First Post!
Hi guys! I've been reading your stuff for quite a while now, and I thought I would have a go at writing my own fic. This is my first one and I'm not really sure if I'm doing this right, I'm new lol. So this is just a short one inspired by a dream I had the other night :-) Hope you like it! And please comment me and tell me how to do this posting thing properly if I'm doing it wrong! Thanks! xXx
Title: Andrea
Rating: Not sure about American ratings, but British PG at the most, nothing graphic.
Pairing: Andy/Miranda
Summary: Andy walks out on Nate to go and comfort Miranda who is upset for some mysterious reason yet to be revealed!
Disclaimer: I do not own The Devil Wears Prada or any of the characters, I'm just borrowing them!
“Andy, if you walk out of here now, don’t bother coming back.” His voice was full of anger, but underneath lay disappointment; he knew he was losing her. She was changing and it was becoming impossible to deny.
Andy knew she had a choice to make. She was no longer the same person she had been when she first met Nate and moved to the city. A whole new life had opened up for her, and much as the old Andy with her moral compass should have hated it, there was no denying that it excited and frightened her. And that was what she needed in her life. Holding on to who she used to be, who she fervently wanted herself to be and who Nate wanted her to be was constricting her. She knew what she wanted. “She needs me, Nate”.
Lost. Four words, an insincere apology in her eyes and he knew he had lost.
The truth is she couldn’t have chosen Nate if she had wanted to. When she had heard the sound of Miranda’s voice on the phone, she had been worried. Her heartstrings had been pulled and there was no way she could have ignored it. Miranda was upset and she needed Andrea. All she had needed to hear was the way she said her name and she was involved; she couldn’t walk away.
All the way to Miranda’s house in the cab she bit her nails and stared nervously out the window. Nate didn’t get a second thought, she knew she had done the right thing as far as he was concerned. It wasn’t fair for him to think he had a certain type of girlfriend, when in fact he had the opposite type, the type he would hate if he knew her for what she was. But she worried about Miranda. All she had said was “Andrea.” Nothing else, and that alone told her something was wrong: Miranda usually fired orders down the phone. There should at least have been a “that’s all.” But also the tone of her voice told Andrea to be worried: she sounded tired, completely beaten and crying for help. All this from one word - Andrea.
Andy paid the driver and got out her key as she climbed the steps to Miranda’s town house. It was very early in the morning, about 6 o’clock, and Andy hoped the twins were either still fast asleep or at their fathers, because she didn’t want to have to explain this to them. She closed the door quietly and stood in the foyer wondering how the hell she was supposed to know where to find Miranda.
“Andrea…” floated down from the first floor, same tone as before. Andy looked up and could see a dim light spilling into the blue of the landing from one of the rooms down the hall. Taking a deep breath she put her foot on the first step and started to climb the stairs. Tentatively, she pushed the door to Miranda’s room open and saw a shape lying in the bed, covered with a burgundy quilt, facing away from the door.
“Miranda?” She looked round, her eyes were red and puffy, she had definitely been crying. Her eyed were reaching out to Andy, begging her to be a saviour. Miranda couldn’t pull herself out of this one. It was so unlike her not to be able to save herself, but she had gone to pieces. Sad as it was, there was something endearing about it. Andy felt needed and she desperately wanted to comfort Miranda. Tears welled in her eyes and she stepped over to the bed. Miranda rolled over to face her and held out both her arms.
“Miranda…” Andy sat on the edge of the bed and then lay down into the embrace. Miranda gripped tight to her, putting her head on Andy’s chest and sobbing freely for the first time in the presence of another person since childhood. Andy didn’t give a thought to this being awkward - it wasn’t. She held Miranda tight, stroking her hair to keep it out of her face and let her cry.
Title: Andrea
Rating: Not sure about American ratings, but British PG at the most, nothing graphic.
Pairing: Andy/Miranda
Summary: Andy walks out on Nate to go and comfort Miranda who is upset for some mysterious reason yet to be revealed!
Disclaimer: I do not own The Devil Wears Prada or any of the characters, I'm just borrowing them!
“Andy, if you walk out of here now, don’t bother coming back.” His voice was full of anger, but underneath lay disappointment; he knew he was losing her. She was changing and it was becoming impossible to deny.
Andy knew she had a choice to make. She was no longer the same person she had been when she first met Nate and moved to the city. A whole new life had opened up for her, and much as the old Andy with her moral compass should have hated it, there was no denying that it excited and frightened her. And that was what she needed in her life. Holding on to who she used to be, who she fervently wanted herself to be and who Nate wanted her to be was constricting her. She knew what she wanted. “She needs me, Nate”.
Lost. Four words, an insincere apology in her eyes and he knew he had lost.
The truth is she couldn’t have chosen Nate if she had wanted to. When she had heard the sound of Miranda’s voice on the phone, she had been worried. Her heartstrings had been pulled and there was no way she could have ignored it. Miranda was upset and she needed Andrea. All she had needed to hear was the way she said her name and she was involved; she couldn’t walk away.
All the way to Miranda’s house in the cab she bit her nails and stared nervously out the window. Nate didn’t get a second thought, she knew she had done the right thing as far as he was concerned. It wasn’t fair for him to think he had a certain type of girlfriend, when in fact he had the opposite type, the type he would hate if he knew her for what she was. But she worried about Miranda. All she had said was “Andrea.” Nothing else, and that alone told her something was wrong: Miranda usually fired orders down the phone. There should at least have been a “that’s all.” But also the tone of her voice told Andrea to be worried: she sounded tired, completely beaten and crying for help. All this from one word - Andrea.
Andy paid the driver and got out her key as she climbed the steps to Miranda’s town house. It was very early in the morning, about 6 o’clock, and Andy hoped the twins were either still fast asleep or at their fathers, because she didn’t want to have to explain this to them. She closed the door quietly and stood in the foyer wondering how the hell she was supposed to know where to find Miranda.
“Andrea…” floated down from the first floor, same tone as before. Andy looked up and could see a dim light spilling into the blue of the landing from one of the rooms down the hall. Taking a deep breath she put her foot on the first step and started to climb the stairs. Tentatively, she pushed the door to Miranda’s room open and saw a shape lying in the bed, covered with a burgundy quilt, facing away from the door.
“Miranda?” She looked round, her eyes were red and puffy, she had definitely been crying. Her eyed were reaching out to Andy, begging her to be a saviour. Miranda couldn’t pull herself out of this one. It was so unlike her not to be able to save herself, but she had gone to pieces. Sad as it was, there was something endearing about it. Andy felt needed and she desperately wanted to comfort Miranda. Tears welled in her eyes and she stepped over to the bed. Miranda rolled over to face her and held out both her arms.
“Miranda…” Andy sat on the edge of the bed and then lay down into the embrace. Miranda gripped tight to her, putting her head on Andy’s chest and sobbing freely for the first time in the presence of another person since childhood. Andy didn’t give a thought to this being awkward - it wasn’t. She held Miranda tight, stroking her hair to keep it out of her face and let her cry.