Disclaimer
All characters with the exception of original characters belong to the author of the original work, Lauren Weisberger. This is a work of fan-fiction, intended for non-commercial purposes.

Warning
Explicit and mature scenes ahead. Dubious consent trigger with het pairing after the mid-chapter line break. Basically, if you have triggers regarding consent, you shouldn't read this chapter.

Author's Note (A/N)
THIS IS AN EDITED VERSION OF LOST AND INSECURE. I have been offline from for a long time (lost password to email and account. Had to request from admin and prove my identity)

I will be resurrecting this fic with weekly posts. All errors in grammar or spelling is my fault - I must have been too anxious to release this edited Chapter 1.

Anyone remembers this fic from long ago? Hit me a shoutout so I know you are as excited as I am.
To the new people, rest assured I have a plan for Andy, Miranda and everyone else.

Chapter 1 : the end

Andy let out a sigh as she unlocked the back door to the townhouse. When Miranda gave her the keys, she was elated thinking that this was a positive step in their relationship. That is if you could even call it a relationship. "Be careful when you come in. We can't let those vultures catch my ex-assistant turned cub reporter frequenting my house through the backdoor, now can we?" Miranda had insisted after the divorce buzz came and went. And the few times the doe-eyed woman brought it up, she received her reply in the form of hard kisses from Miranda. These kisses meant different things to each woman. You're my everything, Miranda. All I need is you and the girls. You are mine, Andrea.

It was no surprise that Miranda held the power in their relationship. Andy would stay over after dinner as often as every night on some weeks when she didn't have to work late and had her own wardrobe in the guest room. Most importantly, she spent time with the twins regardless whether Miranda was around now that they had grown closer to the cub reporter. Miranda financed her apartment, despite it being a glorified half-way house between work and the townhouse. After two years of this, there was no indication from Miranda that Andy could move in and finally call the townhouse "home". Home is where my heart is and home is where you and the girls are.

Everyone who knew (everyone being Nigel, Emily, Serena, the twin's nanny Elise and housekeeper Lauren) about Andy and the high priestess of Fashion had an unspoken understanding that they could not and should not label their "relationship". Andy wasn't referred to as Miranda's partner or girlfriend. Just "her Andy". Andy had accepted early on that being with Miranda meant being understanding about the lack of answers and being deferential to the status of this. It was getting harder to accept the thinly veiled jabs Miranda would make regarding her job. Despite understanding that she was low on the totem pole when compared to Miranda's exes, she was proud that she loved Miranda well. She was happy sharing Miranda's life (or rather secret life) and the twins.

Happy going through the back door, happy staying at home while Miranda attended different social events with different men. Usually gay. Happy having dates at home when the twins were away, happy taking care of the girls when Miranda brought work back to the townhouse. I am happy. I have a family. Miranda and the girls. And she loves me. I love her. That's what matters.

It was eerily quiet as she remembered the twins left earlier for their father's. Friday night was when Miranda would have the house to herself, without the housekeeper or the twins around. As she walked through the kitchen, she noted the time - 3:00 AM. She dragged her feet, walking tiredly into the foyer and left her shoes in the hallway closet. Barefooted and barely standing from the exhaustion of working late every night these weeks, she closed her eyes and reached for the bannister to guide her. She has not seen the twins or Miranda in person since they left three weeks ago for the Hamptons. Andy couldn't tag along as she hasn't accumulated enough leave as a junior reporter. Even if she did have enough leave, she would be stuck in the beach house and the beach with the girls. As Miranda casually mentioned when she was complaining about the Runway parties she would have to attend.

At 16 years of age, the twins were intelligent and perceptive- if not more mischievous than they were during Andy's time as Miranda's assistant. However, Andy was part of their team now since she was cool and made mom less cranky. It helped, of course, that Andy was always feeding them pizza and junk food. The twins respected Andy because she treated them like adults but was firm on them when they misbehaved. Usually when they broke curfew. Andy had taken to the twins even before Andy and Miranda were involved with each other. When they stopped playing pranks on her and realised she was here to stay, they gladly soaked up the attention Andy gave them. The twins didn't like the fact that Andy still could not be seen with them in public and sulked for at least a week in Hamptons when she couldn't come along. By the second week, they saw something that put them on alert but they couldn't tell Andy for the fear that she would leave.

Andy spoke to the twins frequently during their holiday but Miranda was unsurprisingly absent during these calls. In between the parties and events, they had only spoken once or twice. Even then, Miranda was agitated over the phone. She misses me as much as I miss her. The girls, however, video called every night. They took the time to tell Andy about their day, who they met, funny incidents with their temp nanny and most importantly, they ended the call with I miss yous that made Andy's heart clench. Andy missed them terribly and wondered if the pain would be worse if she ever had children of her own.

She had been awake since Thursday and it was Friday night, correction Saturday morning. She had been on duty to update the Mirror website and spent hours working on the story she was investigating. Greg knew about the story and let Andy have a pet project. She was close to breaking through, she knew she was close. She texted Miranda yesterday over her lunch break to say that she would only see her on Sunday but she had gotten no reply. That was Miranda's usual M.O though since Andy learned a good lesson when she forgot to do so previously. Miranda threw a big fit about how Andy was being irresponsible with the Editor's time and her own. "Next time, tell me if you aren't coming," she bristled and Andy could only smile because that meant there was going to be a next time despite Miranda getting annoyed.

As she ascended to the upper floors, she found Miranda's coat strewn over the steps. That's odd. She would never just throw her clothes like that. She must be really tired. She took the coat and exhaled, turning around to return the coat on the ground floor coat room. Now we go again. She restarted her track upstairs and when her feet landed on the first floor soundlessly, the carpet hiding her arrival. I can't wait to surprise her. Andy had begged a fellow co-worker to swap the last day of her duty with her, allowing her to sneak and surprise Miranda now, rather than only seeing her on Sunday.

