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em-writes-stuff-sometimes · 9 months

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darilaros (princess) │ Chapter 3: Pyre

terms of endearment ‘verse: see my Masterlist for the correct series order!

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Chapter 1 │Chapter 2 │Chapter 3 │Chapter 4 │Chapter 5 │Chapter 6 │Chapter 7 │Chapter 8 (COMPLETE!)

Synopsis: As the second daughter of King Viserys, you experience firsthand what it means to belong to the House of the Dragon. You struggle with the passing of your mother.

Hello! My apologies for the wait. My laptop broke, so I had to go get a new one. It took me a bit to set it all up how I like, and then I had a busy time of it at work + a bit of writer's block. I hope the chapter makes up for it! Keep in mind there are some untranslated bits of HV in here, but I'll make a post + link transcribing all that for those who want. Thank you to @ewanmitchellcrumbs for giving this the go-ahead!

TRIGGERS: character death, exploration of child grief, dysfunctional family dynamics.

It is very quiet now that Mama has died.

Brella is quiet. Septa is quiet. Ana and Peony, the maids who come to make your bed neat again and pick up all the dresses you’ve worn, are quiet. Ser Harrold is quiet—but then, he usually is. None of Papa’s guards seem to want to make a sound now. Neither do Papa’s Councilmen, like Lord Corlys or Lord Lyman, who you sometimes see walking down the halls with very sad looks upon their faces.

You wonder if, when Mama died, she took a part of all these people with her.

She has taken a part of Papa, and of ’Nyra, too. Suppertime is so very quiet that you are afraid to breathe in case everyone can hear it. They both just stare at their plates, eyes puffy and red like yours are when you cry, which means they have been crying, too. They eat their food like someone else is moving their mouths, and when they swallow, it looks like the most painful thing in the whole world.

Papa and ’Nyra haven’t spoken to you since the day of the tourney. You try not to be sad about it, but it’s hard. Now that Mama has gone away, they are your family, and it hurts that your family won’t look at you or say anything to you. It’s almost like they have forgotten all about you.

“They’re grieving,” Alicent tells you, taking your hand in hers as you walk towards the Sept. The stairs are very hard to climb, so she had to help you up, and it was nearly like having Mama again when she pulled you into her arms and held you tight. “Their sorrow has made them blind to all else.”

You don’t really understand what she means. “To me, too?”

“Hm?”

“Their sorrow. It’s made them not see me?”

Alicent stops. Something very soft and sad makes her face droop, and she bends down so that she can look you right in the eyes. “Oh, Princess. They see you. And they love you. But your mother”—she takes a breath that sounds shaky—“she was very important to them. They miss her very much.”

“I miss her, too.” You wonder when Mama will return. How long is ‘never’? No one has ever explained it to you. Hopefully it is soon.

“I know you do.” Alicent stands and grabs onto your hand again, leading you toward the table where so so many candles are.

The room is very hot, all the little fires making you sleepy even though it is only morning time. There are two stools right before the table, and Alicent kneels on one. You try to do the same on the other, but it means you cannot see the candles anymore.

“How about you stand on it instead, Princess?” Alicent asks. She lets you hold onto her shoulder so that you can get up on the stool like she said, which makes it much easier to see. Then, she folds her hands together in front of her chin and bends her head, so you do the same.

It isn’t very interesting to stare at your fingers at first, but after a while, it’s nice. You count all the little folds in your skin—there are a lot—and trace the edges of your thumbnails with your mind over and over. Time goes funny, and you cannot remember why you were ever sad before you came here.

It might be minutes or hours or days before Alicent speaks. “Would you like to light a candle? For your mother?”

“Why?” you ask, frowning. Is candle-lighting how to get Mama to come back? Will she see the light and know it’s me and return with baby Baelon? Is that why so many people pray in the Sept?

Alicent picks up a candle that hasn’t been lit. “To remember her. You light the candle and… she’ll see it.”

“From where?”

“From one of the Seven heavens.”

“Where’s that?”

“I… do not know.” She stares at the candle like she is trying to light it without moving. “Somewhere far away. My mother is there, too.”

“Oh.” She sounds very sad, so you reach out to grab hold of another unlit candle. “Can I light this one? For Mama?”

That makes her smile just a little. “Of course, Princess.”

Alicent takes one of the lit candles and tilts it into yours, making sure not to spill any of the hot wax on you. You hold very still, because fire is dangerous which means you can get hurt, even though you touched it once and it didn’t feel like anything but warm. The little string at the top catches fire, burning orange and gold and swaying gently.

She lights her own, too. “Now, you place it on the altar, like so.” She carefully sets both candles down and closes her eyes for a moment, and you think she must be thinking of her own mama.

You nudge your candle back to where you took it, watching the flame dance about. I lit a candle for you, Mama, so you can see it. Do you? Do you see me?

Where are you, Mama? When are you coming back?

The candle doesn’t answer. It just sits there, the little fire bobbing about and then finally falling still. All you can hear is the sound of your own breathing. When you are done, Alicent helps you step off the stool, and you leave the Sept with the candles still lit behind you.

Just outside, you find Uncle Daemon waiting for you.

While ’Nyra and Papa are grieving and Papa’s Council are planning and everyone else is doing whatever it is they do away from you, Uncle has been making sure that you are ‘well’ by telling you stories and teaching you more High Valyrian and sitting at the table to watch while you and Brella play with your dolls together. He never stays for a long-long time, but it is still very nice.

“Farewell, Princess.” Alicent lets go of your hand and turns to curtsey to Uncle, who bows his head but says nothing, just stares with a not-exactly-kind look on his face. Then, she leaves, her footsteps fading away and then dropping as she goes down the stairs. You listen until the noise disappears entirely.

Uncle’s brow raises. “What were you doing in the Sept with only Hightower’s daughter for company? Where’s your sister?”

He never calls her by her name. You wonder why, sometimes.

“She took me because ’Nyra is napping again from crying so much, and I was by myself. So, we went to the Sept so I could light a candle for Mama,” you say quietly. “So that she’ll see it and come back.”

At that, he softens. He crouches down so you can see his face more clearly. “She’s not coming back, sweetling. You know that, don’t you?”

“Why not?”

“She…” He grunts. “Do you remember the stories about Aegon the Conqueror, and his sister-wives Visenya and Rhaenys?”

You nod. “Yeah.”

“Right.” He rises, gripping you below your arms and lifting you high so that he can carry you away from the Sept. It makes him uncomfortable, though you don’t know why. “Tell me what happened to Rhaenys.”

“She tried to—to get Dorne to say that Aegon was their King, so she rode Meraxes to them.” Uncle hums approvingly, so you keep going. Your voice wobbles with each step he takes. “But they were angry at her for burning the grass and the trees and the buildings and the people and the sheep and the horses and th—”

“Yes, yes, she lit Dorne aflame.” Uncle rolls his eyes. He bounces you extra hard in his arms so that it feels like you’re about to fall, and you squeal and wrap your arms tight-tight around his neck so that you don’t. “Leave the boring bits out. Tell me the rest.”

“She—Dorne took a big, big arrow and hit Meraxes in the eye, and Rhaenys and Meraxes fell all the way to the ground from up high and died.”

His lips twist at the way you say the last word. “You’ve been paying attention. Good girl.” You’re out in the courtyard now, away from the Sept. It isn’t any louder out here, which is strange, because it is usually always loud and full of people. “Did Rhaenys ever return to Aegon and Visenya?” he asks, moving towards the doors that lead to Maegor’s Holdfast where your rooms are.

“No…” you say, unsure. You don’t think she did. “Why didn’t she go back?”

Uncle sighs, slowing down so he can look at you properly. “That’s what it means to die, sweetling. Rhaenys didn’t go away. When she hit the ground, her body ceased to function. She stopped seeing, feeling, thinking, moving, breathing. She became… nothing.” Your belly twists. You don’t like what he’s telling you, not one bit. Whatever your face is doing, it makes Uncle keep talking. “It’s like your dolls—you can touch them and see them, can’t you?”

“Yeah.”

“But when you speak to them, do they speak back?”

“No.”

“Do they have beating hearts?”

“No.”

“Do they eat or piss or shit?”

You gasp. “That—that’s naughty, kepus!”

He rolls his eyes again. “No, they don’t. They’re things, not people. And your mother… she’s no longer a person. She’s a body; one we must put to rest today.”

The funeral is soon. Uncle has been reminding you lots and lots, and when you asked, he said a funeral is what people go to so they can say goodbye to the person who has died and put their body back where it is meant to go. And because Mama is a Targaryen like you and Uncle and Papa and ’Nyra, her body has to be put on fire so that she can go back to the wind.

She’s not a person anymore. She’s a nothing. It scares you.

You sniffle. “But… I don’t want her to be gone like Rhaenys did. I want her back.”

“I know.” Uncle hugs you then, pulling you so close that your nose gets stuck in all his hair. When you breathe in, all those hairs go up inside your nostrils and make them itch. You hope he never lets go. “I know.”

Put on the dress, then sit in the carriage, then walk up the Hill, then stand quiet. Put on the dress, then sit in the carriage, then walk up the Hill, then stand quiet. Put on the dress, then sit in the carriage, then walk up the Hill, then stand quiet.

