DWP Halloween Special - Handy, Chapter 2
Title: Handy
Rating: NC-17
Pairing: Andy/Miranda
Prompt: Based on a prompt by pradaschroma about Miranda “accidentally” grabbing Andy’s breast.
Summary: Miranda is having a bad day. And then it gets worse :-O
Warnings: It’s a Halloween Special!! Craziness ensues!
Disclaimer: I don’t own The Devil Wears Prada. I only play around with our favourite characters because it’s entertaining an no profit is being made.
A/N: Okay, chapter two. It's a bit shorter but I hope you like it! I'm going to switch point-of-view between the two, because I love seeing the difference between the way they handle the situation ^_^
Like my other story, this has not been beta-read. I try to proof-read and edit what I write by myself but English is not my mother tongue, so tread with care. ^_^
Previous Chapter
Chapter 2
Andy Sachs was in love with her boss. It wasn’t something that she had planned on, it wasn’t something she had welcomed, and it certainly was not something that made her everyday life any easier. Miranda Priestly was possibly the most infuriatingly difficult person on earth to please. She constantly expected perfection and if anything was below that standard she would make sure to slice the individuals responsible in tiny pieces with only a glance and an icy insult rolling off her lips. Working as her assistant was hell. There was no life remaining beyond the countless errands, the frequent schedule amendments or the never ending commands rattled off at faster-than-light speed. You had to be better than your very best to keep up and although a lot of girls would kill for this job, the job would kill a lot of girls before the end of their first day.
Nevertheless Andy had grown into her role. She had moved past her initial righteous attitude and damnation of the fashion industry and had grown to actually enjoy and appreciate the work she was doing instead of viewing it only as a stepping stone toward a career in publishing. She had started to pay attention and had realized the amount of skill and effort Miranda put into her work. Her respect for the editor had only increased after Paris Fashion Week where Miranda had been so open and vulnerable one moment but then pulled herself together and relentlessly fought for her job just a day later. It would take enormous strength to pull through something like that and do it as elegantly as Miranda Priestly had.
In the months after Fashion Week Andy had excelled at her job, especially after Emily, the former first assistant, had moved on and Andy was left to hire and train new candidates. During that time Miranda had started to rely on her even more and it had pleased her tremendously when she had been asked to accompany Miranda to dinner for the first time. It had only been a work function, but Andy was sure that Emily had never been allowed to go. She was not really sure why Miranda had disliked all the new assistants, though. They hadn’t all been that bad. A few had actually been competent and Andy had given them more important tasks which apparently had not been too thrilling for her boss because the second assistant’s desk was always empty again on the following day.
Andy did not really mind that she had so much extra work, because it meant she’d spend more time in Miranda’s presence. On one of their late work nights, trying to recover the mess from a failed photo shoot, they had spent hours going over proofs and Andy had eagerly written down every detail Miranda had mentioned. When she had looked up at the quiet woman then, her eyes closed, a hand rubbing the tense neck muscles and a soft sigh escaping her lips, that was when Andy hit the brick wall called realization. She loved Miranda Priestly.
At first she had been in denial. She had named it a girl-crush, hero-worship and misplaced infatuation. However after a while she had accepted that what she was feeling ran much deeper, and it was not about Miranda Priestly, the fashion icon, the powerful entity or ruthless business warlord, but it had everything to do with Miranda, the woman. The few glimpses Andy had gotten of the person behind the mask, the vulnerable, lonely human being, with the surprisingly big heart, and the incredibly witty sense of humor and an intelligence that inspired her, had pulled her toward Miranda and Andy knew she wanted more.
She had only had two boyfriends in her life. Brandon had been her best friend all through High School who had asked her out during senior year and Andy had said yes. After all he was her friend. Then when she had moved to college, away from home and without her childhood friends nearby, she had met Nate, a sweet boy who had dreamt of becoming a celebrity chef. In the three years they’d been together he had always made Andy feel safe and loved and their relationship had been comfortable and uncomplicated. That is, until she had started working at RUNWAY and for Miranda Priestly. Working at the magazine and facing the demanding editor every day had changed Andy. It had opened a side of her she hadn’t known existed.
For the first time in her life someone had really challenged her and brought out the best and the worst in her. Miranda had been the first person in Andy’s life who had drawn and pulled her in, who had fascinated her to such a degree that even her subconscious thoughts were constantly occupied by the editor. She was twenty-four years old, and yet for the first time Andy felt alive. Nate had noticed her change and had rightfully blamed it on her new job and on her boss. Andy wasn’t sure exactly how much Nate had suspected before she herself had even known, but he had moved out by the time she had returned from Paris and although she missed him as her friend, he had not left a hole in her heart.
It was then that she had realized she had never truly loved him. At least not in a soul-mate, passionate kind of way. Now that she thought back, the difference between her comfortable feelings for Nate and the hurricane of emotions for Miranda was mind-blowing. When the older woman would look at her, pleasant ripples would travel down her spine. Pleasing Miranda’s every wish had become her sole purpose in life, just to see that satisfied twinkle in those blue eyes or a slight curl of the lips in approval. She had spent many nights tossing and turning with images of ruffled white hair and glistening, silky skin plaguing her dreams. She had fantasized so many times what Miranda’s lips would feel like, kissing up and down her spine, or those elegant hands wandering across her body, touching her everywhere.
