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walkerismychoice · 3 years

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Queen of My Heart - Chapter 36

Book: The Royal Romance

Pairing: Drake X MC, Liam X Olivia, Hana X OC Lydia

Rating: NSFW (I didn’t intend it but it just happened

Summary: Liam finally clears the air with Constantine, and we go to the Fire and Ice Ball at Lythikos, the final social season even before Liam chooses his future Queen.

A/N: Umm, I don’t even want to know how many years it’s been since I updated, but it is with the encouragement of you readers that I was compelled to finish. My tag list is probably way outdated and I’m sure I’ve missed some poeple who’ve asked to be tagged along the way. Feel free to let me know either way if you want to be tagged or removed from the list.

Tag List: @khakie4 @dreadpirateemma @ritachacha @blackcoffee85 @choices-fanatic @boneandfur @butindeed @simplyaiden-blog @bobasheebaby @traeumerinsworld @theroyalweisme @umccall71 @lizeboredom @debramcg1106 @enmchoices @jadedpixiescribbles @withice @viktoriapetit @mfackenthal @drakesfiance @drakelover78 @speedyoperarascalparty @silviasutton1989 @krisnicjack @devineinterventions2 @choiceswreckedme @notoriouscs @blackcatkita @hamalu @akrenich @drakewalkerfantasy @jamielea81 @andy-loves-corgis @jlouise88 @jovialyouthmusic @sleepwalkingelite @i-miss-trr @dragonball-luver @gkittylove99 @lovingchoices14

Word Count: 2861

Queen of My Heart Chapter Index

“Hello, Father.” Liam greeted Constantine as he walked into the hospital room. He noted the King's color was back to normal and he seemed in good spirits.

"My son, I knew you'd come!" Constantine reached towards Liam with arms outstretched.

Liam just shook his head and held up a hand to stop him. "This is not that kind of visit. I'm here because I know... I know everything."

"What-" Constantine choked out before a coughing fit ensued.

Liam fought the instinctual urge to comfort his father. "Enough with the theatrics. I know about Madeleine...about you threatening the show if they didn't help her win...as if me choosing the woman I plan to spend my life with is some political game to be won."

"How did you find out? I gave strict orders that my demands were confidential."

Liam scoffed. "Seriously? I just told you I found out you tried to have the producers manipulate me into marrying a woman I don't love, and that's all you had to say for yourself?"

"You have to understand," Constantine pleaded. "Madeleine is what's best for Cordonia, and what's best for Cordonia is what's best for you."

"Unbelievable!" Liam felt the anger rising in his chest like a simmering pot ready to boil over. "You may have told yourself that to feel better about choosing your commitments to Cordonia over happiness, love, family... Maybe you’ve lied to yourself for so long you’ve actually started to believe it, but it's one hundred percent bullshit. I know I'll be a more effective leader if I get to choose the woman I want by my side, and that woman is Olivia."

Constantine's jaw dropped and there was a long pause before he gained his composure to protest. "Absolutely not. You know her family's history. I'd rather have you on the same page as me, but I am still King-"

"Save your breath," Liam shut him down. "You should know that your perfect candidate Madeleine has displayed some behavior quite unbecoming of a future queen, and it is all on film. I know Cordonians are generally flexible with their views on monogamy, but I don't think Madeleine sleeping with the host of the show while she's trying to compete for my affection will look good in anyone's eyes. She has been eliminated from the show and is no longer in the running. That leaves only Riley aside from Olivia, and I know you know what's going on there."

Constantine's face fell momentarily in resignation, but then he perked back up again. "Well, then you can bring back someone else. Kiara is quite lovely and is fit to play the part."

"Enough!" Liam practically shouted much too loud for the thin hospital walls. "Not that I owe you an explanation, but Olivia is stronger, smarter, and more capable of ruling a country than anyone you could hope to pair with me. You seem to forget that I am the son who stuck by you and am now the rightful and only heir to the throne. Your reign is coming to an end, and you have no choice but to accept my decision."

Unexpectedly, Constantine's demeanor changed, a sly grin creeping across his face. "My boy, I've always been a bit worried you were too soft to be king. However, seeing you stand up for yourself today gives me hope. I still don't approve of your choice, but I will no longer stand in your way."

Liam shook his head and let out an incredulous laugh, reeling from Constantine’s sudden change of course. "Bastien will take you back to the palace. We can talk more when I know it's not just the medicine that's gotten to your head."

-----

“Well, this place certainly explains a lot about Olivia.” Riley mused aloud as she scanned the ballroom. Ornate floor to ceiling windows with deep alcoves were surrounded by walls with intricate, gilded accents leading up to a hand-painted ceiling measuring at least 3 stories high. The grandeur of the space was both intimidating and beautiful at the same time, much like its owner.

“Has she shown you all the toys in her armory yet? That too says a lot about Olivia," Drake chuckled at his own joke.

Riley laughed along. “No, but she does constantly remind me she keeps a dagger hidden under her skirt. Are you sure Liam knows what he’s in for?”

"Heh. Better him than me, that's for sure. Liam's warm and fuzzy exterior can make him seem like a pushover, but he can hold his own when it matters. Olivia needs someone who can roll with her mood swings but still call her on her bullshit when needed."

