#tdwp imagine

[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.

#wilhemina venable #sarah paulson #american horror story #sarah paulson x reader #Wilhemina Venable x reader #miranda priestly #miranda priestly x reader #the devil wears prada #tdwp #meryl streep #ahs #cordelia goode #billie dean howard #cordelia goode x reader #ahs coven #sarah paulson imagine #devil wears prada #emily blunt

[multimilfs]

Miranda Priestly x Fem!Reader: Public People in Private

Summary: Miranda Priestly + 67 “Uh, am I interrupting?”

Prompts found here!

A/N: Miranda… my beloved. I need to rewatch this movie so bad, it’s been ages

Full Ficmas List

Tag List: @imtrashinflames @escapetodreamworld @multifandomfix @ghostsunderstoodmysoul

Warning(s): None

“You can let me out here, Roy. I’m going up today.” 

“Are you sure? I had a… colorful message from Emily this morning.” Roy asks, glancing at you in the rearview mirror. 

“I’ll risk it,” You smile, “I might be able to help out. At the very least, I’ll distract her for a few minutes.” 

Roy nods and you step out in front of the Elias Clarke building. You weave through the crowds and inside without a hassle. The attendant stands up straighter upon seeing you, even after all this time. Nodding in greeting, he lets you through. 

The crowds seem to part as soon as you’re past the front desk. Tall, rail-thin models step out of your way, some even stepping out of the elevator when you get in. You want to shake your head at the treatment. 

It’s a short ascent to the Runway offices and you can see why Emily is so stressed. Models and staff scamper past, barely looking your way. The front desk is in shambles as several men in suits hound the receptionist. 

Milena, the poor girl, looks absolutely beaten. You check your watch and find you have a few minutes before Miranda is expecting you. 

“Is there something wrong here, gentleman?” You ask smoothly, stepping in beside Milena like it’s your rightful place. 

The tallest and meanest of the bunch turns on you. His suit is rumpled like he’s been tugging at it nervously, face red and splotchy with anger. 

Milena cuts in softly before he can throw anything your way, “They keep saying Miranda is expecting them, but they’re not in her schedule.” 

You pat her shoulder. 

“We do have an appointment!” He almost shrieks. 

You look him up and down, raising a brow. It shuts him up long enough for you to dial a familiar number. You hold up a finger to the men while the line rings. 

His fists clench at his sides. He looks like the lawyer type, which means he’s not used to being made to wait, let alone by a woman. 

“Miranda Priestly’s office.” Emily’s clipped voice comes down the line. 

“Hi Em,” You say sweetly, “I’ve got three men waiting with Milena, claiming they’ve got an appointment on the books. Is there anything in her schedule?”

“Of course not. She has lunch with you.” 

“That’s what I thought. Thank you, Em.” You return the phone to the cradle and give a sharp smile, “You’re not on the schedule, gentleman. I trust you know where the elevators are and if you’ve forgotten, security will be more than happy to escort you.” 

“I’ll have your job, Miss—” One of the other men says. 

You grin deviously, “It’s Mrs, actually. Mrs. Priestly.” 

All three men blanch. Milena tries to cover her grin as you step around the desk. She discreetly dials the security line, watching you with bated breath. 

The tallest doesn’t look so mean now. When you step up to him, he takes a half-step back. You almost regret Miranda not being here to bear witness; you learned it from her, after all. 

When the elevator sounds and the doors open, the head of security and two of his burliest men step out. Milena nods in the direction of the three men you’re staring down. Tearing your eyes away for a moment, you nod.

“Clark.” You acknowledge the head of security. 

“Mrs. Priestly,” He says, “Is there a problem here?” 

“No problem. These gentlemen just need some assistance finding the lobby.” 

Clark nods and his two men step forward and usher the red-faced men from Runway. You watch them go with a satisfied smile. Folding your arms over your chest, you turn to the man at your side.

“Do we know how they got up here?”

“Front desk says they had an appointment with Mr. Ravitz this morning. They must have come straight from his office.” 

Your lip curls, “Irv. Of course.” 

“Is there anything else I can do for you?” 

“That’s all, Clark. Thank you.” 

He leaves without further fanfare. You watch as he sends a warm smile Milena’s way. Her responding blush makes you pause. Interesting development, you think, trying not to let your thoughts show on your face. 

Collecting your bag and accepting Milena’s heartfelt thanks, you continue back towards Miranda’s office. You wince when you catch sight of a clock. You’re five minutes later than you should be, but all you can do is hope your wife isn’t too upset. 

Following the familiar pathway to the offices, you try not to shake your head when nearly a dozen models and staff members scare upon seeing you. Honestly, you think, I wasn’t nearly as bad as Emily. Must just come with marrying the Editor-in-Chief, you decide. 

Speaking of Emily, the brit is boredly explaining something over the phone. You offer a small wave and she sends you a surprisingly-genuine smile. 

Miranda isn’t alone in her office; you can hear her soft voice bickering with someone else. Peering in, you see Nigel standing in front of her, hands motioning this way and that as he explains something. 

Knocking on the office door, “Uh, am I interrupting?” 

Both look up. Miranda’s severe expression softens slightly. When she checks the watch on her wrist, her lips purse and you know you’re not getting away with your tardiness, but she doesn’t say anything about it. 

“Not at all, darling. Come in.” Miranda stands. 

You meet Nigel in the middle of the office and exchange air kisses. He pulls back and looks you over, nodding approvingly. 

“New boots?” He asks. 

“They’re last season, actually.” You say, then stage-whisper, “Don’t tell Miranda.” 

“Oh honey, I wouldn’t dare.” Nigel winks. 

He gives Miranda a small nod and takes his leave. You cross around the desk to accept your usual kiss on the cheek. She’s a little slower to grant it today and you lean back, raising a brow.

“You’re late.” 

“There was a situation at the front desk,” You answer easily, “I would have been early, but Milena needed the help.” 

“If she needs help doing her job then perhaps she’s better suited for employment elsewhere.” Miranda says. 

“You know that isn’t what I meant.” 

“Do I?”

“Miranda.” You glare, “If you fire Milena I’m going to be extremely cross.” 

She rolls her eyes. Pulling out a few paper menus, she hands them over, and you peruse today’s selections. Smith and Wollensky rests on top and you try not to laugh. Miranda always puts her preferred option on the very top, but lets you have the final choice. 

You could go for a steak. And you should probably tread carefully with your lateness. 

Handing over the Smith and Wollensky menu, she nods, looking pleased. She calls Emily in to rattle off your orders while you move over to the couch in her office. 

Emily takes the notes dutifully. You wonder where the new second assistant is, having heard some interesting murmurs about her over the past few days. Emily was suitably frustrated with her—as was Miranda—but Nigel and Serena had been a little more kind. She was out of her depth, but meant well, that was the final verdict. 

You hardly notice when Emily leaves until Miranda sits down next to you. Leaning back against the couch, she eyes you. 

“Why are you looking at me like that?” You ask. 

“Like what?” 

“Like you’re trying to figure me out.” 

Miranda chuckles, “Darling, figuring you out will take more than my lifetime.” 

“I can never tell if statements like that are a compliment or insult.” You narrow your eyes. 

“For you?” Miranda raises a brow and pretends to think on it, before her face softens infinitesimally, “A compliment.” 

“Miranda Priestly, are you going soft on me?” You tease, but lean into her space, “Imagine what that’d do to your reputation.” 

“I have.” 

There’s a look in her eyes you can’t decipher. You try not to think about it too much, stealing a quick kiss, trying not to badly damage her lipstick.

“So, tell me about today.”

You lean back and settle in for Miranda’s usual spiel about the incompetence of her employees, watching her fondly. 

