{miranda priestly x reader - older woman x younger woman}
BACK IN THE DAYS
chapter one - the tears
warnings - eighteen & over mdni, grief, anxiety, angst, fluff, eventual smut, age gap relationship, slow-burn, old school romance, wholesome, family pressure, ‘golden child trope’.
author’s note - it’s inspired by the first dwp, reader will have a name, hopefully more chapters to come, oh and happy pride!
Miranda Priestly has only ever seen you cry three times. The day of your mother’s funeral when you were just seven years old, the following year when you had a nightmare at Caroline and Cassidy’s sleepover and tonight, being well into your early twenties and a lifetime away from her presence.
It’s the evening of Runway’s Benefit, otherwise known as the most highly anticipated annual charity event in New York.
You’ve already been hiding in the restroom upon arrival, instead of circling the gala’s grand floor with your family.
As the eldest daughter, the responsibility falls on you to demonstrate to your siblings the proper way to network in a space such as this.
Your father depends on your obedience, even when it leaves you in a state of very bad anxiety.
He’s been waiting for you to show him just how much you’re willing to uphold the family name.
His second wife, your mother, was a natural at this, leaving behind a legacy that his first wife never achieved and his third wife cannot.
You sometimes feel bad for Selene.
As your stepmother she’s sweet and nurturing, but doesn’t have the personality to go back and forth with the likes of the elite at these gatherings, who will throw anyone under the bus or more accurately Porsche to succeed.
This is their night, serving as a chance for them to display their power, wealth and influence, whilst giving the ones still climbing to the top an opportunity to elevate and solidify their alliances.
People arrange their year around this.
You by birthright belong to the first group, like many of the other young heirs, but right now you wish you belonged to neither. Which sounds ridiculous considering how many people would do anything to get an invite or be a fly on the wall.
This glamorous evening is exclusive to the executives and their families, high profile designers, relevant models and the event host, editor-in-chief of Runway, Miranda Priestly.
She’s the most talked about woman in fashion and the mother of your best friends, the twins.
You’ve always known the older woman to put the magazine at the same level of priority as her daughters. And though she’s a great mother, hard sacrifices have been made along the way that you know the girls still hold a grudge over.
Her name, gown and countenance will be the talk of Manhattan, surpassing every wealthy family in attendance, including yours.
With all this buzz unfolding, Runway will continue to reinforce their position as the gatekeeper of style and deem who matters most in the industry.
However, in truth, none of this matters to you. Not even in the slightest. It’s doesn’t feel real.
Each year instead feels more and more suffocating mentally and emotionally.
Today especially marks yet another anniversary of your mother’s passing spent among strangers schmoozing each other and wanting to be in your good books as heir of a great fortune.
You feel fragile, as if you’ll suddenly burst into tears at any slight inconvenience or wrong look. You’d rather be at home than fake grinning for the sake of keeping your family’s reputation. One that is holding on by a very thin and expensive thread.
And if it snaps, most attendees will tear at it, like the wolves they really are underneath their designer gowns, suits and ravenous stares.
So, the family empire must appear strong, at all times. Your older brother Jay did it for years, now it’s your turn to prove you also have it in you. Even when you don’t, like right in this very moment, hiding in the restroom of the American Museum of Natural History where the Benefit is being held.
The thought of having all eyes on you causes your hands to shake. It’s an overwhelming feeling to regulate alongside your ever present grief.
‘Get it together’, you exhale quietly to yourself in the toilet cubicle, sitting on the shining closed lid, head-to-toe in custom made Galliano.
‘You get to see Miranda’, you hype yourself. You wouldn’t otherwise see her again for another year.
Going from being in her presence frequently in your childhood, to the surreal correspondence you had with her in your late teens, to absolutely nothing has been another hard adjustment.
She’s a busy woman, you understand, but this doesn’t stop you from yearning for a bit of that closeness again, and when you think back to the last letter you wrote to her, you cringe. It makes your stomach flip. She never replied after that.
