I FEEL PRETTY (BUT UNPRETTY) (Oneshot)
I FEEL PRETTY (BUT UNPRETTY)
By: Lady Michaelis
Pairing: Adam Lambert/Kris Allen
Rating: PG
Warnings: Sugary sweet goodness. Fluff. Think the Powerpuff Girls formula.
Genre: Romance/Fluff
Summary: In the kind of world he lives in, it’s so easy to feel pretty and unpretty at the same time.
Disclaimers: The usual. I don’t think anyone owns anyone, anyway.
Notes: Inspired by Dianna Agron and Lea Michele’s mash-up of I Feel Pretty/Unpretty. Because of Rachel Berry’s nose issue and Adam’s tweet about septoplasty, this kind of happened.
The thing about Hollywood was that it was terribly wonderful at making people feel hideous; you couldn’t step out of your battered old Chevy in last year’s khakis and a bare face without getting lambasted by idiots who got paid to pretend to be writers on page three of the local tabloid. So, to keep themselves safe from prying eyes and blabbering mouths, celebrities made sure they had their armor (ridiculously expensive clothes and the latest in MAC face technology) before crossing the street to borrow a cup of sugar from their neighbor. One man in particular-they called him Adam Lambert-was no stranger to such. The one time he went out in flip-flops, yesterday’s jeans and an untouched-by-MAC face, rumors about bankruptcy flooded gossip rags and his Twitter page like wildfire. Since then, he had been careful to put on his $1800 boots and YSL shades each time he headed over next door to return little Jimmy Reagan’s ball.
Beauty was just that skin-deep in the Land of Overly Pasteurized Milk and Sickeningly Sweet Honey, which was exactly how Adam’s I-feel-pretty-but-unpretty issue came into existence.
“Do you think I should go in for surgery?” he asked, critically eyeing his reflection in the mirror. “Perez said this morning that I was looking pudgy in the photos from the Vanity Fair party. Also, he said my nose looks a little off; maybe the septoplasty wasn’t enough.”
“Didn’t I tell you not to read that trash?” Kris sighed. “You are not fat, Adam Lambert-and your nose is lovely. Remember, you had the septoplasty done so you would be able to hit higher notes and not for anything else. I suggest you abandon your array of MAC thingamajigs at that dresser and sit here.”
Adam did as he was told, perching on the end of the sofa furthest away from his beautiful boyfriend. Sometimes, he found it seriously unfair that Kris Allen could roll out of bed looking every bit the part of the world’s most perfect mess. He was probably the only human who could walk the streets of WeHo bare-faced without attracting negative press because his skin had this natural golden radiance and he never seemed to gain any weight despite the alarming amounts of Chick-Fil-A sandwiches he stuffed himself with. Also, people found his crooked smile charming instead of an imperfection that needed jaw realigning or some other equally awful-sounding treatment at Rodeo Drive Plastic Surgery. Kris was the best thing that had ever happened to him, but his awww-shucks kind of perfection made Adam feel so insecure sometimes.
“You’re giving me that weird look again,” Kris accused him. “I know which gears are turning in that head of yours, Lambert-the ones I like the least.”
“I can’t help it if I feel unpretty a lot,” Adam said with a pout, knowing full well his shallow problems were coming into play. “I mean, I know I’m pretty, but things people say always end up convincing me otherwise. Plus, I always end up feeling insecure when I’m with you because you’re stunningly perfect and I’m…well, I’m ginger, freckled and fat.”
“Oh, Adam.” Kris moved over to curl an arm around his waist. “You really need to stop thinking this way. Who cares what other people out there think about you? Sure, you’re a public figure, but you should not allow yourself to be affected by these silly anons who think you need a narrower nose and a tummy tuck because they don’t know you. Those of us who do simply love you the way you are-you do know how much I love your ginger hair and your freckles, right? You can buy your hair if it won’t grow and you can fix your nose if they say so, but that doesn’t mean you have to do it when you’re amazing just the way you are. Also, I beg to differ because I am the least perfect person I know; I twirl like a pinwheel in my sleep and I end up kicking everybody next to me. I eat like a slob when I’m in a hurry. I walk out of the house without combing my hair because my grooming habits don’t go beyond the basics. Who do you think used to feel so insecure when the tabloids say he’s not shiny enough for his boyfriend? It’s okay to feel pretty-but-unpretty, Lucy Caboosy, but please, don’t let that get the best of you.”
“I am truly a very lucky man.” Adam beamed at him, leaning in to press a soft kiss to his lips. “And I pity all the men in the world who aren’t me. Why? Because I get to have you.”
