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writersmacchiato · 1 year ago
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Todd can’t help the way he feels about you.
You’re kind to him, always nice, so patient. Never getting annoyed when he stumbles over his words or goes quiet as he gets lost in his head trying to think of the best response, forgetting to answer.
It’s why when he overhears your friend teasing you about a crush, his heart instantly sinks to his stomach, feeling sick, because there’s no doubt in his mind that it’s not him.
It could never be someone like Todd who would hold such attention from you.
Things like that didn’t happen to Todd.
He should leave it alone. He should forget he ever heard anything. He should really leave you alone, his senior of one year, and find friends his own age.
But he doesn’t seem to click with anyone else.
He felt desperately like a puppy scorned of any attention when you first smiled at him, all kind angles, nothing malicious in the way you talked to him so nicely.
You’re overcompensating, with your kindness. For all the bad things that have happened to you. You’ve let him into your life, sharing things that not a lot of your friend group knew (not that Todd knew this, to him it was common knowledge). And he’s surprised that your life isn’t perfect.
For all the shitty, horrible, terrible things that have occurred, you’re just as determined to be the opposite. To be a light instead of the darkness that is so easy to succumb to.
“I didn’t have a lot of friends growing up,” you whisper to him one night, sneaking away from the party with your lukewarm drink and his soda that’s beginning to taste flat.
Your head leans against his shoulder and he tries to breathe evenly, to be the perfect shoulder for you.
“I was really lonely. It felt like no matter what I did, I never fit in. People liked me, but no one wanted to be my best friend. So, I guess I never want anyone else to feel like that.”
Todd thinks about that night a lot. The weight of you against him, how the air was crisp, and the scent of your shampoo drifting into his senses.
He wonders if you’ve brought him into your circle out of pity. If you don’t see him as a friend, but as a past version of yourself laden with no friends. If you’re trying to reach into the past and rewrite the story. He doesn’t like to think about it too much because it hurts.
Really, he should try to spend less time thinking about you. But the more he tries to forget, the more he thinks.
He can’t stop thinking about the word crush. His dictionary has been opened to the C section so many times that it has a natural crease there now, flipping to the page as soon as he opens the book.
Crush: a strong but temporary feeling of liking someone.
It could be just a harmless tease from your friend. As far as he knows, there is no one who you could have a crush on. He watches you a lot, and there’s not a lot of people you spend frequent time with outside of your friends and him.
This endless thought that could be nothing that is leading him into a slow descent into obsession. It bothers him.
Someone who could yield your affections must be someone special, worthy of such attention.
But what if it’s not? What if it’s someone who wouldn’t be careful with your heart, wouldn’t take the time to learn the workings of your mind? What if your feelings are not temporary?
Todd loses sleep over it, worry gnawing at the edges of his thoughts until he’s become edgy.
You notice, of course, that Todd will withdraw into himself. With gentle coaxing, he’ll return but sometimes he stays stuck.
Lately he’s been stuck and nothing you’ve done has been able to break through.
He shocks you by finding you in the library, clearly still caught in the webs of his overthinking mind. Appearing normal as he pulls out a textbook and notebook, pen tapping against the palm of his hand.
The words blurt out of his mouth, rushed through in a painful exhale that sounds more breathy than he intended. He hadn't even meant to say that.
“You have a crush?” He asks.
And then stops, breath hitching, heart beginning to race.
He doesn’t want to know. Can’t bear to watch the way your lips form the name of someone who isn’t him.
Instead, you smile at him. Shrugging your arms and sighing.
“Not you too! Everyone is pestering me over it.” You avoid the question, Todd is quick to notice.
“I overheard Meeks.” Todd says.
“He’s such an instigator.” You roll your eyes.
Todd knows you well enough to know that you’ve purposefully not answered him. It brings a small flutter to his chest.
“Do you?”
It’s painful, to dig in and search for an answer that he know will hurt. Rubbing salt into the wound that is his aching heart. But he has to know. It’s like an itch he can’t reach.
“Yes, Todd, I do. Although calling it a crush is silly. It’s much stronger than that.” You say, very quietly.
Or maybe Todd can’t hear you well over the sudden rushing in his ears.
“Oh.” It’s all he can manage.
Crush, is simple and small. Temporary.
Stronger than a crush? Well. That’s not so simple or small.
“Todd, can you look at me?”
He can't. Eyes glued to the floor of the library, feeling his cheeks flush with warmth and his stomach twist into knots. Slippery and hot as he tries to calm the sudden urge to be sick.
You reach out to grab his clammy hands, giving them a firm squeeze. He manages to squeeze back.
“It’s okay, breathe.” You count out the breaths for him until they’re no longer shaky.
His cheeks are still flushed, but not with anxiety. Feeling the sweat on his neck begin to cool. Stomach settling.
“Todd, I really like you. A lot.” You grin. “I have a crush on you.”
“Why me?”
“Because you’re you.”
Todd has another fitful night of sleep, but this time it's because he can't stop thinking about the moment in the library. Flushed with embarrassment, but also with a giddiness. Thinking of what you had said, to him alone and him only:
"I'm infatuated with you, Todd Anderson."
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julietifsheneverdied · 2 months ago
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𓆡 - fluff | 𓇼 - angst | 𓆉 - series | 𓊝 - blurb/oneshot DEAD POETS SOCIETY MASTERLIST 𓈒ㅤׂㅤ𓇼 ࣪ 𓈒ㅤׂㅤ⭒
𓈒ㅤׂㅤ𓇼 NEIL PERRY ━━━━
𓈒ㅤׂㅤ𓇼 TODD ANDERSON ━━━━
𓈒ㅤׂㅤ𓇼 CHARLIE DALTON ━━━━
⭒ㅤ god you’re insane
𓈒ㅤׂㅤ𓇼 KNOX OVERSTREET ━━━━
𓈒ㅤׂㅤ𓇼 STEVEN MEEKS ━━━━
𓈒ㅤׂㅤ𓇼 GERARD PITTS ━━━━
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MAIN MASTERLIST — REQUESTS ARE OPEN
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jakegyllenbaalz · 1 month ago
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dead poets society, dir peter weir (1989)
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smth-intheway · 2 months ago
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a-reverii · 8 months ago
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⭑ 𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐂𝐇 + 𝐀𝐏𝐑𝐈𝐋 𝐅𝐈𝐂 𝐑𝐄𝐂𝐒 ⭑
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— 𝐇𝐀𝐑𝐑𝐘 𝐏𝐎𝐓𝐓𝐄𝐑.
sirius black
tulips. ⇢ @amiableness
safe place. ⇢ @/amiableness
don't delete the kisses. ⇢ @that-bwitch
regulus black
time to pretend. ⇢ @delicrieux
the arranged marriage or regulus's dreams. ⇢ @ellecdc
see me. ⇢ @mmoonysgf
hold her! ⇢ @kquil
secret admirer. ⇢ @itsbuckytm
remus lupin
clandestine. ⇢ @spncvr
sirius the matchmaker. ⇢ @fishley
his girl. ⇢ @opalesquegirl
our band. ⇢ @wzrd-wheezes
james potter
boundary less. ⇢ @wicchyy
no boundary!james. ⇢ @ddejavvu
best friend!james. ⇢ @/ddejavvu
personal trainer. ⇢ @fourmoony
about you. ⇢ @ma1dita
and i love her. ⇢ @dilf-lover99
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— 𝐃𝐄𝐀𝐃 𝐏𝐎𝐄𝐓𝐒 𝐒𝐎𝐂𝐈𝐄𝐓𝐘.
neil perry
if i fell. ⇢ @sorencd
two of us. ⇢ @/sorencd
art class. ⇢ @/sorencd
charlie dalton
orlando (first kiss). ⇢ @dearsnow
under the neon glow. ⇢ @augiewrites
secret admirer. ⇢ @/augiewrites
todd anderson
todd can't help the way he feels about you. ⇢ @writersmacchiato
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— 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐀𝐌𝐀𝐙𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐒𝐏𝐈𝐃𝐄𝐑 𝐌𝐀𝐍.
peter parker
new york private life. ⇢ @astxroiid
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← back to fic rec masterlist.
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ash5monster01 · 7 months ago
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could you write todd helping reader in english? like helping her with poetry or just regular homework. also, they are already dating ❤️ im a sucker for established relationships im sorry lol
Study Buddies
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Pairing: Todd Anderson x FemReader
Warnings: established relationship, fluff, some language, just sweetness
Summary: Being a student at Welton is difficult and even more so when you already struggle with most of your classes. Thank God you have a sweet boyfriend who is always so willing to help.
word count: 700
Masterlist
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The groan you let out immediately causes Todd to lift his head and scan the library for any onlookers. Deer in headlights like always just at the thought of someone paying a semblance of attention to him. You shake your head as you watch him, dropping the pencil in your hand as you completely give up on the assignment in front of you. When Todd realizes the coast is clear he finally turns his attention towards you.