The thought of seeing her makes you feel both excited and anxious. Does she ever think about your letter? God, you wish you hadn’t written it all over again. She was just being kind and you ruined it. Why did you have to share so much.
‘Get it together, then socialise, then go home’.
Your fingers intertwine in your lap and the little whispers to yourself halt when you hear the click-clack of heels as someone else walks in.
You breathe out, open the door and head for the taps without looking up to see who’s joined you in here. It’s time to get back out there.
After a few moments of washing your hands, the figure is still lingering. You feel a nervous lump build in your throat. Here it goes, first person.
“You’re Irv’s daughter, Rayna?”, she finally speaks.
Yes, as in Irv Ravitz, CEO of Runway and Chairman of Elias-Clarke Publishing is your father. So you put on your best poker face.
“Ray is fine”, you answer her indifferently.
The brunette appears to be a couple of years older than you when you finally look up.
“Cool, I’m Andy, Miranda’s assistant”, extending her hand, which you take in hesitance.
“I thought it was you, I saw you in the-”, she stops, as if she’s revealing a company secret.
“In the what?”, you raise a brow, retrieving your hand, suddenly intrigued.
“Just…an old article, about your father”.
Her smile tries to cover her error and you nod, deciding not to pry further into it. The evening has only just begun and you have people waiting.
“Nice to meet you”. The corners of your mouth rise and fall before you slip past her and exit the restroom. You were never photographed in any articles about your father, you’re certain of it.
You take another deep breath and head for the main hall, where the schmoozing is happening, but feel yourself pulled aside by your arm into a small corner before you get the chance.
“Where have you been?”, he hisses, obviously annoyed, looking around to make sure no one else is in close range.
“Dad is pissed”, his grip tightens and the fear displayed in his eyes lets you know it will be a bad night later at home for all of you.
Your father’s temper did not spare anyone.
“I don’t feel well”, you mumble, avoiding his gaze. It’s not exactly a lie, but he doesn’t buy it.
“I can’t keep covering for you”, Jay releases you and steps back in a huff, catching his breath. He must have been searching for you for a while.
You try to remind him, maybe he’s forgotten.
“Do you know what today is? My mother’s-”
“No. This is the biggest night of the year!”, he cuts you off, raising his voice impatiently.
“No one cares about her”, he says coldly, before immediately pressing his lips together to hold himself from saying any more.
Both of you stare at each other in disbelief.
It stings worse than anything you were already feeling. Your older brother has never been so cruel to say such a low thing. He still has his mother.
“I care”, you swallow the lump in your throat.
Years of being moulded by your father has finally made him into this, and the sad thing is at one point you considered him your best friend, you were inseparable even. Now he’s just like him.
“I hate you”, the words leave your mouth before you can catch them, but you mean it.
Jay’s eyes widen a little before he opens his mouth and closes it again.
The tears that have been tempting to fall all day finally roll down your cheeks and the ache in your chest grows ever heavier.
This night now feels so unbearable.
“Runway will be yours someday. You know this. You have to play the game, like all of us”. His voice is intentionally calmer, almost apologetic.
“Dad is looking for you”, he adds, concluding the conversation. You can’t bring yourself to say anything more. The lump in your throat builds up again, this time feeling harder to swallow.
He lingers for a few more seconds, then steps outside of the corner to see none other than the woman of the hour watching you both.
Jay tenses before moving closer to shake her hand. You hide behind him, feeling embarrassed.
“Miranda. Good to see you”, his voice is thick with shame, for allowing someone to witness a crack in the family empire. She smiles knowingly.
“Jason, it’s always a pleasure”, ignoring his hand and going in for her classic air kiss, giving her full view of your watery eyes and you a blurred vision.
Your cheeks burn hot as another set of fresh tears fall, allowing you to see her clearly this time.
God, why does she have to catch you like this, when she looks out-of-this-world gorgeous.
Though her expression towards you is brief, it’s soft and feels familiar, like the day of your mother’s funeral or the night you woke her up at the twins’ birthday sleepover.
