ABCDE; yeah I know my alphabet.
Fandom: The Devil Wears Prada
Pairing(s): Miranda/Andy
Rating: PG
Word Count: 250
Disclaimer: I do not own anything.
Author’s Note: For the ABCs of DWP drabble challenge at dvlwears_prada.
Prompt: antique
Title: Compliments
Miranda is used to compliments and shallow flattery. Over the years as the top dog of the fashion industry, she has grown accustomed to countless movers and shakers, using mere flowery words that mean absolutely nothing.
She is forced to trade pleasantries and feign genuine interest, but in truth, she hates it. Miranda hates being told repeatedly that she was things she knows she isn’t.
When they tell her she is like fine wine, she secretly scowls. Refined, elegant, sinewy, an acquired taste. Aged. Miranda detests the comparison. It is utterly absurd; a double-edged sword, reminding her that her beauty was slipping away. It stings.
When Andrea tells her she is beautiful, Miranda doesn’t believe her, but rather chooses to believe that the girl simply thought it would please her, that it was what Miranda wanted to hear.
Resting with limbs entwined, Andrea tells her, “You’re amazing.”
Miranda bites back a stinging retort, struggling to find the right words, the courage. “Don’t say that.”
Andrea frowns, “Why wouldn’t I?”
“You don’t have to say anything,” that you don’t mean. Miranda tries not to sound wounded.
Andrea gathers Miranda closer, one hand reaching up to cup her cheek, “Of course not.” Caressing soft skin, she sighs, “But I do mean it.” She leaned in for a slow, passionate kiss, as if to prove her point.
Breaking away for air, Miranda closes her eyes, “No, you don’t. But that’s fine.”
“I’ll show you,” Andrea’s eyes glazes over with renewed purpose.
Miranda shivers.
Fandom: The Devil Wears Prada
Pairing(s): None.
Rating: PG, I guess?
Word Count: 250
Disclaimer: I do not own anything.
Author’s Note: For the ABCs of DWP drabble challenge at dvlwears_prada.
Warning: If you are squirmy about abortions, this is not for you.
Prompt: bereft
Title: Muted
Andrea shut her tired eyes, her head spinning, body wracked in excruciating pain, mind reeling from a plethora of emotion.
Too much pain, feeling, it was all just too much.
She prayed desperately to no one in particular, distantly aware that she no longer believed in God. She prayed for anyone, anything, to take this all away.
Gently, she was lulled by the sweet drugs that invaded her system, a soft seductive lullaby she willingly submitted to. She struggled to stay awake and sane, still grappling with the reality of it; the irreversible finality of what she had done sunk in.
Delirious, Andrea watched as they took the stillborn away, like a jaundiced film, the picture painted in muted colours and moved with painstaking slowness.
Eyes widening, she opened her mouth, wanting to scream, thrash, for them to stop, for it to come back, but there’d been no sound.
Her aching body threatened revolt; she slumped back onto the hospital bed, anguished tears soaking the stained sheets. Swimming, gasping, sinking. She was falling deep into an abyss of nothing but space and despair. She’d fallen and she’ll never recover.
Afterwards, Andrea could only remember things in snippets, but the one thing she still saw (and could never forget) was nameless faces in white garbs snatching her dead baby and walking away in an endless loop.
Her world was now a silent film, dull and mind-numbingly still and she knew no sound or colour would ever come back into her life.
Fandom: The Devil Wears Prada
Pairing(s): Miranda/Andy
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: 200
Disclaimer: I do not own anything.
Author’s Note: For the ABCs of DWP drabble challenge at dvlwears_prada.
Prompt: clavicle
Title: Silk
Miranda stroked the gentle hollow of Andrea’s clavicle, mesmerized by the way light illuminates the ivory skin. She trailed her fingers down to the valley of supple breasts, revelling in the unbelievable texture. Miranda was certain no fabric she would touch could rival the feeling of this. Skin like a remarkable weave of premium satin and silk, it was utterly sinful and yet heavenly.