“What’s wrong now?” he curiously asks and you wonder how he ever got comfortable around you if he panicked like that over just a couple of curious looks.
“This homework is impossible. I give up” you tell him, eyes glancing at the chemistry you no longer cared about. Even if you could figure out what all of it meant, the amount you had been given was absurd.
“You don’t give up, you just need a second to collect your thoughts” he says, voice his normal quiet and hushed tone and you watch as his hand reaches and slides the book back towards you. “Give it another go”
“I’d rather die” but the pointed look he gives you convinces you to pick back up the pencil and stare at the images on the page.
“I don’t get it” you pout, half annoyed and half on the verge of tears. Welton was hard, you knew that, but it still broke your spirits just the same.
“Let me see” he says, scooting close enough that his knee bumps against your own. He’s a fool if he thinks there’s any chance you’ll pay attention to your homework now. Not when your extremely adorable boyfriend is now this close to you.
“Oh well that’s easy, here look” but when Todd’s eyes look up to meet your own he can see you’re no longer interested in whatever he’s trying to show you. The look makes his ears tint pink and you can’t help but smile.
“Todd, I don’t want to do my homework anymore” you coo, leaning your face close to him. His head swings again, searching to see if anyone was peaking in on this private interaction. He freezes when your hand reaches up and stops him.
“W-we have to study” he tells you but you let out a soft ‘shh’. Stopping his stuttering and brushing your nose against his own. His face is fire truck red in an instant.
“I’d rather kiss you” you say, hot breath fanning across his lips and you can feel his mouth opening and closing, struggling to find words in this very moment. You love how shy he can still get around you.
“You gonna stop me?” you whisper and he shakes his head in your hand, yearning for it just as much as you. With your grip still on his chin you tip his mouth up and towards your own, sealing it against you.
The soft sigh he lets out causes you to grin against his lips before closing them around his again. You kiss him briefly but enough to make him dizzy. When you pull away his eyes are closed, mind reeling and now suddenly desperate to get far away from here. You chuckle to yourself lightly, watching as he processes the moment between you.
“Can you help me with number 6?” you ask and his eyes snap open, trying to recover from the whiplash you’ve just given him. He’s a mumbling mess, head snapping between you and the text book and you offer him as innocent a grin you can muster.
“Everything okay?” you curiously ask and he smiles, laughing lightly to himself and mentally cursing himself for always falling into your traps. It made sense you were the only girl who was able to lock him down.
“Everything’s just fine” he says, sliding back close and leaning to look at the question. You watch him intently, waiting as he processes the words.
“Okay, listen close” he starts and you grin, eyes casting over the page as you’re now prepared for him to explain. He was right you definitely needed a second to collect your thoughts.
Best mini break ever.
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The Tortured Poets Department
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Charlie Dalton x Reader
Summary: You and Charlie were always more than just friends too bad Charlies too scared to admit it
Word Count: 9K
The cave loomed before her, its entrance bathed in soft shadows, while faint candlelight flickered from deep within. Y/N paused at the threshold, the cool night air brushing against her skin. The sounds of voices—laughter, snippets of poetry, and the occasional hushed murmur—floated out to her like a familiar melody. This place had always been her refuge, ever since Neil Perry had taken the chance and brought her into the fold. It wasn’t her school, and the legacy wasn’t hers to claim, but it didn’t matter. The poets had welcomed her as one of their own, and the cave had become her home in ways she hadn’t expected.
She shifted her weight, her fingers lightly brushing the rough surface of the stone. Inside, the group’s energy ebbed and flowed, alive with creativity and rebellion, each voice adding its own spark to the mix. This wasn’t just a gathering; it was freedom—the kind of freedom she could never find elsewhere. The words spoken here carried weight, every verse and line a quiet act of defiance against the world that tried to confine them.
And yet, as much as the society itself meant to her, there was one reason she couldn’t stay away. Charlie Dalton. He was the storm in this quiet sanctuary, the wild streak in the poetry, and the wildfire she could never ignore. His laughter rang out now, sharp and unrestrained, a sound that seemed to carry all the mischief and thrill he lived for. It sent a shiver through her, one that was as much anticipation as it was nervous energy.
Charlie had always been different. Where the others found solace in the safety of their words, he turned his into challenges. He pushed boundaries, dared authority, and refused to let anyone dictate who he should be. And yet, beneath that wild energy, there was something else—a passion, a brilliance, and a vulnerability he rarely showed. It was that combination that had drawn her in from the beginning, that kept her coming back to the cave night after night.
Her eyes scanned the group as she stepped inside, the soft glow of candlelight illuminating familiar faces. They turned to greet her with warm smiles and knowing glances, but her focus was already fixed. She found him easily—Charlie always had a way of standing out, even in the dim light. He sat perched on a rock near the back, his unruly hair catching the flicker of the candles as he gestured animatedly, no doubt telling a story or reciting a verse.
He noticed her almost instantly, his grin widening as their eyes met. That grin—so full of life, so full of trouble—sent her pulse racing. For all his chaos, for all the ways he drove her mad with his recklessness, Charlie Dalton had a gravity she couldn’t escape. And she didn’t want to. With his untamed energy and mischievous grin, had a way of drawing her in like no one else ever could. He was a wildfire, dangerous and beautiful, and she couldn’t help but get burned.
Y/N sank into her usual spot, the cold, uneven surface of the rock grounding her as Knox animatedly recounted the details of his latest victory: finally winning over Chris. His enthusiasm was infectious, and the group roared their approval, clapping him on the back and offering exaggerated toasts to his triumph. Y/N joined in with a soft smile, genuinely happy for him, but the ache in her chest persisted—a familiar weight she could never quite shake in moments like this.
Her eyes drifted across the flickering circle, landing on Charlie. He was sprawled out on his back, one arm tucked behind his head and the other holding a cigarette loosely between his fingers. The lazy grin on his face was pure Charlie—reckless, confident, and entirely at ease, like he had the world in the palm of his hand. He caught her staring and winked, a quick, casual gesture that set her pulse racing and her stomach twisting into knots. How did he do that? How did he always make her feel like the only girl in the room, even when he wasn’t trying? Even when he was chasing someone else?
She averted her gaze, biting down on the corner of her lip as Knox’s story came to an end. The group shifted seamlessly back to their poetry, the warm, familiar cadence of voices reading aloud by candlelight filling the cave once again. But no matter how she tried, Y/N couldn’t focus on the words. Her mind was elsewhere, drawn back to the boy across the circle—the boy who drove her mad in ways no one else could.
They weren’t together. Not officially, anyway. But sometimes, it felt like they were. The stolen glances, the late-night whispers, the way he sprawled across her lap during their quiet moments, tracing lazy patterns on her arm—it all blurred the lines. It was more than friendship, but less than certainty. And it was slowly tearing her apart.
Charlie was a flirt—always had been, probably always would be. His charm was magnetic, his boldness impossible to ignore. He’d flirt with anyone, and he made it look so effortless. It didn’t matter if it was a fleeting smile, a well-placed joke, or an offhand compliment—he always knew exactly what to say to leave people wanting more. Sometimes, that person was her. And sometimes, it wasn’t.
Her chest tightened at the thought, her smile faltering. Who else holds him like I do? she wondered bitterly. Who else deciphers the chaos behind his smirk, sees the cracks he hides so well? Who else knows him, if not me?
But knowing him wasn’t enough. Not when he turned those same grins and careless winks to anyone who crossed his path. Not when his attention, so intoxicating when it was hers, could so easily shift to someone else. It was a cruel game, one she wasn’t sure she wanted to keep playing—but one she couldn’t bring herself to quit.
The Summer Before, the memory came to her unbidden, vivid as if it had happened yesterday. Pulling her back to a warm August evening that felt like a lifetime ago. It was the last stretch of summer, the kind that tasted of freedom and endings all at once. The school year loomed just over the horizon, but for one fleeting day, none of it mattered.