#miranda priestly #miranda priestly x reader #the devil wears prada #tdwp #the devil wears prada x reader #miranda priestly imagine #the devil wears prada imagine #wlw #wlw imagine #dec2022 #multimilfswritings #multimilfsficmas2022

[gentleoverdrive]

(240/?) You will see your downfall.

It's been raining again for a couple of days! Driving around the city to go into rehearsals for the pre-production process of one of the recording sessions we'll start soon has been so fun... even if I have to use my 8-string for these new songs. Goddammit, that guitar is so heavy now that I lost weight, it's hard to play it for long periods of time standing. ---- And while I was able to pull off most of the songs without much of an issue (after all, 5 out of the 9 songs were almost completely written by me), I've been wondering: Weren't both literary and musical genres, like, entirely dreamed up by marketing? I say this because, while I love playing slow, droning stoner/post-metal as much as the next musician, it's also not the only thing I want to do with this particular band. ---- Especially because we're a power trio. We don't even have a proper bass player. Hell, technically speaking, the low register is mostly MY thing in this band! Wouldn't it be cool if musicians weren't so married to their own genres as the standard? I'd love to play some crossover or even thrash with these two girls! ---- Same with my other band! I don't want to play melodeath all the time with those guys. How about some black metal? How about some metalcore? Or grind? Wouldn't that be the shit? Think about it. Genres are purely for marketing, man. See you later, alligator!

#diary #daily life of an old shithead #the devil wears prada #the devil wears prada reference #tdwp #crazy awesome intro #legit a top 10 as far as album openers for albums in the 2010's #like dead throne is as far from a perfect album as you're likely to find but the fact it has such an insanely strong start? very promising! #christian metalcore is not as rare as people think either! #zao has basically existed since the mid 90's #genres #things I think about #things I think about when I'm tired as hell #just old fart things #like imagine: AC/DC doing something else #(besides being boring I mean) #Hey-ooooooooooo! #i'm sorry #you come here for weird tags not for a man on his 30's to be weird about one of the best-selling rock bands in the world #(even if they suck ass)

[bug-ocs]

nyello i had some OC thoughts on my way to work...all of my OCs listen to metal/metal-adjacent music because i can do what i want, here's their general faves:

danny: killswitch engage

emory: dragonforce (naturally)

gen: lamb of god

rami: ghost (but he doesn't listen to the lyrics)

eli: megadeath

kieran: nine inch nails

gen and danny also like slipknot and they would go to concerts together in high school ;w; they were also screamo emo kids so they listened to chiodos, TDWP and underoath and all that...i get SO much joy imagining the two of them in early highschool wearing black skinny jeans and band tees and stud belts and way too much eyeliner...weird little freaks against the world!!

#'my curse' is what danny listens to alone in his room and just WAILS #not deriving this from personal experiences or anything

[multifandomfix]

Imagine Miranda whispering a salacious compliment in your ear while you’re at a fashion show with her.

You were seated in the front row next to Miranda as you watched the winter collections of numerous designers pass by you on the runway. As Miranda fixated on the models and the clothes, she placed a hand softly on your knee, leaning in close to you. All of your attention was now solely on her.

"You look stunning in that dress I bought you, but once we're done here, I think I’m going to like it a whole lot more when it’s off."

Of course, you couldn’t react to her comment, not so publicly, anyway, so you simply bit your lip. Of course this only got you a wicked smirk from Miranda. For the rest of the fashion show, you couldn’t concentrate on a single part of it. All that swam through your head was thoughts of what would take place afterwards.

For anon

Miranda Priestly Tag: @iticaboopsyou

#miranda priestly #miranda priestly imagine #miranda priestly x reader #😈 #the devil wears prada #the devil wears prada imagine #tdwp #tdwp imagine #request #send requests #requests open

[russian-soft-bitch]

This one was the idea of @dani885-xox (tumblr can't find it for some reason):

Hi just saw that you want to do more Miranda story’s so here my idea 💡 Miranda looking for a dress that was in the closet days ago at runway making everyone look for it. Then y/n walks in wearing it to meet her for lunch. Miranda looks up at Y/n smile. Putting runway to a holt as your wearing the dress and she smiles not tearing you apart and everyone wonders who you are you proceeded to pick up her hand and say are you ready to go

Thank you for the idea 😊 hope you like it!

The Dress

- everything started a couple of months ago

- this year is jubilant for Runway, so it was decided to create a special issue of the magazine

- Miranda, being the perfectionist that she is, decided to do everything herself

- she just started to pick outfits for the photo shoot that'll take place at the time square, she already had certain outfits in mind

- everyone started to freak out the moment she decided to inspect the closet

- Miranda picked a couple of outfits already when she decided to go to the section with dresses

- She was thinking about that white Valentino dress that had spaghetti straps and shuttlecocks on the sides. She remembered about the bag that will look really nice with that dress and imagined what kind of hair style will look just right

- so when she couldn't find the dress, she was furious. Miranda clearly remembered that she saw that dress in that exact place just a week ago

- that's when the hell broke loose

- "is it that hard to keep track of all the clothes? I just don't understand"

- everyone was really freaking out because the dress just disappeared

- when people were looking for the dress for over 25 minutes and Miranda was standing there rolling her eyes, you walked into the room in that dress

- you looked around confused, "what's happening?"

- when they saw you in the dress, everyone just stopped and gasped

- they were expecting Miranda to just tear you apart but what they saw was just unbelievable

- Miranda looked at you, I mean took you in in that dress, and smiled

- while everyone was thinking about who the hell you are, you walked up to her and gently put your hand on her elbow, then took her hand in yours and said, "are you ready to go yet? I'm starving!"

#meryl streep x reader #Meryl Streep #Miranda Priestly #miranda priestly x reader #the devil wears prada #TDWP #The Devil wears Prada imagines

[pluralzalpha]

Every Version of the Doctor - 147-150

The TDWP Doctors

Since 1999, the Canadian fanfic series The Doctor Who Project, run by Bob Furnell, has been releasing novella-length stories for an alternative universe of Doctors. The basic idea was to imagine if Doctor Who hadn't been cancelled in 1989 but had continued being made.

The series began with Season 27, featuring the last couple of adventures for the Seventh Doctor before regenerating him into a new Eighth Doctor. Now the series is beginning Season 43 featuring the brand new Eleventh Doctor.

Each Doctor was "played" by a fictitious actor, but based on a real person's image as a starting point. The TDWP Eighth Doctor was based on an unknown model (on the right in the anniversary image), the Ninth Doctor on Basil Rathbone (left) and the Tenth Doctor on Swiss actor Vincent Perez (middle).

Edit: the official TDWP Eleventh Doctor has been revealed as "Winston Adderly."

https://www.thedoctorwhoproject.com

#doctor who #every version of the doctor #tdwp #the doctor who project #fanfic #fan doctors

[golddustdykes]

(I run fingertip-kisses!) I was creeping on your tag and it was so disappointing to read TDWP book. Sometimes I like imagine the movie’s production meeting and what kind magic did they do to make the amazing movie.

Oh, hey! I adore your blog :D. Me, too! I recently watched the movie with directors commentary and I really enjoyed listening to him talk about what all the actresses contributed to their characters (spoiler alert: it was a LOT)

[thegirlfromthemovies]

I’m eternally grateful to my History teacher, because of her I became a “Streeper” (which means Meryl Streep fan). Why the Devil Wears Prada in the picture? It’s an easy answer (...) We were in a class, in late fall and my teacher started to ask us if we had already seen the movie “TDWP”, no one answered but the name was familiar to my ears. I searched on the Internet and discovered that the lead actress was Meryl Streep, I knew her from ‘Mamma Mia!’ one of my favourite movies of all time but had never given it due value...until on a Saturday the film give on tv. I saw, I loved it and bought the movie. 

