Archive of Our Own

Andy was by no means a cowardly alpha. She was actually very brave overall. And she had this thing for older omegas and powerful omegas. So it was natural and almost expected that she, Andrea Sachs, would have a crush on Miranda Priestly of all people.

Andy remembers the first day, she arrived at Runaway to take a position she had interviewed for via video call. So she didn't know the company itself. She knew Serena by sight, but nothing very close. Then there was the commotion. People started panicking, getting ready, and Andy was there, casually standing in dress pants, boots, and a white dress shirt. Simple but appropriate in office fashion. And that's when she, who was casually reading a document waiting for her turn to speak to her direct boss, heard heels.

The footsteps stopped at her side, and Andy looked to the side, then a little lower. The white hair, the glacial blue eyes, and the unimpressed expression. The two looked at each other, and a white eyebrow rose in a perfect arch. Andy's head fell slightly to the side, and she looked intrigued at the icy expression of the woman in front of her. Andy saw how the lips purse, and then someone pulled Andy forward.

“Good morning, Miranda.” The man's voice sounded excessively sweet. “Never stand in Miranda's way." He said as the woman left and entered the elevator.

“I had no idea?” Andy offered.

“I see you're new blood. I'm Nigel Kipling.” He said, rolling his eyes. “Art director.”

“Oh, nice to meet you. Andy Sachs, I'm the newest member of the Features department.” She offered, extending her hand.

“Ah, Andy Sachs. The new blood of journalism. We'll get along well.” He said, and Andy didn't know if it was a threat, a warning, or an invitation. But after that day, she made a friend.

********

“Your interview with Delaine Blin was well received, we had few corrections.” Andy’s colleague spoke almost excitedly, and Andy, who was typing, stopped for a moment and looked curiously at her colleague.

“My articles are usually not well received?” She asked curiously. Andy saw herself as a decent writer, still learning a lot but decent.

“I-I didn’t say that.” The girl who was younger than Andy stammered. “Usually the articles are reviewed by Miranda and well… They come back with a lot of corrections.” She stammered.

“Yes, it’s the Head editor’s job, isn’t it?” she asked with slight amusement. Unlike most who were terrified of Miranda more than half the time, Andy admired the power of the older omega. And yes, she was a little scary, but Andy was never afraid of decisive or strong women. Respect? Yes. Fear? No.

“I think so?” The girl stammered.

“Andy, Mel, we have a general meeting. Shall we go?” Alice, the boss of the two and the director of the sector spoke and indicated the door. “Miranda summoned everyone.” And that was new, Andy had been there for almost six months and this had never happened before.

But she walked last in the small group, and she was wearing a little Chanel outfit that Nigel decided would look great on her. So she was comfortable and elegantly dressed. And everyone entered the auditorium and it was even funny to see how terribly terrified everyone was.

“I received some news today.” Miranda’s voice was cold, there was no good morning, no smile. Just sharp, slow and cold. And the room shuddered at it. “Page 6 had the displeasure of reporting firsthand that Runaway. My magazine…” The tone was glacial. “Will not be doing a special edition to honor my 30 years of editing. And I imagine you know that I don’t usually flaunt my competence with anything beyond numbers. So we will do something symbolic to represent this milestone.” She said, making a slow gesture. “And I will find out who the anonymous source from Page 6 is. That’s all.” And with that, the woman spun on her heels and left.

“She knows how to make an exit.” Andy commented casually, and Mel looked at her horrified.

“She’s terrifying.” Mel whispered.

“Eh.” Andy spoke again calmly. “I feel sorry for whoever spoke to the gossip column.” She muttered and then looked around, seeing several restless people and some getting up to return to their departments. Andy then yawned slightly. “I’m going back to my work.” She commented and spun on her heels. It was the end of the day, but Andy didn’t like leaving work unfinished.

So she diligently sat down in front of the computer and resumed writing the article she was working on. She would stay there for a few more hours, and the boss didn’t mind paying overtime because Andy always accepted the most unusual jobs.

“What are you doing?” A childish voice made Andy’s eyes jump from the screen to the two redheads that were there. Two girls, about eight years old, twins, with freckles and blue eyes.

“Working, and what are you doing here?” She asked, intrigued.

“Our mother sent us to the kitchen, but we didn’t want to stay there.” One of the two answered, and it didn’t seem entirely true.

“Okay… and do you want to do something in particular?” She asked, intrigued by the scene.

“I want to read.” One of the girls said, showing a book she had in her hands, and Andy nodded and looked at the other.

“And you?” She asked the other, who shrugged.

“I don’t know, I’m bored.” She said and huffed.

“Would you like to help me think of images for my article?” She asked, trying to find a way to keep the two children there while their mother figured out where they were. “If you want to read, you have a book and I've an extra chair.” She indicated to the first one who accepted. “My name is Andy.” She offered.

“Cass.” The first redhead said. “That’s Carol.” She indicated her sister.

“Okay, Cass, how about reading over there…” She indicated the chair. “And Carol, can you sit next to me and help me?” She tried, and Carol shrugged, but each twin sat in one of the chairs. Andy pulled out her cell phone and texted the night security guard, informing him that there were two red-haired, blue-eyed children in the Features room.

“What are you doing?” Carol asked suddenly.

“I’m making a sample image for the people in the art department to understand what Vilma Groom meant in her interview about the new collection.” Andy said without taking the child for stupid.

“The woman who makes art with plants? Mom talked about her, uh… sustainable fashion, I think she called it.” Carol said, and Andy nodded.

“That’s right. She works with the idea of vegan fashion and sustainable fashion. The new collection is about plastic in the ocean and is a partnership with Ocean Clean, which removes plastic from the ocean for sustainable purposes, they are developing clothes made from plastic." Andy explained.

“It sounds uncomfortable." Cass said, and Andy made a small sound.

“A little, yes, but she said the fibers made are soft. She was going to send some clothes so I could talk more about it." Andy said, then turned to Carol. “She thought of this concept…” She showed her notes, and Carol read them and made a thoughtful sound.

“Okay, I have some ideas." She said after a moment.

“Great. I accept any help.” And ways to keep the two children safe there.

And that’s how Andy found herself, with Cass reading beside them what seemed to be a mystery book and Carol helping her compose a test image.

“Oh my God, there you two are!” A voice, now slightly desperate, sounded, and all three heads turned toward the door. “What are you doing with the two of them?” The woman hissed at Andy, who looked unimpressed at the sharp-tongued Omega.

“Control your tone. I’m not your dog.” Andy spoke tensely, coldly, and the commanding alpha tone made the Omega stiffen. “They came all the way here and I kept them safe until someone showed up. But you don’t look like their mother to me.” Andy spoke firmly.

“No, she’s not our mother.” Carol, whom Andy quickly learned was the most venomous, said.

“Your mother is worried sick. She was about to call the police.” The woman hissed again.

“They’re visibly fine. Girls, what do you think about going to your mother to prevent a collective aneurysm?” She indicated the woman with reddish-brown hair and irritated green eyes.

“Okay.” Cass, who was leading the two sisters, spoke, and Carol huffed but obediently stood up. Andy just saved the files and then sighed, grabbing her jacket and bag to move with the girls. She then looked at the woman in the doorway.

“The way…?” The tone was questioning, and the woman huffed and spun on her heels. Which made Andy look at Carol and roll her eyes, the redhead gave a little laugh. But still. The four of them got into the elevator.

“You don’t have to come along.” The woman said dryly.

“I’m not going to let two kids go with someone I don’t know.” Andy said and saw how Cass and Carol positioned themselves on either side of her, and the older woman grunted, almost tearing her own hair out.

“I love my job. I love my job.” The woman began to whisper to herself, and Andy looked between Cass, who seemed amused by the woman’s little outburst, and Carol, who made a sign with her finger twirling around her ear, and Andy gave an amused smile and a silent laugh. But still. The elevator went up, and up, and up, and Andy wondered who the girls' mother could be on the top floor of the building.

The doors opened and the woman stepped out first, so Andy straightened up from the mirror and walked forward, and it was almost comical how easily the twins flanked her. Then Andy saw her. Miranda Priestly, disgruntled, unhappy even, sat at her desk, and she watched as the woman entered the room without hesitation.

“Miranda, I found them!” The woman said quickly.

“Your incompetence impresses me, Emily. And where were my daughters?” That's when the blue eyes fixed on Andy. “Girls.” The tone was much gentler for the children.

“Hi Mama.” Cass said easily.

“They were in the Features department with…” Emily hesitated, not knowing who Andy was.