Like right now. Andy could swear that she was standing in Miranda’s office with one of the editor’s hands holding her breast. She blinked a few times and looked down to the older woman’s face. The blue eyes were bright with terror, lips nothing more than a thin line and the most delicate flush crept up from Miranda’s exposed neckline. Andy was speechless. She was very certain she was daydreaming until she felt the heat from the older woman’s hand penetrating her cashmere sweater. Her heart rate increased dramatically and her chest seemed to burst when those delicate fingers started to rub against her. Andy could not help but close her eyes and gasp. Daydream or not, this was too good to be true.
She was startled by the movement of Miranda pulling at one hand with the other. The older woman did not look at Andy, she only stared at her hand on the breast, utter disbelief clouding her face. “Andrea,” she whispered, her voice trembling. “Please step away.” Andy was too shocked to move, until Miranda glanced up with a pleading look. “Please.” It was barely audible but the sincerity pulled Andy out of her trance and she awkwardly stumbled back. Miranda’s body jerked and the editor lunged after Andy. She landed on the carpet with a loud thud. “Ouch.” She groaned and Andy saw her hold onto her arm with her face twisted in what looked like extreme discomfort.
“Miranda, are you alright?” She hurried to kneel by the editor’s side. Miranda tried to lean up and within seconds her right hand had dashed forward and was now traveling up Andy’s thigh, past the hem of her skirt. It elicited another gasp, this time from both women and Andy’s eyes shot to Miranda’s. “Oh god. Andrea, please move away.” The older woman nearly groaned and turned her face to hide it against the soft carpet. Andy scrambled up and backed around the desk and toward the door. “Miranda, are you alright?” Although her breast and thigh were pleasantly tingling she was worried about the other woman’s behavior. Miranda never touched anyone or allowed anyone to touch her in return. Staring down at the woman who was struggling to get up while holding onto a twitching right arm, Andy was sure that something was very, very wrong.
“I will phone a doctor immediately, Miranda.” The editor managed to stand, turned her back to Andy and spoke quietly. “Yes, please.” Andy realized that the older woman had used the word ‘please’ several times in the past minute, which was very out of character. Panic rising at the possibility of Miranda having a heart attack or a stroke, she stumbled into the outer office and flung herself across her own desk to reach the phone. “Yes, security? I need medical assistance right away in Miranda Priestly’s office. Please hurry. This is an emergency."
Continue to chapter 3...
Rating: NC-17
Pairing: Andy/Miranda
Prompt: Based on a prompt by pradaschroma about Miranda “accidentally” grabbing Andy’s breast.
Summary: Miranda is having a bad day. And then it gets worse :-O
Warnings: It’s a Halloween Special!! Craziness ensues!
Disclaimer: I don’t own The Devil Wears Prada. I only play around with our favourite characters because it’s entertaining an no profit is being made.
A/N: Okay, chapter two. It's a bit shorter but I hope you like it! I'm going to switch point-of-view between the two, because I love seeing the difference between the way they handle the situation ^_^
Like my other story, this has not been beta-read. I try to proof-read and edit what I write by myself but English is not my mother tongue, so tread with care. ^_^
Previous Chapter
Chapter 2
Andy Sachs was in love with her boss. It wasn’t something that she had planned on, it wasn’t something she had welcomed, and it certainly was not something that made her everyday life any easier. Miranda Priestly was possibly the most infuriatingly difficult person on earth to please. She constantly expected perfection and if anything was below that standard she would make sure to slice the individuals responsible in tiny pieces with only a glance and an icy insult rolling off her lips. Working as her assistant was hell. There was no life remaining beyond the countless errands, the frequent schedule amendments or the never ending commands rattled off at faster-than-light speed. You had to be better than your very best to keep up and although a lot of girls would kill for this job, the job would kill a lot of girls before the end of their first day.
Nevertheless Andy had grown into her role. She had moved past her initial righteous attitude and damnation of the fashion industry and had grown to actually enjoy and appreciate the work she was doing instead of viewing it only as a stepping stone toward a career in publishing. She had started to pay attention and had realized the amount of skill and effort Miranda put into her work. Her respect for the editor had only increased after Paris Fashion Week where Miranda had been so open and vulnerable one moment but then pulled herself together and relentlessly fought for her job just a day later. It would take enormous strength to pull through something like that and do it as elegantly as Miranda Priestly had.
In the months after Fashion Week Andy had excelled at her job, especially after Emily, the former first assistant, had moved on and Andy was left to hire and train new candidates. During that time Miranda had started to rely on her even more and it had pleased her tremendously when she had been asked to accompany Miranda to dinner for the first time. It had only been a work function, but Andy was sure that Emily had never been allowed to go. She was not really sure why Miranda had disliked all the new assistants, though. They hadn’t all been that bad. A few had actually been competent and Andy had given them more important tasks which apparently had not been too thrilling for her boss because the second assistant’s desk was always empty again on the following day.