She steps back, glancing at Jay as he rambles on about how she’s once again outdone herself this year, giving you the opportunity to slip away without interacting with her.
Before you’re out of earshot, you hear her express how she’s looking for her assistant.
It must be the brunette who introduced herself to you in the restroom, or maybe Emily if she’s here.
The main hall will have to wait. It would be mortifying to walk in sniffling and barely holding it together. You search until you find a small closet, escape inside and sink down to its floor.
The strength of your heart gives out and you sob openly to yourself, but quietly as to not be heard. You’ll remain here until you’ve gathered another dose of courage to face everyone and your father.
After a few minutes of crying, you eventually calm and take in your cramped surroundings.
It smells of cleaning supplies and old furniture.
Your mother would either laugh or cry at the sight of you in her Galliano dress. You like to think she would laugh and maybe join you down here.
She was lighthearted, in that manner. She was fun and kind to everyone, even Jay, whose own mother barely saw him as a child and even now.
He had loved your mother, as if she was his own growing up and she loved him wholeheartedly. That’s why it hurts more, what he said to you.
Thinking about it again makes you want to shake him, wake him up and help him remember how it was before she was gone. How much laughter was in the house and playfulness.
Selene tries to tame your father, but with age he’s only getting worse. He’ll never change. Your younger siblings are better off at the expensive boarding school he shipped them to.
They only come back home during the school holidays and big company events such as this, so your father can brag about their education. Otherwise he barely spends time with them.
You find your hand mindlessly playing with the tassels on your clutch as you think back to your own school days, here in Manhattan.
Thought after thought eventually brings you to the memory you’ve been holding onto since stepping foot in this building.
In fact, you think about it frequently. The night you woke up from a nightmare at Cassidy and Caroline’s sleepover.
You were eight years old, having lived the first year of your life without your mother. Miranda Priestly invited you to her home more regularly back then because the twins still lived with her.
This particular birthday party was filled with so many at home activities, hired entertainment and kids from your school. It’s no wonder she went to bed before all of you.
Around ten girls were chosen for the sleepover portion when everyone else had left, continuing the birthday well into the night.
Caroline and Cassidy’s nannies eventually got everyone ready to go upstairs, to find the most prettiest sleeping set up you’d ever experienced.
Ten beds were arranged in a circle, just like in ‘Barbie and The Twelve Dancing Princesses’, which you were all obsessed with at the time. Each girl had their own gift bag, custom made ballerina night gown and fluffy slippers.
Miranda had spoilt all of you, always going above and beyond for her daughters and their friends.
You remember your bed being set up beside Cassie, the twin you’re closest to, even now.
The excitement kept you up until midnight before most of the girls started to fall asleep, leaving you two to giggle and still whisper about the party and of course Barbie.
Once she also eventually drifted, you closed your eyes, waited and waited, until you passed out.
You couldn’t have known it then but your mother’s absence had triggered your insomnia.
The past year had been rough on your sleeping patterns, and the nightmares were the worst.
This particular sleepover, you woke up in a sweat, with your heart beating out of your chest. Your face was tear stained and you were afraid of being in darkness.
The twins never had any night lights, but something caught your eye in the hallway.
With all the other girls still fast asleep, you slowly slipped out of your bed and walked out of the room to follow the only light you saw. It was coming from Miranda’s bedroom.
You didn’t think, your feet made the decision.
When you reached for the door, it creaked when it opened, rousing her from slumber.
You stood in the doorway, watching her turn before opening her eyes to squint at you.
She’d slept in her party outfit and the big light was still on, which was unusual even for her.
When you think back on it, she must have been so exhausted and passed out.
You wanted to step forward but waited because her bedroom was always off limits.
“Rayna?”, Miranda rubbed her eyes, and that’s when you started crying.
“Darling, what’s the matter?”, she quickly rushed to kneel in front of you, checking if you’re hurt. You saw a panic in her eyes for a moment.
“I had a bad dream”, you sniffed, wiping your tears.
“Oh dear. It’s alright”, she studied your face and her eyes softened. It made your heart warm up.