"You know, I admit I had a little trouble wrapping my brain around Liam choosing Olivia, but when you put it that way, it makes sense. Now I suppose I need to find Kat so I can figure out if I need to dance with Liam or something. Ugh, I cannot wait until all these balls are over.

Drake almost doubled over laughing. "Oh, Bennett, I hate to break it to you, but this shit never ends. Next will be the coronation, then some charity gala, Liam's wedding...the list goes on. Welcome to your life as a noble woman."

Riley stared ahead blankly as a giant wave of realization washed over her. It was all so much, so fast. She'd never had time to think past the next day to consider this was all ending soon, and then what? Did she stay with her new-found family and live this life that was still foreign to her in so many ways? What about her life in New York? Sure, she didn't have much going on at the moment, but she still had her aunt Susan and best friend Sarah along with some good friends at work like Daniel. Becoming a therapist was still one of her goals, at least it was until the day she left for Cordonia. Now everything was so unclear, and she could hardly breathe.

Drake must have noticed her face looking some kind of way because he placed a hand on the small of her back and guided her to an open doorway to a nearby balcony. "Why don't we get you some air before you go off and do your thing for the show?"

Once outside and around the corner of the wraparound balcony, Drake pulled Riley into his chest, holding her securely, and she was almost instantly calmed. All the what-ifs fell away, and it was just them. All she needed was the be with him, wherever that turned out to be, and everything else would fall into place.

But what if Drake didn't quite feel the same? They'd been talking as if they'd be together indefinitely, but in reality, they'd only known each other two months. The anxious fluttering in her chest started up again.

Drake pulled back to look her in the eyes. "Riley, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to upset you. You know, we're both still half American. We can move back to the states....or uh, I mean you can move back to the states if that's what you want." His eyes darted bashfully to the ground.

Riley's face lit up, the nervous thumping in her chest giving way to excited butterflies. "I like the sound of 'we' better if that's what you really meant. You'd really move back to the U.S. with me? I mean I've hardly had the chance to think about what I want, so that may be irrelevant, but you seriously see a future with me?"

"I do." Drake smiled earnestly. "I'm sure anyone who knows me will think I've gone mad, but whether it means being in New York City and putting up with cramped apartments and way too many people, living a quieter, simple life in Texas, or stealing moments away at dreadful Cordonian events such as this, I know we can make our own happiness...together."

"Wow, the Drake Walker I met two months ago would not believe what's coming out of your mouth right now." Riley touched the back of her hand to Drake's forehead in jest. "Are you sure you aren't running a fever?"

"Haha, very funny." Drake swiftly but gently pushed Riley back again the stone wall. "I'm not feeling ill, but I know how to make your temperature rise.

"You pushing me against duchy walls is becoming a thing, huh? Must have really enjoyed the almost public sex last time."

"Possibly," Drake teased as he slipped his hand through the side-slit in her icy-blue gown, gently gliding his fingers up her thigh. Riley braced herself as Drake neared the place she wanted him the most. Goosebumps gave way to a burning need before she remembered where they were.

"Wait." She pushed a hand against his chest. "We're not exactly alone here, and we've gone to such lengths to keep this under wraps. Someone could walk out here at any moment."

Drake shrugged. "I know it may be a bit reckless, but honestly at this point, I don't care. I just want you."

Riley opened her mouth to protest but nothing came out before Drake swooped in for a searing kiss. She instantly melted into him, Drake continuing his earlier action and deftly plunging two fingers inside her, his eyes widening slightly in surprise when he noticed there was no fabric barrier to work around. A strangled moan escaped Riley's throat as he stroked the exact spot he knew always left her at his mercy.

Drake pulled back with a satisfied grin. "Do you want me to stop? Just say the word and we'll go back in right now."

Instead of answering, Riley yanked him by the collar and crushed her lips to his. Drake responded by hoisting her up and over to the balcony. He perched her atop the railing, one hand grasped firmly around her waist and the other making quick work of undoing his pants.

Teetering on the narrow ledge two stories high, Riley clamped her hand tightly to the railing on either side of her and Drake noticed. "I've got you Bennett, no need to worry. I won't let anything happen to you. I'm just doing my job after all," he said with a smirk.

She smiled at his reference to what was now an inside joke between them. But all joking aside, he always made her feel safe. She released her grip, flinging her arms around his neck and her legs around his waist.

Drake eased his cock free and Riley could tell how hard he was just by sight, the skin stretched taught from his perfect proportion of thickness and length. He lifted her dress and she couldn't wait any longer. She pulled him in and he took the invitation to thrust inside her. Even as wet was she was, his size created just the right amount of fullness and friction to take her breath away.

Riley moaned and gasped with each thrust, which in turn seemed to turn Drake on even more. The thrill of being up so high with nothing but him to hold her only added to her excitement and when he began rubbing circles over her clit with his thumb that was all it took to push her figuratively over the edge. She tightened around him everywhere, her orgasm eliciting immense heat and pleasure with every pulse, resulting in Drake picking up his pace until his own release followed shortly thereafter.

Drake carefully set Riley down before putting himself back together. "I'm almost a little disappointed we didn't nearly get caught this time."

"If I don't get back in there immediately, that's still a possibility." Riley had no idea how much time had passed but it was probably more than she thought. "Fuck, Kat is going to be pissed." Riley straightened her skirt and started towards the ballroom door.