“Miranda was super well represented, that reminded me also my history teacher, some of my colleagues agreed. That day I became a Streeper, in 2016. I bought the books, the 1 is great while we are reading we imagine Meryl doing everything there, the second not so much, because Miranda appears a little. But it’s one of the best movies I’ve seen do far! Thanks!

#meryl streep #meryl #miranda priestly #the devil wears prada #book #movie #pic by me #cool #love it #history #revenge wears prada #likes #streep #mary louise streep #gummer #meryl gummer #pics #mypics #cinema #o diabo veste prada #vogue #runway #read #prada #chanel #gucci #louis vuitton #versace #moschino #narciso rodriguez

[multimilfs]

Emily Charlton x Fem!Reader: Crisis Mode 

Summary: "Ew. Get away from me. No--not you. You stay."

AO3

A/N: I chose to do this for Emily because the line feels so perfect for her. I've never really written her before so this was a lot of fun!! So fun in fact that I'm pumping this out before work haha. I hope you all like it!

Prompts found here!

Tag List: @multifandomfix @escapetodreamworld @ghostsunderstoodmysoul

Warning(s): None

Though it was par for the course by now, you’ll never get used to rounding the corner and hearing Emily’s frazzled “I love my job, I love my job, I love my job.” With a job like her’s, it was impossible to blame her for how she had to stay afloat. Miranda—amazing and talented as she is—can be the devil to work for. 

You came in early on the hunch that something was going to go terribly wrong. Sometime mid-trip, you wondered if that was just how it felt to work at Runway anymore; but you were too close to the office to turn around. When you stroll through the doors to see everything in pure chaos, you know it was the right choice.

The first thing you register is Nigel running past you. Not a speed-walk or a jog, sprinting. Jocelyn follows at his heels babbling under her breath. On instinct, you make a beeline for the desks outside of Miranda’s office. If they were acting like this, she couldn’t be here yet. 

That’s when Emily’s mantra reaches your ears and you know the day is going up in flames. The second assistant is silent, staring between her computer screen and the papers on her desk like she couldn’t read a word of it. She looked haunted. Dark shadows under her eyes and pale skin tell you she is either very sick or severely malnourished—though you saw that often enough—and you need to get her away from Emily before she ruins anything. 

“You,” You say, pointing to the second assistant as both snapped their heads to you, “Go get something to eat. I don’t care if it’s a dried cranberry or something greasy, go, and don’t come back until you can do your job.” 

Emily hisses out your name and you ignore it until the second assistant leaves, then she snaps, “What do you think you’re doing!?” 

“Getting her out of the way. She wasn’t going to be of any help to you, Em. Now, tell me what’s going on.” 

Emily takes a deep breath and all of the days problems are unloaded; The Central Park shoot was canceled for some official city event, the new collection of Prada belts have gone missing, Miranda wants the run-through pushed to this afternoon, on and on and on it goes until you’re worried Emily is going to pass out. 

You step forward and place a hand on either of her cheeks, missing the blush that erupts there, “Breathe, Em, you’re better to us alive.” 

She takes a deep breath and when you’re sure she’s calmed, you offer a smile, and launch right into your plan of attack. You’d been Miranda’s assistant too once. When you’d done your time, you asked to move to the makeup department with Serena; you’d always loved painting faces and Serena was a master. Miranda had been pleased—as pleased as she could be—to oblige. 

You were a bit rusty, but when you’ve played the role of Miranda’s assistant, it never leaves you. It’s like second nature to sit back at the desk and start rifling through papers. 

“I’ll call the city and arrange everything with Central Park. Call the Closet staff and let them know that anything they’re working on currently is on pause, finding those Prada belts are first priority unless they all want to be out of a job. If Miranda wants the run-through today, she’ll get it, and I need at least three passable spreads from each department,” You’re dialing the line to the makeup department, smiling and saying smoothly down the line, “Serena darling, I’m with Emily, we’re in crisis mode. Can you do me a favor? Yes, I’ll explain later, but there is a pair of scuffed Manolo Blahniks in the Closet that are supposed to be used in the run-through today. Can you fill in the scuffs with eyeliner until we can send them back? You’re the best. Ciao.” 

The wide-eyes and look of awe from Emily make you stop up short. You forgot that she’s never seen you in this role; by the time she came to Runway, you were comfortably in the makeup department with Serena. Offering a shy smile, you get to work, trying to ignore the way her gaze makes you blush. 

It takes some subtle threatening and maneuvering, but the Central Park shoot is back on. The team will have to work fast but it’s better than losing the whole thing. Emily informs you that they’ve found the Prada belts and they’re being sent up. Staff around Runway are also bringing up their spreads for the run-through to see if they’ll pass. 

Serena stops by with the formerly-scuffed Blahniks in hand and you examine them with a hard eye. If you’re really looking for it, you can tell they’re filled in. You hope Miranda isn’t hyperfocused on details today because they’ll pass if she’s distracted. 

By the time all is said and done, you have an hour and a half before Miranda is supposed to show. You’re only waiting on the run-through staff at this point. Sitting on the edge of Emily’s desk and talking through the changes—pausing when she answers a phone call—is nice. It’s a brief moment of calm you rarely get with the assistant. Sure, the two of you go out sometimes, but it’s different seeing her at work. She’s in charge here when Miranda’s gone. 

You believe that one day, should Miranda ever step-down, that Emily is next in line for Editor-in-Chief. No one sees what she does and has the experience at Miranda’s side. It’d be perfect for her. 

You’re waiting patiently as Emily takes a call when her face drops, “Emily?” You whisper.

She hangs up the phone in silence. Her eyes, now wide, look up at you. There is pure and unrestrained horror in them. You feel a pit growing in your gut. 

“Annie just canceled. She’s sick.” Emily says. 

It takes you a few moments to realize she means Annie Leibovitz, the photographer for the Central Park shoot. You want to rip your hair out. Everything was going so well. But instead, you take her hands, and start to slowly walk her through how she can fix it. 

You’re interrupted by everyone walking in with their run-through spreads. Seeing you and Emily at the same desk, they crowd around, talking a mile a minute and shoving garments in your face. A gaudy rhinestone belt nearly smacks you in the eye, but you’re still trying to deliver comments on each item. The noise is overwhelming. 

“Enough!” Emily declares. 

She’s moved away from the crowd and when you move towards her, the whole crowd follows. They’re silently holding out their garments now. 

“Ew. Get away from me,” Emily snaps and you startle, stepping back just as everyone else does. She grabs your arm and pulls you back into her space, “No–not you. You stay. The rest of you organize your things in Miranda’s office and go, we’ll call if anything is especially heinous.” 

They all pause and stare. 

“Now!” 

They scramble as if Miranda made the call herself. You watch it all happen with a small smile, impressed at the way Emily took control of everything. She looks at you and shares your smile. Neither of you think about how she’s still holding onto you. 

All of them leave quickly, heads down and muttering apologies as they pass. You barely hold in a laugh. It’s only when she gives your arm a gentle squeeze that you realize you’re still touching. 

You stare at one another for a long minute and you’re weighing the dangers of kissing her; so far you’re most worried about how it’d smudge her lipstick, the rest seems worth the risk. But her cell beeps and the two of you reluctantly separate. 

Her lips purse and she takes in a long breath, “Miranda’s on her way.” 

#emily charlton #emily charlton x reader #the devil wears prada #the devil wears prada x reader #tdwp #emily charlton imagine #the devil wears prada imagine #wlw #wlw imagine #oct2022 #multimilfswritings

[sassmill]

Can you even imagine what's gonna go down in the mirandy fandom when casting is announced for TDWP musical adaptation?

