#the devil wears prada x reader

[fel-09]

Male! Miranda priestlyx reader

Words 1.8к

Miranda in fanfics is called -miran

At work for the devil Part 1

Part 2?

Being late was always a source of discomfort, but it became infinitely worse when your career hung in the balance. And nothing could feel more humiliating than arriving at work without having the time to dress properly, to present yourself in the polished, ideal manner expected by those who judged the outer world by what it wore.

One could reassure themselves that it wasn’t the end of the world, but this wasn’t the case when your entire job revolved around the appearance of others, when you were expected to be the very definition of refinement and grace. The situation grew even more dire when your taxi, the last thread of hope to reach the office on time, became an unwilling part of the city's stagnant traffic, merging with a sea of unmoving cars. The idle hum of the engine was maddening, each passing second a reminder of your impending failure.

You could feel your patience thinning, the weight of stress pressing in from all sides. With a frustrated tug at your hair, you finally made up your mind — there was no time left to wait.

“I’ll get out here, I’m late,” you told the driver, thrusting a few dollars into his hand as though they could pay for the disaster unfolding.

Grabbing your belongings, you scrambled out of the car, the weight of your bag pulling you down as you stumbled down the sidewalk. You barely managed to keep your footing, each step a battle against gravity as your mind buzzed with anxiety, the tension in your chest a constant reminder that this was not the first stressful moment of the day.

You practically burst through the office doors, the sound of them slamming against the wall echoing throughout the room. Taking a quick breath, you tried to smooth your hair, tucking the stray strands behind your ear. As you lifted your eyes, the room fell into a strange, unsettling silence. The hum of office work died down, replaced by stares — confused, judgmental, even disapproving.

But amidst the sea of gazes, there was one that stood out.

Miran.

He sat at his desk, an epitome of perfection. His long, slightly unruly hair, the suit that hugged his frame as if it had been custom-made for him, and the scent of his cologne that subtly yet powerfully filled the air — all of him seemed to exist in an entirely different realm. A realm where perfection was not a goal, but a prerequisite.

His cold gaze fixed on you, as though peeling you apart with the sheer sharpness of his eyes. He did not even make an attempt to hide his judgment, the disdain he felt for your appearance practically radiating off of him. His look wasn’t one of surprise — it was one of disdain. A slow, deliberate sweep of his eyes over you, as though he were inspecting an object unworthy of his time.

"You…" he started, his voice cool and detached, as if he were trying to make sense of a bizarre puzzle. “You have some nerve, don’t you, to walk in here looking like that?”

His finger pointed in your direction, tracing the line of your outfit, and you felt the sting of his words settle deep within you, like ice freezing over your chest.

“Alright,” he continued, the faintest smirk curving his lips as he adjusted his glasses with a motion that exuded both superiority and disdain, “I was about to say something, but I’ll spare you the effort of trying to speak — close your mouth and get out. I’ll talk to you later.”

Your mouth hung open for a moment, your mind reeling, but before you could gather your thoughts, Miran had already turned back to his team, the conversation shifting effortlessly to fabrics and cuts. He ignored you entirely, as though your presence was not even worthy of a moment’s pause.

There was no fight left in you. With what little dignity you could muster, you turned on your heel and exited the room. Your breath was heavy, but you refused to let your emotions take control. Out in the hallway, you collapsed onto the couch, your head hanging in defeat as you stared at your hands, lost in a whirl of frustration and self-loathing.

Time passed. An hour. Another. The weight of the silence grew heavier with each passing minute, and the feeling of being forgotten took root deep inside your chest. You couldn’t tell if it was the passage of time or the tension in the air that was making you feel like a ghost, overlooked and unseen. But then, the door creaked open, and the assistant’s face appeared, her expression curt.

“You can go in now,” she said, her voice short and devoid of any empathy.

You stood, an unsettling mix of emotions churning in your stomach, your heart racing with irritation. The waiting had been unbearable. Why had you been forced to sit there, forgotten, as if you were invisible?

Stepping into the office, you kept your posture straight, trying to mask the turmoil bubbling beneath the surface. The room was a stark contrast to the dimly lit hallway — vast and imposing, with high ceilings and towering windows that let in streams of cold, morning sunlight. Bookshelves lined the walls, brimming with volumes of knowledge and taste. The atmosphere was as immaculate as Miran himself, each object placed with meticulous care, as though it too reflected his unyielding standards.

He stood by the window, his arms crossed over his chest, gazing out at the city below. His figure was bathed in the light, a silhouette of calculated indifference. The moment you entered, you could feel the weight of his disapproval press down on you, like a force you couldn’t escape.

“Sit,” he commanded, his voice cold but sharp, as he turned just enough to look at you. His expression remained a perfect mask of detachment, his lips curled in a faint, almost imperceptible sneer.

You obeyed, your nerves crawling beneath your skin, and sat stiffly in the chair, which felt unforgiving beneath you. The discomfort was almost intentional, as though even the furniture sought to remind you of your inadequacy in this space.

“So,” he began, his eyes never leaving you as he finally allowed his gaze to move from the city skyline to your face. “You think you can work here?”

It wasn’t a question. It was an accusation. The weight of it made your chest tighten. His words were not just harsh; they were an indictment.

“You’ve shown potential, but potential means nothing without the appearance to match. Do you understand?” he asked, his voice like a scalpel slicing through the air. “You look like you just stumbled out of a train wreck.”

The sting of his words landed squarely in your chest, but you forced yourself to hold his gaze. “It’s temporary. I’ve just moved, and I don’t have proper clothes yet,” you said, your voice firm despite the tremor running through your body.

Miran’s eyes flickered with a glint of something — amusement? — but he didn’t say anything for a long moment. Instead, he just stared at you, as if measuring the depth of your defiance.

“Well,” he said at last, his voice cool again, “let’s not kid ourselves. One mistake, and you’ll be out the door just as fast as you came in.”

With a dismissive wave of his hand, he indicated that the conversation was over. You stood, nodding briefly before making your way toward the door.

“Oh, and one more thing,” he called out, just as you reached the handle. “Buy yourself something appropriate. This is a place for people who understand what it means to look the part.”

You clicked your tongue, silently cursing under your breath as you left the room, the sound of your shoes echoing in the now-empty corridor. Back at your desk, the office buzzed with activity, everyone scrambling to please him, to deliver what he wanted before he even asked for it. You weren’t immune to it, either. Soon, you found yourself fielding calls, printing documents, fetching coffee, and even polishing his shoes as per his seemingly random requests. Each task was a test of patience, each call more pointless than the last, and each hour stretched into an endless loop of irritation.

By the time you returned home, exhausted and ready to collapse into bed, your phone rang. You cursed softly under your breath, rolling your eyes.

“Damn it,” you muttered, grabbing the phone.

“Hello, Miran. How can I help you this time?”

_____

Don't ask why I wrote this, I had to do this.

[cappulcino]

Taglist

With my first fanfic completed and more requests as well as personal projects in the works, I think it's time to start a taglist.

To be added, please comment with the emoji(s) corresponding to what you would like to be tagged in. Likes and reblogs are appreciated to spread the word but do not count as a request to be added.

Note: this post might evolve as this blog does and I get more requests or have more projects of my own.

All fanfictions 📚

All Gwendoline Christie characters 🌻

The Sandman

All 🔮

Lucifer 😈

Morpheus ⏳

Wednesday

All 🕸️

Larissa 💄

Wednesday 🦂

Brienne of Tarth ⚔️

Jane Murdstone 🕯️

The Devil Wears Prada 👠

Good Omens 🕊️

Sherlock BBC

All 🔍

Johnlock 💻

Adlock 🎻

All Eva Green characters 🚬

Note 2: you may comment with something more specific (say you're a minor, add ships, etc.)

[merylstreepsworld]

Imagine coming home to Miranda after being gone for work:

Racing through the dimly lit streets, the distant echoes of your tires against the pavement fill the night as you make your way back home. The inky blackness of the sky above is interrupted only by the occasional flicker of a streetlamp passing by. Your mind is consumed with the thought of finally reuniting with Miranda, your wife, after an arduous work conference that kept you apart for what felt like an eternity.

Pulling up in front of the townhouse, a surge of anticipation courses through you, overriding any fatigue from the late hour. With a quick flick of the car's ignition, you leap out and dash down the quiet block, the pavement cool against your hurried steps. Your heart races faster than your feet as you reach for the familiar jangle of keys in your pocket.

Fumbling in the darkness, your hands tremble slightly in your eagerness to unlock the door and be enveloped in the warmth of your shared space. Finally, the key slips into the lock, the latch clicks open, and you swing the door wide, stepping into the familiar comfort of home.

Dumping your belongings in the foyer, you barely have a moment to catch your breath before a figure materializes in the doorway, silhouetted against the soft glow filtering in from the living room. Miranda stands there, elegant yet slightly fatigued, her presence magnetic and alluring. You're captivated by her, your heart swelling with a mix of longing and excitement. Relief washes over her delicate features as she takes in your safe return.

With a small, knowing smile, her gaze lingers on you, her eyes tracing the contours of your figure, an unspoken admiration evident in her subtle scrutiny. There's a silent exchange of reassurance and familiarity in that glance, a shared language between the two of you that requires no words.

In a tender whisper that carries a hint of relief, she delicately murmurs, "I'm glad you made it home safe," her words an unspoken echo of the worry she had carried during your absence.