"Wait!" Drake puller her in for a quick kiss. "I love you. Just so you don't forget."

Riley rolled her eyes but smiled. "You know you have nothing to worry about. If Liam's charms haven't wooed me yet, I think you’re safe. But I love you too. Now go do your job." She smacked him on the ass before hustling back to the ballroom, Drake following shortly thereafter.

As expected, Kat was frantic when Riley found her. “Where the fuck were you? You were supposed to meet up with me twenty minutes ago?”

Overhearing Riley’s scolding, Olivia smugly sidled up next to them. “I mean, I didn’t mind getting extra time with Liam, but you know Jo and Kat and there ‘ratings’, Olivia said while gesturing with air quotes. She scanned Riley from head to toe and then glanced over to Drake on the perimeter. “Ugh, I can tell you exactly what, or rather who she was doing. Gross. I guess that just makes my position more secure, but really, couldn’t you have waited until after my ball to fuck him?”

Riley sheepishly smoothed her hair and adjusted her dress. “I just needed some air, that’s all. I was having a moment.”

Olivia scoffed and rolled her eyes. “Whatever you want to call it. Although I still cannot fathom why you chose Drake, I suppose I should be a little easier on you for eliminating yourself from the competition and allowing Liam to break free of his distraction of the shiny new object.”

“Aww, Olivia, that’s so sweet. Next thing you know we’ll be best friends,” Riley replied sarcastically.

“I don’t know about friends...but I do dislike you less than the rest of them.” Olivia tried and failed to hold back a smile.

“I’ll take it,” Riley said with a laugh before turning to Jo. “Okay, now tell me where I need to be.”

Jo set Riley up with Liam on the dance floor. It still wasn’t hard to pretend to be into Liam because it wasn’t all pretend, but there was no lingering pining between them.

“Well, I spoke to my father this morning.” Liam spun Riley around and brought her back to face him.

“Finally!” Riley exclaimed. “How did that go?”

“I’m still trying to wrap my head around it to be completely honest, but it went surprisingly well. I told him I knew everything, and he no longer had a say in my decision. He tried to argue with me at first, but somehow something I said made him respect me. He still may not agree with my choice, but I think this is finally all over! I am free to choose who I want without any threat or blackmail hanging over my head.

Riley pulled Liam in and hugged him tightly. “That’s amazing! I’m so happy for you, and for all of us.” The weight on Riley’s shoulders was suddenly ten times lighter. She hadn’t let herself think too deeply about how much was at stake, but now that the air was clear, she realized how stressed she had been. “Now all that’s left is for you to tear my heart to pieces on national television, and you get your fairy tale ending.”

Liam chuckled. “I’ll try to let you down easy.”

-----

Drake stood in his usual position off the side of the dance floor. This may not be the last of these events he’d have to endure, but at least it should be the last time he’d have to stand on the sidelines watching Riley dance with someone else. He was secure in what they had, but it still didn’t stop that twinge of jealously seeing her and Liam together talking, touching, and having fun. But it wasn’t a bad thing that his best friend and girlfriend get along so well. Girlfriend...that’s the first time he’d used that term for anyone he’d “dated”, even if only in his head. It was hard to believe everything was falling into place.

Drake took his eyes off Riley to scan the perimeter. What he saw didn’t immediately register as out of the ordinary, but then he quickly recalled this person walking towards the dance floor wasn’t supposed to be there.

“Bastien, check out three o’clock.” Drake altered Bastien via his radio earpiece. “How did she get in here without security clearance?”

“I don’t know.” Bastien replied. “I’ll check with the other guys to see who let her in. Keep an eye on her.”

Drake watched in concern as Madeleine marched towards the dance floor. She’d been banned from the rest of filmed events after her stunt. Not wanting to let her cause a scene, Drake was about to stop her from getting any closer, when she pulled out an unmistakable object. She had a gun and it was pointed right at Riley and Liam.

Before Drake could alert the rest of the team, people started to scatter. He heard a familiar click and knew he had to disarm Madeleine immediately, but it was too late. A shot went off and he didn’t hesitate. Drake dove between the bullet and his two best friends on the dance floor, and that would be the last thing he remembered before he hit the floor.

#QOMH #TRR #drake x mc #ns*fw #playchoices fanfiction #the royal romance #my fic

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lochrannn · 3 years

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Warnings: Sexual Content (M Rating)

Characters: Lila Pitts; Diego Hargreeves; Allison Hargreeves; Klaus Hargreeves; Hargreeves Siblings (background)

Relationship: Lila Pitts/Diego Hargreeves

Roommates AU; Fake Marriage; Slow Burn; Mutual Pining; Emotional H/C

Chapter 7/9

Leaving his apartment actually helps.

Diego’s not sure how long he’s been out but he thinks he spent at least thirty minutes at an all out run and he’s out of breath and his muscles are burning pleasingly, but he feels a lot more settled and about ready for sleep as he jogs back towards his bed.

He’s just passing a children’s playground when he spots a figure through the chain link fence sitting on one of the swings, gently swaying back and forth.

“Fuck!” he says out loud and then makes his way over.

“Oh hey!” says Lila with mild enthusiasm when she finally looks up at him as he’s just arriving right in front of her.