The door to Miranda's bedroom was ajar as the soft light from the bedside lamps filled the hallway. Andy heard hushed sounds and wondered if some poor soul was getting scolded by Miranda at this hour for something. Maybe one of the assistants. God knows she did it to me when I was the second assistant. She pushed the door slowly, careful not to startle Miranda. She would not like that. Andy bit down on her lower lips as her eyes widen at the sight in the bedroom. She was blinking rapidly now, her eyelids and naturally long eyelashes fluttered as she prayed to wake up from this nightmare. Please let me be hallucinating.

"Mmmh…"

"I love it when you get on your knees, Mira. That's it - keep going."

The image would be ingrained in Andy's head forever as she took in Miranda on her knees while an unknown man she didn't recognise stood over her, his eyes closed with his hands in Miranda's hair.

"James, I want you in-inside me." Miranda punctuated her sentence with licks.

James. James Clark? Clark as in grandson of Elias Clark, who just inherited a significant amount of shares to the company when he turned 30. Now she recalled the name from Miranda's complaints about a new player on the Board. Something about having to meet him at the Hamptons parties. "Stanford law graduate with too much money for his own good I suppose. If Irv hasn't gotten his slimy paws into him, maybe he will be agreeable to the budget I'm proposing for the next year." His hand moved from Miranda's hair to hold her head, pushing the older woman against his hips. "Fuck, Miranda. I'm gonna cum in that dirty mouth of yours." Andy's heart was stabbed repeated as the two people moved towards the bed. The knife twists deeper. As if it was a rehearsed dance, Miranda lies on her back and pulled James above her, curling her legs around his hips. Andy's hand covered her mouth as she heard Miranda moan at the contact.

"Babe, do you want to ride me?"

"No, pound me hard and fast. I want you, James."

Whatever left of Andy's heart shredded into untraceable pieces with Miranda's reply and as she spread her legs wider. Andy retreated, tears flowing freely down her face as she choked back a sob, biting her lips to the point of drawing blood. It would bruise later. She had to run. She couldn't bear to listen, much less confront Miranda. What could she even say? Andy knew, then, that at the early hours on a Saturday morning, the pieces of her heart and soul that she had left with Miranda was gone. Her heart was played carelessly and punished mercilessly by the woman moaning someone else's name. Everything hurt and she felt like she was dying. This is what dying feels like.

She ran, taking her shoes, coat and tattered messenger bag with her. Slamming the back door behind her, running out to the street. After everything, you still care about her image and her demands. Stupid girl. Smart fat girl. At the thought of her foolishness, she choked and sobbed. A pain enveloped her body as she knelt on the pavement, gasping for air, crying and choking as she tried to stand. I need to go home. Home. Where is home?

The movement above her stopped. "Mira, did you hear that? Like a door slamming." His hands traced her nipples, pinching as she arched to his touch. He stopped moving but he could feel her tightening around him, begging him to continue with his rough pounding. How is she still so tight? It feels good to make her moan and beg for me. "That's absurd, James. We're the only ones here." Andrea is busy at that pathetic office. She rolled her eyes as she used her legs to draw him closer.

James smirked, choosing to answer with his actions instead. He lifted her legs and placed it on his shoulders. Just as Miranda was about to say something, he interrupted with a hard thrust into her. Whatever she had planned turned into soft repeated moans as he pounded into her at breaking speed. He lifted his hips at an angle and forced himself to push deeper. Fuck she moans like a pornstar. "You're mine. Mine. Tell me!" He repeated as he came, the angled thrust causing her to cum. "Yours."

He was still cumming when he started moving above her again. He wanted to stay in the heat of her cunt. Her body had relaxed, limped against his lean and hard body. He was hard again and now it was her time to do the work. She grunted softly, too sore to move, much less impale herself on his cock. Her body throbbed wonderfully at the leftover sensations of her last orgasm. "I'm really tired, James. You came, didn't you?"

"I did… but I'm hard now. And poor baby Mira, too sore to fuck herself on my cock," kissing her forehead as he removed his cock from her pussy. He slides his hands from her body towards her pelvis, his fingers collecting the wetness. He spreads it over her anus. No! NO!

"James, I told you before. I don't like it there," Miranda sighed. Her words muffled by his action of turning her onto her stomach, she turns her head and she sees her nightstand, illuminated by the soft lamp.

He ignores her, only scoffing as he guides his cock to the rim of his preferred destination. Miranda struggles against his weight half-heartedly. "Please," her voice drops to an almost whispers. He gets more excited at her pleading, inching his hips downwards and into Miranda. "You're mine, Miranda. My bitch, whether you like it or not now."

He pushes his entire length into in one swift thrust, causing her to cry out in pain. I bet it's gonna hurt tomorrow. He waits for one beat before fucking her ass in long slow strokes. Miranda Priestly is my cum bucket. She writhes underneath him, struggling to push him off as she feels the violation. James grows impatient for her to join him and decides to pick up the speed. By the time he cums again, having pounded deep and hard into her, she was unconscious. That's no fun. I'll have to get her to pay for this tomorrow.

He reached for her breast roughly, tugging as he waits for his release into her anal cavity to slow down. If he had thought that her pussy was tight, her ass was out of this world. Miranda Priestly, I just took your anal virginity. He removed his dick which had some blood on it and used his fingers to scoop some cum that dripped out. He traced his name "JAMES PHILLIP CLARK" on her body, marking what belonged to him. Her body was his canvas. I'll make her suck my dick in the morning. I want her to know how we taste like.

Do you like the changes? I missed all of you very much. - Lucy