“Andy let us help with things.” Carol said and walked over to her mother quickly. “She let me help with the image idea while Cass read.” The tone was light, but Andy read the subtle manipulation.

“She did a great job giving me ideas to suggest to the artists.” Andy said casually. “Well, girls, I enjoyed your company, but please try not to disappear into your mother, okay?” She gently asked Carol and Cass. The more rebellious redhead grunted and looked at her sister.

“We promised to try, Andy, but we were bored and Emily didn’t want to let us go to the kitchen.” Cass said dramatically, and Andy saw Emily shrink back.

“Try our best is all I can ask.” Andy said, looking between her sisters. “Well then… Cass, Carol…” She gave a small smile to the two girls and looked at Emily without a very impressive look. “Emily. Miranda. Have a good night.” Andy twisted her fingers in her pockets and then turned to walk away and head for the elevator. When the doors opened, she went inside, leaned against the mirror, and when she looked down the hallway, brown and icy blue eyes met.

*********

Andy didn't smoke, but Nigel did. So the two of them were outside the building, Andy leaning against the Elias Clark building with a coffee in her hand and one hand in the pocket of the jacket Nigel had gotten for her.

She yawned slightly and then saw Nigel light another cigarette. He blew the smoke away from Andy and looked stressed.

"Your panties are in a twist." She pointed very casually and Nigel grunted.

"My panties are always in a twist. Miranda is driving everyone crazy." He grunted.

"She's not always?" Again the casual tone and Nigel looked at her with some amusement.

"You're not afraid of her at all, are you?" He asked in a very intrigued tone.

"I don't stay directly with the woman to have time to develop fear." Andy said, shrugging, and he snorted.

"Miranda doesn't need to be directly with you to instill fear of God." He said, and she chuckled softly. “She’s powerful enough to fuck up our lives.” He grunted. “I’ve worked with her for 29 years.” The comment came.

“You work directly for her, Nig. I’ve seen her three times till today, not nearly the same level of exposure as most of you. But she’s competent, isn’t she?” It was a rhetorical question, she knew it, Nigel knew it, but he snorted.

“We’ve surpassed Vogue 20 out of the 30 years she’s been running the magazine, she’s the woman. An omega. The longest-serving editor of a magazine to date. She’s painfully competent.” He spoke and threw the cigarette in the trash can and blew out the smoke. “I want to ask you something. A favor in return for all the beautiful clothes I’ve given you.” And that made Andy laugh.

“Ah, the manipulation.” She said casually and he snorted slightly.

“You know the senior writer in your department, Julio?” He offered.

“He was fired. Yes.” Andy commented and took the last sip of her coffee. 

“Miranda fired him.” And that was new gossip, making Andy look at him with arched eyebrows.

“Directly?” Andy asked, and he nodded. “I don’t know whether to be scared or impressed.” She commented, and Nigel gave a very amused snort.

“I’d go with both. But he was interviewing Miranda.” The information was given, and Andy didn’t react. “She seemed clearly unimpressed.”

“Clearly.” Andy added, and he snorted.

“Then I need someone else to interview the dragon.” The nickname made Andy laugh.

“And you hate me so much that you want me to go?” Andy asked, and Nigel blushed slightly.

“You’re the only one I feel could survive. Mel cried just knowing someone would have to replace Julio.” He scoffed.

“Mel’s a coward.” Andy said casually. “Right, but you owe me. There are no clothes in the world that could pay for that.” She said, and he laughed and nodded.

“I’ll accept anything you ask. Honestly, Miranda will kill us all if she has to write her own interview, she said, and I quote: if it’s pre-packaged, she’ll lie herself.” And that made Andy chuckle softly.

“Right. She has a tight schedule, tell one of her secretaries to let me know when she has a break and I’ll go see her.” Andy said, shaking her hand slightly and yawning.

“Perfect. Thanks, Andy.” Nigel said, and Andy waved her hand slightly in disdain at the thanks. Then the two of them went into the building.

*******

Andy walked calmly to the top floor of the building, trying not to appear rushed like most people. But upon seeing her, Emily jumped at her feet.

"You took forever." She hissed.

"If you want me to get there faster, put rockets in the elevators." Andy replied almost disdainfully, but mockingly. And Emily made a disgruntled sound.

"I had to find time for you in Miranda's very busy schedule. This interview was a stupid idea. Wait." She grumbled, and Andy tried not to pay much attention. "Miranda, Andrea Sachs from Feature is here." Andy saw her walking to the door. "Yes, Miranda. Of course, Miranda." Then Emily came out of the room, pale. "You can come in. And try not to take too long." Emily grumbled, and Andy continued her slow steps into the room, a slight appreciative glance at the YSL suit Nigel had given her.

"Good afternoon, Miranda." Andy said very relaxed. "Although it could be considered a waste of precious time. I'll introduce myself." Andy remained in front of Miranda's desk, and she heard a sharp tone from Emily. "Andrea Sachs, I'm one of the writers for the Feature, and I promise to try not to take up your time, your schedule, and your patience for too long." She spoke and gave a small smile, and Miranda looked at her again.

"Emily." Miranda's tone was dry, and Andy saw how Emily almost tripped to get up from her chair and walk to Andy's side.

"Yes, Miranda?" She asked, almost excessively anxious.

"I want to finish this... interview as soon as possible. Hold calls until I say otherwise and close the door." Andy saw how Emily paled.

"Yes, Miranda." And with that, the redhead turned on her heels and left, closing the door, and Andy raised an eyebrow.

"She seems to be one step away from a mental breakdown." Andy said thoughtfully to herself. And then she turned to Miranda, who didn't answer anything. "Can I sit down, or would you prefer to continue stressing your neck?" She said almost amused, and Miranda didn't seem necessarily impressed, but made a short gesture to the chair.

“We can begin.” Miranda spoke slowly, in a low voice.

“Sounds good.” Andy placed the recorder between them. “Miranda, I could go through an extensive resume you have with 30 years of heading the editorship of a prestigious magazine like Runaway. But practicality often trumps long speeches. So… Over these 30 years, what editorial decision do you consider the most transformative for Runaway?” She decided not to go on with introductions and speeches that would take up time, and this seemed to please Miranda.

“Transformative? All my decisions are transformative.” The answer was sharp, but Miranda seemed to ponder for a moment. “But, if you only need one, it was abandoning the cult of fleeting trends and positioning Runaway as a cultural authority, not just an aesthetic one. I didn’t want people to ask ‘what’s in fashion,’ but rather ‘what does Runaway think about it.’ And I succeeded.” Andy nodded in agreement.

“And indeed, today the magazine is the main reference point, and its opinion drives fashion.” Andy spoke slowly. “How do you, Miranda, see the evolution of fashion from your first day as editor-in-chief until today?” It was a more curious question, and Andy was trying to keep the necessary institutional questions to herself, but without being repetitive with questions already asked thousands of times. The question made Miranda take a moment to breathe, her lips pursing in thought.

“Fashion has stopped whispering and learned to speak.” The way she said it was like someone who had pondered the evolution of fashion several times. “Before, it was a conversation among a few. Now, it’s a global, frenetic, sometimes noisy discussion. Some people will say it has lost its soul — I say it has broadened the stage. And like all expansion, it needs direction. That’s why I’m still here.” Miranda gestured with her hand again.

“Fashion is political, it’s voice, it’s strength, and it’s beauty.” Andy spoke and saw Miranda’s interest rise slightly, but then it was masked. “What do you believe has been essential to maintaining the magazine’s relevance for so long? After all, it’s been 30 years, and through its ups and downs, it has always continued to rise.” This was something Andy questioned, how to maintain the consistency that Miranda maintained.

“Discipline. And the stubborn refusal to be complacent.” Miranda answered a little more openly. “Runaway doesn’t follow the market, the market adjusts to Runaway. Relevance is not accidental — it’s the result of not accepting anything less than exceptional, not from the team… nor from myself.” Miranda spoke more rigidly.

“And indeed, there is no one more exceptional.” The flirtation wasn’t intentional, but it still seemed to intrigue Miranda as an eyebrow rose. “Complacency doesn’t help with success, I once read.” She cleared her throat slightly.

“Indeed, no.” Miranda commented, and the two looked at each other for a moment.

“What moments in your career do you consider symbols of your legacy?” And that question came accompanied by a hm.

“There are many. The first cover that redefined an entire season. The first time a designer rewrote a collection because I suggested a color. And, of course, the countless moments when I silenced an entire room just by walking into it. My legacy is less about events and more about consequences.” And it sounded arrogant, yes, but it was mostly exuberant.