“Come with me”, she beckoned you to follow her, leading you to her study. A place you’d never stepped foot in as it was also very off limits.
“I’m going to work for a little bit and you can sleep right there”, she pointed to a big sofa with a blanket and pillow already set up.
“Go on”, she nudged you, setting herself up on the opposite smaller sofa and opening ‘The Book’, which at this age you didn’t know much about, but now looking back, she always had it.
You slipped under the soft blanket and positioned yourself so that you were facing her. She was prettier than Barbie to you.
Your sniffs lessened after a few minutes of watching her in deep concentration, brows furrowed, glasses slightly lowered on her nose.
She didn’t fuss over you, or ask about the dream, and somehow it made you feel better.
She lifted her head ever so often to check if you were asleep and found you still staring. You didn’t know what to say to her, but you felt very safe.
“Cassidy sometimes sleeps where you are when she has nightmares”, she offered, causing you to smile unexpectedly.
“Really?”, you asked, now beaming.
“Yes”, she returned the small warmth.
“Will you not tell her please”, you suddenly lifted your head and Miranda considered you for a moment before nodding.
“I don’t want the other girls to think I’m a baby”, you added to help her understand your reason.
“You’re a very strong girl Rayna. You have courage”, she said so casually, so softly, as if telling you something you should already know.
It made the warmth you felt deepen in your heart.
You did eventually fall asleep and she kept her word because none of the girls ever mentioned it.
This memory of Miranda Priestly often finds you at unexpected moments. You don’t know why it’s stuck around for so long, but the fuzzy feelings it brings are always a small comfort.
Your phone buzzes, startling you out of the daydream.
‘Where are you? I’m sorry’.
You roll yours eyes, your brother is probably getting chewed by your father and a part of you wants to remain in this little closet so he gets the worst of it. But you decide to have courage.
‘On my way. I don’t forgive you’.
Sent.
You finally get up, hands dusting off the back of your dress. You check in your mother’s small mirror to see your makeup is surprisingly still in tack. However, you reapply just in case.
If it wasn’t such an awful evening, you’d probably be feeling yourself a little more. The custom made Galliano hugs you in all the right places, showing off your waist and collarbone, and like your mother at this age, your figure is to die for.
She did start out as a model after all and you’re ever so grateful you’re an exact copy of her instead of your father.
Tonight you decide to channel her energy, a small honour to her legacy. Even if no one else notices.
You try to remember how it felt to watch her glide with such a confidence in these kind of spaces and mimic her mannerisms.
When you step into the main hall, everyone is already preoccupied with their conversations or drinks, which is a relief and less anxiety inducing.
Jay is the only one who spots you immediately, coming to your side before you’ve even had a chance to talk with anyone else.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it”, he tries again, but you ignore him, scanning the room to see which circles feel the least intimidating.
Your father catches you and heads your way with Selene and your younger siblings.
Even though he’s smiling, you can tell how angry he is from his eyes.
You brace for quiet harsh words.
“And where have you been?”, he hisses. Jay opens his mouth ready to cover for you but all of you are interrupted by the host of the Benefit.
“Selene, Irv. Thank you for coming this evening”, Miranda air kisses the both of them.
“Kayden and May? My, how they’ve grown. What grades are they in now?”, she gestures to your little brother and sister, who are giving their best smiles. Your father of course immediately goes into bragging about how excellent their boarding school has been, falling for her bait, which saves you from his wrath, for now.
“How lovely”, she glances between all of them.
Her gaze eventually moves to Jay and she air kisses him as if they hadn’t just had an interaction earlier in the evening.
“Jason, glad you could make it”.
She looks breathtaking in the new James Holt gown, his particular touch is all over her look.
Her smile makes your knees so weak.
“Thank you, it’s a great turn out, as always”, your brother replies, playing along.
When she finally lands on you there’s a slight hesitation. She doesn’t air kiss or extend her hand. Her approach is distant, like in recent years.
“Rayna. It’s a pleasure to see you”, her voice doesn’t give away anything either.