She had spent the afternoon at the Dalton house, sprawled across Charlie’s bed as sunlight streamed through the half-drawn blinds, painting the room in a muted gold. The air was thick and lazy, and she’d made herself comfortable while he disappeared downstairs, claiming he needed to “liberate” something from his father’s liquor cabinet. His room was unmistakably his—a cluttered chaos of books, vinyl records, crumpled clothes, and scrawled notes on scraps of paper. It smelled faintly of cigarettes and cologne, a scent she could still recall with aching clarity.
When Charlie returned, triumphant and grinning, he carried two mismatched glasses and a bottle of whiskey. “The finest my old man has to offer,” he declared with a mock bow, pouring them each a generous measure. The whiskey burned her throat, making her cough and wince, but she drank it anyway, unwilling to let him see her flinch.
The hours passed in a haze of conversation and laughter. They dissected song lyrics like philosophers, debated poets like scholars, and mocked their own pretentiousness until they were doubled over with laughter.
“We’re not Patti Smith and Dylan Thomas, you know,” she teased, lying back against the pillows. Her fingers trailed absently over the worn quilt on his bed, the fabric soft and familiar under her touch. “This isn’t the Chelsea Hotel.”
Charlie snorted, settling beside her with a cigarette dangling from his lips. “We’re modern idiots,” he agreed, his voice warm and full of mischief. In his other hand, he clutched a half-eaten chocolate bar, and she watched as he absentmindedly alternated between taking a bite and flicking his lighter open and closed.
The afternoon melted into evening, the air cooling as the golden light gave way to a soft, dusky glow. Somewhere between their debates about the superiority of punk rock versus jazz and their shared musings about life’s absurdities, Charlie’s head found its way to her lap. She didn’t question it, didn’t hesitate, only smoothed his unruly hair with gentle fingers. His hair was soft, messier than usual, and tickled her skin when he shifted. He was unusually quiet now, his endless energy dimming as the day wore on.
“Y/N,” he murmured, his voice low and almost drowsy. The cigarette in his mouth bobbed slightly as he spoke, his words slurring just enough to reveal how tired he was. “You get me, you know that? Like, really get me.”
Her hand froze for a moment, mid-motion, as her heart stumbled in her chest. The simplicity of the statement caught her off guard. Charlie wasn’t one for heartfelt confessions, at least not ones that felt this raw, this real. She opened her mouth to respond, her mind scrambling for something to match the weight of his words, something that would let him know she felt the same. But before she could speak, his eyes slipped closed, the cigarette still loosely balanced between his fingers.
She eased it from his grasp and crushed it in the ashtray beside the bed, watching as his breathing evened out. His face was so different like this—peaceful, unguarded. Vulnerable in a way he rarely let anyone see. She stayed there for hours, running her fingers through his hair, memorizing every detail of the moment, knowing she’d carry it with her long after the summer faded.
That night became a part of her, etched into her memory like an old photograph—beautiful, bittersweet, and impossible to let go.
Sitting in the cave now, the air thick with candle smoke and murmured poetry, Y/N’s thoughts swirled like restless waves. She stared at the flickering light on the walls, trying to make sense of the ache in her chest. The cycle with Charlie—the stolen moments, the blurred lines, the lingering looks that promised everything but delivered nothing—was wearing her down. It felt like chasing shadows, reaching for something just beyond her grasp.
She’d thought about walking away more times than she could count. Maybe if she distanced herself, the pain of wanting more than he was willing to give would finally subside. Maybe the hollow ache that followed her home after nights like this would stop gnawing at her. The idea of pulling away, of reclaiming her peace, had a kind of seductive appeal. But just as quickly as the thought came, it unraveled, replaced by the fear of what that distance might mean—for her, for him, for whatever fragile connection they shared.
Her resolve had wavered countless times, but there was one moment that kept her tethered, one confession she hadn’t been able to forget. It had come from Meeks, of all people, on a night when the Dead Poets Society had celebrated a little too freely. She remembered the slurred edges of his words, the glassy look in his eyes as he leaned toward her, his sincerity cutting through the haze of whiskey and laughter.
“Charlie told me once,” Meeks had said, his voice low and unsteady, “if you ever left, he wouldn’t know what to do.”
The words had stunned her, slicing through her doubts like a blade. She’d pressed him for more, her pulse racing, but he’d only shrugged, as if it was the most obvious truth in the world. At the time, she’d dismissed it as drunken rambling, a loose thread of half-truths spun in the moment. But the memory had lingered, replaying itself in her mind over and over, as vivid and persistent as a song she couldn’t shake.
It had become an ember she couldn’t extinguish, no matter how much it hurt to keep it alive. It burned quietly in the back of her mind, a stubborn flicker of hope that refused to die. What if Meeks had been right? What if there was more to Charlie’s carelessness, his charm, his aloofness than she’d let herself believe? What if, behind the easy grins and bold declarations, he was just as lost as she was?
The possibility both thrilled and terrified her. Because if it was true, if there was something real beneath all the layers Charlie used to keep the world at bay, then leaving wouldn’t just be an escape. It would be a betrayal of something fragile, something she wasn’t sure either of them knew how to name. And if it wasn’t true? If she was clinging to a hope that didn’t exist? Then she’d only be prolonging the inevitable heartbreak.
The uncertainty was maddening, but still, she stayed. Still, she waited. Still, she burned.
The breaking point came a week later, during one of those evenings that felt deceptively ordinary. Charlie had invited her over, as he so often did, and they sat across from each other at the long, polished dining table, the soft clinking of silverware filling the spaces between their laughter. The Dalton house had always felt cold, more like a museum than a home, but Charlie’s presence had a way of softening the edges, making it bearable.
His parents barely acknowledged them, as usual. His father sat at the head of the table, eyes buried in a newspaper, while his mother moved in and out of the room, her focus elsewhere. It was always like this—a hollow kind of civility that Charlie seemed determined to fill with his wit and charm. Y/N had grown used to it, though it never stopped tugging at her heart. She knew how much he hated the emptiness of it all, even if he never said so outright.
They bantered easily, trading jokes and teasing each other like they always did. For a while, it was enough to keep her grounded, to remind her why she stayed, why she kept coming back even when it hurt. But then, in a moment so casual it felt almost unintentional, everything shifted.
Charlie reached beside her, his fingers brushing hers as he picked up her hand. His touch was light, almost absentminded, as if it were the most natural thing in the world. Her breath caught as he toyed with the ring on her finger, sliding it off and holding it up to the light with a mock-critical eye.
“Nice ring,” he said, his voice smooth and teasing, though there was an edge of something else beneath it. Mischief, maybe, or something quieter, harder to define.
He slid the ring onto his own finger, grinning as he wiggled it in the air. “Think it suits me?” he asked, his tone light, though his gaze lingered on her in a way that made her stomach flip. Before she could answer, he pulled it off again and reached for her hand. This time, he slipped it back onto her finger, but not where it had been. Instead, he placed it on her left hand, on finger one reserved for promises neither of them had made.
Y/N froze, her heart lurching into her throat as she stared down at the ring. It gleamed faintly in the soft light, impossibly small but suddenly heavy. Her pulse pounded in her ears as she looked back up at Charlie, searching for some kind of explanation.
He didn’t offer one. Instead, he smirked, his thumb brushing lazily against her knuckles, the gesture so casual it felt almost dismissive. But his eyes… his eyes held something else entirely. A flicker of something she couldn’t name.
Her heart exploded in that moment, a chaotic mess of hope and despair that left her breathless. Did he even realize what he was doing to her? Did he have any idea how much weight that single action carried, how it sent her thoughts spiraling in every direction?
It was Charlie in his purest form—effortless, infuriating, and entirely unaware of the havoc he wreaked on her heart. Or worse, maybe he did know. Maybe he knew exactly what he was doing, and he just didn’t care. The thought made her chest tighten, the ache of uncertainty threatening to swallow her whole.
Y/N didn’t make the decision all at once. It wasn’t a grand epiphany or a sudden resolve to cut Charlie out of her life entirely. Instead, it came in quiet moments, in the spaces between his laughter and her silence. It was the ache in her chest after nights spent waiting for something more, the hollow feeling that lingered after he turned his charm to someone else. Slowly, she began to pull away—not enough for anyone to notice at first, but enough to protect herself.
It started the next time he tried to sprawl across her lap during one of their quieter gatherings in the cave. Normally, she would have let him, her hands instinctively finding their way into his unruly hair. This time, she shifted slightly, leaning forward just enough to make the gesture awkward. He paused mid-movement, a flicker of confusion crossing his face before he laughed it off, settling against the rock beside her instead.
“You’re getting stingy with the lap space, Y/N,” he teased, shooting her that boyish grin that used to undo her. She forced a laugh, light and unbothered, and Knox jumped in with a joke that shifted the group’s attention. She was grateful for the distraction, even as she felt Charlie’s gaze linger on her a second too long.
