Fic: J et M
Random something tossed together for
somniesperus' v-day challenge, because, hell, I still have 5 minutes till v-day's over in my time zone and it's not the same thing if it's not really v-day.
Title: J et M
Fandom: Devil Wears Prada
Description: #16. Why does Jacqueline irritate Miranda so much, anyway?
You should have known better.
"We mustn't tell anyone," you hear that horrible, French-accented voice say. "Not my husband... not yours."
You should have known that she was going to use this against you.
"We share a secret now," she continues, "forever," and you wish to God you didn't, because for the longest time, it's been your secret, and your secret alone, and the only thing worse is that you shared it with her willingly. She didn't even have to pry it out of you. She didn't even have to try. All she had to do was smile invitingly at you, press her hand against the small of your back, slide it alongside the crook of your hip --
-- and the next thing you knew, her perfume was filling your nostrils, her hair in your fists, and her mouth crushed against yours, and all you could think was, oh my god I'm finally home
"We can't do this again," someone sobs, and only when she wipes a tear out of the corner of your eye, you realise it's you.
You should have known this would mean more to you than it ever would to her.
somniesperus' v-day challenge, because, hell, I still have 5 minutes till v-day's over in my time zone and it's not the same thing if it's not really v-day.
Title: J et M
Fandom: Devil Wears Prada
Description: #16. Why does Jacqueline irritate Miranda so much, anyway?
You should have known better.
"We mustn't tell anyone," you hear that horrible, French-accented voice say. "Not my husband... not yours."
You should have known that she was going to use this against you.
"We share a secret now," she continues, "forever," and you wish to God you didn't, because for the longest time, it's been your secret, and your secret alone, and the only thing worse is that you shared it with her willingly. She didn't even have to pry it out of you. She didn't even have to try. All she had to do was smile invitingly at you, press her hand against the small of your back, slide it alongside the crook of your hip --
-- and the next thing you knew, her perfume was filling your nostrils, her hair in your fists, and her mouth crushed against yours, and all you could think was, oh my god I'm finally home
"We can't do this again," someone sobs, and only when she wipes a tear out of the corner of your eye, you realise it's you.
You should have known this would mean more to you than it ever would to her.