You're captivated by her, your heart swelling with a mix of longing, relief, and excitement. Without hesitation, you rush toward her, the world narrowing down to the connection between the two of you. Lips meet in a fervent embrace, a passionate collision of emotions and desires.

In that instant, your hands instinctively seek her, yearning to feel the softness of her skin, the curve of her body, and the warmth of her presence. Each touch conveys the depth of longing etched into your being during your time apart. There's an urgency in the way you pull her closer, an unquenchable desire to cherish every moment of this reunion.

Miranda responds in kind, her touch igniting an equally intense flame of passion. The kisses deepen, an unspoken language of affection and yearning that seems to convey all the words unspoken during your absence. In that intimate embrace, time loses its relevance, encapsulating the sheer devotion and unrestrained desire that bind the two of you together in a moment that feels both fleeting and eternal.

Lips meeting in an impassioned embrace, murmurs of endearment escape in between fervent kisses. "Oh... oh god. I've missed you," you manage to mumble against her lips, the words laced with longing and desire. "Take me to bed."

Her response is immediate, a subtle yet palpable electricity in the air as she separates herself from your lips but remains intimately close, her eyes holding a depth of affection and understanding. With a gentle yet urgent touch, she takes your hand, leading you toward the staircase, each step resonating with the anticipation of being together once more.

[multifandomfix]

Miranda Priestly Smut Alphabet

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

Miranda tends to be reserved but attentive. After sex, she might quietly cuddle or lay beside her partner, offering a few whispered words of praise.

B = Body part (favorite body part of their partner’s)

Miranda is drawn to your neck and collarbone. She finds subtle, sensual moments in tracing her fingers along these areas, delighting in the vulnerability they represent, and the closeness they bring.

C = Collar (do they mark you as theirs in some way?)

She might purchase several discreet, elegant pieces of jewelry for you to wear in public with her that hints at her ownership of you, but she’s not one that needs to put it on some grand display. People basically already know.

D = Dominant (who is in control? are they a top or bottom?)

Miranda is firmly in control. She prefers to be the one calling the shots, taking the lead in all aspects of your relationship. Whether it's in the bedroom or in public, she likes being the one who holds the power, and she’s great at getting what she wants.

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

With years of experience under her belt, Miranda is incredibly confident in her abilities. She knows exactly what she's doing and what she likes, and is able to read your body language with precision.

F = Fuck (do they prefer to fuck or make love?)

Miranda prefers to fuck rather than make love. She's passionate, demanding, and likes to take her time, pushing you to your limits. It's not usually about tenderness for her, it's about raw, unapologetic desire.

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)

Miranda is far more serious and intense, always maintaining an air of control. There's a confidence to her actions, and humor is rare in intimate settings unless she's feeling especially playful.

H = Hot (what turns them on, gets them going)

If you match wits with her, there’s a fifty-fifty chance that you’ll either piss her off or turn her on. She likes someone that can hold their own, but still knows where to draw the line.

I = Insatiable (how do they act when they’re desperate to have you?)

When Miranda is desperate to have you, she becomes impatient and curt, her control slipping only when she can no longer resist. Her usual cool demeanor cracks, and she demands your full attention, her eyes dark with desire as she takes what she wants.

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

Miranda doesn't often indulge in self pleasure. However, when she does, it’s indulgent, usually borne out of frustration from you being away, or perhaps mad at her.

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

Miranda prefers the thrill of power dynamics. She’s no stranger to issuing commands, but she also likes some light bondage, and leaving marks all over you.

L = Location (favorite places to have sex)

Her favorite places to have sex are often her own home or, if pressed, a five star hotel suite, where she can maintain her air of control and privacy.

M = Mood (what’s the foreplay like? how do you get them in the mood?)

Foreplay with Miranda is often intense and heated. She’ll pounce on you like a jungle cat with prey and it’s up to you to respond. She’ll slow things down if you need her to, but she can become impatient.

N = Naked (how do they undress? do they like to watch you undress?)

Miranda removes each item of clothing slowly and deliberately, never casting them to the floor, but folding and setting them aside. She's not particularly voyeuristic, but she does enjoy watching you undress, appreciating your figure before guiding you toward the bed.

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

Miranda prefers to receive rather than give. Even so, she’s skilled and focused when it comes to pleasuring you, and loves the sounds you make for her when you get close.

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

Miranda enjoys a slow, deliberate pace, taking her time. There's an intensity in her actions, but it's all about creating long lasting pleasure. Her slow, teasing rhythm is meant to make you ache for more.

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

Miranda isn't one for quickies. Too messy and unpredictable. However, if she's particularly needy or caught in the heat of the moment, she might indulge in one with a sense of urgency.

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)

Miranda isn't someone who's reckless with risks, but when it comes to experimenting in bed, she's open to trying new things as long as it's controlled.

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

Miranda has great stamina, lasting for multiple rounds if needed. She's able to keep her focus and intensity for as long as the mood strikes, never tiring easily. Her endurance matches her drive and ambition.

T = Tryst (are they into casual sex or one night stands?)

Miranda is not typically interested in one night stands. While she enjoys a discreet affair, she does not indulge in casual trysts without having a deep attraction.

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

Miranda loves to tease. She toys with you, pushing you to the brink of frustration before letting you have what you want.

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

Miranda is usually pretty quiet in bed. She's more likely to let out a soft sigh or moan when the pleasure is particularly intense, but she's not one to be overly vocal.

W = Wait (how long do they wait before having sex with their partner for the first time?)

Miranda waits a while before having sex with a partner, as she likes to make sure the connection is solid and that the relationship has some level of commitment and trust. She's not impulsive in her actions and believes in taking the time to build trust and desire.

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

Under those elegant clothes, Miranda has a toned, well maintained body. There's a sophistication to her appearance, usually accented with very delicate and expensive lingerie.

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

Miranda's sex drive is fairly high, but she often keeps it repressed. She's not impulsive about her desires but is incredibly passionate when the mood strikes.

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

Miranda falls asleep quickly, always seeking rest after a satisfying encounter. Once her needs have been met, she's efficient in winding down, retreating into the calm of her mind, leaving the chaos of her daily life behind.

For anon

Forever Tag: @baubeautyandthegeek, @ghostsunderstoodmysoul, @immyowndefender, @valencethefriendlychangeling, @crimsonwidow666, @rebelbossheart, @thedailyspiritualist, @orangeisnttheonlyfruit, @woman-simp, @aperol-with-izzy, @leonoralessoem, @ellepossum69, @lakita-fisher, @trexsuit, @analuw, @luvlesavyy, @malfoyfeed, @aliciabrower, @sparrowspixie, @imaginationismyworldlypleasure, @og-kxsh-420

Miranda Priestly: @iticaboopsyou, @derry-n, @ladysc, @russian-soft-bitch, @rafterymorton, @messynessi

[stayevildarling]

Miranda Priestly x Wilhemina Venable x Reader - Dragon meets Purple, Part 2

word count: 2k

tw: none

taglist: @lunaticwhittaker, @billiebeanhoward, @lanawinters-ily, @kenzbro, @minaslittleone, @httpfiftyshadesofgay,@whitelotus00, @ninaahs, @vintagepaulson,@isle-of-earle,@paulsonsratched, @stepintomyworld, @grilledcheeseandguavajelly, @lucyintheskywithxanax, @fanfics4world, @mymiraclewitch, @hazard-to-myself, @awritersometime

A few months had passed since Wilhemina officially became Mirandas second assistant. And despite their initial doubts about whether this would work or not it was going surprisingly well. Due to Wilhemina's experience Runway was working smoothly. Miranda was quite surprised by this but she also enjoyed working closely with someone who was close to her age for once. The only person not enjoying the situation was Emily, as she was suddenly the one running around New York to fetch coffees and chase designers down, while Wilhemina had more administrative work.

Today a particularly busy day is finally coming towards the end, most people have left the office by now and so the only ones left are Wilhemina and her boss. As the redhead sits at her desk, typing away at her computer, before getting up to walk to the printer, she sees Miranda standing in her office and signalling for Wilhemina to join her.

,,Care to join me for a drink Ms Venable?'' the slightly older woman asks.

Wilhemina raises an eyebrow, surprised by the invitation but at the same time intrigued.

,,Of course Ms Priestly, lead the way''.

Wilhemina watches as Miranda walks over to a golden drink trolley next to the sofa in her office. As she pours two glasses of scotch, Wilhemina can't help but look at her bosses features. Her jawline, the way her skirt complimented her legs.

,,I must admit Ms Venable, you have been rather impressive lately, I cannot deny your talents any longer'' she praises which takes the redhead by surprise.

Of course she knew the value of her work but she knew Miranda wasn't one to praise. As she takes a sip, a hint of a smirk playing on her lips ,,High praise coming from you Ms Priestly, I must be doing something right''.

Miranda chuckles softly ,,Indeed, though I must also confess your penchant for challenging authority can be rather... infuriating at times''.

Wilhemina raises her glass in mock toast before replying ,,Ah but where's the fun in playing by the rules Ms Priestly? Life is too short to be confined by limitations''.

Miranda simply smirks with a glint of adoration in her eyes. This had been exactly what she liked about Wilhemina, the sass, honestly and sarcasm. It was refreshing to the woman with assistants that usually obey her straight away and never talk back to her.

,,Spoken like a true maverick Ms Venable, perhaps there is hope for you yet'' Miranda replies with a smirk.