You keep saying it over and over in your head, just like Uncle had said. He is the only one who would tell you what is going to happen at the funeral, because he knows that you like to know things even when you’re afraid of them. It makes you feel better, makes you feel a little less scared.

Uncle never told you how many people would be here, though.

Everyone comes to watch you and ’Nyra and Papa and Uncle walk through the Keep to the carriage—the maesters, the maids, the pageboys, the lords and ladies that like to stay in the city—but they stay silent as you pass. You wonder if pressing yourself against the wall and thinking really hard about being made of stone will turn you invisible, which is when you can’t be seen. You wish you could. There are too many gazes on you, and it makes all the hairs on your arms and legs and neck stand up. Uncle has to press you forward when you slow down to look for an escape.

You sit in the carriage beside ’Nyra while Papa and Uncle sit at the front, because Papa is the King and Uncle is his heir. She is very pale, almost blending with her hair except for her red eyes. You slip your hand into hers and she squeezes hard, but you try not to show her that it hurts. She looks less sad holding onto you, so you don’t mind at all that her fingers pinch.

It is the first time in a long time that you have been able to see any of the people outside the walls of the Keep. Before Mama died—before Mama’s belly got too big and she had to stay in bed—she used to take you just beyond the gates to where the really poor commonfolk would line up every sennight on the day of rest to get their alms, which Mama says is an important part of being good. She would say that you have to give coin and food and whatever else the people might need so that they are well and happy, because that means they will support the King’s reign and be peaceful. You don’t know what that means, but Mama is always right.

You miss it—giving people things, letting them pat your cheeks or your hair and calling you the People’s Princess. Because Mama is Queen and giving alms is what the Queen is meant to do, no one else could take you when she stopped going out of her chambers. And, when you went with her, the people were always very loud and cheerful and smiling, and they thanked you with tears in their eyes when Mama let you give them the pouches of coin yourself.

As the carriage takes you through the city today, the commonfolk are quiet.

None of them are smiling, or happy. They watch on as the horses take you through the streets, and some of them even cry when they see the long box that the cart ahead of you is carrying. It is the biggest, nicest box you’ve ever seen, made with dark wood and borders that look like real gold, glinting in the sun. Uncle told you that the box has the bodies inside it, the ones of Mama and baby Baelon.

You think that the people miss Mama very much. Maybe they miss her almost as much as you do—but not the same amount. You think you miss Mama most of all, even more than Papa or ’Nyra, because at least they have Lord Otto or Lord Lyman or Lord Corlys or Alicent or Betha Strong or Ser Harrold to keep them company. All you have is Mama and sometimes Uncle, and now Mama is gone.

After a while, the carriage starts to take you up and up, which means that you are almost at the point where you will need to stop and get out and walk the rest of the way. This is because the horses cannot pull so much weight up Visenya’s Hill. Uncle said it would be hard for you to walk, being so small when the hill is so large, but that you have to so that everyone can see how brave you are. “Targaryens don’t show weakness,” he says.

He is right—the walk is hard. At first, when you get out and take ’Nyra’s hand and start to follow Papa up the hill, it isn’t so bad. But then, it gets steeper and steeper, almost so steep that you feel like you need to use your hands to climb the rest of the way. Your legs burn so much that you want to cry, but you don’t. Uncle said you cannot be carried, either, so you don’t ask ’Nyra to pick you up. You must be brave. You must be brave.

By the time you reach the top, the men who were made to carry the box have opened it up and taken out the things inside. There are two funny-shaped objects covered in brown cloth lying in the middle of the pyre that has been built for the funeral—one is big, bigger than you, while the other is very small. They are the bodies of Mama and Baelon, and you have to hold on tight to the memory of Uncle’s words to keep from running over and trying to shake them awake.

“What remains of them will be set upon the pyre, yes—but remember, they’re not people. They’re just skin and bone and meat now. You must let them burn as all Targaryens burn.”

’Nyra’s hand feels like ice around yours as a man in a strange dress with a hood comes forward, past all the lords and ladies and past Uncle and Papa to stand right in front of the pyre. Two other men wearing dresses that look almost the same go with him, but stay one step behind.

“Tubī Arryno Lentro Dārie Aemme se Targārio Lentro Dārilaros Baelon perzyrty mōrqittot…” he says. You don’t know all the words, but you think he must be talking about the way Mama is a queen and baby Baelon is a prince, which seems silly to mention now that they’re not real anymore. “Sȳndor zijosy rēbarose, Dāria Aemma eglio ilvot trēso Dārilaros Baelon zȳhos gūros se tegot…”

Syrax is standing on the very top of the hill above everyone else. Because it would be very rude to look around at the others—Papa’s Councilmen and Alicent and the men who live on Dragonstone, your family’s special home, and Princess Rhaenys too, who is very scary, as well as so so many people you don’t know at all—you keep your eyes fixed on the dragon, admiring how pretty she looks in the sun. Usually, she makes lots of noise and is very mischievous, which is another word for naughty, but today she is quiet like all the rest. You wonder how she knows about funerals when she cannot speak in Valyrian or the Common Tongue or any other words that people can understand.

“Targārio ānogro rȳ ōrbrar ojāris, sētenondi hen ībī iemnȳ nȳmas,” the man says. His dress has what looks like an eye sewn on the chest, which seems an odd thing to want to wear. No one else in the Keep wears eyes.

The two men behind him step up with jugs in their hands, and they walk around the pyre pouring what is in the jugs over the cloth. It turns the brown even darker brown. After they bow, they move back, and no one speaks for a while.

Finally, the man with the eye on his chest says one last thing. “Hen perzȳ sīdas. Va perzȳ āmāzissi. Hen prānot istas, vapār drējī mōrī iksis.”

Something about fire, you think. Maybe he is saying your House words in High Valyrian. Fire and blood.

It is silent then, nothing but the sound of the wind whistling filling your ears. Everyone is still, from the lady with the kind eyes that remind you of your own on the other side of the pyre to the funny men to the side. No one speaks. You wonder what is supposed to happen now.

Uncle puts his hand on your shoulder, leaning in to whisper in ’Nyra’s ear. “They’re waiting for you.”

At first, you think she hasn’t heard him—she doesn’t move or do anything at all, just keeps staring where Mama and baby Baelon are. You nearly jump when her fingers tighten on yours. “Ñurho valonqro paghyro jēdunna, lo tolijī kepa ñuha kirimvī rhēdos pendan.”

My brother lived, father found happy. It makes no sense, but Mama told you once that it is rude to listen to other people’s conversations, so you try not to listen too hard.

Uncle speaks too low for you to hear him, to which ’Nyra replies with something you do understand. “Trēsy dōrī kesan.” I will never be a son.

She sounds very, very sad. Poor ’Nyra, you think. I will never be a son, either. I’m just a daughter, a girl, like you. Maybe Papa would be happier if ’Nyra or you had died instead of Baelon, if your body was wrapped in the brown cloth on the pyre and you weren’t real anymore.

’Nyra lets go of you. She looks to Papa, but all he is doing is staring at the pyre where Mama and Baelon lie. Her face is very red, which means she has been crying. When she steps forward, Uncle takes your hand and pulls you back to stop you following her. He is warm, so you try to hug onto his leg in a way that doesn’t make you weak like he told you not to be.

Syrax makes her chirping noise, all of a sudden paying attention to what her rider is doing. ’Nyra tries to speak, but it doesn’t come out. “Dr…”

She looks at Papa again, so you do too. He still hasn’t looked away from the pyre. You wonder if he knows you and ’Nyra and Uncle are even here, because he hasn’t so much as glanced at you since the night he came to your rooms and told you that Mama and Baelon had died. Not once.

“Drakarys.”

Syrax rumbles, and then begins to climb down toward all the people. For a moment, you’re worried she might try to eat someone, but the Dragonkeepers are here with their spears to stop anything bad happening. She opens her mouth, and fire comes bursting out.

The pyre lights up, and Mama and Baelon disappear in bright-white-orange.

“Mama?” you whisper, eyes stinging and throat feeling strange, like you want to be sick but not. “Mama?”

The only thing that you can hear is the sound of burning.

Papa bends his head, and ’Nyra looks away. You think that you may be the only one who keeps watching the fire as it takes your Mama away from you forever.

(When you are grown, you will not remember this day. You will not remember the ache in your bones or the wind in your hair. You will not remember the faces of the commonfolk you passed along the way, or the sorrow in Rhaenyra’s voice when she called down dragonfire upon the hill. You will not remember the cold that leached into your blood as you stood beside what was left of your family, a slow freezing that will take its toll over the days and moons and years of your existence.

Even so, the sight of the bodies on the pyre and the smell of burning flesh will remain etched into the very fabric of your person forevermore.

At night, you will sometimes feel as though ash clings to your tongue, the taste of rot lingering in your mouth. In dreams, you will see brown cloth and a faceless babe wiggling beneath wrappings as it burns to nothing. You will wake in a panic, near to choking on the air you cannot seem to make yourself breathe, looking about wildly in search of the horrors that had plagued your slumbering thoughts. Melancholy will follow you, lurking just beyond reach, haunting, nameless.