She watched her lover bask in wanton passion, so free and unrestrained.
She took a milky breast into her palm and wondered how could she have survived all her life without this? How have she been eating, sleeping, breathing without her?
Miranda trembled, recalling Paris last year. A horrible image of Andrea’s back towards her, clear as if she was seeing it, reliving the pain. She broke into uncontrollable sobs, heaving and gasping, unable to quell the sudden distress that overcame her.
Miranda made a decision and so had Andrea. She chose. She left. Miranda had been ready to offer Andrea the world and she had walked away.
“I’m here. Not going anywhere,” She felt Andrea’s arms circle around her tenderly like a cocoon.
Miranda closed her eyes, feeling entirely safe and protected.
She believed her.
Fandom: The Devil Wears Prada
Pairing(s): Miranda/Andy
Rating: PG
Word Count: 250
Disclaimer: I do not own anything.
Author’s Note: For the ABCs of DWP drabble challenge at dvlwears_prada.
Prompt: discordant
Title: The Dissonance of Silence
Cassidy hated confrontations.
Towards the end of their marriage, her parents had fought constantly, bickering over the smallest things. Whether it was who would take Caroline and her to their tennis matches or how often one had missed dinner with the family, their voices would rise into a crescendo of heated clamour before softening to speaking in to hushed tones, as if they were suddenly aware that they were not alone in the house. On these nights, Cassidy would crawl into Caroline’s bed.
Stephen was worse, Cassidy remembered. Every time he and her mother fought, and it was frequent, he would hurl profanities, slam the door forcefully, no doubt it was his intention to leave with a grand, angry exit. Other times, he would drink himself into a drunken stupor, stumbling about the house late in the night. (As they were then old enough to have separate rooms) Cassidy would, as before, find herself in Caroline’s soothing embrace.
On the rare occasions when Andy and her mother fought, there had been no warning, no sound. She and Caroline would watch helplessly as Andy, very calmly, retrieved her coat and let herself out the front door.
Sneaking back to Caroline’s room, they would make a short stop outside their mother’s room, listening. And in bed, Caroline and Cassidy would sleep huddled close together, their mother’s quiet weeping so distinctive and resonant even in a large house.
Cassidy could not be certain which was worse; the angry shouting or the deafening silence.
Fandom: The Devil Wears Prada
Pairing(s): Miranda/Andy
Rating: PG
Word Count: 250
Disclaimer: I do not own anything.
Author’s Note: For the ABCs of DWP drabble challenge at dvlwears_prada.
Prompt: enchant
Title: Like Magic
In the imaginative, wonderful world of clichéd Disney fairytales, where Prince Charming slays the dragon and sweeps the damsel off her feet, Andrea learnt as a child that the prince always gets the girl. Snug asleep in her bed, she dreamt of fairies and goblins, witches and demons and for a white knight to rescue her from her droll life.
But when the damsel in distress falls for the fire-breathing dragon (call it Stockholm syndrome if you will) instead, those dreams of grandeur quickly turned to pixie dust.
Scrambling for missing Prada heels and repeatedly fetching Hermès scarves, Andrea prayed for a magical elixir of some sort that would simply put her heart out of her unrequited misery.
“Andrea,” the dragon beckoned.
She sighed and headed into its lair, hands poised ready to scribble countless tasks.
“Andrea, you are to pack your things and leave the premises immediately.” The dragon’s breath of fire scorching Andrea’s skin while she spoke with a disciplined cadence.
“You’re firing me?!”
“I’m setting you free,” Miranda’s eyes glinted with evil-, with something Andrea couldn’t quite discern.
“I understand,” she responded sadly.
“Be ready to leave by seven. Roy will pick you up at your home. Dress formally. That’s all.” Andrea knew she was dismissed, but found she couldn’t even wiggle her toes.
As it turns out, the dragon and her white knight had been one and the same. It may be an unconventional thought, but it was as real as the fairytales of her childhood.
