The Devil Wears Prada iTunes Ficlet Challenge
Thanks to kitnkabootle for posting this challenge! It was a little harder to write than I thought it would be since forty ten year olds effectively killed my brain, but I did my best.
The rules:
1. Pick a character, pairing, or fandom you like.
2. Turn your music player on and turn it on random.
3. Write a drabble/ficlet related to each song that plays. You only have the length of the song to finish the drabble; you start when the song starts and stop when it's over. No lingering afterwards!
4. Do five of these and post them.
The Way I Am - Ingrid Michaelson
"This relationship is completely impractical," Miranda says, ignoring the warm fingers stealing beneath her sweater.
"So?"
"I'm twice your age. I'm your former employer. I--"
Andrea presses two fingers to Miranda's lips. "Shhh. You are a lot of things, Miranda. You're demanding, critical, slightly obsessive-compulsive, and you snore sometimes--"
"I do not."
"But none of that matters."
Wilkommen - Alan Cumming (Cabaret Soundtrack)
A cloud of smoke tangles around her throat, sending Andy into a fit of hacking coughs. The lights are dim and she has to squint to make out Nigel's silhouette across the room. He waves excitedly and it's all she can do to make herself meet him.
"Nigel, what are we doing--"
"Shush, six. It's about to start."
"It's Fashion Week, Nigel. We have a show--"
"Check your attitude at the door, missy. We're in gay Paris! We have to do as the French do."
Andy raises her eyebrows as Nigel knocks back an amber liquid and sets it on the tray of a waitress passing by. She's wearing nothing put a pair of black bloomers, black suspenders, thigh-highs and stilettos.
"Isn't this fabulous?" Nigel exclaims, his face bright with excitement.
"I guess…if you're into this sort of thing."
"Seriously, kid, relax. How often do you get a night off from Madame Priestly? This is the place to unwind. Let loose. Indulge. And for the love of all things Chanel, will you please just try to have a little fun?"
He had a point.
Fuck the Pain Away - Peaches
Miranda didn't know her name. It didn't matter. All that mattered were the fingers slicing in and out of her, curling and twisting in some sort of haphazard pattern. She winced as another finger was added and spread her legs wider.
Miranda stared at the crack in the ceiling, wishing at once that she were in the clean, sanitized sanctity of her townhouse. But that place was tainted - tainted by the filth that he had brought into their marriage bed. Some leggy blonde bearing the name of something edible. Cookie? Candy?
It wasn't so much that he cheated.
It was who he cheated with. A child with fake tits and bleached roots.
So instead of lying beside a man she knew to be unfaithful, she sought retribution. She picked up a doe-eyed brunette at a seedy bar who bore absolutely no striking resemblance to a former assistant and swore that her own infidelity had solely to do with his.
Almost Lover - A Fine Frenzy
Miranda's lips hover precariously over Andrea's, a faint whisper of breath passing between. Blue eyes harden as they observe the impossibly long eyelashes flutter closed. Beneath Miranda's hand, Andrea's smooth cheek trembles with what can only be anticipation.
She steps back.
"Miranda?"
"I can't."
And then she leaves. She turns her back and walks out of the expensive, pre-paid room. She doesn't close the door behind her in her need to abruptly flee and she knows - she can feel - Andrea's eyes watching her walk away.
It's the hardest thing she's ever had to do.
She's in love with her assistant. She hates everything else in her life that isn't Andrea - her husband, her job, even her girls. She blames them for making it impossible to consummate the one thing that would make her feel like a whole person.
Fingers - Pink
Sometimes it was a pain in the ass to be the lover of the meticulous, work-obsessed Miranda Priestly.
Don't misunderstand - Andy loved Miranda. She loved Miranda so much her entire body shook with the sheer force of it.
But sometimes, like right now, Andy was frustrated that Miranda was so focused on her work that nothing else mattered. Andy could spontaneously combust - as she was dangerously close to doing - and Miranda wouldn't so much as glance up from The Book.
It had been a week and a half since they'd last had sex, and it was killing Andy.
Fuck it.
