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

redheads~

song of the chapter: my kind of woman ~ mac demarco

3rd person pov...

Welton was bustling with life at this time of day. The end of the first day of the term left many scholars with mountains of homework no easier to scale than Mt. Everest, so it was not uncommon to encounter younger children having panic attacks in corners and older students calming them down. 

Down the upperclassmen hall, while he knew his acquaintances were having much more fun 'studying' than himself, Todd Anderson sat at his desk, writing. Mr. Keating's words - seize the day - had resonated deeply with the boy, arguably the most than any other student in that room. The blond had grabbed a notebook and a pencil, set them upon his infamous desk set, and scribbled them down boldly on the center of the page.

He intended to seize the day, to get past his anxiety and truly live. He would, just - not now. Not while he was still discovering who he was and he was more focused on surviving his first year at Welton first.

Todd sits, appreciating the beauty that his English teacher had brought into his life that day, but felt overwhelmed after a single glance at his stack of textbooks - a reminder of his homework. With agitating certainty, the young boy rips the page out a crumples it, feeling a whirl of emotions that could only be described as  mild internal turmoil that was only increased the second he looked at the first Chemistry problem.

Not so far away from the confused boy, Knox awaited Dr. Hager who was set to be his escort for the evening. He wanders aimlessly, looking at the photos Mr. Keating had instructed them to give their attention to earlier. Like Todd, his young mind was still reeling from the lesson. 

"Ready, Overstreet?" the older man asks gruffly, not really caring much for the boy's preparedness in the slightest. Knox gulps and responds, following the man out of the oak doors. 

"Ready to go, sir." 

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

In the upperclassmen's lounge, the atmosphere was light. It was the closest any of the boys felt to home; a place where they can play chess, build illegal radios, and spend jovial time together. Cameron, darling that he is,  insisted that the gentlemen actually study, not just unwind. So, Neil and Charlie found themselves being instructed by the straight-backed redhead. (y/n), from her spot near the dartboard, looked over at the trio. Charlie, as if sensing her eyes on him, looked over with a look on his face that screamed 'help me'.

"Just a minute" she called while she aimed to launch a dart at the skeleton on the wall. Charlie rolled his eyes as she readied up to throw it. It was not common in the slightest to see a young girl sporting a pleated skirt, Mary jane's, and a knitted sweater throwing darts, and yet there (y/n) was. Although none of the boys present would admit it, they were intimidated by her bravery - her unwillingness to conform. She drew her arm back and let the dart whistle through the air before it met the wall with a satisfying thunk. Much to (y/n)'s dismay, however, hers was a hair to the left and just barely missed the plastic target's hat. 

"Alright, then" she drawled "what do you need my help with, hm?" Charlie motioned frantically to his math work, clearly very stressed out.