“The greatness of silence is for the few. I heard you can change ideas with just small gestures.” Andy spoke slowly, aware that Miranda would understand it was the scared gossip of the other employees.

“I heard it is…” Miranda spoke in a low tone, almost a purr. “A talent.” She commented slowly.

“Indeed. But… What can the public expect from the next phase of Runaway under your command?” She asked, curious about that.

“Expectation is a mediocre word. The audience will get what they’ve always gotten: direction. Runaway will continue shaping the world before the world realizes it needs to be shaped. And if there’s anything new… it’ll be because I’ve decided it’s time.” The answer made Andy raise an eyebrow.

“So, off the record, Miranda doesn’t create expectations?” She asked curiously.

“And isn’t that the million-dollar question, Andrea?” The answer was rhetorical, and the two looked at each other for a moment.

“If your career had a soundtrack, what song or artist would be the opening track?” The question came, and Miranda’s eyebrow rose at the unexpected question.

“Probably something classic… But not comfortable. A composition that starts softly, only to remind you in the second measure that underestimating the melody would be a mistake. Rachmaninoff would do that very well.” Miranda spoke almost defiantly.

“Oh, a Russian. That kind of music that starts elegantly and suddenly drowns you in grandeur.” Andy replied in a very casual tone, “If you could resurrect an old trend just for fun, what would it be?” She nudged lightly, and there was this tiny, almost invisible smile.

“Fun doesn’t guide my decision-making….” She replied, but then there was the lip-twitch that Andy noticed, it wasn’t disapproval, it was rather pondering. “But… Suppose… I would bring back the impeccable rigor of long gloves worn intentionally, not as a costume. There was a quiet elegance there — something the current industry has forgotten.” Andy made a small sound.

“There was elegance in well-executed fashion.” She commented, and there was a slight nod. “We could all learn from the greatness of Audrey Hepburn and Grace Kelly, I imagine… But… does Miranda Priestly have any ritual or something she does before fashion weeks?” She asked, intrigued, and Miranda’s eyebrow arched.

“Yes.” She said, and the two were silent for a moment. “I silence absolutely everything that isn’t essential. People, noises, distractions… Feelings. The world demands my attention — so I decide in what order it will receive it.” It was something very firm, a very personal stance.

“An admirable determination.” Andy spoke, genuinely impressed by Miranda’s diligence. And in part, she understood the divorces, not every Alpha was made for such a grand Omega. “Is there anything in fashion that you’d love for people to stop taking so seriously? I myself would delete puffer jackets.” And that brought a small, mocking sound from Miranda.

“Not about the pieces themselves. The moral panic about ‘relevance’ is exhausting for fashion. People believe that fashion needs to be eternally profound, politicized, philosophical. When, sometimes, it just needs to be… Beautiful. There’s strength in unpretentious beauty.” she said softly.

“Not everyone can be beautiful without trying, Miranda.” Andy spoke, and the two stared at each other, a weight in their shared gaze. “But yes, fashion, sometimes just being beautiful, can be enough. And there are eternal spaces for struggle and depth.” Miranda nodded slightly. “So, our last question of this interview.” And that made Miranda seem curious. “If you could talk to 20-year-old Miranda, what would you say about the future? If you had to advise a young woman who could be a Miranda in the future…” she prompted slightly. And that made Miranda stop, and a long minute passed between the question and Miranda thinking.

“I would say: Keep going. Even when it seems absurd. Even when it seems impossible. And I would add that she has no idea — none — of how far she can go if she doesn’t ask permission.” Miranda spoke slowly.

“Greatness doesn’t need permission." Andy said, and the two stared at each other for a moment. “I appreciate the opportunity to have learned more about the layers that make you up, Miranda." She said, picking up the recorder and turning it off. “I’ll send the first version for review tomorrow." Andy added, moving toward the door, stopping with her hand on the doorknob. “Greatness is magnificent in you." She said slowly. “Have a good day, Miranda.” And with that, Andrea Sachs left Miranda’s room without really looking back.

******

Looking at the magazine cover was surprising. Andy, like everyone else, couldn't possibly know Miranda's choice. But still. Nigel made a long sound and then began to read.

"Three decades of leadership - the living legacy of Miranda Priestly." He began dramatically, and Andy rolled her eyes. "There are milestones that don't depend on celebration to exist." Nigel started with the sentence that Andy thought was good to begin with. "Miranda Priestly's leadership at Runaway is one of those: solid, unquestionable, shaped by three decades in which the magazine not only followed fashion but defined it with almost surgical precision. Celebrating these 30 years means understanding, even briefly, the movement of a mind that never allowed itself to become complacent." He spoke and began to pace back and forth slowly.

"Are you going to read the whole column?" She grumbled, feeling a headache.

"Shh, Andy." Nigel said, laughing softly. “Miranda received me without ceremony. There was no need for protocols, her presence already established order. When we began our conversation, she mentioned that all her decisions had been transformative, not as a grand statement, but as someone stating an undeniable fact. And it is precisely this lucidity about her own impact that sustains her trajectory.” He held the magazine in one hand and continued. “Among all the choices that marked Runaway under her direction, she identifies one change as decisive: to move the magazine away from the immediacy of ephemeral trends and position it as a cultural authority. For Miranda, fashion was never a seasonal product. From the beginning, it was discourse. Observation. Direction.” He spoke reading from memory.

And Andy, who had a headache, sighed and allowed Nigel to continue with the same almost mocking tone of voice, but still intrigued.

“When I ask her about the evolution of fashion since her first day at the helm of the magazine, she replies with a clarity that only experience offers that fashion has learned to speak. Once reserved for a select few, it has become a global language. And, despite the volume of the contemporary world, Miranda has remained a stable reference point — part compass, part filter, part foundation.” He nodded in agreement. “The longevity of her relevance is not attributed to an isolated moment, but to continuous discipline. She rejects complacency, both in herself and in others. Runaway, under her leadership, never followed the market, but rather claimed for itself the role of shaping it. Relevance is not accidental.” Nigel looked at her, intrigued.

“Those were her words.” She muttered.

“When I mention her symbolic moments, she doesn’t enumerate achievements — she points to effects. The cover that redesigned a season, the opinion that reconfigured an entire collection, the silence that precedes her arrival in a room. For Miranda, legacy is repercussion, not narrative. Throughout the interview, there are moments of delicacy.” Nigel spoke and arched his eyebrows. “Delicacy?” He questioned and continued reading. “When asked about a trend she would revive for pure pleasure, she mentions the impeccable rigor of long gloves worn intentionally, not as ornament. It’s an answer that translates her gaze. Elegance is not in excess, but in precision.” And the continuation of the reading made Andy groan.

“For God’s sake, Nigel.” She muttered.

“I ask if there’s any ritual before fashion weeks. She answers without hesitation: silence. Silencing distractions, expectations, affections. The world demands her attention. And she decides in what order it will receive it. It’s a philosophy that explains not only her method, but her constancy. But Miranda makes room for the unexpected. Rachmaninoff would be the composer of a soundtrack for her life. A classic, never complacent, gentle at the beginning, immense in the next measure. The description could apply to Miranda herself. At the end, I propose the question that rarely finds such honest answers: what would she say to the 20-year-old Miranda? After a long silence, she answers: “Keep going. Even when it seems absurd. Even when it seems impossible. She has no idea how far she can go if she doesn’t ask permission.” The phrase synthesizes not only her trajectory, but her most compelling teaching: greatness is not negotiable.” He breathed for a moment and continued. “Celebrating thirty years of Miranda Priestly at the helm of Runaway is, therefore, to acknowledge the strength of a leadership that never sought to please. Only to lead. And that, in leading, reshaped the very idea of fashion as discourse, as culture, and as vision. Ending this interview was to silently admit that there is something in Miranda's firmness that transcends the definition of influence. Upon leaving her office, I understood that some leaders not only guide but also provoke. And yet, it is impossible to deny, there are presences that do not dissipate when the door closes — they only become more evident.” Nigel finished, and Andy grunted and pushed the ice pack against her face.

“Why did you decide to read the whole interview?” She grunted.

“Because this, Six. It’s gold. Pure gold. I can count on one hand how many people have managed to interview Miranda, get her to answer questions, and end up on the cover of the magazine.” He tapped the magazine lightly in front of Andy, and the image of Miranda sitting on a throne with ‘The Legacy, the Story, and Miranda.’ above it was visible.

“It’s been thirty years, Nigel. Miranda doesn’t need my words to become great.” She grumbled, and Nigel pulled the ice away and grimaced.

“You look detestable even with the makeup.” He grumbled, and she grunted.

“I’m aware.” She grunted.