#mirandy #the devil wears prada #tdwp

[heartbones]

because im not yet able to see the new b&tb Im watching the og (&u kno because i love it duh) but they just did the gaston schmoozing song in the pub and im still like "how did these two characters start hanging out? i want to know" i imagine its like a 'gaston walks into the town center one day carrying some hulking carcass, happens to look at le fou cleaning tables and goes *hey im too gorgeous to exert myself by such petty labors so* and he just throws everything at him without looking like miranda preistly and her coat&bag in tdwp and poor guy he just sort of does it like do they address this at all

[multimilfs]

Miranda Priestly x Fem!Reader: Smooth Sailing

Summary: thewriting-dragon requested "Hey dear another request this time for Devil Wears Prada: Miranda Priestly and the reader is the twin's theater teacher or something just like maybe even a tutor, who just sees right past the woman's demeanor, but also doesn't give her any slack for being 'a queen of fashion' she's just like blunt and to the point and isn't scared of the 'Ice Queen' routine. Just slightly flustered Miranda meets immovable, stubborn educator who does have a soft spot for the Priestly twins and their mum"

AO3

A/N: This wasn't intended to be as long as it is, but the more I wrote, the more ideas I got. Leaving it short didn't feel right and I just kept expanding until it became... this! I hope you like it!!!

Tag List: @ghostsunderstoodmysoul @multifandomfix @angel7376

Warning(s): None

With every passing second, the dragon lady’s wrath grew twofold. With every minute ticking up on the clock, her jaw got tenser and her fingers tapped impatiently on the seat. And with every breath, Roy was sweating more profusely.

“Roy,” Miranda bit out finally, when she’d finished counting the passing students, “Are my girls always so abhorrently late?”

Roy sat up straighter in his seat, making eye contact with her in the mirror. He had to clear his throat twice before he was able to speak.

“No, Miranda.”

It was a perfect answer. Clean, precise, and obedient. But the way he broke the eye contact a little too soon dampened the satisfaction; there was something her driver was hiding. She detested secrets.

“I don’t pay you to withhold information from me, do I?” Miranda asked him sharply.

“No, you don’t, Miranda.”

“Then don’t. If you have information, you need to share it with me. I detest repeating myself.”

“My answer wasn’t untrue, Miranda. Caroline and Cassidy are very punctual most days. The only time they are tardy is on Tuesdays and Thursdays after theatre.”

“Do you believe the fault lies with their instructor?” She asked.

“I’m not sure. That would be a question for Caroline and Cassidy.” Roy responded.

The way he carefully constructed his statement told her all she needed to know. It was obviously their instructor, if they were never late any other time. While she applauded Roy’s careful consideration for the theatre director, she didn’t have time for it. She was not going to accept any tardiness from her Bobbseys.

“Unacceptable. Wait here.” Miranda said.

Miranda threw open the door with poise, but also obvious annoyance. Her lips pursed out of habit and she stalked quickly past anyone who was in her way. A few parents looked as if they wanted to say something, though they quickly thought against it when seeing her. None were brave enough to interrupt her journey.

She had been in the theatre several times before, so there was no need to stop a passerby for directions. Caroline and Cassidy had been in a number of performances at Dalton that led them to the stage. Though this was the first year they’d officially been a part of the theatre group. With adverse effects, it seemed, Miranda thought snidely.

The auditorium was dark, save for the lights illuminating the stage. A few students were sat on the edge, legs swinging, as you stood before them speaking. Your voice was muffled and incoherent as you faced away from the doors, but your hands were moving wildly and the children were nodding along to whatever you were saying.

Caroline was the first to notice her mother strutting into the room, the lights shining on more and more of her. It took far less time for her to understand her mother’s expression. She nudged Cassidy, who nodded.

“Excuse us for a moment, Miss Y/N.” Cassidy said hastily, interrupting your speech as she dragged Caroline with her.

They intercepted Miranda within moments of her reaching you, effectively pushing her back quite a ways. Miranda was too stunned at their reaction to her to stop them from moving her.

“Mom, what are you doing here?” Caroline demanded in a hushed tone.

“I’ve come to see why you and your sister are wasting time,” Miranda answered, narrowing her eyes, “You were supposed to be outside fifteen minutes ago.”

“Miss Y/N was filling us in on extra instruction. Can’t you wait?”

“Watch your tone, Cassidy Anne.”

“Sorry, Mom, but we really wanted to hear about the extra classes. We didn’t think it would matter if we were a little late, that’s all.”

“That doesn’t excuse tardiness, girls. Gather your things.” Miranda said.

Caroline and Cassidy could clearly see how cross their mother was, but just this once, they decided to test it. Her moods were dreadful when she’d made up her mind. Luckily, they had inherited all of their stubbornness from her. A fact their father detested.

“Miss Y/N is almost done. We’ll meet you in the car.” Caroline said in a no-nonsense tone, clearly summoning all of the traits she associated with her mother.

It felt as if the world stood still for just a moment. Miranda’s gaze, which was normally so warm towards her daughters, was now hardened. Both girls wanted nothing more than to freeze up completely. This wasn’t really their mom anymore, this was partly the Dragon Lady.

“Excuse me?”

“Uhh,” Caroline said slowly, feeling her mistake keenly, “I just meant that-”

“Is there a problem, girls?”

Without any of them realizing, you had allowed everyone to leave, thoroughly filling everyone in. After the theatre was completely empty, you’d come up to check that everything was okay. They’d moved from the group rather quickly.

Unfortunately for you, however, the interruption allowed Miranda to turn her wrath on you. Miranda Priestly was famous for three things around Dalton; her devotion to supporting her children, countless donations, and her anger. It wasn’t like some of the parents, where they’d get loud and cause a scene. Miranda was cold and quiet, eviscerating you without drawing the slightest bit of attention.

“I believe there is,” Miranda said, voice cold, “It seems your lack of punctuality is rubbing off on my daughters.”

“I beg your pardon?” You asked, eyebrows raising to your hairline. Of all points for her to be angry with you, that was the last one you expected.

“I’m not fond of repeating myself, but as your hearing has failed you, I must. Your inability to end instruction on time is interfering with my girls’ schedules. Such an atrocious habit is not one I’ll allow them to inherit.”

There was a small amount of fear in your gut, of course. You weren’t stupid enough to believe yourself above a fearful respect for the woman. But above all of that lied indignation. It wasn’t uncommon for parents to berate you without all of the details, but you’d expected more from Miranda Priestly. Hoped for more.

“Caroline and Cassidy know very well that if they have other commitments, they have the option to leave quietly. Their choice to remain is not one I make for them. Contrary to popular belief, I do not rule over my students like a tyrant.” You said, crossing your arms over your chest.

Both girls winced slightly. They were embarrassed at their mother’s eagerness to scold their teacher, but hoped they would remain bystanders to it. Evidently not.

Miranda had the grace to look contrite, before turning to her daughters. They offered sheepish smiles in return. And though Miranda would do anything for her girls, they couldn’t worm their way out of this situation and the following consequences.

“Girls, offer Miss Y/N your apologies and join me in the car.” Miranda said abruptly, surprising you with the quick change.

You wondered if she truly understood her mistake in confronting you without the proper information, or if she had grown bored of the conversation you were having. Internally, you hoped it was the first. Caroline and Cassidy were eager to apologize and you felt bad for them. You remembered being a kid, wanting to make your own decisions, despite the consequences.

When they left, you stood in the empty theatre for a few moments. You hoped that you hadn’t made an enemy of Miranda before you’d properly met. Part of you regretted being so harsh towards her, but another part stated that she deserved it. You let out a heaving sigh.