But you will not remember this day.)

After the funeral, Uncle Daemon leaves.

You don’t know why, because he didn’t say goodbye and no one will tell you anything. When you ask ’Nyra, she tells you she doesn’t “want to talk about him” and walks away with Alicent. You ask Brella, but she just says, “Not right now, Princess.”

You don’t ask Papa, because he is still grieving for Mama and baby Baelon. For you, that means he doesn’t want to tell you about anything at all. But whenever someone says Uncle’s name in front of him, he gets very, very angry and storms off with his boots making a lot of noise on the ground, so Uncle must have done something very naughty.

A big ceremony is happening today, though, which makes it harder to be sad that Uncle isn’t here. ’Nyra told you that Papa has decided to make her the heir, even though Uncle is supposed to be. Maybe that is why he left. It has been very busy in the Keep because everyone came for Mama and Baelon’s funeral, but they are being made to stay for the ceremony so that they can swear fealty to Papa and ’Nyra. And, for the first time ever, you have a special role, too.

“… promise to be—to be faith–faithful to King Viserys and his named heir, the Princess Rhae-nyra. I pledge fealty to them and shall def—defend them against all e-ne-mies in good faith and without de-ceit. I sw–swear this by the Old Gods and the New.”

Alicent claps, smiling. “Well done, Princess! Much better!”

’Nyra comes out from behind her screen wearing a pretty red dress, like the colour of the dragon with three heads on your House sigil. “Just try not to stutter so much, little sister.”

“Trying,” you say grumpily—the words are hard—but ’Nyra isn’t paying attention. Instead, she is looking into the mirror as Alicent helps her with the laces at the back, staring at herself in a way that doesn’t look very happy.

Alicent stops and hugs her. “You will be fine. This is what you were born for.”

“I wasn’t, though,” ’Nyra says, frowning. “Was I?”

They both go quiet, so you say, “You look very nice today.”

That makes ’Nyra smile, finally. “Thank you.”

It doesn’t take long for Alicent to finish lacing up her dress and helping her with her gold cape and jewels. When she is done, ’Nyra leaves the room and Alicent moves toward you so she can take your hand. “Come, Princess,” she says. “Let us walk to the Great Hall together.”

When you get there, the room is full of people. You wonder if every single lord and lady in the whole of Papa’s kingdom is here, all together in this one place. It is only because you are a princess that you don’t have to stand with all of them, and Alicent leads you over to Ser Harrold so that you can stay next to him by the Iron Throne. There is even a little chair just for you there, in case your legs get tired.

“Princess,” Ser Harrold says. His voice is funny, like a growl, and it makes you giggle every time you hear it. And, every time you giggle, he smiles, which makes all the wrinkles on his face deeper, which is even funnier. He does it again now.

A big bang at the door has everyone go very quiet.

“Presenting—Princess Rhaenyra of House Targaryen!”

No one speaks when ’Nyra comes through the doors all by herself, chin lifted straight up and walking down the middle of the two groups of people. Everyone stares at her, even Papa, and you think that it’s only right that they do because she looks so so pretty today. She curtseys to Papa at the bottom of the Throne, and then turns to face the people.

Without a word, Lord Corlys comes forward and kneels. “I, Corlys Velaryon, Lord of the Tides and Master of Driftmark, promise to be faithful to King Viserys and his named…”

You decide to sit in the chair while you wait. All the lords here have to say the same words you do when they pledge fealty, but you are going last because you’re the most important person to say it, which is what Alicent told you.

Lots of men and some ladies come up to the front to kneel and say the words to ’Nyra while Papa watches. It takes a long time, so you spend it looking around at all the different faces and dresses and coats that you can see. There are all sorts of things sewn onto the chests of people’s robes—you see a black stag on a yellow coat, a yellow lion on a red one, a grey wolf on a white one, a flower, a bird, even some boring ones like plain stripes or dots. Some of the ladies are wearing dresses that look very strange—the neck comes far far down so you can almost see some parts that are not proper for a lady to show. When those ones say the words, most of them are actually saying them while looking at Papa instead of ’Nyra, which is very rude because today is all about ’Nyra and not Papa. No one tries to make them stop, though, so maybe only you notice it.

When it is your turn, Ser Harrold taps you on the shoulder. All of a sudden, you feel very scared. So many people are looking at you now, and it makes you feel small and weak like you’re going to be smacked if you do anything.

But you must be brave. If Uncle were here, you’d want him to be proud of you.

You kneel in front of ’Nyra a little closer than everyone else did, but you think that no one will mind very much because you are her sister. Besides, your legs are feeling very shaky, and you might fall over if you have to go any further.

For a moment, the words won’t come out and you panic, but ’Nyra smiles. It is the only smile she has shown the whole time, and it’s just for you.

You find the words.

“I promise to be faith-ful to King Viserys and his named heir, the Princess Rhaenyra. I pledge fealty to them and shall defend them against all e-ne-mies in good faith and without… deceit. I swear this by the Old Gods and the New.”

You rise up, feeling like water is rushing in your ears, almost like it does whenever you have to take a bath. A sound like a heartbeat is all you can hear as you walk back to your spot, but you don’t sit down. ’Nyra said that you have to stay standing for the final part, the words that Papa has to say.

Your sister turns around to face the Iron Throne and bends her head to Papa. He says nothing.

Then, Papa stands, his sword Blackfyre in his hand and pointing down into the ground. “I, Viserys Targaryen, First of his Name, King of the Andals and the Rhoynar and the First Men, Lord of the Seven Kingdoms, and Protector of the Realm”—so many titles go after his name, you think, glad that you only have ‘the People’s Princess’ after yours—“do hereby name Rhaenyra Targaryen Princess of Dragonstone and heir to the Iron Throne.”

Everyone bows their heads, so you do, too. When ’Nyra turns around, all the lords and ladies and knights and guards clap.

Beyond the noise in the hall, you think you can hear a dragon roar.

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chaoticgeminate · 2 years

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You're So Classic (iv)

Summary: When you own a diner there are a variety of people that come to get a seat, Zach has become familiar with the constant and changing guests that come in through those doors. The good, the bad, and the ugly all with their own stories and their own lives. He’s witnessed first dates, last dates, engagements, anniversaries, job gains or losses, and birthdays galore.

Enter Nanette Dougherty.

Former pageant child, debutante, and swimsuit model fresh off a bad date and needing to be somewhere that her roommates and agent won’t try to find her. Where better than a diner full of things she’s never allowed to eat? What Nanette never counted on was the handsome diner owner to change her life.

Pairing: Zach Wellison x Nanette Rose Dougherty [ofc]

Rating: Explicit (Blog is 18+ regardless but this is going to be a bit of a heavy story)

Notes and Warnings: Series will involve some heavy topics including but not limited to body dysmorphic disorder (BDD), eating disorders, body acceptance, PTSD, anger problems, toxic narcissistic parents, and abusive relationships both platonic and romantic. This installment features sexual harassment at a work function, implied bad parenting, and smut. Beta read by the beautiful, lovely, amazing @leslie-lyman 💙

Last Chapter | Series Masterlist | Next Chapter

Frito Pie (11K)

Anger, for him, was like fire.

Sparks that would ignite into a blaze, roaring loud and hot, and oftentimes uncontrollable. Too much like his father in that regard, he remembered his Mama and her family saying in hushed whispers when he was a teenager, and yet Zach was willing to let that blaze burn bright in this moment as his fist connected with the sandbag in another quick two-strike attack. The anger was the legacy he’d inherited from Gregory Wellison but the boxing had been all his uncle, his mother’s brother had tried her hardest to give him something that he could channel his anger into and stressed to use it as a healthy outlet.

Zach was proud to say that he had done that, never using the lessons his uncle offered as anything but an outlet against a sandbag or to defend himself or his brothers and sisters in arms. The dance lessons from his Mama kept him light on his feet and helped shake his pent up energy, the boxing let him work through his anger in a way he knew but without the consequences of hurting someone.

He never thought he’d really lean on them as much as he used to, until today.

Even after three days he was unable to get the image of Nanette, eyes red from crying and make-up smeared across her face, out of his mind. Unable to silence the reminders of just how cruel the world could be to people, unable to forget the way she sounded calling herself not good enough, and he hated that she ever was put into a position that she felt that way at all. That she was afraid he’d leave her because her past experiences with relationships had led her to believe she was the problem.

His fist struck the bag again and again, wanting nothing more than to do something other than stew in how he felt knowing that there were people out there who had been either blind or willing to ignore the obvious signs of discomfort that Nanette had when it came to intimacy, and he settled on getting rid of the anger in the only way he really knew how effectively.

He couldn’t even find it in him to bring up the topic again.

Zach couldn’t stand the idea of being the one to push, he didn’t want Nanette to think that the only thing that mattered to him was sex when that was the farthest from the truth, and yet he hated that part of him felt like he needed to talk it over this soon. He wanted to help her, to teach her how to be confident in every part of her life, and yet he knew that he had to wait until she was ready to talk and to open up to him about it again.

