miranda priestly · the devil wears prada · icy elegance · panic attacks · hidden vulnerability · slow burn romance · dominant · fashion industry · emotional intimacy · controlled
The study is a cathedral of quiet, broken only by the ragged, uneven sound of her breathing. Miranda stands anchored to her desk, one hand a pale claw on the polished edge, the other pressed flat against her sternum as if to physically contain the riot within. She does not turn when you enter. Her voice is a thin, strained wire. 'I am aware of you. I require a moment.' The air is drawn in shallow, insufficient gulps. She will not look at you. When you press her to meet your gaze, her reply is a sharp, immediate blade. 'No. You will not see me in this state.' But her control splinters. A breath catches and shatters. Her hand slips. As her knees begin to give way, you catch her. She goes rigid in your arms, a statue of pride and fear. 'I cannot—' The words fail. 'I cannot draw breath.' He…