#acne makes me feel different and unlovable | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

reddielibrary · 6 years

Photo

No Need to Fake It

prompt: a nsfw thing: seven minutes in heaven but while they're in the closet (heh heh) stuff gets snazzy (wtf am i saying) and everyone leaves to let them get *snazzy* (wtf am i saying part two) for anonymous

written by: R | @pattybloom

word count:

author’s note: sorry anon, i chose not to go nsfw with this, because they’re in high school, but i hope you enjoy it anyway! also - a song to go with it

*click title to read on AO3

The closet was dark and cramped and Eddie was sick of staring at the fuzzy outline of his shoes, which he could just barely see in the tiny sliver of light creeping in from the crack under the door. The presence of the light told him that the others hadn't yet descended on the door to press their ears against it to find out if he and Richie were doing anything and the thought of that made him feel a bit sick.

Because he wanted something to be happening. He really did. But Richie didn't. And wasn't that the goddamn joke of it all. The universe was getting it's chucks now and it was getting them at Eddie's expense.

He felt like he might cry, throw up, or both, and he didn't know which would come first or which would be worse. At least if he threw up he could claim to be ill when they dragged him out of the closet. He could call his mother and she would be more than thrilled to bring him home with her. He'd have to spend the next few days at the hospital at her insistence but at least that was a few days of not having to face Richie. Tears would just be humiliating. If he cried, Richie would know how much the rejection had hurt, which would just rub salt into the already stinging wound of knowing that Richie didn't want to kiss him.

"Are you mad at me?"

They were the first words that either of them had spoken in a few minutes, ever since Eddie had all but bounded into the closet with unbridled enthusiasm to kiss Richie, only to be shut down immediately.

He had been so sure that Richie felt the same way he did. He thought he knew how to read Richie pretty well and the way Richie smiled at him and touched him and looked at him when he thought Eddie wasn't looking were more than platonic. At least he thought they were. It was definitely different than how Bill had ever looked at him in the years Eddie had pined after him . But maybe the universe's cruelest joke of all was that Eddie was just unlovable. Or that he at least just had no idea how to read his closest friends.

He thought Richie would be all jokes and sly smiles and innuendo until he kissed Eddie himself, but had tried not to be discouraged when that didn't happen. This was his chance. The best one he would ever get with the fallback excuse of the game if it didn't go in his favor. So he took a breath and just asked.

"Can I kiss you?"

The silence had been deafening and answer enough.

Which brought him back to the question at hand. Was he mad at Richie? He was hurt, for sure, and embarrassed. He wanted to cry, and he felt a bit angry with himself, absolutely. But was he mad at Richie?

"No..."

"Then why are you ignoring me?"

"I'm not. You haven't said anything else either."

He sounded defensive. He knew he did. The silence hung around them once again, somehow even more tense than before and Richie was continuing to be uncharacteristically quiet.

Eddie wished the others had let him keep his watch. It felt like they had been in here for hours.

"Why don't you want to kiss me?"

The words had come out before he could even consider them and now they were out there on display. He felt like he was laid out on a hospital bed, naked and cold, with Richie standing over him with a scalpel, ready to cut him open and examine every inch of vulnerability.

"Aw, c'mon Eds..." Richie's awkward chuckle didn't live up to his usual casual bravado and suddenly Eddie did feel angry.

"No! Don't laugh it off, Richie, it's not funny. I'm serious." His voice came out in a sharp hiss, and he tried to keep his voice down so as not to draw the others to the door to eavesdrop. "You kiss everyone . It's a game! I know for a fact you kissed Bev twenty minutes ago. Why don't you want to kiss me? What's wrong with me?"

"Nothing, Eds, Jesus! Nothing's wrong with you. Calm down!"

"Don't tell me to calm down! If nothing's wrong with me, what makes the idea of kissing me so terrible?"

He knew he sounded like a child. He wanted to grab the words out of the air, ball them up and shove them back into his mouth where he could chew them up into disgusting soggy bits and swallow them back down where they belonged. But it was too late for that.

He had stepped closer to Richie during his whispered tirade and was poking Richie in the chest accusingly. He was glad the lights were off, because he must have looked truly crazy in that moment. Richie's hand grabbed his and pushed it down to their sides where it wasn't jabbing into his sternum. He didn't let go, but Eddie tore his hand away, too angry to think about it.

"It's not you, Eddie. You said it yourself, it's just a game. To you, it's just a game. I know you're hung up over him," he whispered back, voice a little strained and Eddie could just barely make out the way Richie's head nodded towards the door, indicating one of the other losers. Eddie had no idea what the hell he was talking about but the confusion slowed him down just enough to allow Richie to continue uninterrupted. "I'm not gonna kiss you when I know you'd rather be kissing Bill. I'm not an idiot, I know this is your first kiss and it'd be bullshit for your first kiss to be me when you want it to be him.”