“My god, finding you is almost torture.” Emily’s sudden voice made Andy and Nigel look at the redhead. “That eye is grotesque. Did you argue with Mike Tyson?” She grunted, and Andy looked at her unimpressed.

“What do you want, Emily?” Nigel asked, and Andy also thought it was about him.

“Not you. Miranda asked for… Andrea.” Emily almost spat out her name, and Andy’s eyebrow rose. All she wanted was to see Miranda with a swollen, bruised face, but if Miranda called, Andy wouldn’t be the one to argue.

She handed the ice to Nigel and then stood up, going without much hesitation after Emily, who walked in heavy steps to the elevator. And there were eyes on Andy. The eye drew attention, she knew.

But they got out of the elevator, and the second assistant looked at Andy with a mixture of surprise and shock. But Andy ignored it.

“Andrea Sachs, Miranda.” She made a dry gesture for Andy to enter and closed the door behind her.

“You must not have seen it, but the magazine was published.” Miranda said without looking up from what she was reading. “And it brought up a particular matter—” Miranda’s sentence was cut off by blue eyes meeting Andy’s face. “What the hell happened to your face?” The tone was inexplicably surprised, and Andy closed her eyes slightly and took a deep breath.

“My neighbors were fighting, and I had the displeasure of going out to take out the trash at the exact moment he decided on the brilliant idea of assaulting his wife. Me and a clenched fist became very close friends.” She spoke slowly. “I lost more than half my day at a police station and still haven’t gotten ibuprofen.” The complaint came out disgruntled. “So… I don’t want to seem ungrateful, but what’s this call about, Miranda? I still haven’t been able to see a doctor about my face, and you can imagine I’m in pain.” She asked and took a deep breath, not being rude, not being cruel, but exhaustively honest about the pain and discomfort.

Miranda’s lips pursed, and she looked uncomfortably displeased. Then the woman slowly moved and pressed a button on the phone.

“Emily.” She said, and it took 5 seconds for the door to open and Emily to appear, almost in a panic.

“Yes, Miranda?” The redhead asked so quickly it seemed like she was going to vomit the words.

“Call Dr. Novak.” She said dryly. “Get an appointment in an hour.” She continued, and Andy’s eyebrows arched, and Emily looked at Miranda and Andy. “That’s all.” Andy looked at Miranda as the door closed.

“You just got me a medical appointment?” She asked, blinking slowly.

“New York Presbyterian, in an hour.” Miranda said dryly, and Andy looked at her confused and even intrigued. “The point of you coming here.” She said slowly. “It’s my girls’ birthday this weekend, and they requested your presence.” And a champagne invitation slid across the table toward Andy, and the brunette took two steps forward and accepted the paper, seeing pretty, yet childlike handwriting there.

“Oh…” Andy said softly, reading the handwritten invitation from the two of them and giving a slight smile. “It will be a pleasure.” She said slowly and then looked at Miranda.

“You have a doctor’s appointment now.” Miranda said dryly. “That’s all.” She spoke brutally, and Andy nodded, slowly backing away. “And Andrea.” She called, and Andy stopped with the door half open. “Saturday, 3 p.m. Don’t be late.” It was very firm, and Andy looked over her shoulder.

“I would never keep you waiting, Miranda.” The reply came, and Andy turned away, heading for the elevator, and she unscrupulously saw how Emily’s mouth looked like a fish in shock.

“Andrea Sachs of all people?” That was the complaint Andy heard as the elevator began to close.

*********

Andy arrived at Miranda and the twins' townhouse. It was curious that the party was there and not in a more ostentatious place. But Andy knew from company gossip that Miranda had recently gone through a rather ugly divorce in court. And Andy didn't try to delve too deeply into that point, there was a lot of mystification surrounding Miranda's romantic life.

But she didn't even have time to ring the doorbell, the door opened to an Emily who looked more disheveled than usual, and the two looked at each other. Emily in her natural state of Miranda-induced panic, and Andy casually wearing a The Pretty Reckless t-shirt and jeans, and there was this disapproving look from Emily at Andy's outfit.

"Good afternoon, Emily, may I come in or are we going to let New York in before me?" She asked almost mockingly, but Emily gave a very unattractive grunt and stepped away from the door.

"Has anyone ever told you that you're unbearable?" She growled, and Andy gave a low laugh.

“I’m a journalist, Emily, half the time I’m unbearable and the other half I’m nosy.” The reply was delightfully casual, and it seemed to disarm Emily for a moment, causing her to open and close her mouth. “I’ve dealt with more capricious looks of disdain than you give me, your disapproval of me doesn’t affect me in the slightest.” Andy’s tone was a little sharper, and you see, Andy Sachs was a sweet woman, but she was a person especially lacking in patience for nonsense.

“Andrea.” Miranda’s voice made both women look to the foot of the stairs where Miranda stood, quite unimpressed. “I see you’re punctual.” She spoke in a slow tone.

“I’ve never been known for being late.” Andy said casually and took two steps closer to Miranda, which made Emily close the door and stop uncomfortably.

“And the doctor?” Miranda asked, looking at Emily. “Emily, spare me your anxiety.” She spoke so dryly that it seemed to quickly trigger Emily at a higher voltage, and the woman strode down the hallway. Andy watched with slight amusement, then her eyes returned to Miranda.

"Just a bruise, no fracture or concussion." She informed the woman, who seemed satisfied, and Andy wondered if she was reading Miranda better or if the woman was less frozen around her. "How's the party?" She asked gently.

"Noisy." Miranda said, and there was a slight lip movement. "Come on." And with that, the woman turned to continue down the hallway, and Andy followed, walking two steps behind Miranda, especially so as not to trip over the woman's feet, who always seemed to walk in quick steps.

"You look beautiful." The phrase made Miranda, who was at the garden door, freeze and look at Andy over her shoulder. "I like the outfit, it's very Carolina Herrera, but still, so Miranda, you look beautiful." She spoke, and there may not have been an explicit reaction, like a blush or a smile, but there was that uncontrollable reaction of an omega who appreciated a compliment. Miranda's lip pursed for a moment.

"And you're painfully casual." She spoke softly, but it wasn't the glacial tone.

"I'm the sloppy adult. Not all of us have your elegance." Andy spoke and ran her thumbs along the belt loop, which brought an eye roll from Miranda, but there was no disdain. The garden door opened, and there were very few adults there. Andy assumed they were the other children's parents.

"Girls." Miranda's tone made Carol and Cass, who were with other children, stop what they were doing and look at their mother, and then the twins' blue eyes went to Andy.

"Andy!" Carol spoke in a cheerful tone and moved, and Andy barely had time to fully steady herself when the small body bumped against her, and it wasn't as if Andy wasn't happy with the child's undeniable joy, but still, they had only met once.

"Hey, Carol, how are you?" And the gentle yet certain way Andy spoke made Miranda's eyebrow rise slightly.

"I love this band!" Carol said with a wide smile. "I'm fine, and you?" She asked in a cheerful tone.

"I'm great." Andy replied calmly.

"And what happened to your eye? It looks awful!" Cass asked curiously.

"Cassidy." Miranda scolded slowly, and Andy saw how Cass shrank slightly, looking embarrassed.

"Uh, sorry." She mumbled awkwardly.

"I was hit by a flamingo that escaped from Central Park." Andy answered, and that made the three Prestleys look at Andy.

Miranda seemed incredulous at the blatant lie, but Andy's words were serious, and she saw how Cass's eyes, who loved mystery judging from the book the girl was reading, narrowed in search of the truth.

“I can’t tell if that’s a lie or not.” Cass said, intrigued.

“Your investigative superpowers are off.” Andy said, and the two looked at each other. Carol was still hugging Andy, but Cassidy seemed just intrigued.

“Hm, I’ll find out.” Cassidy said, not accusingly, but more playfully.

“I’ll give you three questions to try and figure it out.” Andy said, and Cassidy gave a wide smile.

“Perfect! I don’t need more than that.” Cassidy said and extended her hand to her sister. “Let’s go back to Ash and Helen.” She indicated, and Carol stepped back with a sigh and accepted her sister’s hand, being pulled towards the other children.

“A… Flamingo?” Miranda seemed inwardly amused.

“My mother always said that in strange situations, the best thing is to go with the absurd. It was that or say that a magician’s dove hit me. I thought the second one was a bit exaggerated.” Andy said, amused.

“And a flamingo isn’t.” Miranda spoke, and then Andy gave her best shit-eating grin, which made the woman roll her eyes and start walking, and Andy chuckled and moved along with Miranda.