You guessed that this would not be your last encounter with the illustrious Miranda Priestly. Nor, you found yourself realizing, did you want it to be.

----

It could never be said that Miranda Priestly didn’t make good to those she wronged; that when she’d made a mistake, she found some way of making it up to them. It’s not easy in her position, being someone so important and well-known for her icy reputation. But every once in a while, she could defer from that expectation to right those mistakes.

So when an exceptionally expensive piece of stationary landed on your desk, it didn’t completely surprise you. The invitation inside did. There was no apology, no buzzwords like ‘amends’ or ‘resolution’ in the elegant script. Just an invitation to dinner at the townhouse.

A public place would have made you less nervous. As you walked up the steps to the townhouse, you realized how sweaty your palms were. You reminded yourself that Miranda Priestly was just a woman, just the mother of your two favored students. A very powerful woman, but a woman nonetheless.

You summoned all of your courage to press the doorbell. The nervousness crept its way up your throat as a pair of heels approached the door. When it opened, and Miranda stood there in all of her glory, you felt you’d underestimated your anxiousness.

“Miss Y/N,” Miranda said with a pleasant softness, “Do come in.”

“Thank you for your invitation. Though it did come as a surprise.” You said, offering a sheepish smile.

“I can imagine. We got off on the wrong foot this week and it would be in everyone's best interest to rectify that, wouldn’t you agree?”

“Absolutely. Our being at odds doesn’t do anyone good.”

“Precisely my thoughts. Now, do you prefer white or red?”

Miranda motioned to two bottles of wine on the polished countertops. Your eyes widened as you took in the labels, though you tried to hide your reaction quickly. It seemed Miranda would spare no expense for good things.

“White, please.” You said eventually.

She gave you a single, short nod when you met her eyes. You decided to take that as a good sign and let yourself relax. Soon enough, the two of you were getting along swimmingly.

“You can’t be serious.” You laughed, looking at the photo in your hands.

To keep the conversation flowing and pleasant, you both focused on shared topics. You stayed far from fashion and Miranda stayed far from teaching, eventually settling on Caroline and Cassidy. Miranda glowed when she spoke on them and it was intoxicating to see.

Soon enough, she’d broken out the photo albums. You’d explained that they were wonderful students, their playful streak adding to their performances and the energy of the crew. Miranda assured you that you didn’t know the half of it.

“I never lie. Caroline was so furious that she dropped the cake in Cassidy’s hair and I spent three days washing the icing out.” Miranda assured you, a smirk pulling at her mouth.

“Only three?” You teased, “I’d expect nothing less than five from your girls. They do nothing by halves.”

She hummed and took a sip of her wine. It struck you how similar the girls seemed to be to their mother. They were always dedicated, sometimes to a fault. You couldn’t count the number of times you told either Caroline or Cassidy to take a break after working too hard.

From what you understood of their parents, you understood that their father was the same way. But Miranda was entirely more dedicated from your point of view. For every show or recital, Miranda would be there in the front row, holding a gift for each girl. You had never once seen their father.

“There’s a reason I asked you here, besides regaling you with stories of my girls.” Miranda said after a few moments, “My daughters urged me to… make amends for my behavior last week. I was out of turn to instruct you in your own profession.”

You were waiting for an ‘I’m sorry’ but it never arrived. You guessed this was the closest you would get to a real apology.

“You were doing what you believed was right at the time,” You reasoned, taking a long sip of your wine as you thought over what you wanted to say, “I like to think we’ll understand one another better in the future because of it.”

“Is that something that pleases you?”

Her question caught you off guard. For a few, long moments you stared at her, her gaze never moving from yours.

“What do you mean?”

Miranda sighed, but this time you didn’t look away. You gathered that the frown forming on her face wasn’t a good sign and felt your confidence wane.

“Understanding one another better, does that please you?” She said, slowly, as if trying to ensure that you’d understand it.

You were more affected by the question than you cared to admit. It hadn’t hit you until just now that yes, the idea did please you; learning and laughing with Miranda all night had pleased you immensely. It was dangerous territory you were slipping into with her being the mother of your students, but some part of you didn’t care.

“Yes, I’d say it does.” You answered in a soft voice, following the statement up with a long swig of your wine.

The liquid provided more courage than you imagined it could. Upon arriving at the townhouse, you’d been scared out of your mind of what could happen. Now, you sat locked in a gaze with Miranda Priestly, trying to ignore the way your gut churned with butterflies.

No shortage of rumors about Miranda plagued Dalton’s hallways; that she was irritable, unyielding, and a pain. And though you wanted to completely dispute all of those—whether to yourself or to everyone else, you couldn’t tell—it wouldn’t be authentic to do so. Miranda was all of those things, but she was also caring, intuitive, and quick-minded. And to you, the good far outweighed the bad.

After the question, the conversation ran down until you took your leave of the townhouse. And as you walked away, you hoped that you did well enough to hide the grin on your face.

----

You couldn’t help the overwhelming smile on your lips, illuminating your face more than any light could. The calendar marked two days until opening night of the spring play and rehearsal, shockingly, had gone extremely well.

Now, your students were looking up at you with admiration and curiosity. You were unaware that a certain fashion editor was wearing a similarly curious look, hidden in the back row of the theatre where your vision could not reach.

“You all know that I’m never one to be caught without something to say,” You said, drawing some laughs from your students, “but you were all amazing. I truly have no critiques. Keep the same energy for opening night and you’ll be golden. Now, off you go!”

There were a few cheers from the students, before they moved to pack up their bags. You couldn’t help the unshakable smile on your face as you heard them yell their goodbyes behind them. Shaking your head, you picked up some discarded stand-in props, when a throat cleared behind you.

Caroline and Cassidy stood in front of you wearing genuine smiles, holding out a small bag to you. Your eyebrows furrowed. Though you were extremely interested, this wasn’t expected.

“What’s this?” You asked, taking the bag carefully.

“A gift, of course. We knew everyone else would wait until opening night, so we wanted to be the first.” Cassidy explained, “Open it.”

Unbeknownst to any of you, Miranda had shifted forward in her seat with interest. The gift wasn’t something she knew about. She certainly hadn’t the time to help, though she was truly curious as to what the item was.

You pulled out a small, square item wrapped in tissue paper. With intense care and patience, you peeled back the layers of paper, looking down at a framed picture. It was a candid photo of you, Caroline, and Cassidy running through lines. You recognized the photo from when the school photographer had first shown you. The picture was one of your favorites, as you could clearly see the differences between the girls demeanors in the still item.

“This… This is very thoughtful, girls. Thank you.” You said softly, trying not to betray just how emotional the gesture had made you.

Gifts were as common as rehearsals to you, but it was rare that they were ever so thoughtful. Dalton parents were rich and you’d end up with anything from gourmet chocolates to small luxury items. It wasn’t that you didn’t appreciate said gifts, they didn’t hold the same sentiment. You knew this picture was going to sit on your desk for some time.

“We’re really glad you like it, Miss Y/N.” Cassidy said.

“We were going to get you something else, but we thought you might like this better.” Caroline added.

“I don’t think I could like any gift as much as this.” You whispered, giving them a wink.

You tried to maintain a neutral style with all of your students, but you couldn’t deny that you held some students closer to your heart than others. The Priestly twins were no exception to that. The name ‘Priestly’ came with certain expectations around the city. Hell, around the world.

Your expectation was that the twins would fit the stereotype you heard constantly. Twins terrors, devil spawn, etc. But when you met them for the first time, surprise filled you at their quiet, respectful demeanor. They spoke only when called on, allowing everyone an opportunity to speak before they did.