For some intrusive reason you remember that last letter you sent her and your heart rate increases.
“The pleasure is all mine Ms. Priestly”, your face feels warm. Her eyes flash something for a moment that looks like surprise. It was always Miranda in your teen years. ‘Ms.’ was pre-teens.
Great.
Now you’ve made it feel too unfamiliar, when all you want is some closeness.
Her gaze moves on quickly to your younger siblings, asking them about school and how they’re finding the Benefit. The tone of her voice immediately warms when speaking to them.
You feel an ache in your chest.
Fragments of the letter come back you.
{Will you allow me to take you on a real date?}
She stopped writing to you after this. Three years of corresponding with her and that was it. You crossed a line and she withdrew herself.
You can’t stop staring at her from such close proximity. Her perfume is divine. She’s a vision.
“I have big ideas for Runway”, you hear your father direct this towards Miranda.
“Ray here will be taking more of a lead role from now on. She’ll arrange a sit down with you”, he continues, glancing between you and her.
A lead role?
“I want to retire in a few years. Jay and Ray will each get a magazine to oversee”.
The pride and smugness in his voice is palpable.
Miranda smiles, she doesn’t gaze your way.
“We all expected this Irv. I look forward to it”, there’s a tinge of mockery in her tone.
“Enjoy the evening”, she addresses all of you before gliding to another important family.
Emily and Andy are right behind her.
Were they there this whole time?
You didn’t notice.
“We’re gonna make our rounds”, your brother links arms with you, whisking you away before your father remembers he’s angry with you both.
Your brain is still wrapped around the big reveal that just happened. Your father wants you to have Runway in a few years?
“See? What did I tell you”, Jay speaks as if he’s read your mind.
“How? Why so soon? I didn’t expect this for maybe another twenty years”, you quiz him.
“I’ll tell you later”, he replies as you approach your first guests.
You may be distant, but you and your brother shine when you decide to be a team and put on a show. The way you bounce off each other’s wit and banter usually works in your favour during networking events. It almost makes you forget how much you dislike him all other times.
Both of you field greetings and work the main hall repeatedly, until the very end of the Benefit.
It’s almost gone too well because a few people have already gone up to your father to praise his work with raising the both of you.
Hopefully he’d leave you alone later.
Mentally, you’re exhausted. Emotionally, you’re wrecked. Physically, you want to be at home.
You retire to the edge of the room, taking a quiet sip of your champagne.
‘I’m ready to go’.
‘On the way’.
You driver finally replies to the text you sent a few minutes before, so you don’t hear her coming to your side whilst you’re busy catching up to all your other messages from this evening.
“Your mother hated these kind of events, but she excelled in them”, her voice is low and even. She’s alone and standing next to you so your shoulders are almost touching. Her gaze remains on the rest of the people still socialising.
Your heart flutters.
This is the first time you’ve been alone with her in years, because even when you visited with the twins during college, you spent time as a four.
“Were you close?”, the surprise in your tone isn’t hidden. You don’t dare turn to her, not yet.
“No, but we shared some words over the years. She was honest enough to tell me”. Miranda smiles at the couple looking her way.
Silence passes as you think of what to say.
“She always looked so happy here, I had no idea”, you reveal honestly. Why is she telling you this?
“Mhm”, is all she says, turning to quietly regard you for a moment. You might go up in flames.
You follow her lead, finally meeting eyes with her for the third time tonight. Her gaze is more intent this time, lingering, calculating something.
‘Why did you not write back to me?’, is what you desperately want to ask her, but the occasion is not appropriate for something like this. Besides, her husband is making her way to her now.
“You look beautiful this evening”, she decides and you feel as though you’ll float up to the ceiling. You want to be closer to her, to have more time. You want to reach out and hold her hand.
“You are always beautiful”, is all you can manage.
It’s small, but bridges something between you. A familiarity, carefully crafted over the years. Maybe she could stand being around you again.
It will have to do.
“Don’t let them dictate your life”, her voice is soft.
Stephen approaches the both of you looking annoyed and tired. What does she see in him?