By: Lady Michaelis
Pairing: Adam Lambert/Kris Allen
Rating: PG
Warnings: Sugary sweet goodness. Fluff. Think the Powerpuff Girls formula.
Genre: Romance/Fluff
Summary: In the kind of world he lives in, it’s so easy to feel pretty and unpretty at the same time.
Disclaimers: The usual. I don’t think anyone owns anyone, anyway.
Notes: Inspired by Dianna Agron and Lea Michele’s mash-up of I Feel Pretty/Unpretty. Because of Rachel Berry’s nose issue and Adam’s tweet about septoplasty, this kind of happened.
The thing about Hollywood was that it was terribly wonderful at making people feel hideous; you couldn’t step out of your battered old Chevy in last year’s khakis and a bare face without getting lambasted by idiots who got paid to pretend to be writers on page three of the local tabloid. So, to keep themselves safe from prying eyes and blabbering mouths, celebrities made sure they had their armor (ridiculously expensive clothes and the latest in MAC face technology) before crossing the street to borrow a cup of sugar from their neighbor. One man in particular-they called him Adam Lambert-was no stranger to such. The one time he went out in flip-flops, yesterday’s jeans and an untouched-by-MAC face, rumors about bankruptcy flooded gossip rags and his Twitter page like wildfire. Since then, he had been careful to put on his $1800 boots and YSL shades each time he headed over next door to return little Jimmy Reagan’s ball.
Beauty was just that skin-deep in the Land of Overly Pasteurized Milk and Sickeningly Sweet Honey, which was exactly how Adam’s I-feel-pretty-but-unpretty issue came into existence.
“Do you think I should go in for surgery?” he asked, critically eyeing his reflection in the mirror. “Perez said this morning that I was looking pudgy in the photos from the Vanity Fair party. Also, he said my nose looks a little off; maybe the septoplasty wasn’t enough.”
“Didn’t I tell you not to read that trash?” Kris sighed. “You are not fat, Adam Lambert-and your nose is lovely. Remember, you had the septoplasty done so you would be able to hit higher notes and not for anything else. I suggest you abandon your array of MAC thingamajigs at that dresser and sit here.”
Adam did as he was told, perching on the end of the sofa furthest away from his beautiful boyfriend. Sometimes, he found it seriously unfair that Kris Allen could roll out of bed looking every bit the part of the world’s most perfect mess. He was probably the only human who could walk the streets of WeHo bare-faced without attracting negative press because his skin had this natural golden radiance and he never seemed to gain any weight despite the alarming amounts of Chick-Fil-A sandwiches he stuffed himself with. Also, people found his crooked smile charming instead of an imperfection that needed jaw realigning or some other equally awful-sounding treatment at Rodeo Drive Plastic Surgery. Kris was the best thing that had ever happened to him, but his awww-shucks kind of perfection made Adam feel so insecure sometimes.
“You’re giving me that weird look again,” Kris accused him. “I know which gears are turning in that head of yours, Lambert-the ones I like the least.”
“I can’t help it if I feel unpretty a lot,” Adam said with a pout, knowing full well his shallow problems were coming into play. “I mean, I know I’m pretty, but things people say always end up convincing me otherwise. Plus, I always end up feeling insecure when I’m with you because you’re stunningly perfect and I’m…well, I’m ginger, freckled and fat.”
“Oh, Adam.” Kris moved over to curl an arm around his waist. “You really need to stop thinking this way. Who cares what other people out there think about you? Sure, you’re a public figure, but you should not allow yourself to be affected by these silly anons who think you need a narrower nose and a tummy tuck because they don’t know you. Those of us who do simply love you the way you are-you do know how much I love your ginger hair and your freckles, right? You can buy your hair if it won’t grow and you can fix your nose if they say so, but that doesn’t mean you have to do it when you’re amazing just the way you are. Also, I beg to differ because I am the least perfect person I know; I twirl like a pinwheel in my sleep and I end up kicking everybody next to me. I eat like a slob when I’m in a hurry. I walk out of the house without combing my hair because my grooming habits don’t go beyond the basics. Who do you think used to feel so insecure when the tabloids say he’s not shiny enough for his boyfriend? It’s okay to feel pretty-but-unpretty, Lucy Caboosy, but please, don’t let that get the best of you.”
“I am truly a very lucky man.” Adam beamed at him, leaning in to press a soft kiss to his lips. “And I pity all the men in the world who aren’t me. Why? Because I get to have you.”