Diego’s heart is beating in his throat at the realization that she didn’t even notice him approaching and he could have been anybody. This may not be an incredibly dangerous neighborhood, but it is three in the morning, she’s a woman sitting all on her own in a dark and secluded playground, and he doesn’t actually need to be a detective to work out that she’s completely shitfaced.

Diego tries to reign in the anger that is usually his initial response to intense worry and fear. She’s a grown woman and she’s entitled to make her own bad decisions, and he’s overstepped on this sort of thing with her before, but when she just slowly blinks at him and then looks back down at the bottle of champagne that she’s loosely holding in the hand that’s not gripping on to the swing’s chain, barely keeping herself upright, Diego asks, in a tone that’s meant to be even but comes out pretty tetchy even to his own ears, “What are you doing out here?”

“Oh, you know, I got married today… just celebrating on my own, I guess,” Lila answers, lifting her bottle a little in explanation, but not looking up at him again. She’s doing a remarkable job of not slurring her words, he’ll give her that, but they do come out a little too slowly, far too deliberate, which confirms his suspicion that she is definitely pretty drunk.

“Uh huh…” Diego responds. He’s completely uncertain of what to make of the mood she’s in. The fact that her response to getting married to him is to completely numb herself with champagne certainly gives him pause, but he swallows down the lump in his throat, now’s not the time to wallow, and instead he asks, “D’you think you might wanna do that back home instead of out here in a fucking playground?”

Lila looks up at him with an odd clarity to her for a second before she takes a swig from her mostly empty bottle and says, “Nah, I’m good!”

Diego can’t suppress the noise of frustration that escapes him. “Lila! I’m not leaving you here all on your own in the middle of the god forsaken night! You’re gonna get robbed or murdered and then they’re gonna suspect me of marrying and then killing you for your money, and I really can’t afford to go to jail right now, so come the fuck back home with me!”

“Pfff, stop being so overdramatic, Diego, I’m not going to get murdered. And I’m not going anywhere in these heels, I tell you, I’ll just sleep here on this swing!” She closes her eyes and then wobbles precariously as she presses her face against the chain holding one side of the swing up.

Diego is very rapidly losing what is left of his patience.

“Also, may I point out,” Lila mumbles in her drowsy state, “that you did in fact marry me for my money— eeeeeeh!” she squeals, as Diego lifts her up – one arm behind her shoulders, the other behind her knees. Her bottle clatters to the ground and starts spilling the remaining champagne, and somewhere at the back of his brain Diego thinks he probably shouldn’t leave it lying around on a playground, but at the same time he’s also dealing with an armful of slightly flailing, very indignant fake wife (he knows intellectually that she’s not his fake wife, but his actual wife, but Diego can’t think too hard about that, because it causes all sorts of tumultuous feelings to twist in his gut).

Though Lila immediately wrapps her arms around his neck, she’s clearly not particularly pleased because she begins to argue as Diego starts making his way out of the playground, “What the fuck do you think you’re doing?”

“I’m taking you home,” Diego growls, trudging along the sidewalk, a little amazed at how easy Lila is to carry. She’s almost larger than life so much of the time and even when they’d slept together, she gave as good as she got, Diego has up until this moment forgotten just how tiny she is, and his heart almost stops again at how vulnerable she was, what could have happened to her if he hadn’t come across her completely by accident. Diego sucks in a breath to try and calm the sudden wash of useless fear.

“That’s quite presumptuous!” Lila retorts, and Diego doesn’t need to look at her to know there’s an annoyed line between her eyebrows. In fact, he doesn’t think he can even look at her right now, not with the way her face is currently only inches away from his.

“We’re literally fucking married, Lila!” he scoffs. He’s not sure why he says it, but Diego thinks he might be going slightly insane with the whole situation.

“And you think that entitles you to something, now?” Lila asks in genuine disbelief and Diego suddenly feels way too exhausted for this conversation. “Yeah, I think it entitles me to making sure you don’t die of hypothermia, alcohol poisoning, or murder!”

There’s a long pause and then Lila grumbles, “Whatever,” and leans against his shoulder, apparently also overcome by tiredness.

And Diego is overwhelmed at how quickly his anger at her reckless and bratty behavior dissipates and is replaced with a much sharper feeling that digs its way almost painfully into his chest, when Lila tucks her face into the crook of his neck and promptly falls asleep.

Lila is almost completely still as he carries her back home and it gives his overwrought and exhausted brain time to contemplate how unhappy she seems to be with the situation and how that makes him feel in turn, and on top of that he even manages to feel a little guilty about the fact that the feeling of her warmth and weight against him does significantly settle his nerves, despite himself.

Diego’s always known that he’s not great with feelings. He usually feels too much of them and is never quite able to tell the people around him what that means and so he’s gotten quite used to not doing so. And even though earlier he contemplated telling Lilla, he realizes he can’t add another burden to the pile of shit she’s dealing with, especially not while she’s struggling to stay in the country of her choice and has to rely on him for her only solution.

Carrying Lila becomes a little bit difficult when Diego tries to unlock the front door. He ends up jostling her, attempting to wiggle the key into the lock with the hand that’s also holding on to her knees and Lila stirs but doesn’t wake fully, just snuffles adorably and cuddles closer to him, arms tightening in some kind of reflex to stop herself from falling.

Diego tries to concentrate on anything else, getting the door open, not slamming it, when closing it, because his neighbors would probably not appreciate the noise in the early hours of the morning, and then he makes his way straight towards her room so he can put her down on her bed.