What?

"What the hell are you talking about?"

They were close enough now that Eddie could feel Richie's hand coming up between them for Richie to scrub at his face with it as he sighed.

"Come on Eddie, we all know that you have a crush on Big Bill. Everyone except king dumbass himself knows it. It's not fair for you to have your first kiss with someone you don't actually have feelings for. I know you want to kiss someone but, believe it or not, I don't kiss people for games when I wanna kiss them for real. That's not fair to me."

When I wanna kiss them for real.

When I wanna kiss them for real. When I. Wanna kiss them. For real. WhenIwannakissthemforreal.

The words sent his mind reeling. The only thing keeping his body from following suit was the way he was suddenly frozen in place and couldn't move even if he tried.

"Fuck...that was a little too serious to play it off as a joke, huh, Eds?" Richie was babbling now and Eddie knew he was staying silent for too long, but he suddenly didn't know how to make his mouth form words. "'Ha ha just kidding, I'm definitely not an idiot who doesn't know how to keep his mouth shut' doesn't really work now, does it... Damn it Eds, can you say something?"

Eddie closed his mouth, suddenly becoming aware that it had even been open at all.

"I don't like Bill."

"What?"

"Well I mean, of course I like Bill, he's my friend... he's all of our friend, you know, but... I don't like like him." He was fishing for words and none of them were quite what he wanted to say and they were definitely not quite what Richie wanted to hear, but he felt like he didn't have any control over what was coming out of his mouth. He couldn't really blame Richie for being confused.

"Since when?"

"Since the summer. Since he and Bev broke up."

"Okay..."

The silence descended for the third time and even in the dark he knew they were staring at each other. Their eyes had adjusted a bit and he could see the vague outline of Richie's body. Neither of them made any move to step away.

He took another deep breath.

"Can I kiss you?" he asked again. "We can wait until the game is over if you really want but... I kinda wanna kiss you right now."

Richie's responding laugh caught him off guard but he found himself laughing too. This was ridiculous, and they both knew it. Richie's hand was feeling for his face though, and as soon as it had found what it was looking for - his jaw apparently, he leaned down to kiss Eddie instead.

Eddie couldn't help but laugh again as Richie's lips missed his own and landed awkwardly on the skin between his upper lip and nose and Richie joined him. The two leaned into each other, bodies shaking together with silent laughter.

"How did you miss?" The words came out in choked breaths between bouts of laughter. "You had your hand less than an inch away!"

"Wow, you really know how to make a girl feel special don't ya, Eds. I don't know if you've noticed but it's a bit dark in here." Richie was still laughing too, though, and Edde rolled his eyes, reaching his hands up to Richie's face.

The palms of his hands and the tips of his fingers felt their way over the planes of Richie's face, feeling the bumps of his adolescent acne underneath them until he found his lips. With Richie already bent over to press his forehead against Eddie's he didn't have to lean up on his tip toes, and just tilted his own head back again.

He pushed up into Richie's lips with his own, and smiled at the feeling. He could feel Richie doing the same and despite the fact that smiling was doing nothing to make the kiss any less clumsy and awkward, it was perfect. Richie's glasses bumped against Eddie's face and Richie's lips were dry and chapped, but as they took a moment to breathe, Richie's tongue darted out to wet them and they went right back into it.

The kiss got better from there as they each found their way, mapping out each others mouths and figuring out how their bodies fit together smoothly, and they didn’t stop until the door was being opened from the outside and the light poured in, startling them out of the trance they had found themselves in.

Eddie blinked rapidly, adjusting to the light, and as he finally gained his sight back, he couldn't help but chuckle at the way that Richie's eyes were screwed tight in a ridiculously exaggerated expression of pain behind the thick frames.

"Jesus fuck, guys, give a guy some warning next time!"

"You know that's n-nuh-not how it wuh-works!" Bill replied, chuckling and giving Eddie a knowing smile.

Eddie flushed and smiled back at him, hyper aware of the way Richie's arms were still wrapped around his waist. He smiled at Bill and felt nothing, laughing as Richie opened his eyes again and Bill walked away, leaving the door open as he went.

"In case it wasn't clear, I like you, you idiot."

"Uh, yeah, I got that message loud and clear, Spaghetti."

Richie was smiling down at him and Eddie rolled his eyes, playfully smacking Richie's chest, who feigned debilitating pain for a moment before leaning down to kiss Eddie again. He pulled back though, grinning up at Richie.