Though your first run in with their mother hadn't been sunshine and rainbows, you knew their respectful air wasn’t only theirs. Manners like that were learned early on. You gathered that you had Miranda to thank for that. Beneath the cold facade of the Dragon Lady, you could see an honest, intelligent woman. A woman who knows what is worthy of her time; who is worthy of her time.

Two sets of arms closed around your waist, jolting you from your thoughts. You instinctively wrapped your arms around them in return.

When they left, you tried to ignore the bereft feeling in your heart. Like you were missing some vital part of you that you’d never realized had been missing before. The twins had wormed their way onto the list in your heart. You also tried not to ignore the desire to add a certain editor to that list, too.

——

“No. Absolutely not.”

“What do you mean ‘no?’ Be reasonable.”

You turned, glaring heavily at the woman behind you. Her snow white hair was illuminated by the stage lights, almost forming a halo around her head. The thought made you want to laugh bitterly.

“Exactly as I said Miranda, no.” You growled.

“You know how much this means to Caroline. It’s cruel not to give her a role she’s worked so hard for.”

“It would be far more cruel to give her a role that doesn’t fit her.”

“How much will it take for you to make my daughter happy?”

You’d been hastily snatching up the temporary props when the question left her mouth. The speed at which you turned back to her made your head spin, or maybe it was the anger you felt. Too much was happening for you to decide.

“I beg your pardon?” You asked.

“Have you suddenly lost your hearing? How much money do you need?” Miranda asked in a low tone, rolling her eyes as she glared at you.

Reasonably in the back of your mind, you knew that there were two options; take the bribe and appease Miranda or refuse it and royally piss her off, potentially risking your job in the process. The choice alone felt like a punch in the gut. You believed that you and Miranda had an understanding of these things, but it seemed you had been mistaken. Her offer had seriously wounded your pride.

“Now you listen to me and you listen clearly,” You said finally, advancing into her personal space and ignoring the way her eyes widened ever-so-slightly, “Caroline was given the role that best suits her. I’m sorry that she is unhappy with it, I truly am, but if I gave her the lead I’d set her up for failure. So you can accept the circumstances or she doesn’t have to be part of the show, but as far as I’m concerned this conversation is over.”

The lack of polite pandering she was used to shocked her into silence. She stood in this silence, watching you walk away from her. You were one of the few who’d ever stood up to Miranda Priestly. And unbeknownst to you, you were the only one who’d get away with it.

——

A few days passed and another invitation landed on your desk. The stationary felt too thick, too heavy. With anger still bubbling inside, you swiped the invitation off the desk and into the trash can.

——

The next time it wasn’t an envelope, but a small box with a bow on top. Underneath the bow was a small letter with your name on it. You were tempted to read it, to see if she’d actually apologized. You knew she hadn’t.

The box joined the invitation at the bottom of your trash bin.

——

Both gifts turned into a lovely bouquet of flowers, popping with bright oranges and yellows. The small card tempted you.

The arrangement was beautiful, some of the flowers seeming so expensive that you couldn’t have afforded it yourself. But the thought of the price tag mocked you and reminded you of her initial offer. Her bribe.

Ripping the card into pieces, you gave the bouquet to one of your assistant directors. You could finally breathe again with it out of your sight.

——

A soft knock on your door caught your attention. The laser focus you had on the script in your hands was broken as you looked up, raising an eyebrow.

“Sorry to interrupt, Miss Y/N, but there’s a woman out here asking to speak with you.” One of your assistant directors said with a sheepish smile.

“That’s okay. You can send her in.” You said, offering a reassuring look of your own.

As she scuttled from the room, you let out a sigh. The bulky script and red pen in your hands were forgotten at the moment. Now, you listened to the muffled footsteps of someone approaching your office. The small bit of peace you’d been holding onto was effectively shattered when you saw the woman walking through the door.

Miranda’s signature coiff was unmistakable, even in swelling New York crowds. So as she stood in your office now you had to face that she was there. You couldn’t swipe her attempts at apologies into the trash or pawn them off on friends.

“You’ve been ignoring me.” Miranda stated without bothering to shut the door.

“Good afternoon to you as well, Miranda.” You scoffed, circling around her to shut said door. Definitely not because it offered a reprieve from her cold eyes.

“It would be, if you’d summon the energy to return my correspondence.”

You took a deep breath, counting to ten in your head. Some part of you knew that Miranda was well-meaning in some ways, but she hid it behind seven layers of Dragon-Lady. She wouldn’t have offended you if it wasn’t for the sake of her daughter. You could appreciate that, it didn’t mean you had to like it.

If you had kids and the money Miranda did, you thought you might pull the same thing. Seeing someone you loved so dearly happy was important. You couldn’t put a price on it unless you were sickeningly wealthy. She was using the resources available to her.

That doesn’t change the way she acted.

“If you have something to say to me, you can do so in person. Not in a note.” You said, raising an eyebrow.

Returning to the spot behind your desk, you put your hands down on top of it, leaning on them. Miranda didn’t waver from her position in front of you. Part of you hoped she’d sit down and put some distance between you both, but it was only a hope.

“Some of us have schedules to maintain.” She bit out.

“Then it isn’t as important as you say, is it? It’s been lovely talking to you, but if you’re too busy then don’t let me keep you.” You said, motioning to the door. She didn’t budge. “What are you doing here, Miranda?”

“I have come to make amends.”

“Well, you have the floor.”

A silence filled the room as you waited for those three words. You folded your arms over your chest patiently, not letting your gaze fall away from her’s.

“If you would accept the items I sent, you could have saved me the unnecessary trip.” Miranda growled.

“Mm. No. A pretty box or bouquet doesn’t equal an apology.”

“And what does?”

“I don’t know, maybe an actual apology? Those three elusive little words that you seem intent on never saying?”

The beat of silence that followed your words made you laugh bitterly. Every opportunity known to man was at her disposal and she wasted every single one. You shook your head, a mixture of anger building from the original hurt you’d been sitting on since your last conversation.

“You are the most unfortunate, brilliant woman I’ve ever met,” You said passionately, “I’ve seen mothers with less on their plate who miss every show, but not you. Every show you’re there. You’re dedicated and intelligent and yet I’m standing here instructing you on how to apologize. I expect more from you, but it seems I was mistaken to do so.”

During your tirade, you circled back around the desk and over to the door, pulling it open for her. She was still facing away from you by the end of it. When she turned, her face was less hostile than before. She could give a TED talk on perfecting a neutral expression.

As she approached the door, she stopped just before crossing the threshold. Your forehead creased, confusion taking up residence on your face.

“I’m sorry.” Miranda said.

Her tone was so quiet that you almost missed it. But the way she kept her eyes on yours told you, she had really said it. She was waiting for a reaction.

“I forgive you.” You said back.

For the briefest of moments, you could’ve sworn you saw her smile. Then you blinked and it was gone. In an uncharacteristic move, Miranda placed her hand on your arm and squeezed. The absence when she left made you feel more bereft than any time she’d slighted you.

----

There were moments after that where you would catch glimpses of Miranda and she’d catch glimpses of you. Nothing was exchanged beyond a nod, or an awkward wave on your part. But there was less tension.

Opening night of the new show rolled around and two redheads decided to ambush you backstage after. It felt more commonplace than it should have, but Miranda’s appearance with them caught you off guard. Held in her hands was a bouquet of beautiful flowers.

“What’s all this?” You asked, a curious smile covering your face.

The question had been clearly directed at Caroline and Cassidy, but your eyes rested on Miranda. Her eyes were warmer, open -- like that first night at the townhouse, when you’d both had a few glasses of wine. You did everything you could not to blush under her scrutiny.