Trauma came in many forms, he’d learned, and this was hers.

The diner was in full swing by the time he arrived to work on inventory and bill pay, which was a bit of a blessing for him since he knew that if it was even a little slow he would end up lost in his own thoughts again, and Zach almost missed the call of his name if not for the hand that went up with it. Justin waved again and he hurried over, wrapping the other man in a tight hug, and Zach sat down with him and who he presumed to be his friend’s new wife Tyler.

“I didn’t think you’d come visit for at least another month, but I’m glad to see you.” Zach earned a chuckle and Justin tipped his head with a soft snort while Tyler laughed outright.

“After all the craziness in my life, all the drama around Tyler’s divorce finalizing, and then us choosing to get married as quickly as we did it was a no brainer to get some time away from all that. Plus I get to check in on you again.” Zach shrugged fondly, knowing that his fellow vet had been down some of the darkest paths, seeing him possibly allowed to be happy was a relief since Justin had been the one to teach him how to find that spark again.

“Then I take it rehab and therapy are going well?” Justin nodded and ducked his gaze to the tabletop, his and Tyler’s food set down by Dooley before the new employee was off to another table, and Zach felt only sympathy for the man beside him. He and Justin had both had their demons and the other man claimed he didn’t have PTSD -a lie but Zach let him get away with it since his source of PTSD wasn’t just from his time in service- but where Zach sought healing through therapy and boxing… Justin had ended up falling back into drugs.

Zach would never forget the day Justin called him crying and asking for help, not long before the diner opened, and he’d postponed the grand opening to make sure his friend was able to get into a facility and find a therapist. It was after that Justin reunited with Tyler and now he was working on his problems and with Tyler there to keep him steady, given that she’d already broke up with him once because of his addiction Zach suspected she was much more firm in keeping her now husband in line, so there was less worry that things would go south for either of them.

“Yea, they are, I’ve- there’s a lot I was dealing with and I was lucky that you came to me and decided that you needed to light a fire under my ass to get help. Proper help. So, what’s this about a girlfriend?” Justin’s redirection wasn’t subtle at all, nor was it meant to be, and Zach could only imagine how much Justin’s family had brought up the subject of his addiction and recovery on top of trying to delay the wedding. He decided to let it go for now but he’d have to make sure he got Tyler’s number before they left, that way she could get a hold of him too if she or Justin needed him.

“The loudmouths decided to tattle, eh? Yea, I’ve got a girl I’m seeing, Nanette Dougherty.” As he pulled out his phone and showed them one of the pictures he had, from their second date where he’d snapped a few sneaky candids, his friend whistled while Tyler grinned.

“I’ve seen her, she’s a model, right? They have her pictures plastered up at the Gucci place in the mall for swimwear.” Zach nodded once to confirm -making a mental note to visit the designer store some time- before he tucked his phone away.

“She came in for a meal one night and honestly? It was like, instant attraction, I feel weird saying it this way but it was almost that feeling of it being meant to be. You know? Like I thought she was cute, never would have guessed model, and she was really sweet and then when she came back I just- I had to try.” Justin nudged him and waggled his eyebrows while Tyler only rolled her eyes, the hotel manager couldn’t help but smile before she reached out and pat Zach’s hand gently.

“That’s sweet, Zach, I’m glad you’ve got someone and that you’re doing well.” He found himself unable to stop the way his smile fell, the way his brain began to return to his worries, and he almost told them what he was thinking until he reminded himself that he couldn’t share the full details of Nanette’s story with them. He wouldn’t betray her trust or consent by telling strangers -to her- such private information, his therapist was maybe the only person he’d talk to but only because she didn’t know Nanette by name.

“It’s hard, I’ve still got my own issues and dating a model doesn't really help any of them, but Nanette is worth it.” He ignored the playful gagging from Justin as Tyler breathed a soft ‘awwww’ across from him.Nanette was more than worth it and Zach would be sure to make her know how much he cared about her.

Stupid.

Nanette cursed her reflection as she put on her make-up, glancing at her phone where the text from Delaney had been received just an hour ago talking about an event he wanted her to attend, even though she felt exhausted with the workload already on her shoulders from her now full up schedule this was a huge networking opportunity. Even the smallest chance at getting an exclusivity contract with a big designer label was too tempting to pass up, slipping on her patient leather Dolce & Gabbana pumps, and Nanette looked at her reflection carefully.

The black evening gown had a flared skirt that fell just to her ankles with a thin band of leather at the waist, the cold shoulder bodice giving a very visible view of her neck and shoulders, and Nanette opened her jewelry box with some careful consideration. The white gold flexi bangle decorated with diamonds was slipped onto her right wrist, the tanzanite and diamond earrings and matching necklace were chosen since they were also a white gold base, and the blue was a good contrast to the almost monochrome look. Going for a smoky eye and demure lip by the way of her make-up, hair done in a side bun for the event, she felt like she was as good as she could get.

Francesca, from her place on the sofa, only looked up and then returned her focus to the e-reader with her newest script on it. Home from her filming upstate and she was already diving back into another project, it was good though since it meant she was around less, and yet Nanette couldn’t help but feel lonely when she wasn’t around. For all her bite and anger Francesca was fun and unless she was on a deficit she was usually always in a decent mood, and she didn’t try to pander or lie to Nanette about anything so she could at least trust her friend to be honest if a little brutal.

“Are you going on a date?”

“Networking event, Delaney messaged me an hour ago so I hope I didn’t rush too badly.”

Those sharp eyes lifted again, studying her face and the lines of the dress as Nanette grabbed one of her black clutches for her phone and wallet.

“You look fine. Let me know if you’re coming home or not.”

Nanette nearly froze as she reached the front door, hands shaking at the reminder of just how these networking events tended to go for her, but she didn’t let that deter her as she left with a soft affirmation before nervously brushing her skirt in the elevator. A low chime from her phone was the signal she was waiting on, the limo outside of her building had its door open and she could see Delaney inside with Kirsten and Summer on either side of him while Layla sat across from him.

Nanette greeted everyone warmly even though she felt really uncomfortable, she didn’t really get along with any of the other models the way she did Camille or Melinda or Shaye, and Delaney was leaning back in the seat with his tablet in hand.

“You have several high fashion designers making an appearance tonight, make sure you don’t do or say anything that can risk the name of our agency. I expect you all to make a good impression tonight.” Delaney’s warning was pretty standard by now and Nanette could only nod, looking out the window as her stomach began to wind up in knots. The last time she’d been to a networking event like this had been nearly half a year ago and she’d ended up leaving with an executive working for several fashion publications, feeling used and disgusting when she left his hotel room the following morning, and even if it had led to her being the centerfold for those publications for some time she couldn’t find any triumph in the end result.

But this time she wasn’t single, not technically, so she could stand her ground and refuse if anyone tried to come on to her. Even if she and Zach weren’t exclusive yet it wasn’t like she had to tell anyone that.

Who cared if she lied by omission, it wasn’t like they should be pressing her beyond the fact that she had a boyfriend anyway.

The assembled press were snapping pictures as the limo pulled up and Nanette made sure to put on a pretty smile after Delaney exited the limo first and began offering his hand to each of them to help them out, a few journalists even called her name so she waved and looked at them to show that she’d heard them all even if she couldn’t stop, and as they entered Candela La Brea she was whisked into conversation almost immediately by Harrison as the photographer set about introducing her to his colleagues and friends.

“Miss Dougherty, I’ve heard naught but good things about you.” Madeline LeMarc offered her hand and Nanette could only smile at the designer’s praise, a very quickly rising star in the evening gown area of expertise, considering Nanette owned a LeMarc gown that was sitting at home in her closet.

“It’s lovely to meet you at last, Madame LeMarc, I might’ve worn ‘La mer verte’ if I’d known you were going to be present tonight.” A green and blue toned gown created to raise awareness for ocean conservation, the bodice made to look like it was made of scales while the skirt was layers of green and blue recycled cotton-lined tulle for a wave effect, it had been striking and Nanette had to have it for the look and the cause.

“I should have known you were the one to buy my gown, Harrison told me all about how you prioritize charity and conservation based photo shoot contracts and I never connected the name. I’m pleased my gown went to someone who truly believes in my ideals. I must contact your agency, I’d be honored to work with you in the future.” Nanette couldn’t help but smile warmly and nod, working with one of her favorite designers -and maybe being able to get out of swim wear at long last- would be like a dream come true.

Harrison and Madeline were good company and she spent nearly an hour talking with them and the small circle of editors and magazine designers before they all needed to move on, it was an event meant for networking after all, which was how Nanette found herself trapped in conversation with Hunter Jones after going around the room and talking with a number of other designers and editors for different publications. A junior executive and shareholder for several big fashion brands, Hunter’s perfectly slicked back hair and whitened teeth had gotten him a number of admirers but not her, and despite her polite disinterest the man wouldn’t take the hint that she wanted to get away from his company.