The smirk meets her straight back before Wilhemina counters ,,Perhaps Ms Priestly but don't hold your breath. I'm not one to change my ways easily''.

They chat for some more before they both head back towards their desk, wrapping up their work for the day and working through the upcoming Paris schedule.

-------

,,One more thing before we go to Paris, I'm promoting one of you''. Miranda explained. The office was quiet now, it was late and everyone had left.

,,Ms Venable I would like to offer you a higher position in HR'' Miranda explained, Emily's jaw dropping, in disbelief of the words she just heard from her bosses mouth.

,,What?!'' Emily asks. ,,She's only been here for six months, how come she's getting the promotion?''.

,,Oh get over yourself Emily, we both know that Ms Venable is way more qualified to work upstairs and have her own office rather than being my assistant''. her boss replies snappily.

,,I suggest you start working on finding me a new second assistant'' Miranda explains, dismissing Emily.

,,Thank you Ms Priestly'' Wilhemina finally speaks, a bit dumbfounded at what just happened. She had worked hard in the past couple of months, however she didn't expect a promotion.

,,May I ask why?'' Wilhemina adds.

,,Well, I had a feeling from the start you were meant to be more than an assistant and you certainly have proven you have the abilities to work upstairs. So I pulled some strings and you may work in HR from now on. You will get your own office and you won't have to- you know- run around as much for me'' Miranda explains, suddenly a softer side showing that Wilhemina hasn't gotten to see yet.

,,Thank you Ms Priestly'' Wilhemina smiles, touched by the gesture, trying to think if there was some ulterior motive to her decision.

,,By the way, I think it's time you call me Miranda by now, considering I won't be your direct boss anymore''.

,,Very well- Wilhemina'' she replies with a small smile. Now Miranda surprised as she hasn't seen a real smile from the redhead so far, being able to tell the difference from a fake polite one to a real one as she had do it most of her day.

They shake hands before they both head off, Wilhemina to inspect her new office and Miranda back to her desk, looking over her Paris schedule one more time. Miranda internally cringes as she hates the feel of Wilhemina's leather gloves.

After the elevator dings, Wilhemina steps into her new office, a small smile playing on her face as she sees her name on the door. She is quite fascinated by the view of New York and the size of her office. As she walks to her new desk, she finds a little box.

As she undoes the ribbon, she finds a purple pair of Chanel gloves inside them. She chuckles before collecting her things for the day and leaving.

As she heads downstairs to the elevator that exits the building she halts in the hallway as she sees a little light still in Mirandas office. ,,Good Night Ms. - Miranda'' she states as Miranda takes her eyes off the screen and looking at Wilhemina. She smirks satisfactiory as she sees the purple gloves already on the redheads hands. ,,Good Night'' she mumbles before carrying on with her work.

-------

Miranda sighs as she walks out of her office and towards the elevator, some files in her hand. Making her way upstairs, she suddenly notices the light still lit in Wilhemina's office. Miranda checks the time and realises it's past midnight. She thinks about turning back around, having dealt with too much interaction today but also needing those applications on Wilhemina's desk as it had been months since Paris and Emily still hasn't found a worthy second assistant.

Miranda knocks and opens the door in one swift motion finding Wilhemina on her computer. ,,Hire this one, Emily is taking far too long'' Miranda states before handing Wilhemina an application file.

They both look at each other for a moment, brown eyes meeting green ones. Silence filling the room as the same question played on both of their minds. ,,Do you need me to help out downstairs?'' Wilhemina breaks the silence first. ,,Pardon?'' Miranda questions.

,,I mean it's been months since Paris and if you need any help I would be quite happy to'' Wilhemina explains and is met with a sweet smile. ,,No- I'd just appreciate if you work through the application as quickly as possible''. Miranda replies with a grateful smile.

,,Why are you here so late?'' Miranda eventually asks. Wilhemina simply looks at her unable to really give her an answer but Miranda understood even without a word. She knew being a woman in this industry, the position not necessarily mattering, you had to get used to long hours in the office.

,,Do you need a lift? my driver should be outside.'' Miranda asks which takes Wilhemina by surprise. ,,No thank you Miranda but I'll walk out with you?'' she questions before being met with a nod and grabbing her bag and cane.

The elevator ride is quiet, Miranda containing a smile as she notices that Wilhemina had worn the Chanel gloves since she gave them to her. As they both walk past security and outside the building. New York being lit up and loud even in the middle of the night. Miranda walks over to her driver before she turns back towards Wilhemina.

,,I know this isn't exactly part of your job description but would you be free to join me for the launch dinner tomorrow evening?'' the question doesn't only take Wilhemina completely by surprise. Wilhemina had heard about the dinner and how much Miranda despised half of the people there. She doesn't quite understand why Miranda would like her company rather than Emily who certainly has more knowledge with these sort of things. Wilhemina had no idea that she had become a sense of comfort to Miranda, the usual strong woman, feeling safer in Wilhemina's presence. The question slipped her mind before she could think about it. Wilhemina being the stern HR she usually is, her mind takes her back that indeed this had no part in her job description but she felt intrigued. The last year in New York had helped the redhead realise that she didn't really have a personal life and she longed for one. So somehow as a result, a spontaneous Wilhemina comes to the surface, breaking through her usual high walls and agreeing. Miranda gives her a small but confused smile at her own question before making her way home.

-------

,,This will be your desk, you have big shoes to fill so please don't mess this up, considering Miranda chose you''. Emily explains as you listen to her instructions.

,,Understood'' you nod as you get familiar with your desk and computer.

The first couple of hours are quiet as Miranda was with a designer, presenting a new collection with Nigel. You walk around runway, getting to meet people you will be working with from now on before returning to your desk and working through the to-do list Emily has given you.

,,Miranda will be back in about thirty minutes, I'll send you a text with everyones coffee orders, please run to Starbucks and hurry up''. Emily explains.

Quickly, you grab your things and do as you are told, returning a short while later with the coffees.

After placing Miranda's coffee on her desk, you return to your own before Emily returns as well.

,,I have a coffee left for Wilhemina?'' you ask unfamiliar with the name.

,,Oh yes, remember the big shoes to fill? Well that's her, she works upstairs in HR now, please take it to Ms Venable'' Emily explains and you nod as you walk towards the elevator. As the elevator dings your eyes are met with Miranda.

She halts, recognising your face from the application. You had done your research, knowing not to directly address or bother Ms Priestly but her lack of movement and conversation, ushered you to make some.

,,Hello Ms. Priestly, my name is Y/N your new second assistant'' you introduce yourself before she takes her sunglasses off.

The woman scans you a second with a surprised look on her face. ,,Oh you are the assistant'' she states.

,,I was told you hired and chose me'' you reply slightly confused. The woman simply carries on scanning your body before replying ,,That's all'' and leaving towards her office.

Slightly dumbfounded and confused you make your way upstairs before knocking on Ms Venable's door.

,,Come in'' the redhead replies as you enter.

,,Hi, my name is Y/N, I'm Miranda's second assistant, I have your coffee here for you'' you explain before bending slightly, placing it in front of her.

,,Thank you'' she states and you can't help but notice her staring at you, specifically as you bend over slightly to hand her the coffee.

,,Oh and if you have any issues, for example with Emily, don't hesitate to come find me'' she states.

,,Why would I have any issues with Emily Ms Venable?'' you ask confused, considering its your first day.

,,Emily can be a bit demanding, given her position in this company'' Wilhemina replies .

,,Very well thank you Ms Venable'' you reply before heading back towards your desk, unbeknownst that her eyes followed until you left her office.

[lovingbarson]

Happy new year to all the tumblr daddies and mommies and all the writers and all the readers and all the characters that make me feel happy and loved (I am not drunk just depressed)

[t-k-charming]

Miranda Pristly's First Daughter

Alright, Devil Wears the Prada is one of my favorites, if it's also your favorite comment down below (Feels like talking in a YouTube video.)

Warnings: Angst. Hurt but no comfort (if you want I make one with comfort) poor wording (I didn't know if it's a warning, but why not) no happy ending, platonic. reader is Miranda's daughter. (if there is something I mess, please comment)

If you didn't watch the movie Devil Wears the Prada, please watch it. I highly recommend it, it's a movie worth you're time.

Credits to whoever the image belongs

Here we go

Y/n is Miranda's first child. Y/n is the daughter of Miranda's first husband and first love.

After his death, Miranda poured herself into work. Causing to loss of the relationship with Y/N

Miranda slowly ignored Y/n.

After a bit, the twins came and took all the love and attention. Causing Y/n to be distant even more.

Nevertheless, Y/n always tried to make Miranda spend time with her. But Miranda refused every time. Y/n was losing hope.

Once, Y/n tried to make Miranda have dinner with her. Since it’s been nearly a year they had dinner together. Miranda gets fed up and shouts hurtful things at Y/n. Something like this “Why don’t you ever leave me alone?! Always asking this and that? Is the money I give you enough to shut you up?! Can’t you fucking see that I am busy and come home to take a rest and you are being a pain. Don’t you have something productive to do other than being a pain up my ass?!... God, I wish I never had you”

Though she said that last thing to herself it was hearable. Y/n was heartbroken after she heard her own mother say those hurtful things. 

y/n replied “ I am really sorry I never thought I was that… of a pain to you… I will never bother you anymore. I am really sorry”

With that Y/n left for her room. And Y/n didn’t come down to eat dinner.