He sets her down gently and then struggles to find the will to pull her arms away from his neck so for only a moment he allows himself to sit down on the bed with her and very gently put his arms around her in a hug. He’s not sure whether it’s to comfort Lila or himself.

“See, had no trouble getting home!” Lila mumbles into his neck and Diego scoffs at that, but it’s more out of genuine amusement than derision and he gives her one last squeeze before letting go and laying her against the bed gently. This time around Lila does let go and immediately buries her face into the pillow, and though her face scrunches up and he knows it’s only a matter of minutes before she’ll start drooling onto the covers with the way her mouth is half open, he can’t help thinking that she does look absolutely breathtaking.

Diego makes sure that her short red dress hasn’t ridden up her thigh indecently high and then gets to work on her sandals. Once he’s got them off, he finds a blanket on a small armchair in the corner of the room and covers Lila with it as she’s lying on top of her sheets and is fast asleep again, so he doesn’t want to wake her.

When he leaves her to it and closes the door behind him with a soft click, hoping to at least get a couple of hours of sleep himself before he has to get up for work later in the morning again, Diego lets out a long breath. He tries to convince himself that maybe it will take a few weeks, but he can get over this, get over Lila, but a niggling voice at the back of his mind points out that he’s never felt a sense of devotion for anyone quite like this before and that he is quite certainly in much bigger trouble than he’s letting himself believe.

Lila gets the hangover she deserves after drinking a bottle and a half of champagne, but is, unfortunately, not granted the luxury of forgetting what she got up to.

She remembers her evening and her night in vivid detail but from a perspective of a powerless operator, sitting somewhere in her skull, able to look out of her eyes and watch herself make an absolute nuisance of herself, but unable at the time to do anything about it.

She remembers feeling sorry for herself because she was in this situation in the first place, a thirty year old trust fund baby with no perspective in life, no family to speak of and while other women her age nave their lives together and are getting married and having babies, she just paid her roommate who she also happens to have a pretty bad crush on – no point in trying to kid herself about that anymore – to marry her for a green card. What a fuck up she truly is.

And then, wallowing in her misery as a selfish part of her even felt angry with Diego for just abandoning her on their wedding day – what a silly notion, seeing as this is a business arrangement between the two of them – she went out to buy some dinner for herself and instead brought home two bottles of champagne “to celebrate”, started dancing around to sad music the more intoxicated she got, and in the end feeling like she had to leave the flat or she would go absolutely stir crazy.

She obviously didn’t get very far, and she has no sense of how much time she spent sitting on that swing before Diego came to get her.

Lila feels desperately embarrassed. He must be so annoyed with her and thanking his lucky stars that he’s only married to her for the money and not actually stuck with the a fuck up like her. She could tell he tried to remain civil with her last night, mostly even indulging her, but he was clearly angry and she’d only goaded him further, out of some sense of righteous annoyance of her own. But in hindsight, she can’t blame him, he’s honestly been trying his best with her, gone above and beyond to support her efforts for a visa, and she can’t even keep it together for a single day.

Well, at least he’ll get a break from her, Lila muses as she pulls her cover over her head, trying to block out the little bit of light that’s filtering in through her curtains, because there’s no way she’s going to face him in this state. But once she’s recovered, feels a bit more like a human again, she’ll apologise and make sure he understands just how grateful she is for his help. It’s not his fault she’s developed some distracting feelings for him and he certainly doesn’t deserve her anger and frustration for not reciprocating feelings he knows absolutely nothing about.

And so Lila spends her day in bed, drifting in and out of sleep, half imagining and half dreaming about strong arms holding her close to a solid, warm body, and soft lips pressing gentle kisses to the spot just behind her ear.

A day and a half later they meet in the kitchen and it’s predictably awkward.

Lila tries to apologise for her behaviour but Diego just waves it away, says he understands that she’s having a hard time, and though that’s not quite what she wanted to say and part of her thinks he deserves a real apology, she also doesn’t particularly enjoy reflecting on her own behaviour and jumps at the opportunity to move on when Diego promptly changes the subject.

“I talked to a friend at my gym, Rodriguez. His wife isn’t a citizen either and he gave me some tips for the visa process,” Diego explains.

“Oh yeah?” Lila’s interest is piqued, because she still hasn’t quite worked out what that whole interview thing entails and she’s finally getting an inkling that Diego didn’t actually know much more beyond the fact that there is an interview.

“Yeah! So, he said it’s different for everybody but that he’d talk to his wife and they’d put a list together of the questions they remembered being asked. He said some of them were…” Diego looks down at the counter and starts scraping off an imaginary bit of dirt with his finger nail, “a bit personal… So, uhm, we’re gonna have to prepare for those.”

“I think we already did...” Lila mumbles under her breath.

“What was that?” Diego asks.

“Eh, nothing!” she rushes out, she didn’t actually mean to say that out loud even if he couldn’t hear her. “So, interview, okay, what else?”

“Yeah, uh, Rodriguez said this doesn’t happen too often and it didn’t happen to them, but there is a chance of an agent coming to inspect our apartment unannounced, so I thought maybe we should move some things around. You know, bring some of your things into my room, put some clothes of mine into your closet, just make sure it doesn’t look like we live in separate rooms. We can always say we’re keeping yours for guests,” Diego explains with a shrug.