“We’ve recently acquired two more brands and I’d love for a… stunning woman such as yourself to model a few of the pieces. If you’re willing to do underwear and lingerie that is. I can already see you in several of the designs.” Hunter was leaning against a wall and Nanette had made sure that she had her back turned away slightly from the wall, that way if he tried to make a move on her she could still get away, and she was about ready to excuse herself to the restroom. Hunter’s words wouldn’t alarm anyone given that it wasn’t uncommon for models to be spoken to like that, but the tone and his wandering eyes were clearly meant to make the remark sexual instead of professional.

“I don’t model lingerie or underwear, as I’ve specifically stated in my contract, I’m afraid. If you’ll excuse me-“ Time to go, she decided then and there, rather than listen to Hunter try and creep on her some more. But he reached out and captured her wrist, his hold firm and she knew that if she tried to wrench her hand away it would cause a scene, so Nanette pulled and steeled her expression as best she could.

“Now, Miss Dougherty, I assure you I can make the offer more than worth a modification to your contract. It doesn’t have to be professional, if you’d prefer though, we could do a private showing.” He tried to pull her back toward him but she kept her feet planted and shook her head, eyes darting around the room to see that nobody was paying attention to them, and Hunter must’ve realized it too as his lips curled up in a smile and he pulled a bit harder. The force of it made her stumble slightly and Nanette put her other hand out to plant it on his chest and keep distance between them.

“Please let me go, Mr. Jones.” A tremor of nervousness shot down her spine, this was what she’d been afraid of, the idea that someone would try to take advantage of the crowded room since she knew most people wouldn’t even give them a second glance unless she made a scene. Which she wasn’t supposed to do, between Delaney’s expectations and knowing that her mother and step-father would lecture her about unladylike behavior if she wound up on a gossip rag over tonight, but she didn’t know what else she could do.

“Don’t be like that, I’ve been eager to get you alone all night, you don’t have to be worried. I’ll take good care of you-“

“I’m not interested, Mr. Jones, and you’re being highly unprofessional. Let me go.”

His grip went slack and Nanette immediately stepped away from him, the scowl on his face was deep and Hunter scoffed before he shifted to get away from the wall.

“Very well, I’ll seek out one of your colleagues for my brand deal instead, they’ll probably fit my brands better anyway since they at least have the proper size breasts to fill out the lingerie.” Even as he walked away denied what should have felt like victory to her turned sour, her feet carrying her to the near empty bathroom where two other models from a different agency were primping their hair and fixing their make up, and Nanette made a bit of a show of reapplying her lipstick even as her heart raced in her chest.

The second the door closed as the other two left she was putting her lipstick away and gripping the counter top, staring at her reflection and distinctly minimal cleavage. The reminder that she’d turned down the company funded breast enlargement weighed on her mind, it had probably been for this reason Delaney had even suggested it, and Nanette felt sick with warring emotions. Relief that she wasn’t going to have to deal with Hunter, on a personal or professional level, mixing with the dread that he’d tell her agent what happened and Delaney would punish her for refusing such an offer.

Lurking under it all was that feeling of dread, that by refusing to do the surgery she’d potentially put a glass ceiling on her career, but she wasn’t comfortable with the idea of implants. She was perfect the way she was, Zach had told her so.

Wasn’t she?

She had to leave.

Nanette didn’t even think, her phone in hand -thankfully most modern dress makers were putting pockets in flare skirt gowns so she didn’t have to have a clutch tonight- and she dialed the first number in her recently contacted list.

“Hi Nanette, sorry for any noise, I’m at home doing dishes-“

“Zach, could you come get me?”

Anyone else she called, from her usual circle, would be influenced by who she’d been dealing with; for all the support Camille and the others always offered they weren’t against sleeping with people to get new contracts or get a leg up where they had to and tonight Nanette just couldn’t find a good way to lie about why she’d refused. Her three friends knew she wasn’t exclusive, yet, so they wouldn’t understand her refusing Hunter tonight.

“Of course I can, where are you?”

“Candela La Brea.”

She paced the length of the bathroom, relieved that nobody else had come in by now, and she looked at her reflection again to make sure she didn’t look like she was going to cry even if that’s what it felt like.

“I’ll need some time to get there, are you okay or would you like me to stay on the phone with you?”

“Text me when you get close?”

“I can do that, I’ll be there as soon as I can, Nanette.”

“Thank you, Zach.”

Nanette fled the bathroom, she couldn’t hide there forever, and she slipped into a circle of make-up artists that didn’t even bat an eye and simply included her in their conversation.

Zach wasn’t normally so reckless behind the wheel but he was kind of in a hurry, taking sharp turns and driving between five and ten miles over the limit to reduce the time it took to reach his destination, and he felt his chest tighten when he spotted the building. There were some reporters lingering outside, naturally, and Zach sent a text to Nanette that he was about to pull up since he was at a red; he could only thank the heavens that his car was in good shape and clean since it was likely that there’d be paparazzi shots of her leaving with him. But when a suit-clad man, not a valet, gestured him toward a parking lot as he passed into the main entryway Zach followed and breathed a sigh of relief as Nanette slipped out of a side door away from the public eye.

He didn’t want to be the cause of headlines that might be problematic for her down the line, after all, and he’d worried that her leaving early to get into the car with a “nobody” as far as the press were concerned would only be an issue.

Nanette’s eyes were darting around as she slipped into the passenger seat and he almost forgot to breathe seeing her dressed the way she was, he knew she was gorgeous but the black dress showed off her shoulders and neck while showcasing her narrow waist plenty, it was the expression of relief that she wore that shook him from those thoughts. He took her hand in his and felt the way she was shaking.

“Is everything alright?”

“Yes -no, I mean- I’m going to be okay now that I’m leaving and you’re here.” Zach could tell there was something wrong and he studied her face carefully, he had an ugly uncertainty blooming in his chest over what might have happened but there was no physical evidence that she’d done anything. He wasn’t naive enough to think that events like this weren’t rife with people taking advantage of their positions and power, to try and get into bed with someone -or just have a quickie somewhere- and offer favors and clout in exchange, but knowing what he knew of the woman beside him served only to turn his worry to anger.

“Did someone-“

“Zach, please, I want to get away from here.”

He bit back his retort immediately, not wanting to turn that anger onto her just because she happened to be here, there was no way in hell Zach would ever allow himself to subject Nanette to that. Choosing to hold her hand and guide the car out of the lot, the night sky overhead and the soft music filling the silence between them. But it didn’t stay silent, not with Nanette holding his hand like a lifeline, or her breathing finally growing more even and steady the further they got from that event.

“Thank you, for coming to get me and- and for wanting to try and make sure I felt safe even if it meant confronting a stranger.” Nanette’s voice was quiet but not shaky, he could tell though that she was still distressed and Zach found himself answering carefully since there was still a lack of knowledge about what happened.

“I will never, ever, ignore your comfort and make you be in a place you don’t want to be with people you don’t want to be around. If you go to anything like this and need to leave, like tonight, call me and I’ll come no matter how far I have to travel.” It was a lofty promise, one that could easily be taken advantage of, but Zach couldn’t stand the idea of Nanette -anyone really- being in a position where they were powerless to stand up for what they didn’t want. He felt her nodding but she was still quiet, which was worrisome, and all he could do was wait for her to open up to him.

He trusted her to talk to him, to tell him what was wrong, and her reaction made him sure that it wasn’t something minor that was wrong. He navigated much more carefully now, the streets busier as he reached a few locations where popular bars and clubs sat nestled among the other businesses, and Zach pulled into her parking garage and into the guest space. Nanette stared at the wall for a minute before she found her voice again, eyes shiny with tears.

“Can you- will you stay?” Zach turned her head gently, cupping her cheek in his hand to brush away the single tear trailing down her skin, nodding firmly and letting her lean her head against his hand with a sigh of relief. They made it up to the apartment where her roommate was sleeping on the couch, the young woman wasn’t snoring but she was breathing deep, and Nanette slipped off her heels to quiet her steps before leading Zach back to her room. He helped her out of the dress, not looking at her at all as she slipped on an over sized tee-shirt to sleep in along with some cotton shorts, and instead Zach tugged off his flannel and jeans so that he was left in his boxers and a white tee himself.

Sneakers and socks set aside with his jeans and flannel folded, as Nanette removed her jewelry and make-up after letting her hair fall loose, Zach hugged her as soon as her arms banded around his body with her routine done.

“One of the junior executives at the event tried to come onto me, even though I didn’t want it, and then he grabbed my wrist and wouldn’t let go. I was scared- nobody was paying attention to us and if I made a scene I know my agent and my mother would have gone nuclear and then when I told him he was being unprofessional he- he said that my body wouldn’t work for his lingerie spread.” Even without being there he could imagine the scene a little too well, he’d seen plenty of service members pull similar things at bars in foreign countries all the time, and Zach guided her back to the bed and let her lay with her head resting on his chest.

Trailing his hand up and down her back in a soothing gesture, that bubbling rage he’d never been able to shake from before starting to simmer under his skin, and he found himself wanting nothing more than to hide Nanette away from everything for a little while.

“First off, he was just being cruel after you turned him down, you’re perfect the way you are. Men like that are selfish and resort to lashing out when they get rejected because they don’t like being told no, that behavior is immature and you did nothing wrong by keeping your boundaries, he felt slighted so he insulted you to make you feel bad about yourself when I bet he was very complimentary up until then.” Nanette nodded against him and Zach couldn’t help the way he shifted his jaw, involuntarily letting his anger bring out some of his little tics as he kept his breathing steady.