“My girls and I wished to congratulate you properly on a successful opening night.” Miranda supplied when the girl’s wrapped themselves around your middle.

“Ooh, properly?” You couldn’t help but ask.

“Yeah! We wanted to get you flowers, like the directors and actors on Broadway get.” Caroline said with a big smile and twinkling eyes.

“We also wished to invite you to have dinner with us at the townhouse, if you’re amenable to the idea.” Miranda added.

There was a long moment where Caroline and Cassidy shared surprised looks. You guessed that the flowers had been planned, but the dinner invitation hadn’t. A smirk pulled at your lips. It must mean something interesting if Miranda was acting out of the ordinary.

“I believe I’d like that,” You said finally, “but I have to get things shut down here before I go.”

“That is not a problem. We’ll wait outside, won’t we girls?”

Her tone was pointed and the twins released their vice grip on your waist, shuffling from the room with an odd look at you and their mother. You couldn’t help the laugh that passed your lips. Miranda unexpectedly moved towards you and placed the bouquet in your hand. The touch of her hand on yours surprised you, but what surprised you more was the light kiss she placed on your cheek.

“We’ll be waiting.” Was all she offered, before turning from the room and leaving you stunned.

The smile that broke over your face was so large your cheeks hurt. It was the last thing you’d ever hoped for, but the way Miranda was acting had left you feeling giddy. You nearly fell over several times in your haste to meet them outside.

----

Dinner was infinitely better with the twins present. You adored Miranda’s company, of course, but she fully lit up when they were in the room. Her shoulders would relax and her mouth would curl into a smile far easier. You loved watching it.

The girls were as mischievous as ever and didn’t go a second without telling one of you awkward stories about the other. An interesting tactic, but a fitting one, you had to admit. By the end of it all, your sides were aching with laughter. You couldn’t remember the last time you felt so full of joy.

But the reality of a weeknight set in and the twins rushed up to bed, not before giving you a warm goodbye for the night. You watched them run up the stairs with a smile until they were out of sight. Then you turned back to Miranda, caught off guard by the softness still in her eyes.

“I suppose that’s my cue for the night. I’m afraid it’s past my bedtime.” You joked, earning a slightly upturn of Miranda’s lips.

“We certainly wouldn’t want you to be late for school tomorrow.” Miranda returned.

She led you to the door in a moment of quiet. The handle of the door was right within your grasp, but it didn’t feel right to reach for it. Something was missing. Something that hadn’t happened yet.

“I had a wonderful time this evening. Thank you for inviting me.” You said.

“The pleasure is all mine. You’ve been wonderful with my girls, they adore you.”

“And their mother?” You asked boldly.

You were rewarded with a small, but genuine smile from Miranda. The sight made you feel like jumping up and down or buying a lottery ticket. You had to be one in a billion people who’d ever received such an honor.

“I’d say she’s coming to share their sentiments.” Miranda said in a whisper.

Her eyes, which had been focused on yours, darted away to your lips. You couldn’t help but bite lightly at your bottom lip in anticipation. When she finally leant forward and kissed you, you swore you could fly. It was quick, nothing more than a brief press, but it was enough to intoxicate you.

As Miranda let you out the door, you couldn’t stop the smile on your face. And hidden behind the bannister a floor up, neither could two little redheads. The start of your relationship had been rocky, but from now on it’d only be smooth sailing.

#miranda priestly #miranda priestly x reader #tdwp #the devil wears prada #miranda priestly imagine #tdwp imagine #tdwp x reader #the devil wears prada imagine #wlw #wlw imagine #april2021 #multimilfswritings

[multimilfs]

Miranda Priestly x Fem!Reader: A Little Nudge

Summary: Anon requested “Could I request a slightly angsty Miranda Priestly X Reader? Maybe the reader is in the hospital (it's up to you why they're there) and they're panicking because they think they're gonna get fired. Miranda can replace them within the hour, after all.Miranda shows up to the hospital after hearing what happened and reassures Reader that they're fine. She confesses to the Reader because she was so scared something horrible had happened to them and she was gonna lose them. (sorry im just in a sad mood and im weak for hospital scenes)”

A/N: It’s been ages since I’ve written for TDWP so be kind to me, please! I really hope you like it!

Tag List: @ghostsunderstoodmysoul​ @multifandomfix​

Warning(s): None

“Why is nobody ready?”

Miranda drawled from behind her desk, glancing at her watch with annoyance. Everyone near her held their breath; nobody having the guts to tell her that it was because you weren’t back yet. 

You were supposed to be back with the accessories from D&G ten minutes ago.

Jocelyn and the run-through team exchanged terrified glances. Someone was going to lose their job today. And knowing Miranda, it was going to be one of them.

They had been relying on the accessories to complete the outfits they’d prepared. An abysmal thing to do, but you’d promised that you would be back early. Now you were nowhere to be found.

Miranda was conveniently unaware of your absence. She was under the impression you weren’t supposed to be back for some time, thanks to a few carefully worded statements from Nigel. If she got wind that you’d gone awol, it’d be hell on earth for everyone in the Runway offices.

Standing beside Miranda’s desk, Nigel saw Serena approach the office. The model stopped when Nigel shook his head. Her eyebrows furrowed in confusion.

“Talk to Emily.” He mouthed silently.

She did just that, turning elegantly on her heel to see the Brit dialing numbers frantically. Poor Emily hadn’t even noticed that Serena was there.

“Why is Nigel telling me to talk to you?” Serena asked softly.

Emily startled slightly, before looking relieved to have some type of help. She put the phone down on the hook quickly.

“Y/N has vanished,” Emily whispered, “I can’t get her to answer her bloody cell phone and she was supposed to be here ages ago!”

“What do you mean she vanished? She doesn’t vanish.” Serena asked.

“You’re telling me. Jocelyn needed the accessories from the winter collection for the run-through and she promised to have them here. Miranda is two minutes from firing them all if we don’t come up with an excuse.”

Emily let her head fall into her hands, repeating her low mantra that she loved her job. Today was not going to be an easy one, it seemed.

A moment before Serena could suggest anything, Miranda’s cold voice echoed from her office.

“So what I’m hearing is that you failed to prepare? After I gave you countless days to finish a simple task.” Miranda asked.

Everyone winced at the chill in her voice. La Priestly wasn’t known for being warm, but this felt like frost-bite.

“We’re just missing the accessories for a few of the outfits.” Jocelyn offered.

Miranda’s hard gaze settled on the girl, making her regret speaking. Drawing attention to herself was the last thing she should have done.

“‘Just’ the accessories,” The editor said dryly, “If you were to go skydiving, I’m sure you’d be fine without a parachute then?”

Jocelyn shook her head quickly. The only way out of this would be for a miracle to strike. She was mentally kissing her job goodbye.

Then Emily’s cell phone rang.

Scrambling for the device, she could have jumped for joy to see your name on the caller ID. She was furious, mind you, but glad to see you were okay.

“Where the bloody hell are you?” Emily hissed in lieu of a greeting.

“Em, I can explain-“

“I’m sure you can, but it better be good or I’m throwing you La Priestly.”

“I’m in the hospital.” You said.

Emily inhaled sharply. She didn’t miss the way your voice cracked over those few words. It may mean more work for her, but an injury like that could cost you your job.

“What did you get yourself into?” Emily asked.

“The heat today exascerbated something and I collapsed, the doctors are running tests now.” You explained softly, lacking the energy you normally had.

Serena watched worriedly as Emily put her forehead down on the desk, letting out a defeated sigh. This felt like the icing on the cake of an already terrible day. She had no idea how to break it to Miranda. The woman was practically reliant on you and your abilities.

