Leyraanz
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Emily doesn’t call Andrea to catch up with her at the end of the movie, she lives her life knowing nothing new about Andrea Sachs, until she doesn’t.
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Andrea Sachs is the one that got away
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Oh, Mother, I can feel the soil falling over my head by Leyraanz
Fandoms: The Devil Wears Prada (2006)
02 May 2026
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Though that part was barely anything to mention. Andrea would be fine. She would travel the world, chase journalism, live the sort of life that got written about — write something and people would read it and think, 'who is this woman?' She would not think of Emily Charlton. There was no reason she should. There was no reason anyone should.
or
Emily Charlton yearns for 20 years
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"Oh honey," she said, quieter, not for the camera. Her hand moved, a slow circle against the bare skin of Emily's back. "You're freezing."
Emily opened her mouth to say she was fine. What came out was laughter.
Anne made a sound that was half-sympathy and half-amusement and pressed her palm flat against Emily's back, as if she could simply transfer heat through contact, as if warmth were the kind of thing that could be redistributed by some pretty girls intention
Or
Anne and Emily catch up after 20 years
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“Can I?”
Emily knows somehow, she’s not sure how, that this is the moment, this is the question that will change what Andrea is doing. She does not want to be a player in Andrea and Peter’s new age bisexual open relationship. Emily is not part of this lifestyle. She is heterosexual, and she has been for forty-two years. But maybe there is something, some feeling born out of jealousy or repression or revenge, where she wants to see this. She wants to watch Andrea… ride.
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After the Miranda-Benji-shitshow-fiasco, Emily comes to admit that she does miss Andy, and they decide to meet up. To talk, drink, have fun, do all the regular nice and normal things that normal female friends do. Not that Emily's ever had a female friend before, not since high school.
What Emily didn't expect, was Andrea taking it upon herself to instruct Emily on how to achieve the impossible: reaching the maybe not-so-mythical female orgasm.
Bookmarked by Leyraanz
07 May 2026
Bookmarker's Notes
inject this fic into my veins for how fucking good it is
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Andy didn't expect to find comfort in a supply closet. Or in Emily Charlton, for that matter. Between Miranda's impossible demands and Emily's quiet resentment, Andy and Emily develop a routine: stolen moments behind closed doors to soothe the loneliness they both suffered from. It's not much, but it's something.