“Secondly, who cares if your agent and your mother have a fit? You’re a grown woman with a right to say no when she doesn’t want someone making passes at her; if they’re more concerned about you making a scene than being safe, Nanette, they don’t seem to want what’s actually best for you. Model or not you still have the right to deny the attention of people you don’t like, you don’t have to lie or do what you don’t want to do just to avoid causing a scene or fitting in with people.” Zach was starting to detest Delaney more and more with each thing he heard, between the deficits and now the behavior that was almost like a legalized pimp, and he was starting to understand that things like this were common for Nanette.

He hadn’t imagined her time as a pageant kid or contestant to have affected her like this but he was starting to see the bigger picture of what Nanette saw as ‘part of the job’ and what she didn’t.

“I wanted to be here, or at least with you, the entire time he was talking to me. I- I want you but I’m scared it’ll hurt and-“ Zach shushed her and let Nanette breathe, calming her down before she could work herself up into tears, and he tipped her face up to kiss her gently.

“I will never hurt you, Nanette, okay? I promise you I can make it feel good but only if you’re willing and not tonight, not after what you’ve been through. I want you to get some rest, I want you to feel safe, and then we can talk more about being intimate.” Nanette’s eyes were wet but she nodded, relief loosening her expression from near panic to a much better calm, and Zach pulled her closer as he turned on his side and tucked her against him. He felt Nanette go lax, felt the way sleep made her soften against him, and his eyes stared at the dark wall as he fought to control his own breathing.

He went to turn his phone to battery saver, since he didn’t have a charger cord handy, and paused as he looked over his list of contacts. Bold it would be, and maybe Nanette wouldn’t appreciate it if he meddled, but Zach had two vets that used to work with him that now worked in journalism and he was sure that waves could be made if she went public with the things expected of her by her agency. He shook his head and turned on battery saver, unwilling to do something that would betray Nanette’s trust in him, but he made a note on his phone to keep their numbers handy just in case.

Come morning he woke up to the softest kiss, blinking up to see Nanette’s soft smile, and he pulled her back against him with a grumble to nuzzle his face into her neck.

“Zach, I have to go to the agency gym.” Nanette’s soft laugh was much more relaxed, a night of rest had done her good, and he blinked one eye open before pouting.

“Kiss?” Nanette giggled as she leaned down, capturing his lips in a languid kiss, and he couldn’t help inhaling deeper when she slipped her tongue against his and played with the hair at the nape of his neck. His rumbling groan was echoed by her soft sigh but she pulled back from him, eyelids half closed as she stood up, and he admired the athletic leggings and sports bra she was wearing as he sat up. Zach slipped on his flannel and jeans, socks going on but sneakers kept in hand, and he ran his hand through his hair with a yawn as they reached the door.

“I’ll drop you off at the agency, Nanette, if you want.” He wanted to be there if her agent tried to say anything about the night before, to be at her side and make sure the man knew that Zach wasn’t going to let any of his bullshit fly now, and Nanette bit her lip gently as she nodded and let him take her down to his car where she directed him to the large building. She mentioned that today was a cardio day, since she’d been on a deficit for so long with a number of models out recovering from cosmetic surgery, and Zach made sure to share stories of when he’d actually fainted during a loaded march because he’d dehydrated himself.

As they reached the gym entrance of the agency building Zach captured Nanette’s hand and smiled as he kissed where their fingers were joined, making her cheeks glow with color.

“Don’t let anyone try to shame you for standing your ground and keeping your boundaries, you did good Nanette.” He watched her eyes widen a little before she nodded, expression soft, and Zach earned a chaste kiss before she was getting out of the car and promising to call him later.

“I understand there was a… problem with Hunter Jones?” Delaney’s voice was quiet and a little tense when Nanette got out of the locker room, now wearing one of her three spare sets of clothing, but her agent’s voice made her freeze in place at the sudden anxiety that flooded her. Zach’s reminder lingered, that she was allowed to set boundaries, and Nanette steeled herself for Delaney’s sharp temper.

But her agent looked more tired than upset, she wanted to hope he was hung over since that usually worked out in her favor.

“He tried to convince me to, ah, privately model lingerie for him -which, I wasn’t interested. I told him no and reminded him that he was being unprofessional.” Delaney rolled his shoulders slightly and crossed his arms, an almost resigned expression on his face as he exhaled a heavy sigh.

“That’s what I heard from Monique Marquez, she was near enough to hear what was being said and went to fetch security, Mr. Jones was escorted off the property not long after you left. Are you okay, Nanette? I asked Francesca if you came home last night and she said she didn’t know.” Delaney’s concern might’ve been believable if there was an ounce of warmth in his tone, it was lip service and she knew that but the fact that he was actually asking made her relieved that she wasn’t in trouble.

“I had Zach come and get me, the security team let me out through the side door so I didn’t have to deal with any of the press outside, and he stayed over at our apartment last night at my request.” Delaney’s eyes narrowed and his lips flattened, that obligatory “concern” shifting to what was clearly dislike of the man she was seeing.

“I can’t believe you still want anything to do with someone like him, you could have the richest men in LA eating out of the palm of your hand-“

“Zach is kind, he’s considerate, and he cares for me as a person. I’m not just arm candy to him, I’m not the butt of ‘dumb model’ jokes, and he trusts me when it comes to managing my body for this job and even adjusts what food he makes me to support that. I’m tired of the men that would use me for looks or influence, Delaney, I may only be twenty-eight but I know that I want someone who wants me because they care about me and not because they want to use me.” Nanette watched her agent as she spoke, saw the way his expression stayed unchanged, and she shook her head when he called her name as she turned around to leave. She had two shoots to finish out today and wanted them to end when they were supposed to, the company driver greeting her as she hit the parking lot, and she stared at the text that Delaney sent her with a scowl forming on her face.

“Every person in a relationship is using the other somehow, Nanette.”

Delaney was wrong, he had to be, because she knew what it was to be used and to use someone; she wasn’t proud of it but early in her career she’d been much like Layla and Kirsten and Summer, specifically finding and sleeping with or dating the people that could get her ahead in her line of work. Zach had never once said or implied anything that made her think he was out to use her, it wasn’t like he asked her to promote his diner anywhere or even put pictures up of her, and Nanette reasoned that Delaney was just too jaded. Too paranoid since Zach was an entity he didn’t have control over, since most of her other ex-boyfriends or the people she had been involved with were tied to the fashion industry or partner businesses somehow.

Nanette refocused on work as they arrived at the first place to shoot, taking her first garment bag of five and heading into the changing tent, but she decided that she was going to do what she wanted and what she wanted was to trust Zach.

So she would.

A new influx of models had lightened the load of photo shoots distributed among everyone, nearly two weeks of long hours under scrutiny with tempers short and most of the newer girls struggling to adjust to the deficit meal plans, so Nanette was relieved that it was finally over. At least for a little bit, she had a week of a free schedule to adjust to her new suggested calorie allowance now that she was leaving swim wear for evening wear, Madame LeMarc had booked her for nearly a year’s worth of projects along with Monica Marquez and James Braxton; three of the most noteworthy rising designers for modern evening wear.

Gowns, jumpsuits, suits tailored for women, and even cocktail dresses were going to be what she wore for what she hoped was the rest of her career. Swim wear was well and good but working with Madeline was not only a style she was interested in modeling already but a means of being more noticeable to the industry eye. It was, in a way, a promotion and even though her mother and step-father had been more concerned over her calorie plan allowing for her to eat more in a day they had said they would be keeping Paris Fashion Week in their prayers for her future.

Just because she was allowed to eat more didn’t mean she would all the time, she was aware that she had to be careful with what freedoms she gave herself.

Nanette called Zach as soon as she was out of the agency doors, they’d spent the last twelve days with brief calls and numerous texts whenever she could sneak them in, and she was eager to finally see him again. He’d even surprised her by dropping by on set three times, arranging it through Harrison, with salads for the models and in return she was given an extra five to ten minutes to just sit with him and relax. Being able to spend more than fifteen minutes with him was a luxury she wasn’t giving up.

Not when she knew what she wanted. She had even gotten black lace lingerie, the redness from the recent waxing was gone, and she’d made sure to eat foods that wouldn’t make her look or feel bloated.

Louis had been surprised with her rather insistent checks on her measurements but promised her that nothing had changed.

Nanette wanted to be stunning for him, to be the only person he looked at and undressed with those big brown eyes of his.

She had to make it good for him, no matter what.

“Zach? Hey, I’m leaving now.” He had answered the phone after two rings, they’d agreed that she would spend the weekend with him at his place -Francesca had her boy something or other over and Nanette was tired of hearing them- so she had a large canvas tote with what she needed. Zach, who was at home already, sounded like he was bustling around the kitchen based on the sounds she could hear in the background. The reminder of what he was doing for her made her cheeks warm.

“Okay, Nanette, I could have come and gotten you-“

“I know but I’ll be fine, I promise, I’ve been using public transport for a decade.”