“Ah, I see the special guest Caroline was talking about has arrived.” One of the women spoke. “Giulia Cortez.” Andy’s mind quickly made the connection to who the woman was

“The owner of Gulliver.” Andy said, and there was a small, surprised arch in the woman’s eyebrow, she had brown hair, brown eyes, and was tall. “Andy Sachs.” She offered, extending her hand.

“Fascinating. Not everyone recognizes me by name alone.” The woman said, and Andy noticed Miranda looking between her and Giulia.

“I followed the costly process that was the purchase of Bombard, a journalist’s misfortune, I guess. You can take the journalist out of the investigative, but you can’t take the investigation out of the journalist.” The woman laughed lightly.

“And you work with Miranda?” The question was kind, and Andy realized, Giulia honestly liked Miranda.

“And you work with Miranda?” The question was kind, and Andy realized, Giulia honestly liked Miranda.

“In another department, at Feature, I’m six floors down in the building and many floors below hierarchically. But it’s Miranda.” Andy spoke lightly, and Giulia laughed.

“Indeed, and where did you work before?” The question was casual and relaxed.

“NY Press.” Miranda answered, and this made the two women look at her. “Andrea was a junior journalist there before joining Runaway.” She continued, and Andy was surprised that Miranda knew this about her.

“Interesting, let’s sit down and talk about it. I’ve always liked understanding the mind of a journalist, they’re intriguing.” Andy found herself practically accompanied by the two older women. Giulia was a fantastic tension-breaker, she spoke naturally with Andy and Miranda.

And the conversation went on for a while, and Andy had seen Miranda at some company events, her smile cold and fake, but with Giulia it was more sincere. Her blue eyes went from Andy to the two girls, and it was a delicate care from Miranda to always be attentive to the well-being of the two girls.

“I hope you have one of the answers, Andrea, Cassidy is coming.” She said and took a sip of the refreshment she had in her hands.

“I have my first question.” Cassidy’s comment made Andy look at her with amusement.

“Ask, oh Agatha Christy.” And that made Cassidy give a very sincere laugh.

“I’m contesting your flamingo comment because there are no native flamingos in Central Park.” It was an interesting comment, Andy would say, and she looked at Cassidy curiously.

“And the question, Cass?” She teased, and Cassidy snorted and put her hands on her hips.

“I’m giving you the chance to give me the real version.” She accused, and Andy gave a light laugh.

“So serious. I’m claiming the fifth one, if you want to know, ask to guess.” The comment was made, and there was a lip-twitch reminiscent of Miranda, but Andy’s eyes didn’t leave Cassidy.

“You were arrested for that?” The question seemed to slightly horrify Miranda, but Andy denied it.

"I wasn't arrested, but I'll say I ended up at the police station." She spoke slowly, and Cassidy made a thoughtful sound, turned on her heels, and walked away from Andy. "She's too intense for a little omega." Andy said playfully, taking a sip of the soda she had in her hand.

"You stirred up a hurricane. Even though Caroline is the most energetic, Cassidy has always been the most intense." Giulia said playfully.

"She's being nosy." Miranda said dryly.

"Asking questions gives power, Miranda. When we question the world, we gain narrative power. Cass is curious and is uncovering something for herself. I think that's the best stimulus for a young girl." Andy spoke so easily, and it made Miranda raise an eyebrow at her.

And the birthday party continued smoothly, then Miranda stepped away to organize the two girls for the birthday song, and it was beautiful. There were photos, and Andy saw that Cassidy and Caroline were really very happy with the party. The pieces of cake were handed out, and Andy watched with amusement as Cassidy walked over to it.

“And the second question.” She stated, and Cassidy rolled her eyes.

“Yes, it wasn’t a flamingo.” The statement was made, and Andy nodded. “So you lied.” She reaffirmed.

“I created a plausible hypothetical.” Andy spoke, and Cassidy snorted.

“Plausible? A flamingo? That was weak.” Cass retorted, and Andy smiled amusedly. “You got hurt protecting someone?” The question echoed, and Andy saw Miranda arch an eyebrow a few feet behind Cassidy.

“Not intentionally at first, but then yes, it became a situation where I helped protect someone.” Cassidy’s eyes narrowed.

“Right.” And she again turned on her heels and walked away.

“She has the same mannerism of leaving a room as you.” Andy commented to Miranda, who arched an eyebrow.

“She’ll eventually find out.” Miranda commented and took a half-step closer, which made Andy close the distance between the two.

“Then she finds out.” Andy shrugged slightly. “Oh, yes, I brought two presents that I didn’t put in the pile.” She indicated the bag on the chair and moved over to get the presents. 

The packages had already been opened during the gift exchange, but Andy had forgotten hers, and the ease with which the woman gently shook the packages for Miranda made her give in almost amusedly.

“Cassidy, Caroline.” This made the two girls nearby stop and look at their mother. “Andrea brought a present.” She said, and the two girls approached curiously.

“A present, huh?” Caroline asked, intrigued.

“I’d never beat a Valentino.” Andy said playfully, pulling the two packages from her back. “I’m just a poor journalist, be kind.” She teased, and Cassidy rolled her eyes, but Caroline gave a low giggle.

“Mom needs to pay you better then.” The comment was playful, and Andy gave an amused laugh.

“I’ll negotiate labor rights with her later.” Andy winked playfully at Miranda, who merely raised an eyebrow. But then a little squeal from Cassidy and her hugging Andy tightly made the air disappear from the older girl's lungs. "Air, darling, air." She said, and Cassidy jumped in place, letting go of Andy.

"I won a book with 1000 stickers!" Carol said, very pleased. "They're of cats." She said, almost dancing to herself.

"Andy gave me the biggest investigative challenge ever!" And another hug. "Thank you, Andy!" Cassidy then ran off to her friends. "I won Cain's Jawbone!" She said very excitedly, and Andy looked at Caroline.

"I hope you liked it, your sister apparently loved hers." She cleared her throat.

"I love stickers." Carol said calmly and hugged Andy around the waist. "Thank you, now I'll have to listen to Cass's conspiracy theories for weeks." She grumbled.

"Good luck." Andy gently stroked Carol's red hair.

"Carol, come here!" Cassidy said, and Carol sighed, stepping away from Andy and muttering something Andy didn't understand, but she spoke as she moved away, and Andy tilted her head slightly to the side, seeing Cassidy's joy.

Andy ran her hand lightly through her hair, and there was this moment where Miranda's eyes focused on her like little lasers, and there was this warmth, this little energy that happened and made the hairs on the back of Andy's neck stand on end.

"It was very kind of you to think of something they would really like." The words were almost warm, and Andy considered that it was because the two were more isolated, and the mask of coldness might slip a little.

"I like them, it's easy to please when you like someone." Andy said sincerely. "Carol was more challenging, I took a lucky guess with the stickers. She reminds me a lot of myself at her age." She said, watching Carol slightly scoff at something and then stick a sticker on one of her friends' phones.

"A lot of you?" Miranda asked curiously.

“A little alpha very focused on what she likes and not so much on social guidelines. Cassidy is the one who leads.” She commented very casually.

“And Caroline should be the leader because she’s an alpha?” The question was tinged with curiosity.

“God no, alphas weren’t made to lead no matter what society tries to shove into everyone’s heads, we’re big fools.” Andy said, shaking her hand. “Omegas are more suited for leadership, more focused, more firm. Alphas aren’t good at it.” She said and picked up one of the finger foods. “Oh, it looks tasty.” She grumbled and ate.

“So you’re an alpha who likes to follow?” The question was asked with Miranda casually standing next to her and Andy froze slightly.

“It depends a lot on what I’m asked.” The answer was given and there was a brief exchange of glances. “You can always ask, I usually respond well to a please.” It was a provocative flirtation, and she saw how Miranda's body stiffened slightly, and then her blue eyes were warm but still restrained.

"Don't offer things you can't deliver, Andrea." she said softly.

"I've never offered you anything I couldn't deliver, Miranda." She said, and then there was a noise from the children that made them both look, and Andy gave an amused laugh at Cassidy trying to decipher something in the book. "She's going to explode."

"Yes, you've given me a headache for weeks. I hadn't given her this book yet because no one has been able to solve it until today." Miranda said with a sigh.

"Sorry?" She offered, and Miranda looked at her unimpressed. "Shall I make it up to you?" she offered playfully, and that made Miranda huff and walk away. But Andy allowed herself to appreciate Miranda's backside in the pencil skirt she was wearing. Yes, Miranda looked stunning in Carolina Herrera.

********

The party ended easily, and Andy was just chatting with Cassidy and Caroline, sitting on the living room sofa with the two of them while Miranda took a group outside.