She didn’t stop coming to the cave, didn’t stop sitting beside him during meetings. That would have raised questions, drawn attention she didn’t want. But she started drawing boundaries—subtle ones that only she noticed at first. When his fingers brushed hers, she pulled away just a little too soon. When his touch lingered on her arm or her shoulder, she found excuses to move, to shift her focus elsewhere. She stopped letting him hold her gaze for too long, stopped answering his teasing remarks with the same soft warmth she once had. Her responses grew neutral, her smiles polite but distant, her laughter quieter, less personal.
The hardest part was changing the way she spoke to him. She started to choose her words more carefully, deliberately moving their conversations away from the intimate territory they’d once inhabited. She spoke to him the way she spoke to Knox, or Neil, or Meeks—warm but friendly, never crossing the line into something more. When he teased her, she teased back, but the softness in her tone was gone. When he leaned in close, whispering some private joke just for her, she pulled back, laughing lightly but keeping the space between them.
Charlie noticed, of course. He wasn’t oblivious, even if he sometimes pretended to be. At first, he brushed it off with jokes, playfully calling her “cold-hearted” or “aloof.” But as the days turned into weeks, his remarks grew sharper, edged with a frustration he didn’t bother to hide.
One evening, after the group had dispersed and the boys were walking back toward Welton, her the other way, he finally called her out.
“You’ve been weird lately,” he said, his voice more serious than she’d expected. He shoved his hands into his pockets, his steps slower than usual as they walked side by side.
“Weird?” she asked, feigning confusion. “How so?”
He stopped, turning to face her. The dim light from the nearby lamppost cast shadows across his face, making his expression harder to read. “Don’t play dumb, Y/N,” he said, his tone softer now, almost pleading. “You’re pulling away. I can feel it.”
Her stomach twisted at the raw honesty in his voice, but she held her ground. “I’m not pulling away,” she said, keeping her tone even. “I’m just... trying to make things easier. For both of us.”
“Easier?” He frowned, his brows knitting together in confusion. “What the hell does that mean?”
“It means,” she began, taking a steadying breath, “that I think we need to set some boundaries. Clear ones. You’re my friend, Charlie. That’s all we’ve ever been, and that’s all we’ll ever be.”
Her words hung in the air between them, heavy and final. She saw the flicker of hurt in his eyes, quickly masked by a smirk that didn’t quite reach his usual bravado.
“Boundaries, huh?” he said, his voice tight with forced humor. “Didn’t realize you were such a rule-follower, Y/N.”
“I’m not,” she said quietly. “But I can’t keep doing this—not when it feels like I’m the only one who doesn’t know where we stand.”
His smirk faltered, and for a moment, she thought he might argue, might try to convince her to stay. But then he shrugged, his usual nonchalance sliding back into place like armor. “Whatever you say,” he said, turning and walking ahead without another word.
She stood there for a long time after he disappeared into the night, the ache in her chest sharper than it had ever been. But this time, it wasn’t unbearable. This time, she felt the faintest stirrings of relief beneath the pain—relief that she’d finally taken a step toward reclaiming her heart, even if it meant leaving part of it behind.
The shift was palpable, and everyone in the Dead Poets Society felt it. Where Y/N and Charlie had once been inseparable, now there was only a careful, deliberate distance. She no longer sat beside him in the cave. Instead, she found a spot near Knox or Neil, her focus firmly on the poetry or the discussions at hand. She laughed with the others, joked with them, even debated them—but with Charlie, there was only silence.
Charlie didn’t handle it well.
At first, he tried to keep things normal, filling the gap with his usual charm. He’d toss jokes her way, flash his signature grin, lean casually in her direction as though daring her to ignore him. But when her responses came clipped and polite, or worse, not at all, he started retreating too. His jokes turned sharper, tinged with bitterness he didn’t bother to hide. When she ignored those, he stopped trying altogether.
The quiet between them wasn’t hostile—it wasn’t anything at all. It was the absence of everything they’d once shared, and that was worse than any argument could have been. The others noticed, of course, though none of them dared to bring it up directly. Neil, ever the peacekeeper, occasionally tried to draw them both into group conversations, but it always ended awkwardly, with Y/N excusing herself early or Charlie storming off. Knox exchanged worried glances with Meeks and Pitts, but even they didn’t know how to fix something that had already fallen apart.
One evening, as the group gathered in the cave for another meeting, the tension came to a head. Y/N sat near Neil, her notebook open in her lap, the candlelight casting soft shadows across her face. Charlie was at the far end of the circle, sprawled on the ground with a cigarette dangling from his lips. He wasn’t paying attention to the poetry being read, his eyes instead fixed on her, unrelenting and unreadable.
She felt his gaze but refused to look up, her focus firmly on the poem Neil was reciting. Her heart beat faster, her pulse loud in her ears, but she forced herself to stay composed. This was what she’d chosen—distance, clarity, self-preservation—and she wasn’t going to backtrack now.
When Neil finished reading, the group broke into soft applause, and the conversation turned to the next meeting’s plans. Charlie stayed silent, which was unusual enough that it drew attention. Knox nudged him lightly, murmuring something she couldn’t hear, but Charlie only shook his head, his expression dark.
Finally, he broke the silence. “So, what? We’re just pretending this is fine?” he asked, his voice cutting through the chatter like a blade.
The group froze, everyone turning to look at him.
“Charlie,” Neil said cautiously, “what are you talking about?”
Charlie’s eyes stayed locked on Y/N. “You know exactly what I’m talking about.”
She felt the weight of his words like a physical blow, but she refused to rise to it. She closed her notebook slowly, meeting his gaze with a calm she didn’t feel. “This isn’t the time or place for whatever you’re trying to start,” she said evenly.
“Isn’t it?” he shot back, sitting up now, his cigarette forgotten. “Because it seems like you’ve been avoiding this conversation for weeks. Or avoiding me, more like.”
The others exchanged uncomfortable glances, clearly unsure whether to intervene or let it play out.
“I’m not avoiding anything,” Y/N said, her voice firm. “We’ve already talked about this, Charlie. There’s nothing left to say.”
His laugh was bitter, humorless. “Nothing left to say? That’s rich, coming from you. You used to never shut up around me.”
“That was before,” she said softly, her tone steady despite the ache in her chest. “Before I realized I needed to step back. For my own sake.”
“For your sake,” he repeated, the words laced with disbelief. “And what about my sake, huh? Did you ever think about that?”
Her composure wavered for a moment, but she held her ground. “You don’t even like me like that, Charlie,” she said quietly. “You never have. And I can’t keep letting myself believe otherwise.”
The silence that followed was deafening. Charlie stared at her, his jaw tight, his hands clenched into fists at his sides. For a moment, she thought he might argue, might try to tear down the walls she’d built around herself. But then he laughed again, low and bitter, and stood abruptly.
“Fine,” he said, his voice cold. “If that’s how you feel, I won’t bother anymore.”
He turned and walked out of the cave without another word, his footsteps echoing in the stillness. The group sat frozen, the tension lingering like smoke in the air.
Y/N exhaled slowly, her hands trembling slightly as she clutched her notebook to her chest. She could feel the others’ eyes on her, their unspoken questions heavy with concern, but she didn’t have the energy to explain. Instead, she stood and followed the path Charlie had taken—not to chase him, but to leave the cave entirely.
Outside, the cool night air hit her like a balm, soothing the raw edges of her emotions. She looked up at the stars, their distant light a stark contrast to the turmoil in her heart. She’d done what she needed to do, what she should have done months ago.
So why did it feel like she’d lost something she could never get back?
Y/N, once a vibrant and steady presence among the group, had grown quieter, more reserved. She still came to the meetings, still participated in the discussions and laughed at the jokes, but something in her had pulled inward. She became deliberate, careful, every word she spoke measured and free of vulnerability. It was as though she’d wrapped herself in armor, impenetrable and unyielding.
Charlie, on the other hand, was chaos. His laughter was louder, his jokes sharper, his need for attention almost desperate. He’d started flirting more—brazenly, recklessly—with anyone who would entertain him. Girls from other schools, waitresses at the diner, even strangers at the train station. It wasn’t subtle, and it wasn’t lost on the boys, who exchanged worried glances every time he sauntered into the cave smelling faintly of perfume and cigarettes, a cocky grin plastered on his face.
“Where’ve you been, Dalton?” Neil asked one evening when Charlie arrived halfway through their meeting, his tie loosened and his shirt rumpled.