“Okay, yeah, that sounds sensible,” Lila muses and starts worrying the nail on her thumb between her teeth because despite the fact that Diego seems to have a pretty decent handle on the situation, the whole idea of the interview process is making her nervous.

“You’re not really into this, are you?” Diego asks tentatively, and when Lila looks up at him his expression is one of concern, eyebrows drawn together, he’s lowered his head to try and get closer to level with her, and for a moment the tenderness in his eyes leaves her speechless.

“Yeah, I get it!” he goes on and then smiles slightly, “Hey, what are you doing the day after tomorrow? Are you working?” he asks.

“Uh, no?” Lila answers, hesitating a bit because the sudden change of the subject has her somewhat confused.

“I thought maybe we could take a drive to the shore, bring Ben’s camera and fill the film with some honeymoon photos. It’ll be too cold to go swimming, but the forecast seems like it should be pretty mild and sunny.” Diego suggests and, it seems without thinking, he reaches out and just very gently pulls on her wrist, so she stops biting her nail and instead lets her hand drop uselessly to her side.

“Yeah, okay…” Lila answers. She’s not sure why she’s not that enthusiastic about the idea. It’s not that she thinks she wouldn’t have a great time, in fact she thinks it could be kind of wonderful, spending a day driving to the seaside with Diego and taking a walk along the beach, maybe getting some ice cream. She wonders to herself whether the pang in her belly comes from the fact that actually she’d love a beach date with Diego, only she desperately wishes it wasn’t fake.

#otp: just be gentle #lila pitts #diego hargreeves #dielila #diego x lila #diego/lila #tua #the umbrella academy #fanfic #ongoing fic

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askovertherainbowblog · 5 years

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*NOTE: This is a 100% trans inclusive blog. The above chart reads “LGB” because its focus is on orientation.

Hello munchkins. Let’s get on the same page.

No single phrase, not even “diarrhea in the pool,” raises collective eyebrows faster than No, I’m not confused, I’m not experimenting; I’m bisexual.

Western culture has a passionate relationship with binaries. Good and Evil. Progressive and Conservative. Gay and Straight. A cultural shift towards acceptance of either end of The Binary™ has burgeoned since the late aughts. Feminism, same-sex marriage, socialist memes… all have gone mainstream. You can be anything as long as you stay in your lane. But so help you if you refuse to occupy a single role. Bisexual? You want twice the sexual options as everyone else? Don’t be so greedy!

I’m uniquely familiar with binaries, being bisexual, bipolar, and bilingual. (I’ve tried training myself to be ambidextrous to round it out, but my left hand is shit at printing.) I’m used to jettisoning myself between opposites, passing through many stages along the way. This is why I know binaries are crap.

If you’re “woke,” you’ve probably discussed the difference between binaries and spectrums. Maybe over a few beers. You’ll hear over and over again that sexuality, like many other things (notably mental health) is really a spectrum comprising a wide range of nuanced identities. I can attest that there are days when I feel “gayer” than others. The way my attraction to either gender manifests isn’t always the same, either.

Something about the spectrum theory hasn’t translated to the mainstream yet. Bohemian Rhapsody could barely bring itself to dedicate three minutes to the complexity of Freddie Mercury’s sexuality. Top 40 pop ballads by Rita Ora and Katy Perry mention being “open-minded” and wanting to try “just one taste” of the forbidden fruit—hope my boyfriend don’t mind it! And yet the bi population, per a range of studies, seems to outnumber the rest of the LGBTQIA+ acronym. (Although personally I like to think there are way more lesbians out there than the above chart lets on; we need More Lesbians In All Facets Of Life.) So, why is Bisexual such a dirty word?

Well, for one thing, people like to make sense of the world through labels. Labels can be good! The disenfranchised, the lonely, the marginalized, all can find a sense of belonging in attaching a label to their identities, and by extension finding a community of like minds. But labels and nuance are at odds with one another, and identity is all about nuance.

I’ve reflected at length on labels because of my mental hiccups (I refuse to call myself “neurodivergent” because it sounds like a cult in a teen dystopian romance novel). Disparate iterations of Toto vie for centre stage in my psyche, and they’re what I’d call complicated. Bipolar Toto has two featured characters: when I’m manic I’m armed to the teeth with motivation, energetic, a chronic insomniac, sociable, reckless, overconfident, optimistic, and for some reason desperate to sing karaoke (I hate karaoke); when I’m depressive I’m lethargic, judgmental, defeatist, insensitive, always tired, and prone to wearing my hair straight (I look better with curls).

But on the few occasions I’ve chosen to confide in friends about my mental troubles, I’ve gotten some pretty disconcerting demonstrations of support. A sample conversation:

TOTO – I’m not sure how to talk about this, but you might have noticed some odd behavior on my part lately. I’ve been prescribed Lexapro because my doctor thinks I might be bipolar. It’s a bit difficult adjusting to a new medication.

FRIEND – Wow, I think I might be bipolar too!

TOTO – Really? Thanks for sharing! When were you diagnosed?

FRIEND – I’ve never seen a doctor about it. I just know I’m often moody.

TOTO – That’s not really what being bipolar is about. But if you’re concerned you should know there’s no shame in seeking help. I’ll be happy to go to the clinic with you for support.