"I think our seven minutes are up," he teased.

"Huh, well here's hoping the bottle lands on you again then. I don't know about you, but I'd like to do this again sometime."

The two of them stared at each other for another moment before their matching smirks busted into entirely ungraceful laughter and they fell back into each others' chests.

"Get out of the closet, assholes! Your turn is over! Go suck face somewhere else!" Bev called from the living room, and Eddie could feel himself turning bright red as Richie waggled his eyebrows at him.

"Don't mind if I do, Miss Marsh!" Richie called, dragging Eddie out of the closet and towards the stairs.

"Not in my ruh-r-room, Richie, you p-puh-piece of shit!" Bill yelped and Eddie found himself being yanked up the stairs at top speed, the sound of Bill stumbling over the coffee table behind them in pursuit making Richie cackle in front of him.

"Catch us if you can, Billiam!"

Tagging: @princesass-theresa @r-u-reddie @stellarbisexual

let us know if you want to be tagged in the prompt fills

#reddie #reddielibrary #writing team #prompt fill

290 notes · View notes

xdtathens · 5 years

Text

Love Songs

When I was younger I used to think I had things all figured out in regards to myself. Love was kind of this thing to be attained, the ultimate goal in life, and if someone didn’t love me, I was worthless. When I was in elementary school I was concerned with “will anybody love me or marry me when I’m older”, which is pretty stupid shit for someone who hasn’t even hit the double digits to worry about. This sort of view and the one-track-mind of absolutes that a little kid has lead to me listening to love songs, and them all blending together, no matter the genre. I had the beginnings of an awakening in fourth grade, but that’s more related to attraction than anything.

Middle school comes and I’m still not quite sure what exactly romantic love is. By this point we just moved back down from Massachussetts back into my childhood home just outside of Charlotte, NC. I recognize a lot of the faces I go to middle school with, because I spent Kindergarten through 3rd grade with most of them. Even as I recognize their faces, I’m incredibly different now. I got glasses in second grade and still wasn’t exactly used to wearing them all the time by the time we moved away. When I come back I’ve gotten “thicker” (it sounds better than fatter) and a lot more reserved and timid. The glasses I have now let me see things more clearly, and when I look to my old classmates, I start to see just how attractive they are. A cute latino boy smiles at me and speaks to me in a deep voice and even though he’s teasing me, I’m wondering if he’s actually flirting. A girl who I used to spend recess talking to has really cute pigtails that go all the way down to her knees, and eyes that light up all the time and I suddenly can’t even muster the courage to say hello to her. In some ways growing up was easier and harder for me because on one hand, I never really had many voice issues or existential crises, but on the other I was blatantly aware of how little my body had developed and how cute all of my classmates were. I mistakenly call these crushes ‘love’, never ever approach them with these feelings, and remain a socially awkward nerd through most of middle school, tucked away in the corner of the bus, staring out the window and listening to Hollywood Undead, whose most poignant song to me at the time was one about alcoholism.

High school rolls around and I’m still not exactly the most confident, but my voice is deeper than most, I’ve already suffered through most of my acne, I have braces to straighten my teeth, and I start to try to put effort into my appearance. I make friends quickly, but realize I can’t really be out about being bisexual at this type of school. My first few years are spent as a bit of a loner. Not neccessarily a freak or outcast, but just someone who doesn’t belong to a certain social circle and instead tries to get along with everyone. Make no mistake, I don’t really like most people, but I can at least talk to them. I’m listening to a little more music but it’s still firmly in the rock/punk rock category. I would sneak off in the middle of English class in Junior year just to listen to A Day To Remember, or Guns and Roses. I’m still firmly trying to avoid even thinking about love, since depression is in full swing and I am resigned to the fact that I am unlovable. The most ‘romantic’ song I listened to was ‘If It Means A Lot To You’, a song by A Day To Remember about love that fades due to distance. I prefer instead to listen to Bad Vibrations, since it’s hard, loud, deafening, and just fun to listen to.

Senior year rolls around. I’ve gotten a little more confident, seeing as I’m now the big fish in the small pond. I’m at the top of the high school food chain, probably more so than most kids at the school because I’m still the loner dude who people don’t know enough about to make fun of, and, to quote a vine, nobody could hate me more than I already hated myself. But I was coming to terms with myself as a person. My parents had always praised me because I didn’t give in to peer pressure or shit like that and I “knew who I was”. I didn’t really, I was just good at pretending. The pressure of my failing grades, prolonged absences from school, and emotional breakdowns eventually gets to me, but until then, I keep it well under wraps and develop a colder, cooler personality. Love isn’t unattainable but I didn’t plan to stick around long enough to find out how to obtain it. I’m listening to artists like Kendrick, Mac Miller, Joji, Lynyrd Skynyrd, and anything with a deep bass that I can feel in my bones.