Charlie shrugged, leaning lazily against the cave wall. “Busy,” he said with a smirk that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “You know me—always finding trouble.”
The others laughed uneasily, but Y/N didn’t look up from her notebook. She could feel his eyes on her, searching for some reaction, but she gave him nothing. Her pen moved steadily across the page, her posture calm and detached.
“You’ve missed three meetings this month,” Neil pressed, his tone gentle but firm. “That’s not like you.”
Charlie scoffed, running a hand through his hair. “Relax, Captain. Poetry isn’t going anywhere.”
“Neither is your mess,” Meeks muttered under his breath, earning a nudge from Pitts.
Y/N’s chest tightened, but she didn’t lift her gaze. This was what she’d wanted, wasn’t it? Distance. Separation. A clear, definitive line between them. She had no right to feel hurt by the way he threw himself into distractions, just as he had no right to demand anything more from her. They were nothing but friends now—or less than that, perhaps. Just two people occupying the same space, their connection unraveling thread by thread.
But Charlie was unraveling in his own way, too.
He stopped coming to the meetings altogether for a while, and when he did show up, it was always late, his energy frayed and restless. The easy charm that had once defined him now felt like a mask, a shield he wielded to deflect attention from the cracks forming beneath the surface. The boys tried to pull him back in, tried to anchor him, but Charlie only laughed and brushed them off, his bravado growing more transparent with each passing day.
And Y/N… she stayed silent.
She didn’t ask where he went or who he was with. She didn’t press him to stay when he left early or try to fill the space he left behind. She told herself it wasn’t her place, that this was the natural progression of the distance she’d chosen. But late at night, when the meetings were over and the others had gone home, she’d lie awake replaying every moment in her mind—the sharpness in his voice, the emptiness in his laughter, the way his eyes lingered on her even when he pretended not to care.
It wasn’t until one particularly quiet night in the cave that the weight of it all came crashing down. The group was smaller than usual—just Neil, Knox, Pitts, and Y/N. The absence of Charlie’s energy was stark, the silence stretching long between recitations.
“Have any of you talked to him?” Neil asked finally, his voice low.
Pitts shook his head. “He’s… distracted, I guess.”
“More like self-destructive,” Knox muttered, earning a sharp glance from Neil.
“What are we supposed to do?” Pitts asked, his tone heavy with resignation. “He won’t listen to us.”
The conversation hung in the air, fragile and unresolved. Y/N didn’t speak, her gaze fixed on the flickering candlelight. She knew the boys were looking at her, waiting for her to say something, but what could she offer? She’d made her choice. She’d drawn her lines.
She told herself it wasn’t her responsibility to fix him.
And yet, as the meeting ended and the others began to pack up, Y/N found herself lingering, her notebook forgotten in her lap. She didn’t know what she was waiting for—an answer, a sign, or maybe just the courage to admit that no amount of distance could stop her from caring.
Because for all the defenses she’d built, for all the ways she’d tried to let him go, one truth remained: she wasn’t sure she could.
Charlie had always been the one who could keep his cool, who could laugh off anything and never let the weight of the world get to him. But now, as the boys confronted him, his carefully constructed walls were crumbling. They found him in his room that day, pacing back and forth, looking more disheveled than any of them had ever seen him. His eyes were bloodshot, his usually perfect hair was messy, and there was a distinct emptiness to his movements.
“Charlie,” Neil started, his voice firm but gentle, “this isn’t you. You’ve been avoiding us. Avoiding everything.”
“I’m fine,” Charlie muttered, brushing a hand through his hair in frustration, as if trying to push the emotions down. “I’m fine. Leave me alone.”
But the boys weren’t buying it anymore. They had seen it for weeks—the cracks in his facade. It wasn’t just about missing meetings. It was the way he was drowning in distraction, pushing everyone away. And they all knew why.
“You’re not fine, man,” Pitts added, his voice hard with concern. “We’ve seen how you’ve been acting. You’re hurting. You’re pushing Y/N away, and you’re not talking about it.”
At that, Charlie’s expression darkened. “Don’t bring her into this,” he snapped, his fists tightening. But it was clear the mention of Y/N hit a nerve, and Charlie couldn’t mask the raw frustration that bubbled up inside of him. “I don’t get it, okay? I don’t get why I didn’t just make it official, why I danced around it for so long. I liked her. I always did...”
His voice faltered. He sank onto the edge of his bed, his hands in his lap, staring down at the floor as though trying to find some sense of direction. “I kept thinking she would stick around, that it would just work itself out somehow. And now she’s gone, and I’ve got no one to blame but myself.”
The boys exchanged uneasy glances, each of them uncomfortable with seeing their friend so broken, but it was clear that Charlie needed to hear this. He needed to hear what they were all thinking, needed to confront the reality of what he had done.
“You can’t just shut people out, Charlie,” Knox said, stepping forward with his usual calm voice but a hard edge to it. “You can’t keep running from your feelings. You had something real with her, and you messed it up. But you’re not beyond fixing things.”
Charlie didn’t respond right away. He just stared at the floor, the weight of it all pressing down on him. Finally, he mumbled, “I don’t even know if she’d want to fix it. I didn’t do anything, anything right. I just... I didn’t make it real. I let it slip away, and now she’s gone.”
He collapsed back onto the bed, his voice breaking as he admitted what he couldn’t say before. “I don’t know how to fix it. I don’t even know if I deserve to.”
The boys stood around him, all of them unsure of what to say. But Neil finally spoke, his voice softer than before. “You don’t fix things by running away, Charlie. You show up. You make it right. And maybe, just maybe, she’ll meet you halfway. But you have to do the work.”
Charlie’s gaze softened slightly, but he couldn’t shake the heavy weight in his chest. He had lost her. It felt final. And the thought of walking into that silence, of confronting the mess he had made, terrified him. But the boys wouldn’t let him off the hook. Not this time.
A few days later, Charlie started showing up to meetings again, his presence there a little less chaotic, a little less desperate. He was still messy, still a little broken, but there was an attempt to pull himself together. He threw himself into the work, into the distractions. But each time he looked around, there was something missing. And it wasn’t just his usual spark; it was her.
Y/N wasn’t at the meetings anymore.
At first, Charlie assumed it was just an off day. But then the days turned into weeks. Others tried calling her, but the replies were few and far between. She didn’t show up at the hangouts, didn’t respond to calls. Slowly, the silence between them grew louder.
He didn’t understand it. He hadn’t expected her to come running back, but he had hoped—hoped—that she would at least reach out. That she would be there. But she wasn’t. She had distanced herself completely.
The boys had no answers either. She was simply gone.
But Charlie couldn’t just sit idly by, pretending like everything was fine. He missed her. He missed her laugh, the way she used to tease him, how everything seemed lighter when she was around. He hadn’t known what he had until it was too late.
Still no sign of her. It was as if she had vanished into thin air. Charlie felt it in the pit of his stomach, the gnawing emptiness that had begun to fill the space where her smile used to be. He had lost his chance.
Meanwhile, Y/N was going through her own quiet spiral. Cutting off contact with the boys had been easier than she expected. She and Charlie no longer shared the same circles, and the distance between them felt... necessary. The absence of Charlie in her life was heavy, but it was also a relief. She had needed space, needed time to reclaim herself after everything had fallen apart. The constant reminders of him, the brief, desperate calls she couldn’t bring herself to answer, were all too much.
She didn’t show up to meetings, didn’t respond to group invitations. The boys didn’t know what to think, but they knew Y/N had made up her mind.
It hurt. It hurt more than anything she had ever felt before. But it was the only way she could breathe again.
Y/N’s mind had been racing for weeks. Every moment of silence, every unanswered call, every time she passed by their usual hangouts, it was like a weight on her chest. She had let go of so many things to protect herself from the fallout. But deep down, she couldn’t stop questioning everything. Maybe I’m the childish one—the thought had haunted her.
She couldn’t focus anymore. Her grades were slipping, her friends at school barely knew her, and the loneliness kept seeping in like an endless tide. She had lost more than just Charlie—she’d lost the version of herself that had been full of hope, that had been able to laugh through the awkwardness. Everything had been wrapped in him, and now that he wasn’t there, she felt like she was floating in a sea of nothing.
She couldn’t help but replay everything. Their late-night talks, the stolen glances, the laughter... but the part that stung the most was that she hadn’t gotten the closure she needed. She had cut off all contact, telling herself that it was the only way to move forward, but it had come at a cost. The truth was, she had never stopped loving him.