“Don’t mind me, just paranoia, and I’m just excited to see you.”

“I don’t blame you for wanting to keep me safe, Zach. Here’s my bus, I’ll be there soon!”

As she ended the call Nanette found a seat and put on her headphones, that way she could get away with ignoring people, and her eyes stayed on the scene of the city going by as she thought about what tonight would be. After a little prompting from Zach they had broached the topic of intimacy, with a promise of consent and careful handling, so Nanete was both nervous and excited. He’d reassured her over and over that nothing was wrong with her and that she could enjoy it, promising to help her do so, and that cruel dream she’d had of him before lingered in the back of her mind looking less like something to fear and more like something to hope.

Zach’s place was a separated house, a stone base and walkway with a light gray siding, she liked the pop of white from the window frames and the small awning; and Nanette was greeted by a freshly showered Zach after knocking. The white tank top he wore, combined with gray sweats, made her particularly warm in the cheeks as she followed him inside; and Zach had her set her things down in his room before she was following him to the dining room where he’d set out food.

“Frito pie, per the lady’s request.” His eyebrows wagged playfully and Nanette didn’t stop herself from capturing his cheeks and kissing him, earning a low groan as cupped her waist and smiled against her mouth. He had asked her what she wanted to eat as a celebration for her new meal plan and her week off so she’d picked another food that she’d heard most of her classmates mention as a kid, when he’d confessed to eating it often mixed in with other Mexican dishes that his Mama and her family made growing up Nanette had smiled fondly at the reminder that his family had given him something incredible in the form of recipes and hobbies.

After eating dinner Zach showed off his record collection and lured her into a dance, making her smile as they swayed together to more Bocelli, and Nanette was practically buzzing with anticipation. Zach smiled fondly and captured her lips in a soft kiss, making every part of her stand up at attention due to the sudden reminder of what was about to happen. Zach’s hands on her hips held her in place as he languidly explored her mouth, unhurried and unyielding to her own clumsy attempts at getting him off his feet and onto a bed or the couch.

He let his forehead rest against hers with a smile on his face that made her grip his biceps a little tighter, his breath was gentle and he seemed so put together while Nanette felt like she was ready to fall apart.

“You trust me? We’re going to do this at my pace, I want you so keyed up because you don’t know exactly when I’m going to give you what you need.” His voice was soft, a whisper of a promise -a threat maybe- that had her mouth going dry and that syrupy warmth of arousal starting to make its presence known. Nanette was nodding but the fact that he was going to make her wait left her buzzing with anticipation, and he proved that he wasn’t going to be hurried along as he instead gave her a tour of the house.

“This is what my employees so lovingly refer to as my fitness room.” The half finished basement was big and he had a stacking washer and dryer unit with a cabinet and folding station that took up the smallest corner of the space, a powder room, and the rest was laminate floors with some multifunction gym equipment and a hook for the sandbag he had currently not set up. Nanette found herself smiling at the more obviously used plates, even if he had four of each different weight, and Zach came up behind her and turned her head to showcase the large mirror that she’d missed.

His mouth was right next to her ear as he tilted his head down, watching her out of the corner of his eye as the hand not gently holding her chin skimmed down her back.

“Your posture is impressively perfect, though I want to see this back curved while I make you drip all over my equipment.” His voice was rasping already, the low volume and lower pitch of it making her shiver, and Nanette was ready to get down on her knees to beg this man to do something about the feeling pooling between her legs as she tried to alleviate some of it by pressing her legs together. He let her go and yet she felt the phantom warmth and weight of his fingertips resting just above the waistline of her pants, the spread of them along her lower back was a reminder of just how broad he was everywhere, and Nanette opened her mouth to protest but he silenced her with a much more intense kiss.

“Not yet, sweet thing, you’re not ready for me yet. Trust me.”

The next room was the home office, where he had a filing cabinet of important documents and all the things he needed for the diner, his desk was a thick dark stained wood with a comfortable looking leather chair, and Nanette suddenly felt her body responding as she saw herself being bent over that desk or even being under that desk while Zach was on a call. But Zach’s kiss to the side of her neck, the touch of his lips against her skin, made Nanette exhale louder than she intended as he hugged her from behind.

“Do you know how many times I’ve thought about having you sit on my desk with your legs spread so I could put my mouth on you until you begged me to stop?” His hands were pressing into her skin more insistently, his mouth opening to suck a wider area of skin in a way that she knew would leave marks on her neck, and Nanette reached one hand back to grip the back of his neck as she pressed her ass against the hard line of his cock now standing at full attention in his sweatpants.

“Tell me how many.” The words escaped her in a breathy plea, she felt powerful with the knowledge that Zach had sat here thinking about her, the usual nerves were still there but quieted by her willingness to trust that he would take care of her. That he could make her feel good during sex, that she wasn’t broken like she’d thought before.

“Every single time I’ve sat in that chair, Nanette.” His answer made her shiver before he was guiding her to the last door in the hall, skipping the open bathroom door and what she presumed was a closet, and she was right to think they’d reached his bedroom since her bag was set on the floor near the dresser. Zach tipped her head to the side and she moaned at the feeling of his teeth on her skin, not biting so hard that it hurt but with enough pressure that she couldn’t ignore the sensation.

“Do you want to know what I’m going to do to you?” The feeling of his fingers on the placket of her jeans made Nanette arch her back slightly, nodding as she tried to turn her head to look at him, but Zach kept his head close to hers so their cheeks touched as he undid the button on her pants. Nanette let out a soft whimper when his hand played with the band of the black lace she’d worn, not moving any further down, and the unfamiliar ache in her core was almost torture as he used his other hand to slide up her shirt across the bare skin of her torso before resting just below the curve of her breasts.

“I’m going to take this shirt and these pants off you, then I’m going to make you come on my fingers before I clean you up with my mouth, and you’re going to sit right here in my lap facing the mirror so you can watch my hands.” Zach knew she didn’t touch herself, it was a confession she’d whispered into his neck the morning after their first failed attempt at getting physical and he knew why, he’d admitted he didn’t quite understand the reasoning since his raising wasn’t as religious as hers but instead of shaming her he offered to teach her instead. Nanette realized belatedly, as he tugged off her blouse and jeans, that this was his lesson to teach her how to make herself orgasm.

Zach kissed her, his mouth somehow both firm and gentle, and Nanette turned in his hold to wrap her arms around his neck and cling to him; Zach’s body was so warm, his form so broad compared to hers that she felt surrounded but in a good way as one of his hands splayed across her back and the other cupped her ass in a way that made her wrap one of her legs around his thigh. He pressed that thick limb into her, making her grind against him, and Nanette’s moan was throaty in surprise at how good it felt. Zach grinned against her lips and began leaving a trail of kisses along her cheek as he helped her rock her hips against his leg.

“That’s it, that’s what I want to feel.” The hand on her back moved lower before he picked her up, her legs wrapping around him reflexively, and he sat down in the armchair that he must have moved from the corner of the room to the space in front of the mirror on the closet door. He turned her around in his arms and Nanette stared at her reflection, her hair was a mess and she was flushed down to her breasts with kiss swollen lips, and behind her Zach was staring at her with pupils blown wide enough that his eyes looked black in the light.

Nanette shivered when he parted her legs, hooking them over the arms of the chair, and she squirmed against the cock pressing into her lower back when his fingertips traced along the skin of her inner thigh. Swirling with no pattern or even any hurry, just gently touching her as he began to kiss the back of her neck and shoulders.

“Zach-“ His soft chuckle at her breathy whisper of his name silenced her, made her mouth dry and made her eyes close, but he stopped completely and tsk’ed softly.

“I want you to watch, Nanette. Can you do that for me?” Blinking to look, to see his fingers begin their motions once more, she felt an intense and sudden wave of nerves the closer he got to the black lace covering her. Zach used his other hand to free her lower lip from her teeth, eyes on her only, and Nanette shivered when he finally brushed his fingertips over her covered slit.

“You look unsure, do you want me to stop?” Zach pulled his lowest hand back and Nanette was left trembling at the loss.

“I don’t- I don’t know-“

“Is the mirror too much?”

Nanette stared back at his reflection, hands gripping the arms of the chair just above her legs like a lifeline, but it wasn’t the mirror that was making her nervous. Honestly she didn’t know why she was even nervous anymore, she trusted Zach and the fact that he’d even already been willing to stop was another sign that she could trust him.

“No, it’s not the mirror. I don’t even know why I’m so nervous-“

“You’re used to this hurting, Nanette, and if you need me to stop I will.”

Maybe it was his gentle reassurances or the fact that he was willing to put her comfort above his pleasure but Nanette took his hand and made him cup all of her, his hand was so big and she wanted him to teach her how to feel pleasure -how to feel normal- and Zach kept his eyes on her as she wiggled her hips in his lap.

“No, please don’t stop, I want this- I do.”