“Go to bed, you two.” Miranda said in a light tone. “Andrea needs to go home.” She spoke slowly, and the two redheads looked at their mother.

“Five more minutes?” Carol asked, and Miranda seemed to hesitate for a moment. “Please?” She asked, and Miranda looked at Andy in an almost pleading look.

“What do you think about… Hm… Your mother and I will arrange something we can do together if you’re obedient and go to bed now?” She offered, and it was almost silly how happy the two seemed about it.

“You promise? It won’t be a false promise, will it?” Cassidy said, her eyes slightly widening.

“No, dear. I don’t usually make false promises, I promise we can do something together soon.” She spoke sincerely, she liked the two girls.

“But maybe it’ll have to be after the holidays, Cass and I are going to Grandma’s house in London.” Caroline said, almost disgruntled.

“Oh, sounds good, bring me a keychain.” She teased, and Cassidy giggled as Carol rolled her eyes.

“So easy to please.” Caroline grumbled, and Andy nudged her lightly. “I’ll bring you a keychain.” She sighed dramatically. “Let’s go to sleep, Cass, before Mom denies something.” She teased her mother, and the two sisters held hands and went upstairs.

“They’re so much fun.” Andy said more to herself than to Miranda.

“Come on.” Miranda’s words made Andy’s eyes leave the living room door and head to the woman, and she got up from the sofa to follow Miranda. And Andy heard about the dreaded first-floor office, where Miranda made some adults cry.

But still, it was an office like any other, and Andy moved closer to the desk when the two entered. She reached out and picked up the portrait there, seeing that it was a photo of the younger twins.

"Oh, cute." Andy said with an easy smile. "Were you a redhead? Before you went all white?" She asked, placing the photo on the desk.

"Are you always nosy?" The question was asked, and Andy gave a slow, amused smile. "No, I was what they called light blonde, not quite a redhead. The girls' father is a redhead." Andy nodded at that.

"I like their freckles, I think they're cute." Andy said, leaning on the desk and seeing how Miranda seemed slightly uneasy. Then Andy leaned back from the desk, and there was this tension building, which only silence could bring.

The brunette approached the older woman in slow steps. It was curious, and Andy really hoped she wasn't misreading the situation, but Miranda allowed her to get reasonably closer than anyone else Andy had ever seen Miranda interacting with.

“Miranda?” She asked slowly, her blue eyes darkened, focused firmly on Andy. Then there was the light touch of Andy’s fingertips against Miranda’s jaw, and it sent a shiver through the older woman’s body.

“What?” The woman asked in a hoarse tone, her eyes still locked on Andy’s.

“Do you remember what I said at the table earlier today?” Andy’s voice was soft and low, and she saw how Miranda’s throat worked slightly and her eyebrow arched. “You just need to ask.” She spoke softly.

“You want to hear me ask so badly?” The question was asked not vulnerably, but very palpably.

“I just want to know what you want.” Andy replied, and the tip of her finger brushed toward Miranda’s chin.

“You know what I want, Andrea, you’re neither blind nor foolish.” It was a small ego boost, both statements, but Andy wanted to hear Miranda.

“Verbal consent is important, Miranda.” She spoke and moved closer, her free hand touching Miranda's hips, and there was this shudder. The two looked at each other for another moment. "Ask." Andy spoke softly and hoarsely against Miranda and saw how her blue eyes closed.

And there was this resistance from Miranda, for a moment the two looked at each other and Andy slowly stepped back, wondering if she hadn't misread the situation.

"Miranda…" She began her apology in a delicate tone. "I—"

"Please." The word broke Andy's sentence in half and she looked with wide eyes at Miranda. "Please kiss me and take me out of my misery, Andrea." The words echoed in the office like a promise, a curse, a set of words that echoed like fresh air on a summer day.

"Yes…" Andy spoke softly, touching Miranda's chin, and there was this poetry in seeing how the woman, so strong, so powerful, so unique and special as that one, surrendered to a simple gesture of restrained affection. Andy's fingers traced her chin to her jawline, then pulled her in for a kiss.

And it was a sweet kiss, a chaste and reasonably restrained kiss, if Andy needed to emphasize. But to Miranda, it seemed to be all the woman needed for a robust layer of restraint to break. And Miranda. Miranda moaned against Andy's mouth.

And that's when everything collapsed into Andrea Sachs's herculean restraint. She pushed Miranda back, hungry, thirsty, and when the woman's back hit the wall and she gasped, Andy's tongue made a hungry dive against Miranda's.

Hands burrowed through the brown strands of hair, tongues met with great intensity, and the two pressed against each other.

Miranda had the delicious hourglass figure that Andy found very sexy, so when she could, her hands spread her hips and moved up to her ribs.

She loved that it wasn't the body demanded by fashion, that it was a body with curves, with real femininity, and feeling how Miranda's breath quickened at the touch and how the kisses grew even hotter was maddening.

Then Andy's mouth moved to her neck, that beautiful neck, with its soft skin and the scent of Miranda's perfume. Her tongue circled the pulse point, and Andy sucked before scraping it with her teeth.

"Andrea…" The name echoed hoarsely, filthy to Andy, who rarely had her full name moaned like that.

"God, you make my name sound like a piece of sin." Andy gasped against Miranda's skin and moved down to the collar of the dark blue shirt that covered Miranda's deliciously soft skin. Her teeth scraped her collarbone, and that particular spot seemed to make Miranda melt against the wall.

“Oh my God, Andrea…” it was whispered, panting, low and hoarse, accompanied by Miranda pushing Andy’s face even harder against her neck. When Andy sucked more firmly, and she knew a mark would form there, the moan that escaped Miranda’s chest was simply filthy.

“The way you sound, how you feel in my hands…” Her palms slid down Miranda’s hips and grazed her thighs. “Every time you say my name, I want to kneel down and devour you.” The whispered confession against Miranda’s skin made the woman shudder and pull Andy into another kiss.

And Andy knew Miranda was intense, she was focused, dedicated, and especially diligent in everything she did. But having her sound like that was magnificent.

Miranda’s legs parted slightly, and Andy’s knee plunged between them, and there was a muffled moan from the older woman. Their mouths met again, Miranda's hips moved against Andy's leg, and there was a moan.

“Yes, yes, rub against me.” She whispered against Miranda’s mouth and then sucked on the woman’s lower lip and the two kissed again.

“Andrea…” Miranda’s hips continued to move and became more erratic. Andy’s tongue plunged into Miranda’s mouth and the kiss muffled the moan that echoed as the woman’s body trembled and her hands tightened against Andy’s arms and she shuddered again.

“You’re amazing.” Andy sounded softly, and leaned in to kiss Miranda slowly. That’s when a knock on the door made the two freeze.

“Mama? Andy’s already gone?” One of the twins’ voices sounded and Andy couldn’t identify which one.

“Yes, dear.” Miranda’s voice was forcedly neutral.

“Okay, are you coming to bed already?” The childish voice sounded curious but compliant.

“I’m finishing something and I’ll be up soon.” Miranda tried to sound firm, and there were footsteps moving away. The woman sighed, her head resting against the wall.

Andy tried to pull away slightly, but Miranda's hands held her, and they looked at each other. She sighed and leaned in to kiss Andy slowly, and the brunette sighed at the kiss.

"I should go." Andy said when their mouths parted, and there was that look from Miranda.

"I'll walk you to the door." And with that, they moved toward the front door.

"See you Monday, Miranda." The tone was low, and Miranda didn't answer, but they looked at each other, and then Andy turned to leave.

********

"So, Andy, are you seeing anyone?" Serena's question was casual, she, Nigel, and Andy were at a bar.

"She's a complex woman." Andy said sincerely. She and Miranda hadn't seen each other because there had been a crisis that she didn't quite understand.

"Oh, so… Omega, beta?" The question was curious, as Serena asked.

“Omega.” Nigel looked at Andy curiously.

“A powerful omega, hm?” Serena was calm asking.

“One of the most powerful I’ve ever seen.” Andy spoke softly, and Nigel’s eyebrow rose, and Andy looked away to avoid looking at the man.

“I’m dating Emily.” The sentence made Nigel, who was assessing Andy’s soul, turn to Serena.

“What?” Nigel’s question echoed the question that was arising in Andy.

“Emily—very nervous—Charlton?” Andy asked, and that made Nigel laugh.

“Miranda keeps Emily awake at night. She has this idea that if she’s seen by Miranda, she’ll get a chance.” Serena spoke sincerely, and Andy understood. Miranda opened doors.