FRIEND – No, no, I don’t need that. You don’t understand. No one does. I’ll be happy one minute and sad the next.

Ad nauseam…

Look, everyone’s mental health journey is their own. Far be it for me to revoke self-diagnoses. My story simply goes to illustrate the oversimplification of traits associated with the “bipolar” label. In the popular imagination, bipolar begins and ends with rapid-fire mood swings.

So it could be posited that people feel alienated by bisexuality because, similarly to the above, its attendant traits are too diverse to slap on a label. So many body types to feel attracted to! Which is your favorite, dammit?

The label conundrum is one theory. I’ve heard it discussed over beers many times. But it’s not my favorite theory. Here’s what I really think: biphobia stems from jealousy; a fear that we have more sexual options, so we’re having more fun. We’re greedy and oversexed and too uninhibited.

And it’s all true. I’m not supposed to admit it, but I have to unburden myself. Hereafter follow the confessions of a bisexual with too many options:

Pursuing men as a woman is confusing. It starts out all ego. Is he looking at me? Is he interested? What will he think of me if I reciprocate his interest too soon, or too late? Then you have to play it cool for a while. I’ll say something just suggestive enough, then back off. Let’s not speak for a few days. You do the heavy lifting. Once you start dating, it’s a minefield. You’re a kind, hard-working, down-to-earth guy. You lectured me about feminism and you jump at any chance to call the Kardashians whores for some reason. But I’m tired and your biceps make me smile.

Honestly? It’s exhausting.

Pursuing women as a woman is... extremely confusing. It starts out very subtle (because nobody knows how to make a damn move on each other). I wonder what that look meant. Am I imagining this tension? Then things abruptly turn sickeningly sweet and attentive. Wow, I love your bracelet! How is your entire family doing? I wish we were scissoring but we’re dissecting in excruciating detail a text your ex sent you three months ago. Then, even if you’re dating, you’ll never really be entirely sure where you stand. Why are we holding hands? You said you didn’t want to risk our friendship, that you’re not into women. Why are we making out? Are you just being nice? Are we fucking as disinterested friends?

Honestly? It’s a nightmare.

Have you ever felt that anxious cold sweat creeping up your spine when interacting with someone you like? Now double it.

An alternate suggestion to experiencing attraction: Gay or straight, don’t lust after anybody. Go home and Skype with your mom, who misses you. Vent your erotic energy by writing explicit Star Trek fanfiction, then take a satisfied nap. Join a commune and enter into an asexual life partnership with a revolving door of nuns and vagabonds. They don’t even know who the Kardashians are.

More options ultimately mean more opportunities to make an asshole of yourself in front of the person you like; nothing more, nothing less. Savvy kids have been referring to this as the “disaster bi” phenomenon for a while now, if I’m correctly remembering my alignment charts. In other words, as far as I’m concerned, you can slap a label on me: under the title “Bisexual,” the sub-heading will read “Awkward as hell—gender irrelevant.”

Send help.

xoxo Toto

#toto #bisexuality #queer identity #awkwardness #and a pie chart

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endlessly-elizabeth · 5 years

Text

Twenty-eighteen.

One of the hardest years of my life. The year that felt like obstacle after obstacle. The year I was barely able to keep my head above water. The year that challenged my spirit. The year that I felt like I lost everything.

I, for one, am glad to see this year go. It started out on a shaky foot. I celebrated the new year with friends whom I grew closer to this year, and a friend or two that I completely drifted apart from. I didn’t kiss anyone at midnight, I just remember throwing shot after shot back to distract myself and to make myself feel numb. Being numb felt good... I was in a transient phase where I was no longer in pain. I couldn’t feel anything at all, and I repeated this more often than I’d like to admit this past year.

I get a bit of seasonal depression, so the colder months are already more of a struggle for me. But I was just depressed in general most of this year. I felt broken. I lost motivation to do simple things like spend time on my hair and makeup. I lost motivation to keep in touch with friends and make plans to hang out with them. I felt very lost and very much unlike myself. I had friends bring it to my attention. I had family members sit me down and express how concerned they were for my overall well-being.

Every year has had its ups and downs, but I genuinely feel in my soul that this year was the worst of them all. I can’t think of many “highs” other than an enchanting vacation to Nashville and the completion of the beach house. Those were some of the brighter moments of the year. This was the year of the downward spiral. I drank a lot. I went through weird phases of being so anxious I couldn’t eat much to gorging on food when I felt the slightest bit better. My weight fluctuated like crazy. My mood swings were a bit more unpredictable than I had noticed in the past. I encouraged any distraction I could find to lessen the burden I was feeling; the weight of the broken heart I carried around.

There were times where I didn’t think about my ex much, and times where I thought about him and the way he so easily separated his life from mine more times than I could count. It haunted me. I held onto memories far longer than I should have. I can think of a couple times when I acted so out of character and reckless because it made me feel dangerous; it made me feel alive. I chased those highs, which lasted for the night, and then I would always wake up in the mess of my actions and the reality of the situation the next morning. I didn’t like who I was this year.

