KLMNO; yeah I know my alphabet.
Fandom: The Devil Wears Prada
Pairing(s): Andy/Miranda
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: kiss
Title: Baby, Spin Me Right Round
“Is there anything I can do?” Andy knew she would do anything the woman asked of her.
“Yes,” Miranda said tersely, straightening, the immaculate walls came back up briskly, “Your job.” Andy recoiled, genuinely hurt by the brush-off. She was powerless to stop it each time it happened and could only watch from the sidelines as Miranda, with practised ease, assume the persona of the almighty editrix Miranda Priestly, holding everyone, her, at arm’s length. It was cruel, Andy thought, for Miranda to allow her several precious glimpses of Miranda Priestly, the woman, only to shove her back in line with the rest of the pack.
Andy bitterly remembered the satiny feel of ivory skin as if it had been under her touch right then, could savour the saccharine taste of Miranda’s mouth. God, could she ever forget it? She desperately wanted to leave this woman, this shell of a woman, tired of being stringed along, of only being afforded the occasional insights, of feeling the harsh disappointment when Miranda reminded her of her place.
Andy stood, mindlessly scrutinizing a spot in the fountain before her, really seeing nothing but white foam. She didn’t know whether to laugh at herself for being so stupid or cry.
Andy had the wind knocked out of her, as Miranda appeared from behind and effortlessly spun her around like a pinwheel, crashing their rouged lips together in a frenzied kiss.
“Stay,” Miranda whispered, leaning her forehead against Andy’s. “Please.”
“Yes,” Andy smiled warmly. Anything.
Fandom: The Devil Wears Prada
Pairing(s): Andy/Miranda
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: letter
Title: Man the Desk (at All Times!) or Else
Andy never forgot the horror story of the poor girl who’d sliced her hand with the letter opener. At present, she’d been painfully reminded of the tale as she squeezed her legs together. She knew she shouldn’t have had that second Starbucks. Though she was practically bursting, there’s no way she’d let herself end up working in TV Guide.
Where was Emily?! She was due back from Calvin Klein five minutes ago. Miranda wanted those skirts “this millennium, that’s all,” or heads, her head specifically, would roll. Andy loved her head where it grew, thank you very much, and wished she possessed magical powers so she could snap, blink, will inanimate objects into existence because God knows that’s probably what Miranda expected of her.
Maybe, just maybe, Andy could sneak away for a minute or two while Miranda was on the phone with Demarchelier. Miranda would never know. She could direct all calls to her cell, she was past caring how it would sound to the caller; she was desperate at this point. Andy slipped away quietly, putting her ninja skills to good use.
Andy silently thanked the bathroom gods as she ran into the last unoccupied lavatory stall. Feeling utterly relieved, she returned to her desk, insanely euphoric that she had escaped certain death.
“Andrea,” She promptly hurried in.
Miranda gave Andy the most intense once-over of the day. Her gaze lingered below the waist before going back to Andy’s face, brows raised.
Miranda smirked, Andy trembled in response.
Fandom: The Devil Wears Prada
Pairing(s): Andy/Miranda
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: 250
Disclaimer: I do not own anything.
Author’s Note: For the ABCs of DWP drabble challenge at dvlwears_prada.
Prompt: mayhem
Title: So Who’s the Klutz Now?
A furious Miranda walked into The Closet, intent on giving Andrea a full-blown dressing-down after she had spilled coffee all over the blouse she was wearing, one expensive Dolce & Gabbana on loan from said Closet. For her blatant inconsiderate treatment of couture, Miranda decided she would make Andrea pay for the dry-cleaning and send her out on every impossible errand she could imagine. Miranda delighted in the mere thought of it.
Instead, she was appalled to find Andrea sprawled on the floor beside a heap of scattered clothing, half-naked and fumbling to reach the zipper of her new dress. She rolled her eyes; the girl really was a klutz.
Even more flummoxed was she when Miranda reached over for the zip but (very conveniently and uncharacteristically) lost her footing, effectively landing her face right in the apex of Andrea’s thighs. Damn these Gucci shoes, Miranda cursed internally as she tried to extricate herself from Andrea and from this absurd situation.
“So...” Miranda looked up at the sound of the brunette’s voice, Andrea’s eyes twinkled in unabashed amusement, “Who’s the klutz now?”
To make her annoyance known, Miranda ripped away pink lace and bit down on the offending skin on Andrea’s hip, hard, marking it. Sweet pleasure coursed through her body as she felt Andrea wince and heard her whimper.
Andrea was going to pay dearly for that, oh yes, and for the blouse too of course. Miranda was certain; she was going to love every single minute of it.