His expression was so gentle compared to the hardness of him against her body, the feeling of his warm hand where she left it, and Zach finally nodded before dragging his fingertips up over the lace fabric and swirling them over where she was the most sensitive. The hand he had on her chin stayed where it was, allowing her to dip her head a little and swirl her tongue around his fingers, Zach groaned before he was trading hands so that the now wet digits were pressing gently against the lace. Nanette jerked her hips when he pressed firmer against her, the texture of the lace against her core making her whine, and his answering sigh made her eyelids flutter.

But Zach continued to watch her, and in turn make her watch him, as he finally slipped the lace aside and put his hands on her bare; the feeling made her gasp but watching the way his fingertips began to glisten from her own slick made Nanette’s body clench in excitement as her grip on the chair arms tightened. Zach slipped one finger up to the bundle of nerves that she’d only ever touched once and it was like fireworks erupted across her skin, her hips jerking against his hand and a soft cry escaping her before she could stop it.

“Fuck, you’re so worked up already, do you see how wet you are?” He didn’t give her a choice to see anything but when he pulled his hand up to showcase the shine on his fingers, her eyes dropping to where she felt like she was leaking with how turned on she was.

“Please- please stop teasing me.” There was no fear or anxiety left, washed away like a tide with Zach’s gentle touches and careful handling, and he hadn’t even actually fucked her yet. Nanette was desperate to feel him, all of him, but Zach didn’t give her the option. He moved his slick fingers back to her body but this time one of them brushed against her opening, the muscles tightening in anticipation, and Nanette found herself exhaling a throaty moan as his finger pressed into her.

“I’m going to have to make you come a few times, Nanette, you’re so tight. Play with your pretty nipples for me?” He sounded wrecked just having her like this and she obliged with a nod as she brought one hand up to circle her own nipple playfully, the rosy bud sensitive and hardening under her touch and only just barely visible under the black lace, but the sound that Zach made was what made her hips roll slightly and press her body more against his unmoving hand. The sensation left her breathless, keening into the room, and Zach’s groan into her ear was loud and she swore she could feel his cock throbbing against her lower back.

“Please-“ Nanette’s attempt at begging wasn’t needed, Zach drew his finger back before slowly pressing into her again, and his unhurried touch made her legs shake. It was near impossible to watch still, head leaned back and trying to watch the way his finger disappeared into her, and Nanette kept her eyes on the sight to avoid looking at the rest of her reflection. It was enough to make her clench down on him, the discomfort of the intrusion gone, and Zach’s thumb slipped up through her wetness to circle her clit. It was all that she needed in that moment for her body to lock down, for every nerve ending to fire off, and she was shaking with heaving breaths as she tried to move.

“Don’t run from it, let go, give it to me Nanette. Let me feel you come.” Zach’s voice was tight and low and gravelly in a way that shot right to her core, she wailed her release to the room as she tried to shift and roll her hips, and only when she was left panting and trembling did he stop moving entirely. Nanette went limp against his body as the warmth of what happened worked through her, and she met Zach’s eyes in the mirror as she swallowed thickly and tried to catch her breath.

“That was- that felt- I’ve never had that happen by someone else.” Only ever in wet dreams had she gotten this feeling, this floating syrupy pleasure that made her lax and pliant, and Zach turned her head so he could kiss her gently before pulling his fingers free to get her onto his bed. The pillowy mattress was soft and having him straddle her with his body, elbows on the bed on either side of her head as he engulfed her mouth with his, all of it made her happy.

She felt safe.

She felt precious.

But her boyfriend wasn’t done, he moved down her body and left a trail of kisses and even light marks in his wake, and she hoped they didn’t go away by morning; she wanted to trace them like a constellation in her reflection and wear them for him to see. Zach’s tongue swirled around her belly button, earning a giggle from her, before he was dragging his nose against her inner thigh watching her watch him as he pulled her lace panties down her leg. One corner of his mouth lifted into a smirk and she was ready to protest when his warm tongue dragged through her slit, like he was licking an ice lolly, but when his tongue circled her clit she jerked hard from how sensitive she still was.

Zach moved lower with his mouth and Nanette’s surprised moan as he dipped his tongue into her was loud, as he circled her opening with the wet muscle before dragging the flat of it against her she gripped the sheets like a lifeline, and he avoided touching her clit as he tormented her with his tongue instead. This time he didn’t stop when she rocked her hips, when she tried to chase the spine tingling warmth, and Nanette nearly shrieked when he pushed one of her legs up by the back of the knee in a move that gave him better access to her pussy.

His deep groan when he drew back, his breaths heavy enough that she felt them against her wetness, all of it made her feel like she was going to astral project out of her own body. Nobody had ever devoted this much care to her pleasure, this much time, and when he slid two of his thick fingers into her body Nanette welcomed the feeling with a throaty cry of his name before rocking hard onto him as his tongue lapped at the slick that was squelching around where they were joined. His fingers crooked slightly, finding something that made her thighs tense up, and she bowed her back in response to the lightning strike of an orgasm that was ripped out of her.

Zach looked up at her after she managed to catch her breath, he’d sucked a dark mark onto her inner thigh as she blinked away stars, and Nanette captured his face in her hands and practically dragged him up her body to kiss him. The taste of her on his tongue wasn’t unpleasant and she knew that her wet center was going to dampen his sweats but she didn’t care, his soft hair under her fingers and the feeling of his mouth moving with hers was only keeping her hovering on that precipice of being ready for more.

A little bit of angling allowed her to push at his sweats and boxers and Zach chuckled against her mouth before sitting up and pulling his shirt off, he wasn’t completely muscular but he was on the slimmer side and soft and Nanette couldn’t help but reach out to explore the planes of his chest. He was trembling under her inspection as he held the waistband of his pants in place, eyes dark and pupils blown wide, and Nanette leaned back before shimmying up the bed more so she was able to rest her head on his pillows after getting rid of her bra. Zach stood up and she watched him get rid of his clothes, his cock was standing at attention and the head was smeared with precum, the wet spot on his sweats was definitely hers but she was proud that she’d made him make a mess of his boxers.

“Remember, tell me if its too much.” Zach grabbed a condom and she watched him as he put it on, the movement clumsy under her gaze and it made her smile, and he hummed as he pulled out a small bottle that she realized was lube. He was generous with how much he used, the rest that was smeared on his hand carelessly wiped on his discarded pants, and the haste was gone as he moved to straddle her again. Zach’s weight settled on her as one of his arms slid under her back to cup the back of her neck, the other holding himself off her enough that he didn’t put all his weight onto her, and she immediately moved one of her legs over his hip as he ran the underside of his cock against her folds.

His girth was more than what she’d ever taken before, the stretch of just the head of him making her grip his shoulders as he watched her for any signs of discomfort. But Nanette wasn’t uncomfortable, she was impatient, and she used her leg for leverage to push herself onto him more and Zach let out a soft sigh as he pressed his forehead to hers and filled her with one slow stroke. It didn’t hurt, the stretch of him made her feel full without that burning ache, and Nanette’s eyes watered from the overwhelming relief that rose up ion her.

“It- it doesn’t hurt, it actually feels good-“ Zach captured her mouth with his, the languid kiss accompanied by the slow roll of his hips, and Nanette let him lead the pace. The slow thrusts and deep kisses, the feeling of his body encasing hers and the smell of his natural body mixed with the musky scent of sex were forever marked into her memories. The hand under her moved to press into her lower back, shifting the angle of his thrusts, and Nanette’s head dropped back with a higher toned sigh as the coarse hairs at the back of his cock caught the bundle of sensitive nerves before he angled her just a bit more so that each stroke reached everywhere.

“I’m going to-“

“I feel it, give it to me Nanette.” Zach’s mouth left a scorching trail of love bites down her neck and she surrendered to it as he breathed in the skin of her neck, the tight clench of her making him shudder as his pace turned frantic for a few strokes before he was left shuddering and moaning into her skin. They laid there for a minute, breathing each other in, and only after trading another languid kiss did he carefully pull out.

“I’m going to get something to clean you up.” Zach disappeared to the bathroom and Nanette stared at his ceiling as the spots in her vision began to disappear. Everything in her body felt loose and light and she felt free, she felt like all the worry and nerves and anxiety were finally just gone, and Zach returned in time for the tears to finally spill over.

“What’s wrong, did I hurt you?”

“No, no- I’m so relieved. I thought- I thought I was messed up somehow and now I- thank you Zach.”

His eyes were soft and the warm, damp, rag was gentle as he cleaned her wordlessly; he waited until he came back, discarded clothes in the hamper now, and Zach pulled the comforter and sheet over them as he pulled her into his arms and just held her. Nanette traced the freckles on his chest with one fingertip, tears slowing as she mapped out the little marks on him, and she peeked up at his face.

“Can we- can we go exclusive?” The soft question felt heavy but she wanted to make sure that she knew where they stood.

“You beat me to asking, I was going to bring it up over breakfast. Yes, Nanette, I want to be exclusively yours.” The fact that he was calling himself hers without referring to her as his made her cheeks warm and Nanette kissed him again with a silent promise that she’d make sure that Zach never had any reason to worry about their relationship. That he would never have to doubt where her affections lay.

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#chaoticwrites #zach wellison x ofc #you're so classic #tw eating disorders #tw ed #tw abuse mention #tw bdd #minors dni

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