Pairing(s): Miranda/Andy
Rating: PG
Word Count: 250
Disclaimer: I do not own anything.
Author’s Note: For the ABCs of DWP drabble challenge at dvlwears_prada.
Prompt: antique
Title: Compliments
Miranda is used to compliments and shallow flattery. Over the years as the top dog of the fashion industry, she has grown accustomed to countless movers and shakers, using mere flowery words that mean absolutely nothing.
She is forced to trade pleasantries and feign genuine interest, but in truth, she hates it. Miranda hates being told repeatedly that she was things she knows she isn’t.
When they tell her she is like fine wine, she secretly scowls. Refined, elegant, sinewy, an acquired taste. Aged. Miranda detests the comparison. It is utterly absurd; a double-edged sword, reminding her that her beauty was slipping away. It stings.
When Andrea tells her she is beautiful, Miranda doesn’t believe her, but rather chooses to believe that the girl simply thought it would please her, that it was what Miranda wanted to hear.
Resting with limbs entwined, Andrea tells her, “You’re amazing.”
Miranda bites back a stinging retort, struggling to find the right words, the courage. “Don’t say that.”
Andrea frowns, “Why wouldn’t I?”
“You don’t have to say anything,” that you don’t mean. Miranda tries not to sound wounded.
Andrea gathers Miranda closer, one hand reaching up to cup her cheek, “Of course not.” Caressing soft skin, she sighs, “But I do mean it.” She leaned in for a slow, passionate kiss, as if to prove her point.
Breaking away for air, Miranda closes her eyes, “No, you don’t. But that’s fine.”
“I’ll show you,” Andrea’s eyes glazes over with renewed purpose.
Miranda shivers.
Fandom: The Devil Wears Prada
Pairing(s): None.
Rating: PG, I guess?
Word Count: 250
Disclaimer: I do not own anything.
Author’s Note: For the ABCs of DWP drabble challenge at dvlwears_prada.
Warning: If you are squirmy about abortions, this is not for you.
Prompt: bereft
Title: Muted
Andrea shut her tired eyes, her head spinning, body wracked in excruciating pain, mind reeling from a plethora of emotion.
Too much pain, feeling, it was all just too much.
She prayed desperately to no one in particular, distantly aware that she no longer believed in God. She prayed for anyone, anything, to take this all away.
Gently, she was lulled by the sweet drugs that invaded her system, a soft seductive lullaby she willingly submitted to. She struggled to stay awake and sane, still grappling with the reality of it; the irreversible finality of what she had done sunk in.
Delirious, Andrea watched as they took the stillborn away, like a jaundiced film, the picture painted in muted colours and moved with painstaking slowness.
Eyes widening, she opened her mouth, wanting to scream, thrash, for them to stop, for it to come back, but there’d been no sound.
Her aching body threatened revolt; she slumped back onto the hospital bed, anguished tears soaking the stained sheets. Swimming, gasping, sinking. She was falling deep into an abyss of nothing but space and despair. She’d fallen and she’ll never recover.
Afterwards, Andrea could only remember things in snippets, but the one thing she still saw (and could never forget) was nameless faces in white garbs snatching her dead baby and walking away in an endless loop.
Her world was now a silent film, dull and mind-numbingly still and she knew no sound or colour would ever come back into her life.
Fandom: The Devil Wears Prada
Pairing(s): Miranda/Andy
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: 200
Disclaimer: I do not own anything.
Author’s Note: For the ABCs of DWP drabble challenge at dvlwears_prada.
Prompt: clavicle
Title: Silk
Miranda stroked the gentle hollow of Andrea’s clavicle, mesmerized by the way light illuminates the ivory skin. She trailed her fingers down to the valley of supple breasts, revelling in the unbelievable texture. Miranda was certain no fabric she would touch could rival the feeling of this. Skin like a remarkable weave of premium satin and silk, it was utterly sinful and yet heavenly.