It’s funny, because I was so sure that I was going to rebuild myself to be this incredibly brave and incredibly strong woman. I thought that my breakup would ignite some kind of fire in me to make all of these necessary changes that I needed in my life. But I didn’t become that girl. Instead, I became a version of myself who was far too critical of herself and was torn apart by her own insecurities. I was someone who felt so genuinely lost, because my support system just wasn’t there. Sure, I had friends who checked in on me. I had friends encourage me to find new hobbies, look for a new job, etc. But I didn’t get the same kind of energy that I put into my friendships back, and that took its toll on my mental health. Feeling alone when you’re already so unhappy with different aspects of your life is a struggle I never want to have to face again.

I didn’t let every struggle I encountered this year take me down. In some ways, I was forced to make changes that I am entirely happy with. For example, after everything I went through the previous year with having loved and lost, I decided I wouldn’t let that happen again. Obviously I have no control over someone falling out of love with me, but I DO have control over how long I’m willing to stay in a situation and how much I’m willing to deal with. I refuse to be an afterthought to men. If they can’t give me the attention that I deserve, then I automatically cut them off. So many guys tried to talk to me and take me out this year. To be honest, I just wasn’t feeling it. I needed to be alone to process my feelings and to move forward with my life before I would be able to commit myself fully to another person again. I needed to rid all of these toxic behaviors and thoughts I was having, because I didn’t want any part of my past to ruin the possibility of a future with someone new.

I went on a couple dates with a couple different dudes, sure. I had fun, sure. I had a couple sexy stories to share with my gal pals, sure. But there weren’t many people who excited me. People who got under my skin and that I couldn’t shake. People who made me feel as special as I am. So, I ended things pretty early. I certainly didn’t want to force myself to be interested in someone if I wasn’t feeling it. I didn’t want to lead on a genuinely good guy just for the sake of having someone to talk to and make myself feel better. I hope, one day, I am able to meet someone who does those things for me, but I’m not ‘looking’ for anything to happen. I just want to meet new people that I can hang out with, who I can rely on.

I held onto the same job I’ve been working for the past five years because it was reliable. With all of the changes and obstacles I was experiencing this year, I felt like I needed something dependable, because no other part of my life was. My friend and I got into a huge fight at the beginning of the year, and despite trying to patch things up before she left, we never did. So I had lost one of the best friendships I had, one of the most kind and dependable people I knew, during a time when she needed someone to be there for her and I needed someone to be there for me. That’s one of my biggest regrets from this past year, but I’m happy to say I reached back out to her and we’re on very good terms. I even think that huge fight may have strengthened our friendship in many ways. I think we know what we lost during those few months we weren’t speaking and will actively choose not to take the other person for granted.

Having lost two very, very important people grounded me. It showed me just how important it is to rely on yourself and to choose your own happiness; something that I neglected to do most of this year. It caused an ache that I felt each and every day. But here I am, and I ache less. That’s something that I never thought I would say, because those wounds felt too fresh. Running into my ex was emotionally exhausting, and I think that’s why we see eachother so much less now. I can’t speak on his behalf, but seeing him stirred up too many memories and it felt like the flame would rekindle. We talked again briefly towards the beginning of the year. The whole, ‘miss you, I still think about you every day’ stuff. The words that I realized were utter bullshit because, while he told me he still had feelings for me and wouldn’t be over me for a long time, I realized he was talking to someone else. I would like to think that I can handle the truth, but I will not tolerate dishonesty.

With that being said, I think the hardest pill for me to swallow this year was realizing that I probably didn’t mean as much to him as he did to me. When I love, I love deeply. I love fully. And I’m afraid to do that now. I’m afraid of repeating the same mistakes. I have to actively remind myself that I am stronger than the pain I’ve experienced this year. I am better than the way he and my other former flame tarnished my name and reputation. The way they made me the butt of their ‘snake and weasel’ jokes. If you think you know the whole story, you don’t. People only tell you what they want to know about their lives, and I cannot control the way they choose to talk about me. This is what I DO know--I know who I am. I know the reality of everything that went down. And I refuse to ever reach that level of petty.

It was also hard to swallow how much I rely on other people for happiness. I would let the smallest things ruin a good mood. I felt so much FOMO when my friends would hang out without me and I’d have to watch everything happen on social media. That shit is poison. My parents sat me down and told me how concerned they were. I thought I had done a good job hiding my unhappiness from them, but I guess my mom knows me better than I know myself at times. She mentioned that maybe I should go to therapy to see if I would feel more comfortable opening up to a stranger, because I had bottled up so many negative emotions this year. I left the room and cried at the words ‘therapy’ and ‘therapist.’ They still carry such a negative connotation in our society, even though mental health is such a prevalent topic these days. It’s hard to admit that you have a problem, but I decided that in 2019, I want to give a therapy a shot. I want to see what emotional baggage from my past I can leave at the baggage claim.I want to let go of the shit I cannot control. I want to be able to let go of the past. I want to shed this skin.

Twenty-eighteen, you were an asshole to me. You made me cry more than you made me laugh. You taught me difficult lessons that I might not have learned otherwise. You were my year of the dark cloud. But, guess what? I forgive you. I know one day I’ll look back at this year and wonder why I let myself be in so much pain, to be so unhappy. That day isn’t here now and it probably won’t be here for months to come, but I AM hopeful that 2019 will be the start of something amazing. 2018 was the year that felt like it had reduced me to nothing. It was the year of destruction. But 2019 has so much more potential--the continuation of healing. The year of the rebuild. The phoenix year. My comeback year.

#personal #this reminds me of you #me

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