Y/n was a woman of her word.

The next day, when Miranda came home, she forgot what happened that night because she was busy all day. So as usual Miranda expected Y/n to annoy her again.

But Y/n knowing Miranda was home, didn’t come down and stayed in her room for the rest of the night. 

Miranda didn't even notice that the last time she saw Y/n was the night she yelled at her.

The next morning Y/n left early because she didn’t want to face Miranda. 

When Miranda came out, she didn’t see y/n. For some time she didn’t even remember y/n. But when the Twins came down, she remembered y/n.

When she didn’t catch a glaze of Y/n she thought Y/n left early. Which was true but she doesn���t know why. 

When Miranda comes back. Lizzie is the woman who takes care of both the house and the children when Miranda is not there. Mostly all the time, even when Miranda was there. Lizzie said “Oh and Miranda, Y/n is with her friends. She will come back late or at the same time you go to sleep. Tell her to eat dinner or at least half of it, even if she said that she ate the dinner… oh, and if she didn’t come just go to sleep.”

Miranda heard half of what Lizze said and just nodded. 

But Y/n didn’t come. So Miranda went to sleep. 

This went on for so many months. And Miranda didn’t care much. 

Y/n never tried to earn Miranda’s love anymore.

Alright if you want more just ask.

Until next time, it's me T.K Charming.

[rippersz]

Miranda Priestly and f Reader. Reader gets in between an altercation between Miranda and Stephen. She later tells Miranda "I'll never let anyone talk to you like that again"

𝙰 𝙷𝚎𝚊𝚝𝚎𝚍 𝙸𝚗𝚝𝚎𝚛𝚛𝚞𝚙𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗

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(Fem!Reader x Miranda Priestly) (Pining) (TW: Abusive language)

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“Oh give me a break! You don’t have to make up excuses to try and salvage my ego, Miranda!”

The minute you walked in, you knew something was wrong.

The townhouse air in the evening was usually still and quiet, but the stomping footsteps on the second floor provided a tension that made you pause in the foyer. Stephen was home, you realized. His weird manly cologne filled your lungs, nearly bringing tears to your eyes with how strong it was. Almost a year as Miranda’s assistant, spending time around her husband at least once or twice, and you still couldn’t get used to his smell. Probably because every little thing about Stephen was either utterly boring or terribly annoying. Emily said it was both, but she only expressed that when he called so frequently that Miranda told her to instantly send them to voicemail. ‘If he has something important to say, he’ll leave a message’ but every time he did, it was just a stream of complaints.

If you were in his shoes, something you didn’t think about often because why would you, then you knew you wouldn’t take her attention for granted. She gave it when she could and a loving partner would understand that, and such understanding would lead to a lack of tension, and a lack of tension would result in more of her recognition. Or that’s what you thought. Again- not that you thought about it frequently of course - cuz that would just be silly and unrealistic and strange because she was your boss and she was the most emotionally unavailable woman you knew and even though she loved her daughters, her love for her partners was different and-

“I can’t go one day without them shooting looks at me- like- like I’m some dog! Probably wondering where my keeper is!” His voice echoed upon every floor, making you wince as you slid the Book into its assigned place.

Evidently, they hadn’t heard you come in. They should have been expecting you; at least Miranda should have, but it was easy to lose track of time during the winter months. It seemed to move so quickly, with a prime example being that it was 11:20 on the dot once you got there. Miranda had to attend a small dinner party at 9, so she eventually returned home at 10:30. Not the worst timing for a Friday night, but if Stephen had been ranting from the very moment she stepped in, well then you had no doubt she was tired. Too tired to argue perhaps as you barely heard her murmured response.

“We can discuss this in the morning. It’s late.” She sounded worn. It made your heart ache as you looked up at the ceiling, momentarily debating if you should stay or leave.

“Oh yeah? Just so you can escape back into your job to try and distract yourself from the real issues? Stop acting like a child, Miranda. We’ll talk about this now like adults.” The way Stephen ‘put his foot down’ was nothing in comparison to Miranda’s method. He was too loud about it - too demanding. It wasn’t very effective, even though it did make up your mind for you.

Staying was risky, of course. You could get caught, of course. You could get fired, of course. But honestly? You didn’t trust your boss’s husband. You didn’t trust his demeanor or his drinking or any other little thing about him. And although you didn’t think he would really hurt her, the worry that planted itself in the back of your brain grew swiftly; festering like a disease as you inched yourself toward the stairs and placed your hand on the cold bannister. Worrying for your boss was not your place, but above that, worrying for Miranda Priestly was not your right. You weren’t hers and she wasn’t yours - so there was really no need to stick around. She was entirely capable of taking care of herself.

…And yet?

And yet, something in your gut told you to stay. It was quiet but present - and it murmured softly, convincing you that the second you stepped out of the door and got into the car with Roy and drove off into the night, something would happen. Something bad. Something that you could have avoided if only you were there.

So no, you couldn’t leave. Not yet. Even though Miranda was most likely prepared to tear Stephen a new one.

“I am acting like a child? Calling your wife at 9:45 PM to complain about her absence at a dinner you didn’t confirm is far more childish than me doing my job. What did you expect me to do when you called? Run out of an important business dinner to dash over and wipe your tears before drowning my embarrassment in an overpriced ‘welcome bread basket’? Don’t be absurd, Stephen. You knew I was busy.” And she proved you right - speaking in a low edgy hiss that you suspected was only reserved for her husband. Interestingly enough though, even alone in her house, arguing with this person or the other, Miranda never raised her voice.

No one else thought it was noteworthy enough to mention in quiet conversation, but you were often tempted to bring it up to Nigel. You figured it was because of her childhood - whatever that had been like - and that she vowed to keep her vocal cords safe. It was a small little detail, but when one conversed with Miranda, sometimes it seemed like the only thing to focus on. Her words are always important, yes, but watching her lips move… and seeing the way her teeth formed each syllable… well it was mesmerizing in a way you’d never be able to properly explain. And Stephen, who was pacing the floor above you, was far too daft to understand that.

“What, so if I want to have dinner with my wife, I have to confirm through her assistant? You barely pick up, Miranda!” The sudden growl in his voice had you placing one foot on the stair next to you.

‘This is just a precautionary measure’ you told yourself, knowing that was far from the truth.

“And you pick up too often.” Her quip was breathy and sharp - a clear end to the conversation as you heard her soft footsteps trailing off into another room.

“What does that even mean?! I’m trying to be a good husband, but you are ruining my reputatio-”

“Your reputation?” The venom in Miranda’s voice silenced her husband immediately. “Your reputation…,” you pictured her shaking her head before letting out a little mocking laugh; “…I have no effect on how much you succeed in your career. If you can’t separate work and life, that’s not my problem.”

Their voices were drifting away, lost to the floorplan of their home as you slowly skirted your way up the stairs. It seemed that Miranda had taken your common sense with her when she walked off, leaving Stephen (and you) to follow like lost puppies. Although, she still didn’t know you were there. And you still weren’t going to leave - not until he stopped raising his voice and waking the entire neighborhood.

“God you know- you always treat me like shit, Miranda.” You winced, knowing very well how much she hated cursing. “I am your HUSBAND. You should be speaking to me with respect - not like I’m another worthless magazine you can get rid of. I’ve given you EVERYTHING I have and what have you given me? A few hours of your time? Nothing? Just enlighten me, because I’m really at a loss right now!”

There was a bang then. It was strong and hard and it sounded like he hit something- maybe a side table or a wall- but it didn’t matter to you. He had hit something and if he could hit something- an inanimate object- he could hit his wife and if he hit his wife, he could hurt her and you couldn’t just stand there- you couldn’t just listen to his slander when his wife was giving him everything!; when she was providing and taking care of the children and doing her job all at the same time. You gulped, noticed that you had gravitated up to the second floor, and decided in a split second that if Miranda had anything to say, you’d simply come up with an excuse.

Then, as you listened for where they had gone, you heard hurried footsteps coming back toward the stairs.

“Don’t ignore me, Miranda! Stop hiding behind your job and just admit that you don’t give a fuck about us! I try so hard every day and every night and all you can do is- is- is whore yourself out to those fucking businessmen!”

The gasp that bubbled up in your throat escaped without hesitation. You had never heard anyone talk about Miranda like that - and especially not to her face. If anyone else had spoken so wickedly, you were almost certain that they’d be blacklisted from every bloody establishment in New York City, whether it had to do with fashion or not. But Stephen… well you knew that she had her own reputation to protect - and an escaping husband was not ideal.

But still…

Still…

She didn’t deserve that. And the injustice that had sparked earlier welled up like water boiling over the lip of a full pot. How dare he? How dare he speak to her like that? Your hands balled into fists at your sides; painted nails digging into the skin of your palms.

“Still nothing to say? Huh?!”

A split second later, followed by the sound of Stephen’s yelling, Miranda walked around the corner.

And there your eyes met.

She looked tired at that moment… and small… and utterly incensed at the idea of you being there and witnessing that. The shock played out on her face in the span of a millisecond; with a wide blue gaze and perfect lips parted and sculpted eyebrows raised onto her forehead - which was half covered by a swooping waterfall of messy white hair. It was beyond clear that she was ready for bed and that Stephen was just prolonging her suffering, but you sent a silent prayer to the gods asking to keep your job just before her husband showed up. His hands were on his hips, his face was screwed up into a tired and angry frown, and upon seeing you- he let out a loud scoff.