She watched her lover bask in wanton passion, so free and unrestrained.
She took a milky breast into her palm and wondered how could she have survived all her life without this? How have she been eating, sleeping, breathing without her?
Miranda trembled, recalling Paris last year. A horrible image of Andrea’s back towards her, clear as if she was seeing it, reliving the pain. She broke into uncontrollable sobs, heaving and gasping, unable to quell the sudden distress that overcame her.
Miranda made a decision and so had Andrea. She chose. She left. Miranda had been ready to offer Andrea the world and she had walked away.
“I’m here. Not going anywhere,” She felt Andrea’s arms circle around her tenderly like a cocoon.
Miranda closed her eyes, feeling entirely safe and protected.
She believed her.
Fandom: The Devil Wears Prada
Pairing(s): Miranda/Andy
Rating: PG
Word Count: 250
Disclaimer: I do not own anything.
Author’s Note: For the ABCs of DWP drabble challenge at dvlwears_prada.
Prompt: discordant
Title: The Dissonance of Silence
Cassidy hated confrontations.
Towards the end of their marriage, her parents had fought constantly, bickering over the smallest things. Whether it was who would take Caroline and her to their tennis matches or how often one had missed dinner with the family, their voices would rise into a crescendo of heated clamour before softening to speaking in to hushed tones, as if they were suddenly aware that they were not alone in the house. On these nights, Cassidy would crawl into Caroline’s bed.
Stephen was worse, Cassidy remembered. Every time he and her mother fought, and it was frequent, he would hurl profanities, slam the door forcefully, no doubt it was his intention to leave with a grand, angry exit. Other times, he would drink himself into a drunken stupor, stumbling about the house late in the night. (As they were then old enough to have separate rooms) Cassidy would, as before, find herself in Caroline’s soothing embrace.
On the rare occasions when Andy and her mother fought, there had been no warning, no sound. She and Caroline would watch helplessly as Andy, very calmly, retrieved her coat and let herself out the front door.
Sneaking back to Caroline’s room, they would make a short stop outside their mother’s room, listening. And in bed, Caroline and Cassidy would sleep huddled close together, their mother’s quiet weeping so distinctive and resonant even in a large house.
Cassidy could not be certain which was worse; the angry shouting or the deafening silence.
Fandom: The Devil Wears Prada
Pairing(s): Miranda/Andy
Rating: PG
Word Count: 250
Disclaimer: I do not own anything.
Author’s Note: For the ABCs of DWP drabble challenge at dvlwears_prada.
Prompt: enchant
Title: Like Magic
In the imaginative, wonderful world of clichéd Disney fairytales, where Prince Charming slays the dragon and sweeps the damsel off her feet, Andrea learnt as a child that the prince always gets the girl. Snug asleep in her bed, she dreamt of fairies and goblins, witches and demons and for a white knight to rescue her from her droll life.
But when the damsel in distress falls for the fire-breathing dragon (call it Stockholm syndrome if you will) instead, those dreams of grandeur quickly turned to pixie dust.
Scrambling for missing Prada heels and repeatedly fetching Hermès scarves, Andrea prayed for a magical elixir of some sort that would simply put her heart out of her unrequited misery.
“Andrea,” the dragon beckoned.
She sighed and headed into its lair, hands poised ready to scribble countless tasks.
“Andrea, you are to pack your things and leave the premises immediately.” The dragon’s breath of fire scorching Andrea’s skin while she spoke with a disciplined cadence.
“You’re firing me?!”
“I’m setting you free,” Miranda’s eyes glinted with evil-, with something Andrea couldn’t quite discern.
“I understand,” she responded sadly.
“Be ready to leave by seven. Roy will pick you up at your home. Dress formally. That’s all.” Andrea knew she was dismissed, but found she couldn’t even wiggle her toes.
As it turns out, the dragon and her white knight had been one and the same. It may be an unconventional thought, but it was as real as the fairytales of her childhood.