{He doesn’t deserve you}.
Another fragment of your letter crosses your mind and you cringe. God, why did she never reply?
“Darling, there you are. Let’s get something to eat. I’m starved, aren’t you?”, Miranda puts her arm around him, gently leading him away.
You hear him complain about being called Mr. Priestly and it makes you laugh to yourself. Of course, he’s still so insecure.
‘I’m outside’.
Finally. You don’t wait around for the rest of your family, your other private drivers would be near.
You exhale heavily as soon as you’ve buckled in.
The ride home is a blur.
You’re in between sleep and thinking about everything that unfolded at this year’s Benefit.
Once you’re in, it’s not long before everyone else arrives. But by this time you’re already sleeping.
That doesn’t stop him from waking you.
Your father sends your siblings’ nanny to bring you downstairs into the lounge for ‘correction’.
He’s awful when he’s been drinking.
He shouts and demands respect.
Jay of course gets the worst of it being the oldest and it doesn’t feel nearly as good as you imagined to see him humiliated.
It hurts you.
Both of you had worked hard tonight, going above his expectations. Surely your father saw you shine, he heard it from the mouths of others.
Selene does her best to shield the youngest and intervene for you but she’s ignored.
In the end, you all allow him to yell and get out the things he’s been holding onto the entire night.
The silence after is painful.
It’s hard to fall asleep when this happens, so you sit the study with your older brother, who’s quietly in his own head, while you’re turning over thoughts in your own.
It feels comforting to not be alone, especially in here. This room was your mother’s favourite space. She took a lot of time designing it to feel as peaceful and relaxing as it is.
You’re on her sofa and Jay’s on the opposite one.
The sound of the ticking clock is another comfort.
“I forgive you”, you suddenly say.
He doesn’t answer right away but you know he’s taking in your words. The grandfather clock makes a jingle indicating it’s midnight.
The rest of the house is silent.
You used to do this a lot as kids.
Set up camp in the study, with the help of your mother and her creativity.
“I didn’t mean what I said”, he sniffs.
“I miss her so much”, his voice cracks and to your shock, he’s actually crying.
Well, that’s a first.
“I’m sorry”, he continues to sob into the pillow, turning away from your gaze.
You feel awkward going to comfort him, so you share your truth instead.
“I miss her too”.
“And I miss you”.
“How it was for us when she was still here, and how we used to be friends”.
It’s quiet for some time.
But he’s heard you.
“Don’t become dad”, you add just to make it clearer without going into it too much.
“I’m nothing like him”, he sounds defensive.
“Good”.
You stand up and stretch, feeling sleep finally coming back to you.
“Night”, you sort of pat his head.
“Goodnight”, your brother settles on the sofa, with no intentions of going to his own bed.
As you’re going upstairs, you feel your phone buzz in the pocket of your hoodie.
‘Hey, it’s Andy, Miranda’s Assistant. She’d like to schedule the sit down with you for next week Tuesday, 12pm at the location of your own choosing’.
Your heart thumps at the thought of sitting across from the older woman somewhere and you decide you’ve had enough for today.
Andy can wait until tomorrow.
You heart the text and turn off your phone.
But after a few moments in the quiet of the night, you wonder how she came to have your number.
Then you remember, you had written it down in that last letter you’d sent to Miranda just before you finished college, three years ago.
Does that mean she kept it? She looked at it tonight or she already had you saved in her phone? What if she just asked Cassie instead?
God, this is torture.
With everything that happened today, you want to let some steam out the best way you know.
You’ve been doing it since she first sent you that photograph of her for your college project.
Your hands reach inside your bedside drawer and pull out a small frame.
You caress it, like you always do.
She was in her late twenties.
Miranda Priestly.
Your fingers untie the knot on your pyjamas shorts and slip inside.
You take your time, thinking about how hot she looked at the Benefit.
How delicious she smelt and her graceful strides.
Her eyes, lips, beautiful hair, her face makes you come undone over and over and over and over.
Chapter Two - The Letters