“Are you kidding me?!” His yell was right in Miranda’s ear but she didn’t seem to care. She didn’t even flinch.

Instead, she was staring right at you. At you. With some sort of fury- some sort of strange deep emotion- swirling around in pearlescent eyes. You felt your knees grow weak but held your ground. If she was going to yell, let her yell. If she was going to coldly dismiss you, let her coldly dismiss you. But at the end of the day, the longer you stared, the more you knew that she knew. That she understood. In the strange telekinetic way that most women shared - the concern that compelled you to stay was reflected in her gaze. And there, in the lull of irritation and tension, was a conversation that only the two of you shared.

It was spoken softly, slowly, and through your eyes alone.

‘I stayed because I was scared for you.’

‘I know.’

‘Are you mad at me?’

‘I don’t know. This wasn’t your place.’

‘I understand. I’m sorry. I just wanted to make sure you were okay.’

‘I can handle myself.’

‘I don’t care.’

‘…I know.’

“Did you plan this? Is that why she’s here?! What- did- did you call her? To witness us fight? See I knew you were fucking crazy! From day one I told myself ‘Stephen don’t get involved with her’ and now look where I am!”

Your silent conversation was snapped in half as he ranted; all while shoving past Miranda to walk further into the hall and throw his hands up in the air like a kid. You felt your body jolt at the sight of her being pushed, but like the impenetrable wall she could be, your boss stood her ground and allowed her husband to brush past her shoulder. As if there wasn’t force in the way he walked. As if you weren’t this close to throwing a punch.

And Miranda could see it in you. She could see the irritation- the sense of injustice and everything that came with it- but she also knew you wouldn’t do anything. You were too kind. Too understanding.

Well… unless someone like Stephen said what he said next.

“You know what? No. I’m done. You listen to me right now,” and then he rounded on your boss, walking right up into her space so quickly that you couldn’t help but push yourself to get closer. And from where you stood then, you saw the way he pushed his finger into her chest and seethed with an unnecessary amount of rage.

“You listen and you learn. I have had it up to here with your bullshit. The cold shoulder, the missed dinners, the terrible schedules, the fact that you don’t even care if the twins like me or not - I’m sick of it. You treat me like an accessory. Another bag for the queen of fashion to throw out but guess what. Guess what, Miranda! I don’t care anymore. We’re separating - and you’re gonna end up like all of the other sad washed up celebrities: Pathetic and- and- weak and alone. Because no one- no one- could possibly love you like this,” and you watched with disgust as he shook his head and let out a cruel laugh. “No one could possibly look at you, with your stuck-up bitchy behavior, and see something worth loving. And-”

Before he could continue, you heard yourself speaking.

“You are absolutely pathetic.”

Two sets of eyes turned on you - one of them confused and the other severe, silently telling you to just shut your mouth. Normally, you would. Normally, you’d listen to your boss and obey her commands- silent or not- because you appreciated her authority and you were halfway in love with her. But it was for that last reason, the very reason why your ribcage felt like a zoo butterfly exhibit, that you decided not to listen. Sure, Miranda would hear your angry love-sick quips, but that didn’t matter. You were going to spill your heart out onto the floor, take a page out of your boss’s book…

…and kick Stephen’s ego into the dust.

“What did you just say?” His eyes were disbelieving as he turned to you; and though a twinge of fear dug at your heart, you pushed on.

“You heard me. You’re pathetic. Pathetic and weak and honestly? Really really embarrassing. It’s no wonder she doesn’t wanna spend time with you. Aside from being the busiest person on Earth and providing you with a roof over your head, she has kids and a job to maintain. But it’s fine- it’s fine!, because you get to complain and she doesn’t. Because you think she owes you everything, but she doesn’t. And she never did. And she never will.” You weren’t sure when you had gotten so close to him, but the backwards step he took gave you enough confidence to continue. “And if you think you mean anything to her, above her children, above her passion, then you are so sorely mistaken that it’s almost funny. Because me, and so many others, have seen how much Miranda cares about those closest to her - and if she’s not making you better, then you’re clearly not worth her time. But maybe if you exercised some more respect, maybe if you showed you cared, she’d bother to call you back and she’d bother to act like your wife. But you don’t do that. So why should she show you what you don’t show her? Huh? Why should she love you when there’s other people out there- when- when there’s people like- like Nigel, like Emily, like me,” you took a deep breath, nearly choking on your words because you were talking so fast, “who would give her the world if she asked for it. Who would do anything to have her attention. So- so why should she love you when you take it for granted? When you, who gets it for free, don’t have to bend over backwards for her affection? When- when- you- you attend events with her, you have dinner with her, she calls you darling! And you take it all for GRANTED - BECAUSE YOU JUST DON’T CARE!”

Your eyes were most likely bloodshot. Your body was shaking. Your head was pounding and your heart was in your throat.

But Stephen looked shocked, having taken more steps backward toward the stairs as you approached him like a blood-thirsty lioness. And at that, watching the way his hand scrambled for the banister, you felt a strange twist of pride creep throughout your heart.

…But it wasn’t enough. You wanted him gone. So you cleared your throat, straightened your spine, and sniffed.

“That’s enough.”

Of course. Miranda cut in, her cool voice dousing your rage like a bucket of water over burning coals; dragging you back into yourself from where you had gotten lost in the clouds; reminding you that you weren’t supposed to be there in the first place. That you were just an assistant. Just a young woman who had stepped out of line to try and protect a woman who didn’t really need it. And instinctively, as though you had been slapped in the face or tugged by a leash, you backpedaled until Miranda’s soft footsteps came over and her back faced you. Stephen’s expression was hidden.

“…I’ll contact Leslie in the morning,” her voice was soft… introspective… distant in a way that made you nervous. “Until then… find somewhere else to spend the night.”

And things grew very quiet.

The only sounds you heard were the bustle of the city and the individual breathing of the three of you. Everything else was silent. The rest of the house, empty without Patricia and the twins (all of which were visiting their grandparents), felt like a movie set with a hidden audience. As though, at about any minute, the credits for the end of the episode would roll and you, Miranda, and Stephen would let out sighs of relief and walk off set and go get cups of water and coffee. But even as you stood there, trying hard not to tilt to the left to watch Stephen walk downstairs and out of the house, you knew what had happened was no fun and games. No, you’d definitely be facing consequences once he was gone.

And finally, after a few more moments of prolonged silence, his footsteps were going down the stairs and into the foyer. Your eyes traced the contours of Miranda’s silk shirt, watching the way it flowed over her shoulders as she walked closer to the staircase to watch Stephen go. One minute- two minutes- and then the front door was opening and closing behind him…

…and silence fell again.

You swallowed, feeling as though you had suddenly been thrown into the center of the sun. The heat of your embarrassment was excruciating - and if Miranda turned around, she’d spot the blush on your cheeks instantaneously. But that was a strong if, because she hadn’t just yet. Nope, instead, she stood staring at the door, letting the air settle. And you weren’t going to interrupt that, so you kept your mouth shut and tried to rationalize mentally.

If she asked, you’d just tell her the truth. That the world got crueler each day and it was in your nature to worry and that no wife should ever come face to face with a furious partner - at least not without the chance to talk civilly at first. And then you’d tell her that it was okay if she wanted to fire you and that you were sorry for being so open and that if you had fucked things up, you’d do whatever you could to fix them.

…

The silence eventually became deafening. And there was an itch in your legs that was getting to you. And your hands were slowly untensing, left with an ache from the pressing of your fingernails. And the exhaustion from the long day was getting to you - so you cleared your throat and prepared yourself.

“Miranda, I’m so sor-”

“That was unnecessary.” You couldn’t hear an ounce of emotion in her tone.

And all you could do was nod and look down at your feet.

“I- I know. I know. But I just… I just couldn’t leave, Miranda.”

“You couldn’t or you didn’t want to?”

Well that was a brilliant question. One you wished you could answer without crying. One you wished you could answer without feeling like a complete loser.

“…Both, I guess.” You settled on the best option you could think of and began shaking your head when the only response you got was a low hum of acknowledgment.

And Miranda still hadn’t moved. She was probably compartmentalizing - or disappearing into her fashionable mind palace - all while you stood there looking at her like she had just smacked your ice cream onto the floor.

Well… if there was one thing you knew, it was that the tension-filled silence couldn’t continue. She could either fire you quickly or make it slow and painful, but either way you weren’t going down without a fight.

“Look, I’m sorry. I am. I know it was out of line and it was too much and I should’ve just kept my mouth shut but I promise I did it with good intentions. And I promise I wouldn’t have stayed if I wasn’t worried and I wouldn’t have said anything if I weren’t genuinely upset. And… and I don’t know if you want to fire me because of that, but if you’re gonna do it - please just get it over with. I know I’m a good assistant, I- I know I’ve learned quickly and I’m sorry that I just completely ruined that right now but if you somehow just gave me another chance, I wouldn’t make another mistake. I promise. And I wouldn’t- I- I-,” you stumbled over your words, feeling the intense pounding of your heart press up against your chest, like it was begging to bounce onto the floor and tumble down the stairs. And the feeling felt so sickening that you had to take a deep breath and shake your head and push down the angry, anxious, terrified tears that yearned to spill into your eyes. “And I- I’ll- I’ll never let anyone talk to you like that again… I promise.”