But moving was the final step. It felt like the only way out. Another prep school, in a different state, far enough from everything to finally heal—or at least, to try to. She hoped that the distance would give her space to breathe, to find herself again without the constant reminder of a love she couldn’t have.
Packing up her things felt surreal. It was like she was closing the door on so much more than just a school—she was leaving behind the girl who had once laughed with Charlie, the girl who had dreamed of what they could have been. She didn’t know if she’d ever be able to go back, to talk to him again. But she had to do it. She had to move on.
Still, as she looked at the empty room, the reality of what she was doing hit her. She couldn’t deny it—leaving him behind didn’t stop her from still caring. And maybe, just maybe, it didn’t stop him from thinking of her too.
But for now, she was going to face the next chapter alone, hoping that the distance would help her forget the pain and allow her to rebuild herself from the pieces left behind. She didn’t know how long it would take or if she’d ever fully heal, but the decision was made. She had to move on, even if it meant leaving everything behind.
The moving van was parked outside the gates of the all-girls prep school, a stark reminder that Y/N was leaving. It had been a quiet afternoon, most students still milling about after classes. The air was heavy with the fading warmth of the day, and the bustle of Welton kids heading out was like a dull hum in the background. But there, on the far side of the field, Charlie stood frozen, his eyes locked on the scene unfolding before him.
Y/N’s parents were in the process of packing the last of her things into the van, a finality to the motion that seemed to pierce through the haze of everything else. Charlie’s chest tightened at the sight, his mind spiraling as his fingers ran through his already messy hair. His breath came out in short bursts, his heartbeat racing in anticipation.
What the hell am I doing?
He had been circling the field for what felt like hours, rehearsing his lines in his head. He had a plan, didn’t he? A speech. Something that would fix this mess he had made. He was supposed to be calm, collected. He was supposed to tell her everything—the truth about how he felt, how sorry he was, how much he wanted to make it right. But the more he practiced, the more the words seemed to slip through his fingers like smoke.
“I’m sorry, Y/N. I should have told you how I felt rather than protecting my ego. I should have told you from the start that I was afraid of losing you... that I never meant to hurt you.”
It sounded so simple in his mind, but when it came to saying it out loud, it all felt so... impossible.
His eyes darted back to the van. It wasn’t just any van. It was the symbol of everything he was about to lose. Y/N was leaving, and he was just standing here, caught in his own head.
Why didn't I just tell her? Why did I wait so damn long?
His stomach churned with the realization that he hadn’t done enough. He had let her slip through his fingers. He’d taken too long to make up his mind, and now it felt like it was all slipping away, out of his reach, and he couldn't fix it in time.
His heart pounded as he moved closer to the edge of the field, his feet dragging like they were stuck in quicksand. He could see her parents now, their backs turned as they focused on the last few things to load up. Y/N wasn’t in sight, and that made everything worse. She wasn’t even there to hear him out, to let him try.
He reached the fence line and stopped, staring at the van. This is it. She’s leaving.
Charlie closed his eyes, shaking his head. He had to act. He had to move. There was no more time for hesitation.
And then, from the corner of his eye, he saw a figure approach—the unmistakable outline of Y/N. She was walking toward the van, her movements slow and deliberate. Every step she took made his chest tighten. He opened his mouth, but the words stuck, choked by the knot in his throat.
I can’t lose her. I won’t.
With a sudden burst of clarity, he pushed forward, determined to speak his truth before it was too late. As he crossed the field, the world around him seemed to slow, the sounds of laughter from other students fading into the background. There was only Y/N now, and the desperate need to make things right.
Charlie’s feet moved faster now, the space between him and the van growing smaller with each hurried step. His mind raced, the words he’d rehearsed countless times rushing through his head, but none of them felt right. He wasn’t prepared for this moment. He’d spent so long hiding behind jokes, distractions, and that perfect mask of arrogance, but now it was just him—raw, vulnerable, and completely terrified of what he was about to admit.
As he reached her, Y/N was just turning away from her parents, adjusting the strap of her bag. The moment she saw him, her expression faltered—just for a second—before the familiar walls went up, that guarded look he had become all too familiar with. It was that same look she’d been wearing ever since he’d distanced himself, ever since he'd messed everything up.
“Y/N,” he said, his voice breaking slightly as he approached her, stepping into her personal space without thinking. She paused, and for a brief, stupid second, he thought she might walk away again. But instead, she just stood there, silent, watching him with those unreadable eyes.
He swallowed hard, heart hammering in his chest. “I don’t know what I was thinking.” His voice was barely above a whisper, the words tumbling out before he could stop them. “I’ve been an idiot, Y/N. And I’m so sorry for... all of it.”
Her eyes flickered, but she said nothing, and it pushed him to keep going, to explain what had been gnawing at him for so long.
“I’ve always loved you. I know that sounds insane,” he laughed bitterly, shaking his head, “but it’s the truth. I’ve always known. Even when I was with someone else, or when I was being an asshole and pretending I didn’t care, it was always you. I was just... scared, okay? I was scared to change what we had, scared that if I admitted it, it would ruin everything. You... you were always there for me, and I didn’t want to lose that. I didn’t want to mess it up.” He took a shaky breath, his gaze never leaving hers.
“I didn’t know how to deal with how I felt. So I pushed you away. And I got confused, and I lashed out.” His chest tightened, words getting harder to force out. “I was emotional. I didn't know how to handle it, how to handle you—what I wanted with you. I didn't know how to be the kind of person you deserve."
His hands, which had been shaking, curled into fists at his sides, but his eyes never left hers. "All I ever wanted was to be with you. But I kept screwing it up. And now, here you are, and I—" He stopped, frustrated. "I'm not good at this. But I need you to know, Y/N... I've loved you for so long. And I don't want you to go without knowing that."
His voice broke as the weight of it all hit him, all at once—the guilt, the pain of knowing he was losing her, and the overwhelming feeling of having waited too long.
“I’m so sorry,” he whispered again, his throat tight, his heart aching with every word. “I don’t know why I waited. But it’s always been you. And if I lose you now... I don’t know how to fix it. I’m so in love with you, and I’m so scared.”
Y/N’s face was unreadable. For a moment, she said nothing, her gaze flickering between him and the van. Charlie’s chest tightened as the silence stretched between them, and he could feel his heart pounding so loud he was certain she could hear it. She slowly turned away.
“I don’t expect you to forgive me,” he said, each word feeling like it took all of his courage to speak, but it was the truth. “I don’t expect you to just forget everything and come running back, but you need to hear this, okay?”
She hesitated, her fingers gripping the strap of her bag, but she didn’t say anything.
“I’m not perfect,” Charlie continued, his voice thick with emotion, “I’ve never been perfect, and I was a damn fool to not see how much you meant to me. You were never just a ‘friend,’ and I know now that I’ve been holding onto something—stupid pride, fear of change, who knows—but it’s you. You’ve always been it for me. I was scared of what we could be, scared of losing you if I messed it up. But I messed it up anyway.”
Charlie’s breath hitched, his chest tightening as he took a step closer. “I’ve spent so much time telling myself I could move on, that I could just... distract myself with all this other nonsense. But no matter what I did, it was always you. Always.”
His voice softened, and now it was all that was left to say. “I don’t want to lose you. I don’t want to be this person anymore—someone who hides from what he feels, someone who runs away from the one person who truly makes him feel like he belongs somewhere. Y/N, I know I don’t deserve another chance, but I’m asking you to let me prove to you that I’m ready to be with you. I want us. I want to try. I want you to know that this... us... this is real. It’s always been real.”
Y/N’s back was still turned, but Charlie could see the slight shift in her posture—the hesitation, the quiet battle inside her. And then, after a long pause, she slowly turned around, her eyes no longer as guarded, but still cautious. Her lips parted as if she were about to speak, but she didn’t.
Instead, she took a step closer, her gaze searching his. "Charlie, you hurt me," she said, her voice quieter now, not angry, just sad. "You made me feel like I was nothing more than an option, someone to keep around until you figured things out. I couldn’t just sit there waiting for you to wake up." Her words were heavy, but they held a sense of vulnerability that Charlie had never heard before.
He nodded slowly, his chest tightening at the honesty in her voice. "I know, and I’ll regret that for the rest of my life. But you don’t have to wait for me anymore. I’ve been waiting for you, Y/N. I’ve been waiting for us, for the right time, and I was wrong. I know I can’t change the past, but I want to be with you. I want to make it right. Please, let me try. Let us try."