Andy did not really mind that she had so much extra work, because it meant she’d spend more time in Miranda’s presence. On one of their late work nights, trying to recover the mess from a failed photo shoot, they had spent hours going over proofs and Andy had eagerly written down every detail Miranda had mentioned. When she had looked up at the quiet woman then, her eyes closed, a hand rubbing the tense neck muscles and a soft sigh escaping her lips, that was when Andy hit the brick wall called realization. She loved Miranda Priestly.
At first she had been in denial. She had named it a girl-crush, hero-worship and misplaced infatuation. However after a while she had accepted that what she was feeling ran much deeper, and it was not about Miranda Priestly, the fashion icon, the powerful entity or ruthless business warlord, but it had everything to do with Miranda, the woman. The few glimpses Andy had gotten of the person behind the mask, the vulnerable, lonely human being, with the surprisingly big heart, and the incredibly witty sense of humor and an intelligence that inspired her, had pulled her toward Miranda and Andy knew she wanted more.
She had only had two boyfriends in her life. Brandon had been her best friend all through High School who had asked her out during senior year and Andy had said yes. After all he was her friend. Then when she had moved to college, away from home and without her childhood friends nearby, she had met Nate, a sweet boy who had dreamt of becoming a celebrity chef. In the three years they’d been together he had always made Andy feel safe and loved and their relationship had been comfortable and uncomplicated. That is, until she had started working at RUNWAY and for Miranda Priestly. Working at the magazine and facing the demanding editor every day had changed Andy. It had opened a side of her she hadn’t known existed.
For the first time in her life someone had really challenged her and brought out the best and the worst in her. Miranda had been the first person in Andy’s life who had drawn and pulled her in, who had fascinated her to such a degree that even her subconscious thoughts were constantly occupied by the editor. She was twenty-four years old, and yet for the first time Andy felt alive. Nate had noticed her change and had rightfully blamed it on her new job and on her boss. Andy wasn’t sure exactly how much Nate had suspected before she herself had even known, but he had moved out by the time she had returned from Paris and although she missed him as her friend, he had not left a hole in her heart.
It was then that she had realized she had never truly loved him. At least not in a soul-mate, passionate kind of way. Now that she thought back, the difference between her comfortable feelings for Nate and the hurricane of emotions for Miranda was mind-blowing. When the older woman would look at her, pleasant ripples would travel down her spine. Pleasing Miranda’s every wish had become her sole purpose in life, just to see that satisfied twinkle in those blue eyes or a slight curl of the lips in approval. She had spent many nights tossing and turning with images of ruffled white hair and glistening, silky skin plaguing her dreams. She had fantasized so many times what Miranda’s lips would feel like, kissing up and down her spine, or those elegant hands wandering across her body, touching her everywhere.
Like right now. Andy could swear that she was standing in Miranda’s office with one of the editor’s hands holding her breast. She blinked a few times and looked down to the older woman’s face. The blue eyes were bright with terror, lips nothing more than a thin line and the most delicate flush crept up from Miranda’s exposed neckline. Andy was speechless. She was very certain she was daydreaming until she felt the heat from the older woman’s hand penetrating her cashmere sweater. Her heart rate increased dramatically and her chest seemed to burst when those delicate fingers started to rub against her. Andy could not help but close her eyes and gasp. Daydream or not, this was too good to be true.
She was startled by the movement of Miranda pulling at one hand with the other. The older woman did not look at Andy, she only stared at her hand on the breast, utter disbelief clouding her face. “Andrea,” she whispered, her voice trembling. “Please step away.” Andy was too shocked to move, until Miranda glanced up with a pleading look. “Please.” It was barely audible but the sincerity pulled Andy out of her trance and she awkwardly stumbled back. Miranda’s body jerked and the editor lunged after Andy. She landed on the carpet with a loud thud. “Ouch.” She groaned and Andy saw her hold onto her arm with her face twisted in what looked like extreme discomfort.
“Miranda, are you alright?” She hurried to kneel by the editor’s side. Miranda tried to lean up and within seconds her right hand had dashed forward and was now traveling up Andy’s thigh, past the hem of her skirt. It elicited another gasp, this time from both women and Andy’s eyes shot to Miranda’s. “Oh god. Andrea, please move away.” The older woman nearly groaned and turned her face to hide it against the soft carpet. Andy scrambled up and backed around the desk and toward the door. “Miranda, are you alright?” Although her breast and thigh were pleasantly tingling she was worried about the other woman’s behavior. Miranda never touched anyone or allowed anyone to touch her in return. Staring down at the woman who was struggling to get up while holding onto a twitching right arm, Andy was sure that something was very, very wrong.
“I will phone a doctor immediately, Miranda.” The editor managed to stand, turned her back to Andy and spoke quietly. “Yes, please.” Andy realized that the older woman had used the word ‘please’ several times in the past minute, which was very out of character. Panic rising at the possibility of Miranda having a heart attack or a stroke, she stumbled into the outer office and flung herself across her own desk to reach the phone. “Yes, security? I need medical assistance right away in Miranda Priestly’s office. Please hurry. This is an emergency."
Continue to chapter 3...