marilyn thornhill x fem reader

the lily

You're so unbelievably embarrassed by your actions the other night that you've skipped both your Botany classes with Miss Thornhill.

You don't even really remember leaving her office, how you got up from your knees and didn't end up begging for her touch. You think she led you to the door, tucked your hair behind your ear and kissed just below your cheek and above your jawline; pulling back and kindly saying goodnight.

You think you stuttered something out that resembled words, but the stain of her lipstick is on your skin still when you get back to your dorm, then the entire night flashes past you making you collapse with a groan onto your bed.

You're shamed by how much you want her, embarrassed by the hold Miss Thornhill has, fucking mortified by how unfairly fucking attractive and hot and alluring and commanding she is.

So you avoid, because you don't want to have to bring it up with her, or talk about how you would do anything, be anything, she asked. And how terrifying being known like that is.

You don't get far, almost three days of skipping her class and Ms. Weems calls you into her office while in Gothic Literature. You get stares, blushing softly when Wednesday looks to you in silent question from in front of you, your name blaring over the speakers as you gather your things.

You make it to the Principle's office, and knocking softly you're prompted by a soft "Come in!" from the other side, then your heart is dropping when you open the door.

Miss Thornhill is standing in front of Larissa Weem's desk, holding a potted plant and animatedly laughing and talking with her. Like the other night was a dream, like it never happened. Yet your heart still swoons, because every time you see her holding a plant like it's her own personal child you get the urge to hug her.

You smile politely when Ms. Weems catches your eye over Marilyn's shoulder, standing from her desk elegantly.

This prompts Miss Thornhill to turn, and when her eyes catch yours, she's smiling kindly, brown eyes dipped in warmth. You heart rate slows, and the panic stilling your heart is quelled for the time being. Maybe, like you first thought, the other night was real.

"Ah, wonderful," Ms. Weems says, looking to you pleasantly. "Thank you for coming." You nod at Larissa's words, biting your lip as you play with your bag strap.

"Am I in trouble?" You hesitantly ask.

Larissa and Marilyn share a look, and you blush.

"No trouble at all," Weems assures you, but her eyes catch Marilyn's again and you shift uncomfortably. They're so in sync, in tune, and you hate that this little spark of doubt enters your chest.

Ms. Weems must know Marilyn so much more than you, you think sadly.

"Miss Thornhill just wanted to have a word with you about your attendance in her class." Larissa then clasps her hands in front of her, correcting herself with a smile.

"Well, your lack thereof." You shrink into yourself at the observation. "You've apparently been quite hard to run into?" Larissa says, directing this question to Miss Thornhill. You look up, and the red-head is smiling sadly to you, and you feel awful and wrong and mean.

"Yes," Marilyn starts, sighing sadly. Her brown eyes are concerned and worried when she looks to you, she anxiously corrects her glasses on her face and your throat closes up in regret.

"Gosh," Miss Thornhill starts, pressing her free hand to her chest. "I'd just feel awful if I did anything to make you think my class wasn't a safe space."