“Em?” You whispered over the line brokenly, “Tell Miranda I can have my desk cleared once I’m d-discharged, okay? I understand-“

“No. You-You don’t get to abandon me so close to Paris. I’ll find a way to fix this…”

“It’s okay. I understand what it takes to be one of Miranda’s girls. Collapsing on the job isn’t part of the description.”

“She can make an exception.” Emily snapped.

You sighed on the other end. It broke your heart that you’d probably lose everything now, but you understood that Miranda was far too busy to accept an injured assistant. Even if you did hope that she cared enough to keep you on.

“Do what you can, okay? Just don’t get yourself sacked. I’m at Presbeterian, room 311.”

There were a few more words exchanged before Emily hung up the phone, looking hard at Serena, who stared back with concern.

“Y/N is in the hospital.” She said quietly.

Serena stood with a look of shock on her face. What could have happened to put you in the hospital?

“How are you going to tell Miranda?” She asked instead.

“Beats me, but someone has to.” Emily laughed bitterly.

She stood and walked to the doorway of Miranda’s office, where the woman was regaling Nigel with the incompetence of her staff, who were standing in the room. Nigel noticed Emily and raised an eyebrow in question, to which she shook her head. His face seemed to pale.

Unsure of what to do or say, Emily remained standing in the doorway. She kept her hands clasped in front of her to keep from ringing them.

“Is there a reason for your hovering, Emily?” Miranda asked, her icy gaze resting on her poor assistant.

“Um, well.” She tried, but nothing came out. She froze.

“Do take your time. None of us have jobs to do.”

The editor rolled her eyes, a devious smirk resting on her face. She drew a sort of horrible glee from seeing her employees squirm.

“Y/N is in the hospital.” Serena said.

Any movement in the room stopped immediately. The run-through team held their breath, looking to Miranda.

Upon hearing the words, Miranda felt her heart drop into her stomach. Her hands gripped the edge of her desk hard. Besides something happening to her daughters, something happening to you had become her worst nightmare.

“Excuse me?” She asked, tone just above a whisper.

“She’s conscious, she called to let me know herself where she was,” Emily rushed out, before anyone could make the situation worse, “Something occurred that caused her to collapse, but-“

“I’ve heard enough.”

Miranda was out of her seat the second Emily mentioned that you were awake. That you weren’t gravely injured or in a coma. Her fear eased slightly, but it wouldn’t vanish until she saw you. She was barreling through the office without a care for what was on her agenda.

“Cancel any meetings for the rest of the day and get Roy here immediately. I want access to her room upon my arrival; I don’t care what favors you have to promise or whose egos you have to stroke, get me into that room.”

She snatched her coat and purse from Serena’s hands, rattling off the demands without slowing her pace. Then she was ensconced in the elevator while everyone looked at one another in shock.

“Do you think she’s going to fire her?” Emily asked Nigel, who laughed.

“I think that is the last thing she plans on doing. Now I’d get on the phone with Roy…”

Eyes widening, Emily let out a yelp, rushing towards her desk. Nigel just shook his head; of course Miranda would hold out on her feelings until you fell injured. She apparently just needed that final nudge. 

———

In your hospital room, you were trying valiantly to hold back tears. Your head was leant back against the pillows, eyes closed. All you could see was Miranda’s face in your mind.

You weren’t sure what happened; one second you were walking down 35th, the next a paramedic was standing over you hounding you for information. If you hadn’t been in an ambulance racing through traffic, you would have demanded they let you out. You had a job to do.

Now, you couldn’t. You had let down the editorial team and Miranda by proxy. It hurt you in a million different ways, but you accepted that you were out of a job. That you would no longer spend the days around the woman you secretly loved.

It sent a pang of pain through your chest. You squeezed your eyes shut against it. Remaining strong, even now, was important to you. It wouldn’t do to let your resolve crumble.

Absentmindedly, you heard someone walk into your room. You let out a loud sigh.

“Look, doc, I told you I’m fine. My head may be throbbing, but I’m not going to die on you. Though I may if I don’t get something other than hospital food.” You laughed.

“I’m sure that can be arranged.”

You snapped your eyes open at the voice that was clearly not your doctor’s. Standing there, looking divine as ever, was Miranda Priestly. The woman you were hopelessly in love with.

“Miranda?”

“No, Donald Trump.” She deadpanned, a smirk pulling at her mouth.

Did Miranda Priestly just make a joke? Your mind asked, though you couldn’t stop the grin that spread on your face. She looked pleased at your reaction.

“You didn’t have to come all this way, you know,” You said softly, reality creeping back in, “I told Emily that I could have my desk cleared as soon as they discharged me.”

“I beg your pardon?” Miranda said, feeling as if the breath had been stolen from her lungs.

“I know how busy your schedule is- Hell, I arranged it. You didn’t have to come all the way here to let me go.”

“Is that why you think I’m here? To fire you?”

“...Isn’t it?”

Miranda let out a hollow sounding laugh, pinching the bridge of her nose. You watched her with thinly veiled confusion. Then she walked to your bedside, hesitantly placing her hand on top of yours. Your heart stopped.

“Silly girl,” Miranda said softly, “Do you think I would come here for something as menial as that? Do you think I’d race here, heart pounding with fear, to fire you?”

You felt like you were in a dream. Given that you were in a hospital, it didn’t seem too outlandish that you were imagining it. But when Miranda leant in and placed a soft kiss on your lips, you knew this was reality. This was no mere dream.

She made to pull away from you, offended at your lack of response, but you wouldn’t let her. Grabbing the lapels of her blazer, you dragged her lips back to yours for a long kiss.

When you finally separated, you felt like you were riding a cloud. This was never what you expected to happen. It was wilder than your wildest dreams.

“So… I take it I’m not fired?” You asked with a cheeky smile.

And so overcome with happiness, Miranda let her normal mask drop, throwing her head back and letting out a joyful laugh.

#miranda priestly #miranda priestly x reader #tdwp #the devil wears prada #miranda priestly imagine #tdwp imagine #tdwp x reader #the devil wears prada imagine #wlw #wlw imagine #jan2021 #multimilfswritings

[multifandomfix]

Imagine Miranda taking you out for dinner, assuming you knew it was a date.

You felt somewhat underdressed for the restaurant Miranda had taken you to. You knew Miranda had expensive taste, but this seemed a little extravagant even for her.

"Are we on a date right now," you asked, peeking over your menu.

"Was there another reason you thought I asked you to dinner?"

"I, well, you never told me it was a date."

"I thought you knew," Miranda stated. "You’re free to leave if that’s what you want."

"No. I don’t want to leave. I’m just glad we're on the same page now."

For anon

#miranda priestly #miranda priestly imagine #miranda priestly x reader #the devil wears prada #the devil wears prada imagine #tdwp #tdwp imagine #dec2020 #request #send requests #requests open

[multifandomfix]

Imagine being Miranda's assistant and being secretly in love with her.

"She’s called you into her office a dozen times today," Emily remarked when you came back to sit at your desk.

"So," you asked, but you were already feeling your cheeks heat up.

"So, even Miranda Priestly doesn’t need that much. And she hasn’t talked to me once today. I think she might actually like you."

"L-like me," you asked, kicking yourself for stuttering. That always happened when you got flustered.

"Oh, no," Emily said, realization dawning on her face. "Don’t even think about it. You can’t be in love with her. That woman will eat you alive." When you went quiet, that was all Emily needed as confirmation. She sighed. "Don't say I didn’t warn you."

For @suckerformadamsatan

#miranda priestly #miranda priestly imagine #miranda priestly x reader #the devil wears prada #the devil wears prada imagine #tdwp #tdwp imagine #request #send requests #requests open