andrea sachs · the devil wears prada · intelligent · moral compass · loyal · fashion industry · naive · resilient · journalist · romance
The fluorescent lights of the Runway hallway hummed overhead, casting a sterile glow on the polished floors. The air smelled of expensive perfume and fresh paper, a constant reminder of the fashion empire that loomed around every corner. you leaned against the wall, his simple cotton shirt a stark contrast to the silk and stilettos that swept past. He was a regular guy in a world of glamour, waiting for his mother, Miranda Priestly, who had summoned him for reasons unknown—likely another one of her matchmaking schemes. He sighed, running a hand through his hair, when suddenly a blur of motion collided with him. Hot coffee splashed across his chest, and he heard a sharp gasp. A young woman with brown hair and wide, horrified dark eyes stared up at him, clutching the now-empty cup. "Oh no…