marilyn thornhill x fem reader

promise

Miss Thornhill asks for you after class, because the whole time you were distracted an unfocused and the only thing catching your attention was the birds on the classroom window.

You shrink a little as the older woman calls out your name, sending a look to you as you're packing up your books. Enid, in front of you and next to Wednesday, sends you a sympathetic look and wince; but smiles regardless in support, sending you two thumbs up.

As the rest of the class filters out, you make it to the front of her desk. Miss Thornhill is resting her palms against it, leaning back and regarding you with concern. You hike up your bag against your shoulder, clearing your throat as you avoid her imploring, gentle, eyes.

"Yes, Miss?" You say, but it comes out more wobbly than you intended. And tears are already gathering in your eyes. And you feel pathetic again, like the other day before the rain.

You wish your parents didn't have this effect on you, you wish you suddenly weren't a child again when they yell at you over the phone like last night, vicious and disappointed and mean.

"Is everything okay?" She starts with, gently, and you have to smile through the urge to cry.

"Yeah!" You say overenthusiastically, reeling it in as you rock on your heels. "Yeah, just...just tired." You shrug, pressing your lips together and tightening your hold on your backpack.

Marilyn though sighs softly, frowning. You feel worse at the disapproval from her. "Don't lie to me, honey." She folds her arms, tapping her nail against her bicep.

"You've been distracted my entire lesson. Usually you're bursting with questions," The other woman says, making you gnaw at the skin of your lips and look to her shoes away from her concerned and loving gaze.

"Did something happen?" She implores gently. "Yoko told me she heard you yelling over the phone last night."

You freeze, looking up with wide eyes and lips parted in shock. "She told you what?"

"Excuse me," Miss Thornhill snaps, frowning at your tone. You shut your mouth and blush, blinking the tears at your eyes away furiously. "Attitude with me won't get you anywhere, young lady." Marilyn's voice pitches in disapproval, and you feel even smaller than the other day.

Because when she's warm she's like the sun, but when she's cold it's winter incarnate.

A whimper claws up your throat and you shove it back down instantly, almost choking on the effort to not cry.

Miss Thornhill notices, instantly her expression softens and she's moving forwards and placing her hands at your biceps. Trailing down, she takes your hands and squeezes, making you look up into her now gentle gaze.

"Yoko was just worried," She starts, and you instantly feel awful. "And frankly, I am too. I don't think it's very nice to act like that when someone's worried about you, do you, sweetheart?" She says, and it's in that degrading tone that makes you feel like you're floating, like the only thing that can tether you is Marilyn.

"Mhm," You hum negatively, shaking your head no as you bite your lip. Sometimes, like now, you wonder if Miss Thornhill is a siren, because you always, always agree with that she says.

She smiles, eyes crinkling at the edges in approval. "Good girl."

And oh, something inside of you lights up. Your heart beat quickens and your neck is red. When her hands leave yours and she rounds her desk to sit, you suddenly feel so empty that the urge to cry again comes back.

She gestures for you to sit at the chair in front of you, and you obey almost instantly. If you paid more attention, you would have noticed how pleased this makes the older woman.