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

radio free america~

song of the chapter: diana by paul anka

3rd person pov...

The young girl, (y/n), and her mentor's cheerful walk through the lands was an ambient one, as they were surrounded by the warm palette of Autumn colors and she took joy from hearing them rustle in the wind. 

"So, my dear," Keating begins after a few moment's silence "how are those boys treating you? You should consider yourself lucky, back in my day the Dead Poets were too afraid of women to let them join." She laughed loudly, and the older man's eyes sparkled as he took note of the life in her energy. 

"Aw, they're honestly quite wonderful" she gushes "sure, they can each be your typical teenage American, a little self-absorbed, but they've always treated me like just another boy." For a few paces, Keating meditated on his response before speaking again. 

"You do understand, (y/n), you are most unlike any other boy," she glanced up at him from under her eyelashes before nodding. "the dawn of a new era begins with you, and it is wholly up to you how you choose to proceed." (y/n) pursed her lips quietly, taking in his truth. After all, she was the dawn of a new era, a more feminist era in elite education. And she knew, she would do anything to make sure that the young women to come after her time would not have to be let in on a technicality, as she had been. 

"They feel like home - older brothers who show affectionate in odd ways, but affection just the same." she took a breath before continuing "I've never met any gentlemen like them before, and their unique characters are what make their company so endearing." she chuckled, remembering the little moments of debauchery she had been subjected to during her short time at Welton. Mr. Keating smiled, never missing any of the little moments between the young girl he cared for, and none other than Steven Meeks. 

"Hmm," he hummed, the two still arm-in-arm as they came up to the town after close to an hour of walking "and what of Mr. Meeks? I do wonder what his original poem will be. Heartbreaking, perhaps, or  - if it were simply a scientific comparison, not poem at all." (y/n) lightly tapped her mentored shoulder with a small paperback novel she'd been reading that day. 

"I'll have you know, sir," she said playfully "That Steven Meeks is indeed a poet, although not in the tradition sense of the world." The older gentleman looked at her pointedly and she blushed under his gaze. 

"A poet, hm?" he pondered aloud, letting her step first into the bookstore before following "We shall see." (y/n) turned to stick her tongue out at him from behind a shelf of leather-bound classics, earning a hearty laugh that made her spirit soar.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Upon walking back up the forest road to Welton Academy, arms laden heavy with newly-purchased worlds of ink and paper, (y/n) was quickly summoned by none other than The Dead Poets society. 

"Oh, (y/n) thank God," Charlie pants "those two won't shut up about their radio and I think their genius is rubbing off on me." he slung his arm around her shoulder before peering into the brown paper bag she clutched onto so protectively. 

"Hey, watch it!" she chastised, squirming out of his embrace "These are brand-new and much more valuable to me than coffee so I suggest you stay away if you cherish breathing ." The boys took her warning and each took a step back from the girl - still in her plaid skirt and Welton blazer - who was glaring at them each before failing to disguise her smile.