“So she needs to start understanding what Miranda needs, not what she demands.” Andy said, and Nigel’s eyes went to her, and Serena made a thoughtful sound.

“What do you suggest?” Serena asked curiously.

“She knows Miranda’s routine, she’s been living Miranda’s routine for what, two years?” She asked rhetorically. “Except for things like this week. She has a very stable routine, Emily can predict what’s needed.” And that made a small thoughtful sound from Serena.

“I understand, I’ll have you talk to her.” Serena spoke calmly and then her cell phone rang. “Speaking of the devil, I’ll answer it.” Serena said, walking away.

“Are you in bed with Miranda?” Nigel’s question echoed softly.

“It’s been a week since I’ve seen her, since the girls’ birthday, Nigel.” Andy dodged the question and Nigel looked at her with an intrigued tone.

“That’s not what I asked.” He prompted.

“You got an answer and that’s it, it’s been a week since I’ve seen Miranda.” Andy’s words were gentle and he sighed.

“Okay.” He paused. “And your birthday? Are you excited?” He asked softly.

“A birthday on Monday is boring.” She grumbled. “My family lives in Columbus, my sister in Seattle. I won’t see any of them, there’s the Firuz event, I’ll be working.” Andy said, shrugging.

“Sad, but I’ll have a drink for you.” He said, and she laughed.

“Thank you for that.” Andy said, amused.

**********

Andy's hand on her face couldn't have brought her more displeasure in terms of physically displaying her unease. She was notoriously upset about the mess that had been created in the coverage she was doing. And honestly, on her birthday, being at the end of the day in front of Miranda's desk with Mel, Josh, and Alice - Andy's direct boss was by no means what she wanted.

"What happened today was unacceptable." Miranda's voice echoed cold, even somber, but it wasn't directed at Andy herself. She was there as the lead journalist, Mel was Andy's assistant, and Josh was the photographer and the main pivot of the situation.

"Miranda, I'm so sorry, I didn't know the situation could develop like this." Alice, the head of the department, spoke disapprovingly. Then a review of the situation began, where Josh was pushed and instead of moving to the side and looking for a new angle for photos, he pushed back, which caused two cameras to break and a fight to break out between the photographers.

Andy and Mel watched the scene practically from a VIP box next to the interviewers. Andy still managed to stay calm enough to quickly continue talking to some fashion icons, but still, the shit had hit the fan. Andy barely managed to finish the interview with Valentino's new hire. Luckily, Amelie La Toux was kind and finished the interview with Andy, handing her a card saying she was interested in a column.

"At least one positive thing." Miranda said, very displeased. "I hope you correct your subordinates, Alice. That's all." Andy grunted slightly and started following Alice, Mel, and Josh. "Andrea." The name made Andy freeze in her tracks. Alice looked over her shoulder and let Mel and Josh go through the door, then closed the door behind her, giving Andy a small 'good luck' look.

"Yes, Miranda?" Andy said, spinning on her own axis in front of the door, and she watched with pleasure as Miranda stood up and the two looked at each other for a moment.

"Lock the door, Andrea." It was a requirement, even though Emily had already left, it was 9 pm and Miranda being there was an exception to her strict rule of leaving at six in the afternoon. But Andy's eyebrows rose and her hand went to lock the door without hesitation.

Miranda walked around the table, stopping between the comfortable armchairs that were there for longer meetings, and it was a sight. Miranda was wearing a dress that Andy didn't recognize the designer of, but it was cream, it had a belt, and she was wearing heels.

"You look very beautiful." Andy said sincerely, and the two continued looking at each other from one side of the room to the other.

"Did you get hurt in this mess?" The question was almost out of place given the slightly warm tone of the two of them being there alone after more than a week. Andy looked Miranda up and down and took two steps forward, almost closing the distance between them. "Andrea."

"Don't say my name like that if you don't want me to kneel. I was across the mess, I am fine.” The tone was dirty, almost filthy, but it seemed to affect Miranda deeply. Andy smelled the pheromones, the desire, of an Omega ready in front of her, but Miranda still hadn't said a word, even when Andy stopped an inch away from her.

"You're very bold, aren't you?" Miranda's words echoed almost like a purr.

"I only know what I want. And I want you." Andy's words resonated slowly.

"It's a little... Powerful, isn't it..." Miranda spoke and moved, her body brushing against Andy's and the perfume marking the brunette's nose. But Miranda moved further away.

"What?" Andy asked, feeling her hands clench into fists, and watched as Miranda went to a cabinet and retrieved something locked inside.

"Wanting to eat me when you can fuck me like this." And the toy appeared in Andy's line of sight, and she gasped.

"What if I want to do both? Eat you and fuck you?" The question was hoarse, and she watched as Miranda sat on the sofa in the office, the strap-on left beside her, and it was almost absurd to see Miranda Priestly pull the hem of her dress up, revealing her black panties.

"I would say, happy birthday Andrea." And the phrase caught Andy off guard, but still she groaned and moved very quickly forward, and falling to her knees in front of Miranda didn't seem really humiliating as many said it should be, it actually seemed delicious, sinful, especially when her mouth found the inside of a soft thigh and that brought a hoarse moan from Miranda.

“You knew.” She stated and bit Miranda’s thigh without hesitation, leaving a purple mark there that wouldn’t need to be hidden like the one on her neck.

“Of course I knew, Nigel’s been grumbling about it for weeks.” Miranda spoke and raised her hips as Andy’s fingertips scraped her outer thighs to the edge of her panties and began to pull the material down. “Your present is on my—Oh, fuck, Andrea!” The sentence was cut off as Andy’s tongue flattened against Miranda’s folds.

And it was good, it was something that pleased Andy to know that Miranda cared enough to have a present, to say happy birthday, but still, she had a beautiful pussy. A pussy that was shaved, wet, and ready for Andy to eat, and a physical birthday present wasn’t what Andy wanted at that moment.

“Your present will be your cum on my tongue and my name being moaned, Miranda.” Andreia spoke, against the woman's pussy and licked it again, this time flattening her tongue completely as she pulled from bottom to top. And Miranda moaned, slightly high-pitched, but still so powerful. The woman's hands gripped the sofa cushions and her legs spread wider. "Good girl." Andy gasped and Miranda rubbed against her face provocatively, in a very dirty way.

"Eat me, Andrea." She demanded, and the two looked at each other for a moment, Andy between Miranda's legs and the older woman panting. "Please." The pleading tone echoed, and with it Andy's tongue pressed against Miranda's clitoris. "Like this, fuck, like this." And it was delicious, having Miranda surrendered like this, her legs open, her dress thrown up over her hips, and she began to rub against Andy's mouth.

"Come for me, give me your cum as a gift." Andy spoke hoarsely and sucked hard on Miranda's clitoris, scraping her teeth against it, which made the woman arch her back and moan loudly. When the fluids reached Andy, the younger woman only moaned and stuck her tongue inside Miranda, seeking the taste.

"Fuck, happy birthday." Miranda said with a little effort, and Andy gave a small laugh, adjusting herself to kiss Miranda slowly.

"A week without seeing you felt like an eternity, but the world seemed to be ending." Andy grumbled and saw a look from Miranda that seemed to feel a lot. "Don't look at me like that, darling, you're a queen, and queens need to rule." She said and stood up, which made Miranda look curious.

Andy's button-down shirt began to be unbuttoned and thrown to the floor without much ceremony, then her boots were kicked off and her pants fell without much hesitation, and Miranda looked the alpha up and down. Then Andy's bra was thrown aside, and there was a moan.

“Are you going to take that dress off for me?” She asked hoarsely, moving just enough to grab the strap-on harness and pull down her panties to put it on, and there was the image of Miranda frozen, staring at Andy.

“First, come here.” Miranda purred, and there was this delicious, powerful submission, and it was the kind of power exchange Andy truly loved. She moved between Miranda’s legs, and the woman adjusted, her mouth finding the center of Andy’s chest and sliding to a nipple, where Miranda sucked slowly.

“Damn, your mouth is so good.” Andy purred and ran her fingers through her white hair, guiding Miranda to the other breast. Then her mouth began to slide, and when Miranda’s hand grasped the toy, Andy’s eyes widened, and she looked at the woman intently.

The tip of the toy was licked provocatively, and Andy felt her abdomen tense with the indication that Miranda was going to suck the toy. The two looked at each other, brown and blue eyes clashing.

“Suck it.” Andy purred, and the two stared at each other. “Suck my dick, baby.” And there was this moan from Miranda, a moan that was muffled by her mouth embracing the tip of the toy. And there was this obscene layer of having Miranda Priestly sucking on a strap-on while making eye contact with Andy. It was exciting, it was hot, it was something Andy never thought would happen.

