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

a worthy adversary~

"Prepare them for college." Nolan commanded, trying to feign a friendliness by clapping him on the shoulder. "Oh, and I had a word earlier this afternoon with your word, Miss (l/n)." Keating's attention was immediately gotten, when earlier Nolan's words had fallen to meet their mark in his brain. 

"Pardon?" he was nearly whispering, praying she had not gotten involved in the stunt. Nolan shrugged. 

"I saw it fit that, considering the basis of the article was to take advantage of her admittance," he paused to gauge the slight slip-up of Keating's mask "I would have her in to chat a little bit about who the culprits were." Keating licked his lips nervously. 

"And, sir?" The man cleared his throat, ready for the worst. 

"Oh, she is not quite sure who published the article." Nolan's eyes fluttered closed as he shrugged. "I would keep an eye on that one, John. Young women at this age are a force to be reckoned with." 

"Yes, she is." John Keating smiled weakly, but - for once in his life - it did not reach those kind, oceanic eyes. 

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

When Charlie finally came out of his room, he was wearing sunglasses and carrying bongos, clearly recovered enough to turn the whole ordeal into another evening laugh. Not that (y/n) would ever complain, hearing the laughter around her and seeing happy faces never failed to warm her heart in the absence of her mother. 

Meeks, looking wonderful as ever in a red argyle sweater and matching tie, stood leaning against the wall beside her, while she perched in the empty chair. The girl beside him sat with her longs crossed, bored expression plastered on her face while she heard Charlie. Meeks hand sat gently on her shoulder, playing with small curls in her hair. 

"If you'd like to sit, I refuse to get up." she whispered to him, smiling faintly. Meeks did a fake pouting face that actually looked quite genuine. 

"Not even for me?" his voice went tiny, like a little child's. (y/n) tipped her head back to grin fondly at him, admiring the sharp planes of his jawline from this angle. Until he looked back down at her, then she giggled at his chin rolls. 

"Especially not for you," she said, matter-of-factly. "I'd let you sit in my lap." The boy flushed and adjusted his glasses - a nervous tic. 

"God, you're a terrible person." He joked, cheeks still a startling yet lovely red. (Y/n) returned her attention to Charlie and the corners of her mouth quirked up. 

"Of course I am. But you love it, don't you?" He coughed once into his hand, smothering a laugh. Which gave (y/n) her answer. Charlie, meanwhile, had kept delivering his outrageous theatric and detailed testimony to what happened earlier that day, even going so far as to make noises during the 'thwack' of the paddle hitting him. 

Keating suddenly entered the room, putting a silent note in the air that felt tinged with anxiety, which (y/n) deduced was from the fact that Hager had a tendency to surprise them during their evening soirees. 

"Mr. Keating!" Charlie exclaimed, remaining seated. Keating strode into the room, directly to Charlie without even a glance at (y/n). This unnerved her greatly, because he often found her gaze in social situations. 

"It's all right gentlemen." Mr. Keating diffused their nervous energy quickly, for they all trusted him with their boyishness.