Fandom: The Devil Wears Prada
Pairing(s): Andy/Miranda
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: narrow
Title: This Dream Is a Nightmare (and I Can’t Wake Up from It)
“But darling,” her mother protested, voice evidently cracking over the phone, “A woman! Not only that, of all people, Miranda Priestly!”
“What were you thinking?!” she exclaimed incredulously, like attempting to believe a joke. This was no joke.
Andy exhaled sharply, “Mom, I love her.”
“Children!”
“Her kids too, and their Saint Bernard, Patricia, I love them all.”
“She’s using you!”
“People would say I was instead,” Andy commented in a clipped tone, “We don’t care what people think. But I do care about what you think. Please understand.”
“Don’t be stupid, Andy,” her father finally spoke, “You’re just a meaningless toy. One day when she bores of playing, she’ll leave you broken and tattered and we’ll be the ones picking up the pieces.”
“Don’t you dare-“
“Just you wait and see, dear,” her father’s deep timbre blending into a disturbing cacophony of Lily, Emily, Nate and her parents chattering rapidly.
“Just you wait and see.”
Andy awoke with an abrupt jolt, perspiration beading down her temple. With a quick glance, she was relieved that Miranda lay asleep, as beautiful and serene as ever, next to her.
She slinked back into the bed, pulling the duvet up to her chin. The accusations her friends and family made, though horrendously vitriolic and within a dream, must not be completely unfounded, having dreamt of it herself. Andy closed her eyes, refusing to think about what dreams meant or its correspondence to reality or that she had actually dreamt of such vile things.
Fandom: The Devil Wears Prada
Pairing(s): Andy/Miranda
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: 135
Disclaimer: I do not own anything.
Author’s Note: For the ABCs of DWP drabble challenge at dvlwears_prada.
Prompt: oil
Title: Full Steam Ahead
The tumultuous clouds rolled above her head as Andy walked the marble stone path to the gallows. She had to do this, she was doing this, Andy thought. Drained and weary of just fucking like bunnies in heat and no-strings-attached sex (and though the sex had been of nuclear proportions), she was going to tell Miranda the forbidden “no” (you never refuse Miranda anything), say goodbye, fuck you forever and get the hell out as fast as she could before any further damage could be permanently done. She figured she would cut her losses before Miranda could cut her loose.
They were like water and oil; they will never mix. They wouldn’t work anyway, Andy rationalized, especially not with what Miranda had wanted.
Andy Sachs was no one’s bitch and now Miranda will know it.
Pairing(s): Andy/Miranda
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: kiss
Title: Baby, Spin Me Right Round
“Is there anything I can do?” Andy knew she would do anything the woman asked of her.
“Yes,” Miranda said tersely, straightening, the immaculate walls came back up briskly, “Your job.” Andy recoiled, genuinely hurt by the brush-off. She was powerless to stop it each time it happened and could only watch from the sidelines as Miranda, with practised ease, assume the persona of the almighty editrix Miranda Priestly, holding everyone, her, at arm’s length. It was cruel, Andy thought, for Miranda to allow her several precious glimpses of Miranda Priestly, the woman, only to shove her back in line with the rest of the pack.
Andy bitterly remembered the satiny feel of ivory skin as if it had been under her touch right then, could savour the saccharine taste of Miranda’s mouth. God, could she ever forget it? She desperately wanted to leave this woman, this shell of a woman, tired of being stringed along, of only being afforded the occasional insights, of feeling the harsh disappointment when Miranda reminded her of her place.
Andy stood, mindlessly scrutinizing a spot in the fountain before her, really seeing nothing but white foam. She didn’t know whether to laugh at herself for being so stupid or cry.
Andy had the wind knocked out of her, as Miranda appeared from behind and effortlessly spun her around like a pinwheel, crashing their rouged lips together in a frenzied kiss.
“Stay,” Miranda whispered, leaning her forehead against Andy’s. “Please.”
“Yes,” Andy smiled warmly. Anything.
Fandom: The Devil Wears Prada
Pairing(s): Andy/Miranda
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: letter
Title: Man the Desk (at All Times!) or Else
Andy never forgot the horror story of the poor girl who’d sliced her hand with the letter opener. At present, she’d been painfully reminded of the tale as she squeezed her legs together. She knew she shouldn’t have had that second Starbucks. Though she was practically bursting, there’s no way she’d let herself end up working in TV Guide.
Where was Emily?! She was due back from Calvin Klein five minutes ago. Miranda wanted those skirts “this millennium, that’s all,” or heads, her head specifically, would roll. Andy loved her head where it grew, thank you very much, and wished she possessed magical powers so she could snap, blink, will inanimate objects into existence because God knows that’s probably what Miranda expected of her.