Your voice was frail. The fire from earlier was gone - as though it had never existed at all. And Miranda still just stood there, with her phone in one hand and her face turned away from you…. Like you weren’t good enough to see her. Like you didn’t deserve to know what she was thinki-”

“You talk too much.” It was the only thing she said before she turned around and walked right past you - faster than lightning.

And you blinked just in time, turning on your heel and staring after her.

“Wh-what? That’s it?” You called. No firing? No scolding?

The room she was heading into looked like a study - but that swiftly became unimportant when she paused at the door and turned to you.

Her face, lit up by the hall light, looked tired in the same way it was earlier. But her eyes… well there was something in them that you couldn’t place. It looked like amusement… and something softer. Something- dare you say- grateful. But it was probably just a trick of the light - and you were probably just hallucinating because of your own exhaustion - and she was most likely just itching to get her duty done and go to bed.

And you suspected that was the case until she took a second to look you up and down in that way that she did- with her blue eyes searching and her gaze laser-sharp- and eventually, eventually, she made it back up to your face. Her expression was blank.

“…On Monday morning, tell Emily that the clothing department has a new opening. Then tell everybody else.” There was a pause. “…And be prepared to start interviews on Tuesday.”

And the last you saw of her then- of the sweet poison you called Miranda Priestly- was the statuesque shape of her body’s side profile as she softly closed the study door.

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Thank you for the request, anon! I understand this isn't terribly fluffy, but I wanted to make it as realistic as I could. I hope you enjoyed! - Ripley

(P.S. DWP is my favorite movie!)

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[hearts4gxsling]

PRETTIEST SECRET (wlw)

Hey girl! Little Emily Charlton blurb I did for a character ai bot. Hope you enjoy!

Pairing: (Emily Charlton x Fem!reader)

Long story short: Emily and you have been having a fling for a while now. But she’s not out yet. You confront her about this in your usual meetup spot.

It’s been five months since you started a fling with your coworker, Emily. Miranda’s assistant. The arrogant, snarky assistant. You’re a photographer for Miranda’s magazine, Runway, The biggest fashion magazine worldwide.

What people don’t see when it comes to Emily is that she is actually a sweetheart. Sometimes. She just needed someone to talk to. So now here you are, in the usual fitting room you two secretly meet in. Your girlfriend in front of you, shaking her head in disbelief while still avoiding your gaze.

“It’s not about you! It’s about what people will think of me if they find out!! Miranda wouldn’t care. But others might. And I have a reputation to uphold!” She whisper-yells. You had just confronted her about you not being able to be with her in public. To have to sneak around like two teenagers. All because she won’t just come out of that damn closet, afraid it will tarnish her reputation and therefore her career.

“Look- this fling.. it’s hopeful. Really hopeful. But it’s not meant to be out into the world. You don’t get it! You don’t understand that this could ruin everything I’ve ever worked for. You know how much work means to me. Just.. please. We have to keep this a secret.” She pleads, finally dragging her eyes up to meet your gaze.

——————————————————————————

Play with the bot here:

https://share.character.ai/Wv9R/4yzs1bbw

[jen-with-a-pen]

Alice idk what the FUCK kinda drugs you smuggled into this simple, singular ask, but goddamnit it made me sprint to my docs and start writing for the first time in God knows when. I literally have created an au in a matter of hours of seeing this. Fuck you and thank you🫣😋😈

[this is currently an untitled au and a WIP]

Photographer!Dark!Bucky Barnes x RunwayFashionModel!Reader

The overhead spotlights drop the second the showrunner points to the cameras, who, in turn, point to you. Big white bounce cards blind your peripherals and the sound of murmurs throughout the studio, executives and assistants alike, work their way into your ears. The voices swirl into one drone of static and the lights start getting brighter and brighter. Your grip on the arms of the chair grows tighter. Manicured fingernails threaten to dig into the upholstery, the gaudy necklace resting on your chest beginning to brand into your skin. The makeup caked onto your flesh feels like it’s melting, taking your dermis with it.

You can't tear your eyes away from behind the host's head, staring off into space and trying not to focus on the bile beginning to bubble in your pitted stomach.

You knew you should've eaten something.

As the host waits for her after-ad-break cue, shuffling her question cards and sipping coffee from her custom show-branded cup, you feel restless. Legs bouncing out of sync, begging to get up, to run off set and out onto the bustling streets below and never look back. Maybe a bus or cab will make it end, make it stop. You were never cut out for this, never supposed to be here.

"Bunny."

You gasp, your trance broken as the deep bass sounding out your nickname cuts through the noise. It's like oxygen for you. He is oxygen for you. You can’t escape him willingly- he’ll only find a way to be there. To always be there.

You whip your head around to face the herd of people and producers staring at you. Out of all of them, through the blinding lights, you meet his gaze. All six feet four inches, built-like-a-god, broad shoulders of him. His eyes shine like sea glass behind the camera operator, baby blue and looking only at you. For that moment, you are the only one he sees. His target. His. You are the only one he can touch, who he can feel, halfway across the room.

The pit only grows larger, filling your hunger with nausea. You'd bet all the money in the world he schmoozed some P.A. just to make sure he was there to see you. To surveil you.

You wish you were playing in traffic.

[cappulcino]

Navigation post / Masterlist

Hello, everyone! My name is Ash (though you can also call me Samael), and I am a storyteller in the making. I have always been reluctant to share my work, but in the spirit of self-improvement and because I actually love writing so much, I recently decided to take the leap.

All of my works will be posted here, as well as on AO3.

Requests now open!

My requests are currently open for ficlet prompts. It would really help me get back in the mood for writing and then maybe I can also finish my WIPs (see list below).

What I will write:

Character x character

Character x OC

Character x reader

Almost all genres

Adult content I feel comfortable with

What I will not write (unless maybe you pay me? 👀):

Any pairing including a real person (no actor x reader or shipping real celebrities together)

Adult x minor interactions other than parent/child or hurt/comfort settings

Pairings with two characters played by the same actor (I personally don't like it)

Non-con tropes

Anything so personal in a character x reader request that nobody else could enjoy the fic

(List to be completed later)

You can check the fandoms I currently write for on my profile in my bio. They are in "order", meaning they go from most to least interested in as of today and/or from most to least "knowledgeable". If the fandom you're looking for is not in my profile, it's no use asking; I either don't want to write for it or don't know anything about it.

Fanfictions will be under #cappulcino writes. Answered asks will be under #cappulcino replies. Fanfic recommendations will be under #cappulcino recommends (For lack of a better free tag)

Masterlist

The Sandman

Seven Days Til Fall (Lucifer Morningstar x Angel!Reader) Posted, complete

The Eveningstar (Dreamingstar / Dream of the Endless x Lucifer Morningstar) Unpublished WIP, preparation phase

The Devil Wears Prada

Broken Souls and Apple Pies (Mirandy / Miranda Priestly x Andrea Sachs) Unpublished WIP, 45% completed

Wednesday

Animi Metamorphosis (Larissa Weems x Shapeshifter!Teacher!OC) Unpublished WIP, preparation phase

Game of Thrones

Where The Wild Things Rest (Brienne of Tarth x Fem!Reader) Published, one-shot

You'll also find short summaries of my current WIPs and ideas here.

Don't hesitate to check them out and show your support for the fic(s) you would like me to finish and publish!

My edits

Good Omens X Hayloft II

Sandman crack vid

Fanart

Larissa Weems

Taglist

Comment under this post to be added to the taglist.

And while you're here...

Please consider signing this silly petition to try to get Gwendoline Christie back on Wednesday as Larissa Weems!

Note: the line dividers I use in my fics are by @strangergraphics-archive

[no-phrogs-in-hats]

Thinking about adding Miranda Priestly to my masterlist.

Would you guys be interested in that?

[merylstreepsworld]

Blooms of Passion Behind Closed Doors

Warning: Heavy sexual themes

Pairing: Miranda Priestly x Top Fem!Reader

Summary: You surprise Miranda at her office with flowers. The flowers spark a growing passion between you two to release some tension. Amidst the intensity of desire, the intrusion of colleagues adds a twist. Showcasing the delicate balance between professionalism and the undeniable connection that flourishes behind closed doors.

Word count: 1,647

Authors note: Thanks to @blueberrycoffee19 for requesting this story! I very much enjoyed writing this and trying to find a good balance between work and intimacy! I hope you enjoy!

It had been a hectic week at Runway magazine, and Miranda Priestly, the formidable editor-in-chief, was known for her high standards and relentless pursuit of excellence. As her partner, you knew how demanding her job could be, and you often found creative ways to surprise her and brighten her day.

On this particular day, you decided to make an impromptu visit to the office. You carried a bouquet of fresh flowers, knowing how much Miranda appreciated their elegance and beauty. You approached her office, gently knocking on the door.

"Come in," her voice commanded from inside.

With a soft smile, you entered, the bouquet of flowers held behind your back. "Miranda," you began, "I thought you could use a little something to brighten your day."

Miranda looked up from her desk, and for a brief moment, her steely exterior softened. Her eyes met yours, a hint of surprise dancing within their depths. "And what might this be?" You presented the bouquet, and her elegant fingers brushed over the delicate petals. "Just a small gesture to remind you that you're appreciated, even in the midst of your busy day."

Miranda accepted the flowers, her lips curving into a rare but genuine smile. "You have a knack for knowing just what I need."

