameron could only stare. His breath caught in his throat, and he felt his cheeks burning. He should’ve known from Charlie’s reaction that Y/N would come dressed to impress, but this… this was something else.

“Holy...,” he muttered under his breath. “Girls shouldn’t dress like that.”

Charlie elbowed him with a grin. “Come on, man. Just enjoy it.”

But Cameron couldn’t. Or rather, he couldn’t stop himself from looking. As Y/N made her way through the crowd, it was as if the entire room was drawn to her. She moved with confidence, a playful smirk on her lips as people whispered and gawked at her.

Charlie nudged Cameron again, this time a bit harder. “You okay? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

“I…” Cameron stammered, quickly downing the rest of the punch in his cup. The alcohol did nothing to calm his nerves.

And then, she was there. Right in front of them.

Y/N smiled, looking between Charlie and Cameron. “Hey, boys.”

Charlie gave her a whistle again. “Y/N, you’ve outdone yourself.”

Y/N gave a little twirl, the frills of her dress bouncing playfully. “You like it?” Her eyes landed on Cameron, and her smile grew wider. “What about you, Cameron?”

Cameron swallowed hard. “I, uh... well...”

Before he could gather his thoughts, Charlie cut in, laughing. “Cameron’s jaw was on the floor the second you walked in. Couldn’t take his eyes off you.”

Y/N’s eyes sparkled with amusement as she turned her full attention to Cameron. “Really?” Her voice was teasing, but there was a warmth in her expression that made Cameron’s face heat up even more.

“I-I wasn’t—” Cameron started to protest, but he felt his cheeks growing even redder, and he knew there was no denying it.

Y/N’s smile widened, clearly pleased. “Well, I’m glad you approve.” She reached out and lightly touched his arm. “I think your costume is great too, by the way. Very handsome.”

Cameron opened his mouth to respond, but no words came out. He nodded quickly, feeling more flustered than ever, and Charlie burst out laughing at the sight of him. Cameron couldn’t tell if it was the alcohol or the heat rising in his cheeks, but either way, he was in over his head.

As Charlie walked away, giving Cameron a playful wink before disappearing into the crowd, Y/N stayed by Cameron’s side. The music had shifted to something slower, softer, and the energy in the room had mellowed. Y/N turned to Cameron, her smile softening as she caught his gaze.

“So,” she began, taking a small step closer, “what do you say? Want to dance with me?”

Cameron blinked, taken aback. “Dance? With… me?”

Y/N laughed, nodding. “Yes, you. Come on, it’ll be fun.”

Still confused, Cameron hesitated. “Why are you being so… nice to me?” He glanced down, feeling the weight of her attention more than ever. “I mean, we’re not exactly… friends.”

Y/N’s smile faded slightly, but there was a tenderness in her expression. “I guess something’s changed,” she said, shrugging lightly. “I don’t want to be rivals anymore. I don’t think we need to be.”

Cameron’s brow furrowed. “You don’t?”

“No,” Y/N said simply. She looked him in the eyes, her expression sincere. “I don’t want to argue with you all the time. It’s exhausting. I think we could be something else. What do you think, Cameron? Is that okay with you?”

Cameron felt his heart race. She was being so open, so honest. He hadn’t expected this. “I... yeah. That’s okay with me.”

Y/N’s eyes twinkled as she took another step closer, her voice dropping to a soft, almost teasing tone. “Good. So... what do you think we should be, then?”

Cameron swallowed nervously, unsure of how to answer. “I... I don’t know. What do you want to be?”

Y/N’s smile grew wider, playful but warm. “Well,” she said, her fingers lightly brushing against his arm, “maybe this can be our first date. You know, to figure out if we should just be friends... or something more.”

Cameron’s mind went blank for a second, but deep down, he knew what he wanted. He had always been drawn to her, even through their bickering, even when he told himself it was just rivalry. The truth was, it had always been something more.

“I think…” he began, his voice a little shaky but determined. “I think I’d like to be something more.”

Y/N’s eyes lit up, her smile becoming something softer, more genuine. She leaned in slightly, her voice dropping to a whisper. “Prove it.”

Without thinking, Cameron closed the distance between them, his lips meeting hers in a soft, tentative kiss. The world seemed to disappear for a moment. The party, the music, the people; everything faded into the background. It was just them, standing in the middle of the dance floor, sharing something neither of them had expected.

When they pulled apart, Y/N was smiling, her cheeks flushed. “Well, that’s a good start.”

Cameron smiled back, feeling lighter than he had in a long time. “So... does that mean we’re not rivals anymore?”

Y/N laughed, grabbing his hand and pulling him toward the center of the dance floor. “Nope. From now on, we’re on the same team.”

As they began to dance, moving in time with the soft music, Cameron couldn’t help but feel like this was the best first date he could’ve imagined. Y/N, with all her teasing and fire, was someone he’d always admired, and now, she was something more.

(Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening By Robert Frost included (one of my fav poems))

[angelbowerz]

your only girl at welton fic is such a guilty pleasure for me lmao. if you ever wrote more for it i would forever be thankful lol, esp if it had mr keating taking them under his wing or smthn haha

Of course! I'd love to do more, if you have any other suggestions I'd be more than happy to do it!

Keating taking you under his wing♡

Movie-dead poets society

Summary-continuing on from 'being the only girl at Welton'

-he obviously knew about your arrival before the students, the second Mr Nolan told him, he knew he'd become your 'school father'

-since you had no classes on your first day, you first got introduced to him when he came into the common room

-he pulled you aside and basically said about how he's excited to meet you in class, and that you could always go to him for things (since all the other teachers look on the brink of death lmao)

-when you enterd his class the next day, he placed you next to todd (awhhh his two fake children🫂)

-After class he pulled you aside to check in on you, also telling you where his bedroom is when you need him after lessons

-at lunch or when you're passing him through the halls, he'll give you one of those encouraging dad smiles

-he'll give you a nickname like 'Dear miss l/n'

-now since Mr Nolan gave the rule of NO dating,if you do get a boyfriend, keating would be so happy for you, basically the opposite of Nolan

-okay...being at an all boys school would be hard being the only girl, especially at that time of the month so who do you go to? Your school dad of course

-if you ever run out of products after free time is over, you just go to Mr Keating's room where he has a box of things for you

-On some weekends, he would take you and Todd out into the town and will sometimes buy you two gifts (only if you keep it a secret)

-lets say your parents couldn't make the open day thing, you was obviously very sad...but who was there to pretend to be your father? KEATING OF COURSE! Also with Todd (cute lil family🤗)

-on the last day of school before the Christmas period, he would give you the cutest lil present (proud dad)

-when you graduate, you'll miss him SO MUCH (in my world keating didn't get fired and Neil is still alive SHHHH)

-you both would write to eachother once you leave Welton and would stay in contact until Mr Keating passes or something happens