Maybe, just maybe, Andy could sneak away for a minute or two while Miranda was on the phone with Demarchelier. Miranda would never know. She could direct all calls to her cell, she was past caring how it would sound to the caller; she was desperate at this point. Andy slipped away quietly, putting her ninja skills to good use.
Andy silently thanked the bathroom gods as she ran into the last unoccupied lavatory stall. Feeling utterly relieved, she returned to her desk, insanely euphoric that she had escaped certain death.
“Andrea,” She promptly hurried in.
Miranda gave Andy the most intense once-over of the day. Her gaze lingered below the waist before going back to Andy’s face, brows raised.
Miranda smirked, Andy trembled in response.
Fandom: The Devil Wears Prada
Pairing(s): Andy/Miranda
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: 250
Disclaimer: I do not own anything.
Author’s Note: For the ABCs of DWP drabble challenge at dvlwears_prada.
Prompt: mayhem
Title: So Who’s the Klutz Now?
A furious Miranda walked into The Closet, intent on giving Andrea a full-blown dressing-down after she had spilled coffee all over the blouse she was wearing, one expensive Dolce & Gabbana on loan from said Closet. For her blatant inconsiderate treatment of couture, Miranda decided she would make Andrea pay for the dry-cleaning and send her out on every impossible errand she could imagine. Miranda delighted in the mere thought of it.
Instead, she was appalled to find Andrea sprawled on the floor beside a heap of scattered clothing, half-naked and fumbling to reach the zipper of her new dress. She rolled her eyes; the girl really was a klutz.
Even more flummoxed was she when Miranda reached over for the zip but (very conveniently and uncharacteristically) lost her footing, effectively landing her face right in the apex of Andrea’s thighs. Damn these Gucci shoes, Miranda cursed internally as she tried to extricate herself from Andrea and from this absurd situation.
“So...” Miranda looked up at the sound of the brunette’s voice, Andrea’s eyes twinkled in unabashed amusement, “Who’s the klutz now?”
To make her annoyance known, Miranda ripped away pink lace and bit down on the offending skin on Andrea’s hip, hard, marking it. Sweet pleasure coursed through her body as she felt Andrea wince and heard her whimper.
Andrea was going to pay dearly for that, oh yes, and for the blouse too of course. Miranda was certain; she was going to love every single minute of it.
Fandom: The Devil Wears Prada
Pairing(s): Andy/Miranda
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: narrow
Title: This Dream Is a Nightmare (and I Can’t Wake Up from It)
“But darling,” her mother protested, voice evidently cracking over the phone, “A woman! Not only that, of all people, Miranda Priestly!”
“What were you thinking?!” she exclaimed incredulously, like attempting to believe a joke. This was no joke.
Andy exhaled sharply, “Mom, I love her.”
“Children!”
“Her kids too, and their Saint Bernard, Patricia, I love them all.”
“She’s using you!”
“People would say I was instead,” Andy commented in a clipped tone, “We don’t care what people think. But I do care about what you think. Please understand.”
“Don’t be stupid, Andy,” her father finally spoke, “You’re just a meaningless toy. One day when she bores of playing, she’ll leave you broken and tattered and we’ll be the ones picking up the pieces.”
“Don’t you dare-“
“Just you wait and see, dear,” her father’s deep timbre blending into a disturbing cacophony of Lily, Emily, Nate and her parents chattering rapidly.
“Just you wait and see.”
Andy awoke with an abrupt jolt, perspiration beading down her temple. With a quick glance, she was relieved that Miranda lay asleep, as beautiful and serene as ever, next to her.
She slinked back into the bed, pulling the duvet up to her chin. The accusations her friends and family made, though horrendously vitriolic and within a dream, must not be completely unfounded, having dreamt of it herself. Andy closed her eyes, refusing to think about what dreams meant or its correspondence to reality or that she had actually dreamt of such vile things.
Fandom: The Devil Wears Prada
Pairing(s): Andy/Miranda
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: 135
Disclaimer: I do not own anything.
Author’s Note: For the ABCs of DWP drabble challenge at dvlwears_prada.
Prompt: oil
Title: Full Steam Ahead
The tumultuous clouds rolled above her head as Andy walked the marble stone path to the gallows. She had to do this, she was doing this, Andy thought. Drained and weary of just fucking like bunnies in heat and no-strings-attached sex (and though the sex had been of nuclear proportions), she was going to tell Miranda the forbidden “no” (you never refuse Miranda anything), say goodbye, fuck you forever and get the hell out as fast as she could before any further damage could be permanently done. She figured she would cut her losses before Miranda could cut her loose.
They were like water and oil; they will never mix. They wouldn’t work anyway, Andy rationalized, especially not with what Miranda had wanted.
Andy Sachs was no one’s bitch and now Miranda will know it.