Her eyes softened, just a little, but she took another step back, as if unsure. "I don’t know, Charlie. I can’t just go back to how things were. I can’t pretend it didn’t hurt."
"I don’t want to go back to what we were either," Charlie said quickly, his voice firm. "I want something real with you. Not games. Not confusion. I’m not asking for everything at once. I’m asking for a chance—just a chance to show you that I’m not the same person I was before." He paused, stepping forward. "I know we’re both scared. Hell, I’ve been terrified the whole time, but I’m not running anymore. I want to be with you. That’s all I know for sure."
She was silent for a moment, studying him, the conflict clear on her face. Charlie’s heart raced in his chest, the waiting unbearable.
And then, finally, she took a deep breath and smiled, just a little. Not the carefree, sarcastic smile he remembered from before, but something softer, more tentative. “You’ve got one chance, Charlie,” she said, her voice steady but warm. “One. Don’t make me regret it.”
Charlie felt something light and pure spread through him, like the weight of the world had finally lifted. He smiled, his heart leaping. “I won’t. I swear.”
And with that, she stepped closer, her hand brushing his in the briefest touch. It wasn’t a grand gesture, but it was enough. Enough to tell him that maybe—just maybe—they could make it through this together.
“I’ll hold you to that,” she whispered.
“I know,” Charlie said, his voice quiet, but full of the promise of everything he was willing to give to make it right.
Charlie couldn’t believe this moment was actually happening. All the fear, the confusion, the mistakes—all of it had led him here, standing in front of her, heart racing as he waited for her to make her decision. She wasn’t just someone he cared about anymore—she was everything. And now, after all the time apart, he couldn’t let this chance slip away.
Y/N’s eyes softened, her lips parting as if she was about to say something, but for once, Charlie didn’t need to hear the words. He could feel everything she was trying to say in the way she looked at him. The hesitation in her eyes was still there, but there was something else now—something warmer, something that told him she was willing to take that first step toward them again.
"Charlie..." she whispered, her voice trembling slightly, and he could see her vulnerability mirrored in his own.
He took another step toward her, his pulse hammering in his ears, but he wasn’t afraid anymore. Not of her, not of what might happen. He just knew he couldn’t walk away again. Not without knowing if they could truly have what they’d both wanted for so long.
For a moment, everything was still. Her gaze flickered down to his lips, and that was all it took. With a breath that seemed to catch in her chest, she closed the distance between them, her hand reaching up to rest lightly on his chest. She leaned in, and for the first time in what felt like forever, Charlie closed his eyes, letting everything around them fade away.
When their lips finally met, it wasn’t just a kiss. It was everything he’d been holding back—the months of silence, the longing, the regret—and in that single touch, it all came crashing down. Her lips were soft and warm, and Charlie felt like he was breathing again, as if the weight of everything that had gone wrong could somehow be erased in this one moment.
She kissed him back with the same intensity, her hands moving to rest against his neck as they held each other, both of them finally understanding what they’d been too afraid to admit before: they were meant to be together.
As they pulled away just slightly, their foreheads resting against one another, Charlie couldn’t help but smile. "I swear to you, Y/N, I’m never letting you go again."
Y/N chuckled softly, her voice still full of warmth. "Good. Because I’m not going anywhere either."
And in that moment, surrounded by the soft glow of the fading afternoon light, everything felt right. The past didn’t matter anymore. They had found their way back to each other, and this time, Charlie knew he wasn’t going to let fear or doubt take it all away.
They were finally together, and that was all that mattered.
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That paper. That paper, Neil died, and Todd will never throw that paper away
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dovesdreaming · 5 months ago
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Hi, Dove! Could you, please, write some Todd Anderson fluff? ♥ Maybe something about sunshine!female reader, she's also kinda shy, but not quite like Todd. She's really academically gifted, writes poems, but is unsure of herself. They know each other from school, but have never really spoken before, and then they accidentally run into each other during free period at the woods (where they like to spend some time alone and just read or write) and they bond.
It doesn't have to be about this, just any Todd fluff would be great! There is not enough dps content out here
𖤓She’s like being bathed in sunlight𖤓
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I LOVED THIS REQUEST!!!! it was perfect. I loved Todd so much and I find him so relatable. This type of reader is my favourite to write aswell!!! Please send more Dps requests people I love them! Hope you enjoy <3
Note: Thank you so much for 100 followers ♥️😘🥰
Word count: 1k
Warnings: none
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Welton had recently allowed girls to attend and your parents being the stuck up people they are, wanted their daughter to attend the best school possible. It hadn’t been so bad, you had made a few friends with the other girls who had started attending and some of the boys who you found the most tolerable. You found making friends hard at the best of times but being somewhere like Welton made it that much harder.
You found your favourite lesson to be English and it wasn’t necessarily because of the subject but more so the teacher. Mr keating managed to make even the most boring parts of the curriculum exciting. Before him you found poetry to be a wasted subject on yourself yet mr keating had turned you into a poet. He brought the writer out of you and showed you just how fun it could be. A subject you used to hate had turned into a hobby of yours, you found yourself writing down poetry and inspiration for poems all the time. Your poems had recently taken a more romantic turn as you had found a muse.
It started when mr keating drew the whole classes attention to a boy who sat in the top corner of the class, usually just out of sight from you, blocked by many students heads. He had encouraged the boy to read aloud a poem from the top of his head. You had never taken note of him before yet him and his poem entranced you. It tugged a core deep inside you that ‘the truth is a blanket that always left your feet cold’. He became the subject from all your poems then on. You always kept your feelings to your self in your notebook, never being sure of yourself enough to ever act on your feelings.
You didn’t know much about him apart from that he hung out with Neil, someone you spoke to occasionally to compare homework answers with. You wrote about how he made you feel. Your favourite spot to write poetry was just on the outskirts of the woods. There was a big willow tree back from the edge of the lake that provided shelter from direct sun yet still allowed it to feel like a summers day. You sat down in your usual spot and let your eyes rest on the moving water to think of your next poem.
Unbeknownst to you todd had knew about you since your first day of attendance. How could he not notice you, you were like a sunray leaving warmth and happiness everywhere you went. He admired you from afar and noticed how many people were attracted to your presence like people wanted to bathe in your light. What really caught his eye though was your smile. He had never seen one as bright and beautiful as yours.
His friends had quickly caught on to his gazing at you and they teased him relentlessly. They made sure to encourage him to speak to you aswell but Todd could never do that. He couldn’t, you were well.. you. You would never go for someone like him. So instead he wrote his feelings into his notebook and carried it everywhere for when inspiration may strike.
His favourite spot to write poetry was down by the lake. There was a tree on the edge of the wood line just set back from the water. He found no one disturbed him there and he could let his mind wander.
Today was like any other Saturday for you. You were heading down to your spot to write some poetry yet when you wandered towards the tree you noticed a figure already sitting in your spot. You froze with slight shock, no one ever came down here. You slowly stepped towards the tree, curious as to who had found your spot. You found no other than your muse. You stepped backwards to try and turn away before he could see you, you weren’t ready to face him yet. However you stepped on a branch which made quite a loud crack for its size. You cursed whoever wasn’t on your side today as you knew todd was now looking at you. You quickly threw on your best smile and reapproached him, trying to ignore how fast your heart was beating and how your palms clammed up. He looked like a deer caught in headlights which slightly calmed your nerves, you didn’t want him to feel like that around you. To try and calm both your nerves you tried to break the tension that built by greeting him “I hope I’m not interrupting the sweaty toothed madman’s writing but this is usually where I write as well. Do you mind if I join you?”. You regretted your attempt at humour and cringed internally yet Todd didn’t seem to notice still a bit frozen in place, he just about mustered a nod and with that you tentatively sat down next to him. For awhile you sat together in silence until you turned to him with a rush of adrenaline to try to get to know him. He was hesitant to talk and mumbled and tripped over his words but you were patient and never interrupted him. You listened to everything he had to say and Todd was grateful for it even if he couldn’t say it out loud. You spoke about poems and your favourite poets. You enjoyed his company and he enjoyed yours, he could feel himself relaxing around you something that was rare for him to do at Welton. You parted ways when it grew darker and he found himself craving your presence. You both longed to see each other again yet didn’t know if it would ever occur again, both still too afraid to make the move.
However when the next Saturday rolled around and you approached your spot again to find a figure already there you knew you wouldn’t ever have to worry about missing Todd’s presence again.
Yet as many Saturdays passed and you grew closer, neither of you realised the love you both shared for each other. As you both sat under the tree writing poetry about your muses who were sat right next to each other, you both remained clueless and would do for many more Saturdays until you finally read your poetry aloud to each other and discovered many similarities in the muses of the poems.