As she inhaled the fragrance of the blossoms, you took a step closer, your hand finding hers. The connection between you and Miranda had always been electric, and in this moment, you sensed a shift in the air, a silent agreement between your hearts. Without a word, you found yourself easing onto her lap, the surprise gift now forgotten as your lips met in a passionate kiss. Miranda's arms encircled you, pulling you closer as the world outside ceased to exist. In her office, surrounded by the splendor of the bouquet you'd brought, the two of you shared an intimate moment, a quiet declaration of the love you'd found in each other.

Miranda's icy exterior melts away when she's alone with you. Her eyes, once piercing, now sparkle with warmth and affection. She captures your lips in a lingering kiss, her tongue delicately seeking yours. The world outside the office disappears as you both get lost in each other.

The intensity of your passion seemed to engulf the room, but the bouquet of flowers you had brought suddenly became a reminder of the world outside. With a sigh, you reluctantly pulled away from Miranda, your fingers tracing her jawline. You had to put the flowers down, at least for now, to fully embrace this intimate moment. With a gentle touch, you set the bouquet on Miranda's desk. The vibrant petals contrasted with the impeccably organized documents and fashion magazines that surrounded them, a testament to the collision of your love and her demanding work.

Miranda watched as you carefully placed the flowers on her desk, a faint smile tugging at her lips. She understood the necessity of this brief interruption and welcomed the opportunity to savor this moment with you.

Once the bouquet was in its place, you turned your attention back to Miranda. You resumed your position on her lap, your lips eagerly reconnecting with hers. Your fingers tangled in her hair as your desire continued to build, both of you fully immersed in the passion that had ignited in her office. Her fingers glide sensually down your back, sending shivers of desire through your body. You let out a soft moan against her lips, the taste of her desire intoxicating. Your hands explore the contours of her elegant neck and slide down to the exposed skin beneath her silk blouse.

Miranda's fingers tangle in your hair, deepening the kiss. The passion between you ignites, a fire that has burned since the day you met, and now it consumes you both. She pulls you even closer, and you can feel the rapid beating of her heart echoing your own.

Your lips trail down the column of her neck, leaving a path of soft kisses. Her breath quickens, and she arches her back, surrendering to the sensation. Your hands move further down, slipping beneath the fabric of her blouse to caress her skin, making her gasp in pleasure.

Miranda's touch becomes even more electrifying, her fingers sliding under your shirt with a deliberate sensuality. She trails soft kisses along your jawline and down to your collarbone, her warm breath sending shivers down your spine.

With a slow, deliberate pace, Miranda unbuttons your shirt, revealing your skin inch by inch. Her lips follow the path her fingers take, leaving a trail of fiery kisses that makes your heart race.

You let out a soft gasp as Miranda's hands finally remove your shirt, leaving just your bra to cover your breasts. Her eyes, filled with a potent mix of desire and adoration, meet yours. "You are breathtaking," she murmurs. Miranda's lips descend further, her kisses igniting a fire within you. You arch your back, your body aching for her touch. She unhurriedly slides her hands along your sides, her fingers grazing your skin, teasing and tantalizing. Her nimble fingers unhook your bra, freeing your chest, and she continues her assault of kisses down your body.

A rush of heat engulfs you as Miranda's lips reach your breasts. She takes one nipple into her mouth, sucking gently, causing you to moan in ecstasy. The pleasure courses through your veins, and your fingers instinctively find their way into her hair, urging her on.

With every touch, every caress, the desire between you intensifies. Miranda's hands travel lower, tracing the curve of your hips, her lips following in pursuit. Your breaths come in ragged gasps as she reaches the waistband of your pants.

In a whirlwind of passion, you find yourself stripped down to just your pants, the desire in Miranda's eyes mirroring your own. The world beyond her office is a distant memory, as you and Miranda become one in the intoxicating dance of love and longing.

As you share this tender moment, the door swings open, revealing Nigel, Miranda's trusted confidant and the Art Director of Runway magazine. He steps in, a smile on his face, but it quickly fades as he notices your intimate position with Miranda.

"Miranda, I just wanted to discuss the layout for the next issue," Nigel begins, his voice trailing off as he takes in the sight before him.

Miranda, unflappable as ever, calmly addresses him. "Nigel?"

Nigel stammers slightly, trying to regain his composure. "I...I'll come back later."

You, however, are lost in your connection with Miranda, nuzzling her neck and whispering sweet nothings. The chemistry between the two of you is undeniable, making it challenging for anyone to look away. Miranda remains seated, her hands still on you, but her focus shifts to her colleague. She acknowledges Nigel with a composed smile. "Nigel, I trust you've got the layout sorted?"

Nigel, ever the professional, glances briefly at your barely clad form before directing his attention to Miranda as he walks over beside the desk. "Yes, Miranda, it's all in order."

You, on the other hand, continue to sit there with a nonchalant air, offering a friendly nod to Nigel as if nothing extraordinary is occurring. "Hey, Nigel."

Nigel manages a polite nod in return, though it's clear his composure is being tested. He clears his throat and proceeds with the business at hand.

Just as you're deep in the throes of affection, Andrea, Miranda's second assistant, enters the room with a stack of documents in her arms. She freezes, her eyes widening as she takes in the scene. Her cheeks flush, and her gaze darts between Miranda, Nigel, and you.

Miranda finally notices Andrea's flustered state and her lack of focus on the task at hand. "Andrea, is there something you'd like to share with us?" Miranda's tone is icy, snapping Andrea back to reality.

Andrea stammers, struggling to find her words. "I...I'm sorry, Miranda. I didn't mean to interrupt."

Miranda's eyes narrow, and she gestures for Andrea to approach her desk. "Come here, Andrea."

Andrea approaches Miranda's desk with trepidation, while you remain in Miranda's lap, undisturbed. Miranda's aura of power and authority is as evident as ever. With a sigh, Miranda speaks, her voice commanding the room. "Andrea, I expect my team to maintain professionalism at all times. It's apparent that you need a reminder. So, let this be one."

Andrea nods, her embarrassment apparent as she looks at you and Miranda. "Yes, Miranda. I apologize for the disruption."

After a moment of contented silence with Miranda, you decide it's time to acknowledge Andrea's presence. With your easygoing demeanor, you twist your upper body around and extend a hand to Andrea, who is still flustered. "Andrea, I don't think we've officially met. I'm [Your Name]. It's a pleasure to make your acquaintance."

Andrea, her nerves clearly getting the best of her, hesitantly takes your hand. "I'm Andrea. Nice to meet you," she mumbles, unable to hide her surprise at how casual and unaffected you are by the unconventional situation.

Miranda, sensing the tension in the room, takes a moment to reassert her authority. "That's enough of this," she declares, and her voice cuts through the awkwardness. "We have work to do." Nigel nods, still somewhat baffled by the scene in front of him, and Andrea retreats from the office, leaving you to continue your intimate moment with Miranda. While the professional world outside her office might buzz with rumors and intrigue, the two of you remain blissfully wrapped up in your own world, where the rules of convention seem secondary to your love for one another.

With Nigel and Andrea's exit, you and Miranda are left with a newfound sense of privacy in her office. You slide even closer to Miranda in her lap, your fingers gently tracing the curve of her jawline as you whisper, "Where were we, darling?"

[plush4bunny]

Magazine cover (and unedited version) for the "make-it-or-break-it" article about the ruthless editor-in-chief Maxim Horvath, but what is the story behind it? 👀 find out more from @chrism02's iconic Devil Wears Prada AU fic called "The Devil Wears Armani"

[smusherina]

fandoms i write for

additional note: mostly wlw and platonic relations. the occasional m/f might spring up but if i were you i wouldn't count on it.

games

red dead redemption

resident evil

baldur's gate 3

shows and movies

wednesday

the devil wears prada

harry potter

pitch perfect

mean girls

atla

supergirl

rpf* and niche things

smosh (only sketch characters)

dimension 20 fantasy high

another additional note: i will not be writing smut. scenes alluding to sexual acts might happen, as well as talks about sexuality or sex. however, that is it.

*concerning rpf (real person fiction): i will not be writing anything speculative of anyone's lives, encroach on private matters or insiniuate anything unsavoury about a person. any rpf i write is to be taken as solely fiction, a wish-fulfilment fantasy with no other objective than to wonder what if.

[stayevildarling]

Miranda Priestly x Wilhemina Venable x Reader- Dragon meets Purple, Part 3

word count: 2k

tw: hints of smut

taglist: @lunaticwhittaker, @billiebeanhoward, @lanawinters-ily, @kenzbro, @minaslittleone, @httpfiftyshadesofgay,@whitelotus00, @ninaahs, @vintagepaulson,@isle-of-earle,@paulsonsratched, @stepintomyworld, @grilledcheeseandguavajelly, @lucyintheskywithxanax, @fanfics4world, @mymiraclewitch, @hazard-to-myself, @awritersometime

Fast forward a couple of weeks and you had finally somewhat settled into your new job. Runway was demanding for sure, constantly being on your feet, having to assist Miranda's needs. Being bossed around by Emily. But somehow you loved it, the behind the scenes of all the fashion shows, the possibility of going to Paris and you didn't exactly mind your two direct bosses Ms Priestly and Ms Venable.

Today was a somewhat ordinary day, Miranda in meetings most of the day, an event she was attending tonight but alone as it was more of a dinner. It was a Friday and that usually meant you could leave a bit earlier.