“That’s it, good girl, fucking the best mouth ever.” The compliment echoed, and Miranda scraped her nails against the harness of the toy. Andy held Miranda’s hair, pushing the toy into the woman’s mouth slowly and then pulling it out. “Take off your clothes, I want to fuck you, I want to make you scream.” Andy purred and stepped back a step, which made Miranda stand up, the button of her dress was undone, and it was pulled off the woman’s body with ease. Then there were Miranda’s large breasts held by a pretty bra, and that was all. “My god, you’re gorgeous.” She said hoarsely.

“I’m old, Andrea.” The phrase wasn’t self-punishing, just affirmative, and Andy rolled her eyes.

“Having the body of a mature woman doesn’t make you any less attractive, any less wonderful, or any less hot.” Andy spoke hoarsely. “Actually…” She said, holding Miranda’s hips and turning her so the woman’s back hit her front. “It just makes my cock harder.” She purred and lightly bit Miranda’s earlobe. Her hands released the bra and then cupped the woman’s breasts, who only moaned. “Put your hands on the couch, put your knees on the cushions, I’m going to fuck you from behind.” And that made a dirty moan echo from Miranda.

“And why from behind?” It was notoriously a more vulnerable position for omegas, Andy knew, and yet, Miranda obeyed.

“Because I can fuck you with my cock directly on your G-spot and I stand up so I can fuck you hard.” The words were spoken in a deep tone, and Miranda gasped.

"Oh..." She moaned as Andy's hand pushed her a little further forward across her back, and then her hands slid down to Miranda's butt cheeks "I thought it was because I was an omega." The words were soft and almost uncertain.

"God, you're the most delicious omega of all." Andy whispered, holding Miranda's buttocks. "I don't want to fuck you from behind because of your status as an omega, I want to fuck you from behind because I know it's a position that gives a lot of pleasure." She spread Miranda's buttocks, and the woman moaned. "Do you want it in another position? You on top of me, Miranda?" She decided to offer the position that left the alpha vulnerable, and Miranda closed her eyes and moaned.

"Later, another time, now I want you fucking me and rubbing my clitoris." It was decided, and Andy didn't hesitate to slowly penetrate, even though Miranda was wet.

The woman moaned as Andy began to gently rub her clitoris while pushing the toy inside Miranda. When she managed to penetrate fully, Miranda groaned hoarsely and closed her eyes.

"How do you want me?" Andy asked hoarsely, trying to understand Miranda's need for pleasure.

"Slow, firm, I prefer... Slow, deep penetration, and my clitoris." She gasped and scratched the sofa cushions.

"I can give you what you want, baby." Andy said and slowly pulled the toy out, entering again, firm, deep, and strong as Miranda wanted. Sex didn't need to be fast-paced to be enjoyable, and with each deep thrust that came with the clitoris being stimulated, it made Miranda groan hoarser.

"Andrea, like that, just like that, Andrea..." The name made Andy's hips move faster forward. "Ah, you like having me moan your name..." Miranda echoed, and Andy gasped.

"Yes, Miranda, I like it." She spoke and held Miranda's hips tighter, while pushing and pulling inside her slowly but still firmly, her hand again teasing her clitoris.

"Make me come on your cock, Andrea." And that made Andy's body tremble. And there was this focus, Andy focused on guiding Miranda's body to orgasm, pushing and pulling, guiding, fucking with intention. And it wasn't long before all the stimulation made Miranda's moans hoarser, more frequent. "I'm going to come." The statement made Andy thrust harder inside her and her clitoris stimulated faster. And Miranda coming like that was perfect, she arched, moaned Andy's name in a broken way and when Andy slowly pulled out, there was this little splash of fluid that came out of her.

"Lie down." Miranda gave the order without hesitation, and Andy found herself being pushed onto the sofa. The strap-on was pulled off and carelessly left aside, and Andy could only groan loudly as Miranda straddled Andy's legs, and the touch of the woman's pussy against hers made her groan hoarsely.

"Miranda..." Andy's hands moved up the woman's thighs, but were held and slapped hard beside her head.

"Quiet, Andrea..." Miranda purred and then groaned as Andy's mouth found a nipple and sucked on it. "Damn, that's it, good alpha..." Miranda said hoarsely, and Andy groaned loudly as the rubbing of their pussies began.

"God, you're so hot..." Andy whispered as she marked the skin of Miranda's breasts with kisses and bites.

"I'm going to make you come." Miranda said hoarsely and began to speed up, their clitorises meeting with each movement of her hips, and Andy could only shiver and melt against the cushions.

“That’s it, that’s it, baby, make me come.” Andy encouraged, and the two sped up against each other. And it was glorious. The younger one held back her orgasm as best she could until she noticed Miranda was almost there. “Come for me and I’ll come for you.” She echoed, and Miranda closed her eyes, threw her head back, and came, moaning a broken version of Andy’s name, and as promised, the younger one felt her body shiver, the pleasure surge, and she broke into a hoarse moan that was muffled by Miranda’s mouth.

When the woman adjusted and lay on top of Andy’s body, the brunette simply held Miranda carefully, running her hands gently and affectionately down the woman’s back.

“Damn, that was good, but we need a bed.” Andy said playfully. “But don’t hesitate, we’ll have sex in your office anytime.” This made Miranda give a low, relaxed laugh of pleasure.

“Well, it seems we have a deal. And the girls want you to play video games.” She spoke softly.

“I have the evening off tomorrow.” Andy said and kissed her lightly. “Best birthday.” She whispered.

“Happy birthday, Andrea.” Miranda echoed softly and Andy smiled sweetly at her, holding her close. Yes, happy birthday to her.

*******

Being on Miranda's living room couch playing video games with Caroline and Cassidy was an experience, the two were monsters at Mario Kart but Andy grew up in the 90s, she knew how to play video games like nobody else. So when she won for the third time in a row, Cassidy's controller was placed on her lap in exasperation.

“You're so mean.” The younger omega said disgruntledly and Caroline grunted.

“How can you be so good at this?” She said very disgruntled. And Andy gave a low laugh.

“I grew up playing video games with my sister and my cousins.” Andy said in a playful tone. Caroline scoffed slightly. “You sound just like your mother.” She teased playfully, and the two twins looked at Andy with slight, amused disdain.

“Lucky for us that you like her so much.” Cassidy said in a teasing tone.

“Yeah, dating mama and not liking the daughters would be bad.” Caroline said, and Andy saw Miranda’s hand, which was holding a glass of wine, tremble as she looked at Andy with slightly widened eyes.

“It would be sad, I’d say, at least you like me too. 3 Prestleys for the price of 1.” Andy teased, and Caroline let out an excellent, feignedly displeased groan.

“You’re lucky you’re nice.” Carol complained, and Andy pulled her into a side hug.

“I’m unbearable, I know.” She said and playfully pushed Cassidy, which made the two redheads laugh. “Who wants to get beaten up by me again at Mario Kart, or would you rather play Mario Party?” She asked calmly.

“Mario Party!” Cassidy spoke, throwing her arms up. “Come play, Mama, let’s all get beaten up by Andy.” It was a somewhat demanding invitation, and Miranda sighed, but she got up from where she was, put her wine glass on the table in front of the sofa, and sat between Andreia and Cassidy.

“I hope you’re good at this, Miranda.” Andy said playfully.

“I’m exceptional at everything.” Miranda said dryly, and Caroline gave a low chuckle.

“She’s awful and always loses.” Her daughter retorted, and Miranda let out a small, exasperated sigh.

“We have a chance then, Cassidy.” Andy teased the other twin, and there was a playful laugh.

“Shouldn’t spanking your girlfriend in games be wrong?” Caroline asked playfully.

“Only if she doesn’t want it to be spanked.” Cassidy retorted, and there was a horrified look from Miranda, but what broke the situation was Andy laughing.

“Andrea!” Miranda scolded firmly.

“Consent is important, Cassidy.” Andy spoke, and there was a very mocking smile from the child and a new tone of exasperation from Miranda.

"Turn on the damn game, this conversation is giving me an ulcer." Miranda retorted with a grunt.

"Your girlfriend is grumpy, Andy." Cassidy teased and received a small elbow from Miranda, which was only answered with a quick kiss on the cheek.

"Yes, the best and grumpiest girlfriend. I like her grumpy." Andy said, and Caroline gave an amused laugh.

"A match made in heaven." And with this easy approval from the two twins, Andy looked at Miranda and winked slightly in a light tease, but which, despite Miranda's small look of disdain, was answered with a small smile.