Andy slipped her hand into her shorts and sighed as her trembling fingers pressed against her wet heat. She whimpered, tracing her fingers along her slit, and glanced over at Miranda. The older woman didn't even notice.
The rules:
1. Pick a character, pairing, or fandom you like.
2. Turn your music player on and turn it on random.
3. Write a drabble/ficlet related to each song that plays. You only have the length of the song to finish the drabble; you start when the song starts and stop when it's over. No lingering afterwards!
4. Do five of these and post them.
The Way I Am - Ingrid Michaelson
"This relationship is completely impractical," Miranda says, ignoring the warm fingers stealing beneath her sweater.
"So?"
"I'm twice your age. I'm your former employer. I--"
Andrea presses two fingers to Miranda's lips. "Shhh. You are a lot of things, Miranda. You're demanding, critical, slightly obsessive-compulsive, and you snore sometimes--"
"I do not."
"But none of that matters."
Wilkommen - Alan Cumming (Cabaret Soundtrack)
A cloud of smoke tangles around her throat, sending Andy into a fit of hacking coughs. The lights are dim and she has to squint to make out Nigel's silhouette across the room. He waves excitedly and it's all she can do to make herself meet him.
"Nigel, what are we doing--"
"Shush, six. It's about to start."
"It's Fashion Week, Nigel. We have a show--"
"Check your attitude at the door, missy. We're in gay Paris! We have to do as the French do."
Andy raises her eyebrows as Nigel knocks back an amber liquid and sets it on the tray of a waitress passing by. She's wearing nothing put a pair of black bloomers, black suspenders, thigh-highs and stilettos.
"Isn't this fabulous?" Nigel exclaims, his face bright with excitement.
"I guess…if you're into this sort of thing."
"Seriously, kid, relax. How often do you get a night off from Madame Priestly? This is the place to unwind. Let loose. Indulge. And for the love of all things Chanel, will you please just try to have a little fun?"
He had a point.
Fuck the Pain Away - Peaches
Miranda didn't know her name. It didn't matter. All that mattered were the fingers slicing in and out of her, curling and twisting in some sort of haphazard pattern. She winced as another finger was added and spread her legs wider.
Miranda stared at the crack in the ceiling, wishing at once that she were in the clean, sanitized sanctity of her townhouse. But that place was tainted - tainted by the filth that he had brought into their marriage bed. Some leggy blonde bearing the name of something edible. Cookie? Candy?
It wasn't so much that he cheated.
It was who he cheated with. A child with fake tits and bleached roots.
So instead of lying beside a man she knew to be unfaithful, she sought retribution. She picked up a doe-eyed brunette at a seedy bar who bore absolutely no striking resemblance to a former assistant and swore that her own infidelity had solely to do with his.
Almost Lover - A Fine Frenzy
Miranda's lips hover precariously over Andrea's, a faint whisper of breath passing between. Blue eyes harden as they observe the impossibly long eyelashes flutter closed. Beneath Miranda's hand, Andrea's smooth cheek trembles with what can only be anticipation.
She steps back.
"Miranda?"
"I can't."
And then she leaves. She turns her back and walks out of the expensive, pre-paid room. She doesn't close the door behind her in her need to abruptly flee and she knows - she can feel - Andrea's eyes watching her walk away.
It's the hardest thing she's ever had to do.
She's in love with her assistant. She hates everything else in her life that isn't Andrea - her husband, her job, even her girls. She blames them for making it impossible to consummate the one thing that would make her feel like a whole person.
Fingers - Pink
Sometimes it was a pain in the ass to be the lover of the meticulous, work-obsessed Miranda Priestly.
Don't misunderstand - Andy loved Miranda. She loved Miranda so much her entire body shook with the sheer force of it.
But sometimes, like right now, Andy was frustrated that Miranda was so focused on her work that nothing else mattered. Andy could spontaneously combust - as she was dangerously close to doing - and Miranda wouldn't so much as glance up from The Book.
It had been a week and a half since they'd last had sex, and it was killing Andy.
Fuck it.
Andy slipped her hand into her shorts and sighed as her trembling fingers pressed against her wet heat. She whimpered, tracing her fingers along her slit, and glanced over at Miranda. The older woman didn't even notice.