It's currently around lunchtime and you know by now that Ms Priestly prefers her usual Starbucks by the time she gets back. Having finished your tasks for today, you make your way there, picking up everyones usuals before heading back to work.

As you return Emily wasn't there, assuming she is still at lunch with her friend Serena. You simply place her coffee on her desk before opening your bosses door, assuming she is still gone as her calendar is blocked another hour.

Opening the door, your breath gets caught in your throat as you see your boss sitting there with Wilhemina, both of them having lunch in Mirandas office.

,,I'm - I'm so sorry Ms Priestly and Ms Venable, I assumed you are out of the office for lunch'' you explain yourself.

,,Well you assumed wrong'' Miranda states, Wilhemina's eyes meeting Miranda with a certain sharpness in them.

,,I just have both of your coffees here'' you explain, quickly before placing them down. As you look at Ms Venable her eyes on your cleavage once again catches your attention. However you make sure you exit her office as quickly as possible before closing the door behind you.

As you return to your desk you exhale deeply and are met with Emily's judgy face.

,,Well..'' she looks at you with a raised eyebrow.

,,Anyway you will be in charge for the rest of the afternoon, I'm leaving early'' she explains, grabbing her things.

,,I have got myself a hot date for tonight'' she smiles excitedly, unaware that her boss could clearly hear her, as they just finished and opened the door.

Emily leaves before realising and you can't help but overhear the conversation that follows.

,,Ugh how come these young things can find dates and men so easily?'' Miranda sighs and purses her lips.

,,Why limit yourself to just men, lunch tomorrow?'' Wilhemina smirks before leaving.

Your heart pounds as you try to muster up your best smile for both of your bosses, slightly in disbelief of the statement you just heard as both Ms Venable and Ms Priestly are undeniably attractive.

-------

A few weeks later and Wilhemina never thought the innocent launch dinner invitation would lead to this. She finds herself in Miranda's townhouse. Miranda exiting the bathroom,wearing a loose fitting white shirt, the length of the shirt exposing her legs and Wilhemina can't help but stare.

As Miranda catches a glimpse of Wilhemina on her bed she can't help but smile. It had been going on for a few weeks, from Miranda being her boss, to not really being her boss anymore since Wilhemina worked in HR to being coworkers or friends? and suddenly more than that.

,,You look at me like you actually want me, which is more than what my ex husbands used to do'' Miranda suddenly exclaims, standing on the other end of the room, getting dressed.

,,Because I do'' Wilhemina speaks eventually, barely audible. She wasn't one to admit feelings and she certainly didn't quite understand what this was but there was something about Miranda she adored.

,,Ive told you we should keep this open, it will be better'' Miranda explains, combing through her hair.

The first time happened so quickly that neither of them really had time to process or think this through. The launch dinner invitation seemed to have kicked things off. It didn't go well and Miranda couldn't cope too well with the criticism she took for the spring collection.

,,There's no denying the job you do for Runway'' Irv had started at first but quickly adding ,,However we aren't happy with budgeting lately''.

Miranda simply averted her gaze, pursing her lips, having to sit through this dinner and listen to his ridiculous words. The tension in the air loomed with anger and just as Miranda was about to snap, Wilhemina suddenly entered the conversation with calm but strict words. ,,Budgeting has been better for Runway than ever before, plus the spring collection has made you more money than ever before''.

Miranda's head snapped towards the redheads, not expecting her to say much tonight and certainly not the words she chose as she actually managed to make Irv shut up and the conversation taking a different turn. Suddenly the redhead woman working as her assistant before but now in HR was utterly attractive to Miranda, and she wasn't one to be subltle about it either.

Somehow it kept happening, Miranda showing up in Wilhemina's office in the late hours of the night and them spending the night together. Maybe it was that shared loneliness that tied them together. Both of them knowing the other one would still be in the office, at whatever hour of the night. Or perhaps it's the way their personalities match and clash at times, binding them together. Wilhemina was stern but hidden behind several walls. Walls that built up over years, filled with pain and heartbreak. Miranda was stern and snappy but in a more open way. She didn't hesitate to make sarcastic comments all the time and let people know what she thinks of them. Maybe their sarcastic selfs were enough to make them a match. However Miranda felt for Wilhemina, her dedication despite the limits her body had put on her. Wilhemina therefore admired Miranda, leading a whole company that is usually dominated by males and Miranda not having a care in the world.

,,Certainly'' Wilhemina mumbles, before composing herself and getting changed.

-------

Today marks another week working for Runway and Ms Priestly. Another Friday, Miranda already gone at some dinner Runway thing, Emily again with her hot date she spoke about last week. It was late, everyone had left the building or so you assumed.

You didn't tell anyone but the last couple of nights you had spent in the office. You moved to New York with a job but no home, the housing market was crazy and despite your savings and all the right documents, you couldn't find a place. You couldn't make time for a viewing and the ones you attended on the weekend were either interrupted by Miranda or Emily needing something or someone already having put a deposit down. The first week and a half you stayed in a hotel, however due to some event in the city everything was booked out

You didn't have a lot of choices and so you put all your belongings with a luggage service and only kept one bag at work at all times. You exit the little kitchen behind your desk, after having heated up your ramen, before sitting back down at your desk, the only source of light, the New York sky illuminating from Miranda's office and your computer.

Despite thinking the building was empty as it already is way past midnight, Wilhemina is still in her office. She didn't usually stay this long but the conversations and situation with Miranda kept replaying in her mind like a broken record.

When both of them first started sleeping with each other, Wilhemina didn't think much of it other than a hookup, of course she had those in her life before. Relationships were however a stranger to her and when Miranda sat her down and talked about how it would be best if they kept this open, she felt a strange feeling in her chest. Heartbreak? Sadness? She wasn't sure. Miranda felt good, the time they spent together while having coffee, work related or in Miranda's bed felt good to Wilhemina.

After about a year she finally feels as if she had that private life, hobbies and people she cared about that she longed for before and ultimately drove her decision to come to New York. As she walks downstairs, on her way to the elevator she sees a light.

The redhead knows this can't be Miranda as she was at a dinner tonight, so she assumes someone had kept the light on. As she enters through the glass door, her eyebrow raises as she sees you, by your desk, in pink Victoria Secret button up pyjamas, the top buttons not done up all the way so the hem of your black bra showing slightly.

,,And what are you doing here?- in your pyjamas?'' she asks. Her voice causes for you to jump on your chair, almost dropping your ramen pot.

,,Oh my god Ms Venable'' you shriek ,,You scared me'' you exhale after catching your breath again.

,,I think you have some explaining to do Ms Y/N'' she states coldly. However her eyes not leaving yours or the hem of your bra for a single second.

,,Look Ms Venable I'm not from New York and I have been trying like crazy to find an apartment but I can't find one. I have been staying in a hotel but they had no availability left and so this has been where I have been sleeping the last couple of nights'' you explain, figuring honesty was best in this situation.

You had always been a quite confident and possible flirty person but somehow Miranda and Wilhemina and the whole Runway experience knocked your confidence. Usually you would have made some sort of joke, causing the other person to laugh but you knew Ms Venable was strict and so you didn't want to risk offending her.

Wilhemina isn't quite sure what to say. Part of her wants to fire you right there on the spot but then she is reminded of a younger version of herself, working out of the back of a van and spending countless nights in said van. A part of her wants to scold you or respond with some kind of sarcasm but somehow you caused for the redhead to be unable to form words which didn't happen often.

,,Collect your things'' she states coldly and your heart sinks at her statement.

,,I'm really sorry Ms Venable, please I really want to keep this job'' you beg.

,,I'm not firing you, I'm taking you home, come on'' she replies.

,,Oh you are?'' you can't help but smirk at her statement before quickly gathering your things. It takes you less than a minute to collect your things and change back into your work outfit from earlier that day.

As you make it to Wilhemina's car, you quite enjoy the drive, not having been able to see a lot of the city yet and despite it being night and dark it's mesmerising. Somehow you couldn't take your eyes off the redhead, her hands coated in Chanel purple gloves wrapped around the steering wheel. Her eyes focused on the road but sometimes betraying her and wandering to you.

You can't help but really take in her features, the shape of her face, her beautiful brown eyes, the glasses, the hair and just every single detail, every wrinkle, every detail.

,,Here we are'' she eventually says as she parks outside of her apartment.

As she unlocks the door, she shows you to the kitchen very modern and minimalistic, the living room looking more homey. You notice the knitting basket in the corner and smile internally. She points you to the bathroom and eventually the spare bedroom.

,,There is bedding and towels over there'' she explains.

,,Thank you so much Ms Venable, I'l make sure to keep looking for apartments tomorrow and I'm so sorry for the inconvenience'' you apologise.

She doesn't say anything and simply walks back to the kitchen so you can collect your bag.

,,Do you have any other questions?'' she asks as you bend to pick up your things.

Silence fills the room before you scan her features and decide to shoot your shot.

,,I do'' you state as you take a step closer to the redhead.

,,You know my eyes are up here right?'' you take a leap, praying you didn't misread the signs and the several times she had checked you out so far.

Unsure whether she was going to kick you out or possibly kill you, you stand still frozen in place. The older woman takes a couple of steps towards you and you close your eyes, hoping she wasn't going to slap you. To your surprise you suddenly feel a firm but soft hand on yours and just as you open your eyes your lips are met by hers.

You moan slightly into the kiss, thanking yourself internally for not reading this the wrong way.