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Thank you for reading! <3
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churrosbitxh · 1 month ago
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idk but Pitts kinda gives the vibe of that one guy who grew really tall during summer break
Like average height but he likes to eat a lot so he grew 6-8 inches in a couple months
thus making him eat more and his knee hurting most of the time (making him act like a grumpy grandpa every night and meeks has to handle his grumpiness) bumping his head all the time and all the sleeves of his clothes are a couple inches too short for him, even his uniform
The other boys' reactions will be priceles seeing pitts growing into a giant after summer
Also I headcanon that Charlie was the big one when they were really young, he just never grew (lol we love you short king)
And Meeks was taller than Pitts at some point
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perksofbeingpoet · 1 month ago
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the beach boys fill the kitchen, happy voices getting lost in the fog of pasta water. pitts sings along in the highest voice he can muster, leaning close into knox when the latter complains, and knox just laughs and softly shoves him away. "c'mon, todd!" charlie is doing a sort-of shuffle on the carpet, using a wooden spoon as a microphone. "will you do me the honours?" todd shakes his head, grinning, but accepts charlie's outstretched hand, losing himself in the improvised dance moves and the sound of harmonies and bubbling sauce. pitts whistles. "look at you go, anderson! i might have to change dance partners- ow, i was joking!" meeks grins. "you wouldn't dare, anyway." charlie's eyes gleam under the kitchen lights. "oohh, this calls for a dance battle! c'mon, meeks!" "fine", meeks chuckles, handing knox the spatula. "knoxie, your turn." knox licks some sauce off his fingers, grin wide as he turns up the music. "take it away, guys."
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poemcal · 21 days ago
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✿ twitter au / dead poets society
where the dead poets society talk shit in twitter !!!
i.
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a little bit short but i'm still trying to be funny leave me alone 😝 plss don't forget to repost and like this post so i can make more 😭😭
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multifandom-imgns · 2 years ago
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to give me a character + a trope
Neil Perry x Reader
Opposites attract.
(I hope this is the right way to request if it then i apologize in advance)
ps: nooo it's the right way, thank uuu <3
i hope you enjoy!!
-
my requests are always open for give me a character + a trope.
Neil Perry + opposites attract: gender neutral!!
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you met neil because of steven.
you were sneaking to welton in the night cause you had something that your parents give you for steven.
there's no need to lie, you hated welton with all your heart. the students here have always had to be perfect. that was something you appreciated. yes, you were getting good grades, and that was enough for you to pass the classes.
even you hate the school's system there were one person you always look up to, neil perry. he was your opposite, he was everything you want to be. unlike you he can talk to his parents about his future, but you were just following your parents' dreams.
i guess that was the reason you fell in love with him.
"steven?" you whispered and looked around. where was he?
"steven has to deal with something, with gerard." you heard neil. "i can help if you want."
"well, i just have to give these to steven."
neil smiled at you and walked towards you. you knew there was nothing special going on, you knew he only loved people like him.
you gave him the books and smiled.
"so, how was your school?"
"nothing but classic welton."
"yeah." and that's how the conversation ended. he didn't say anything and the silence began to be uncomfortable. "i have to go, good night then."
"wait, not right now." he grabbed your wrist and walked to his room really fast. you assumed that this was a 'sleep' time control.
he rushed you into his room, almost pushed you.
"y/n, is there a problem?" you heard todd's voice. he was your best friend after steven. "why did you dragged you secret crush in your room?" he said while laughing.
"i didn't."
"thank you todd, you just ruined my love confession."
you looked at them in surprise. "what? can somebody tell me what's going on?"
"well," neil said as he put the books on the table. "i was gonna confess but thanks to your best friend, it ruined."
"you like me?" you still don't understand, or simply you don't want to believe.
"i didn't like you at first, but over time you changed my mind. taking care of you or spending time with you was my favourite thing. i love helping you in trigonometry. "
you smiled. "trigonometry?"
"yeah," he laughed. "don't you like me?"
"i do neil, but i'm just shocked. it was unexpected."
"then, so that you won't be surprised, I'm telling you that I'm going to kiss you." he said while walking towards you.
"hey! i don't want to see my two friends kissing." todd closed his eyes. "please find another room."
"then please turn your behind todd." neil said as he came close to kissing you.
you stopped him by grabbing him by the shoulders. "i wanna kiss you to neil but i don't think it's a right time." you smiled and kissed his cheek. "see you tomorrow then?"
"yeah, see you tomorrow." you left the room smiling.
when you closed the door, you heard neil tell todd that he ruined your first kiss moment. you laughed silently and walked away with a big smile.
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jakegyllenbaalz · 24 days ago
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dead poets society, dir peter weir (1989)
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smth-intheway · 2 months ago
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This supposed to be a headcanon not an actual canon. 😭😭 (this generator is an actual DPS fan you can’t prove me wrong. Btw the Neil’s one hit differently)
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dead3ve · 7 months ago
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Hi! I absolutely love your writing! I was wondering, if you are interested, could you write a Todd Anderson x shy female reader where they go on a picnic and when the sun begins to set, they read each other poetry they wrote for one another? They would be dating at that point! Thank you so much!
my first request babyy!! thank you so much <33
Todd Anderson x fem!reader
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Summary: In the beginning, Todd was shy, closed off and cautious around girls. All of a sudden, he's found himself bathing in the glow of a sunset, reciting his written words to who he wrote about.
Warnings: they/them pronouns used. no use of y/n. First Todd Anderson fic. Reader referred to as girl. kissing
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It had taken Todd weeks to flirt with his partner. Initially, the girl was the one to take Todd's hand, or hold his face, or pull him into the kiss. Todd's partner was the one to make him flustered. He rarely ever saw them blushing because of his actions.
However, Todd was witnessing his girl blushing, looking down and fiddling with the gingham picknick blanket as Todd recited one of his longer poems to them. They couldn't look at him, due to the heat in their face and beat of their heart, so they looked at the setting sun. The poem was about their relationship. It was about the first time they snuck out of Welton together without the other Dead Poets. Todd's partner took him dancing. It was the first time Todd had felt brave.
The girl remembered the way Todd was able to hold their waist without having to ask. He was able to nuzzle into their neck without hesitation as they slow danced. It was the first time Todd kissed them. The first time they were kissed by Todd. Not the other way around.
Once he finished his poem, Todd looked up from his notebook and looked at the blushing girl. Their head was looking towards the sun and their lips were smiling. Thier left hand was resting on Todd's thigh. He could feel their joy from their fingers.
"I didn't know you wrote about me, Todd." They spoke in whispers. The way Todd usually spoke when he was feeling anxious or shy.
Todd put his hand out and pulled their face back to his. Something they had done to him many times. "I write about things that inspire me." He smiled at their red cheeks, giggling slightly as he talked. He enjoyed the girl's growing shyness.
His partner scooted closer to Todd, making sure that their legs were touching. Todd put an arm around their waist once they were settled. He hadn't felt in control before he met his girl. They allowed him to have that in between his confident friends and his careless parents.
"I wrote that short story about you." They'd admitted it into Todd's shoulder. Their voice was muffled into the knitted jumper. "Mr Keating asked me about it after he marked it." They spoke the rest of it into Todd's jumper as well. Their warm breath kissed Todd's skin through his jumper.
"Really?" Todd spoke into their hair. "What did he say?" He asked, speaking into their hair. At that he began pressing kisses onto their hairline.
His partner squeezed themself into Todd's chest, turning their face up to Todd's to receive a kiss on their lips, blush still bright on their face. Todd smiled and did what they'd silently asked for, leaning his head down to press his lips to theirs. Todd wrapped his arms around them, settling into the kiss.
"Mr Keating told me I was good for you. That we were good for each other." They were mumbling against Todd's lips. "Said he hadn't seen you so vocal in his class." They went back to kissing Todd once they finished their sentence.
Todd thought about the lesson while they kissed. He'd only said two sentences because he had answered two questions. Todd hadn't really said anything in comparison to his friends and classmates. He pulled away from the kiss suddenly, making a small smacking sound from the pair's lips. Todd looked his partner in the eye.
"I only said two things that lesson." Todd asked raising an eyebrow. He had been quiet, how was he being loud?
"Exactly. That was more than usual, handsome." They brought back their flirty charm saying this. His partner pulled Todd's face back down to theirs, making sure the kiss continued throughout the sunset, wanting to bathe in the warmth of the final rays of sun, and Todd Anderson's tight embrace.
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