poeta nascitur, non fit ~ steven meeks x fem!reader

splintered stanzas: the legacy

a/n: dedicated with love and gratitude to @Anea5382 for their comments - and the suggestion for this edition of 'splintered stanzas'! Without further ado, I present: 

The Legacy.

In all its years, Welton Academy had never before accepted a female pupil to study within its grand halls.  However, for the first time in its rich history, it was (y/n) (l/n) who walked her way through the halls, embedding progressive energy into the every planks that made up the floors.

While her circumstances for studying at the preparatory school were not as "Jane Austen heroine" as she might have hoped, transferring to Welton and leaving her life in London was, quite possibly, the best choice she had ever made. 

It should, however be noted that young (y/n) was not exactly the perfect,  poised young woman that the old, withered headmaster had hoped. In fact, he wanted her gone the moment she had taken her seat during the opening ceremony a month prior, and had only allowed to study because he was desperate for Mr. John Keating to continue teaching at his school. 

What no one would have guessed, was that Mr. Nolan, despite his ignorance regarding higher education for young women, would decide to properly mark the moment in history. It appeared that the Board of Education was looking to integrate the oppressed and wholly unappreciated gender into schools, and this would gain Welton the attention it so needed to flourish. 

Parent donations could only be stretched so far. 

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

It was not long after the maiden voyage of Todd's new desk set that (y/n) handed the sweets to her two best friends and swept off humming into her dorm room to get ready for the party with Knox. 

"It's not like I'm excited to go," she spoke gently to the potted plant on her desk as she picked an outfit "I'm just sick of not being around other girls! I mean, being a sixteen year old girl is all about that girly stuff, right?" 

Giggling, she shook her head. 

"No, I'm being stupid. It'll be fun." The houseplant stood in vigil, silently observed her youthful excitement. Spending so many months around teenage boys did some not-very-lovely things to her brain, and left her feeling homesick for her mother. Unfortunately, flying to London was out of the question - until Christmas break at least - so (y/n) would settle for finding herself some new companions within the State she now called home. 

Eventually, after meditating and consulting her darling plant, which was one of her last gifts from her mother, (y/n) had chosen her outfit to the evening soiree. 

Fitting to the general scholarly, Welton aesthetic, she had chosen herself a black knee-length slip dress paired with an earthy, brown jacket, her typical Mary Jane's, and a black beret. Looking at herself in the mirror while she swiped on mascara and lip tint, hair already pinned up, she felt like the perfect girl in a film. 

However, instead of  a perfect escort, she was interrupted by a startled-looking Pitts and Charlie, who barreled down her door. 

"Hey!" she jumped "what if I'd been in drawers?" (y/n) stood with her hands upon her hips, a half-serious, half-playful teasing expression laid bare on her face.