Eventually I snap and leave school. At this point I’m frustrated and ashamed of myself. I can’t drive, I don’t have a job, and I didn’t even finish high school. I tried to commit suicide 3 times in one night until my brother woke up and found me with a gallon of gasoline. I eventually made a breakthrough in therapy and slowly the emotions I had been missing for years finally started to come back. I saw things in a different light. All the people around me weren’t above me. They weren’t love gods and they didn’t have shit figured out like I thought they did. And that was okay. Suddenly the mainstream songs about love made more sense to me. They weren’t just about mistakes or heartbreak; it was heartbreak, attraction, appreciation, longing, utter admiration, deep, unselfish love. Up until then my definition of love was shallow and I didn’t really think about the possibility of anybody being willing to spend time with me, much less WANTING to. As the definition grew, so did my interests. Marine biology turned into acting. Solely FPS shooters turned into RPGs, adventure, horror. Video games turned to movies, board games, books. All this turned to more exercise, a love of nature, and the ability to finally love myself as much as I love other people. My current music taste is pretty much any song that’s got a good sound, and my outlook is that life is good.

In middle school we were taught about paradigm shifts, and I never understood it. I still don’t think I get it, because I was focused more on the girl with the cute pigtails than my English teacher’s actual words, but if I remember, it’s a permanent shift in the way you view the world or your relationship with it. The point of this anecdote is to tell you no matter what stage of your life you’re in, even if you think you will never change? You will. For better or worse. Usually for the better.

Thanks for reading this. Have a great week y’all.

2 notes · View notes

myforeverforlife · 6 years

Text

smoke and mirrors (part one).

They say that in a career like yours, it’s not recommended to get attached to others. Scratch that — it’s absolutely foolish. Living as a rogue spy tied to the undercover group RF-15, you’re basically asking for a death sentence by forming relationships. There’s no room in a world this cold for love. But with someone as alluring as Kim Jongin, you may end up making the biggest mistake of your life.

Word Count: 6,937

Masterlist

You’re not called “The Whisper” for nothing. You’ve spent years doing undercover work, whether it be gathering information to take down the most corrupt officials, or sneaking into high-security facilities to steal folders of paperwork that people would only dare dream of getting their hands on.

You were one of the best, a secret agent working for a group called “RF-15” for almost a decade. It didn’t take long for word to spread of your cunning, your speed, your ability to ease answers out of anyone you came in contact with. And so, you became known as “The Whisper”. You had to give up a lot to become a spy worthy of this name, running away from a home with cold, unloving parents who had more interest in their business than their daughter. Nights once spent alone were well, still spent alone, but at least now you reasoned with yourself that you had a purpose. Now, you were tasked with airing the dirty laundry of the corrupt, the liars and the traitors.

Tonight would be no different from any other mission that you had before — except for one catch. This time, the people up in headquarters had been attempting to branch out and form connections with other rogue groups. This upcoming night would be one of the first missions between RF-15 and an all-male group who called themselves “EXO”. Your superior made no effort to conceal how important this mission was for both sides, debriefing you multiple times to make sure.

“Now when you get there, the agent from EXO will be there as well. Both of you are tasked with working together in order to find the CEO’s files, and then to bring them safely to the drop-off point without any notice. Understood?”

You had nodded once, the motion quick. EXO was known not only for being solely comprised of male members, but also for having members specializing in multiple methods of combat. Compared to people in your group who only trained in one fighting technique, usually hand-to-hand combat, these skilled agents were intimidating, to say the least. You had never laid eyes on them before, but you knew that your organization and theirs ran in the same circles. Although you preferred to work alone most of the time, the sudden twist in tonight’s mission threw you for a loop. More intrigued than you cared to let on, you put more work into your disguise for the evening than you normally would have.

You ran your hands over the smooth fabric of your dress, the color a beautiful navy blue, not much unlike the sky above you at the moment. The dress itself was modest, meant to not draw much attention to yourself. The objective wasn’t to attract the gazes of everyone in the room, but to look presentable enough to go by unnoticed. Your makeup, however, was more extravagant than usual. Your eyes were accentuated with eyeshadow, the colors muted and smoky against your lids. With every blink of your eyes, you could feel the soft feathering of your lashes as they brushed against your skin. A swipe of gloss covered your lips, and your cheeks were dusted with a light blush, a soft shade of rose making you appear even more lively and adding a fresh color to your appearance. As someone who normally didn’t put much effort into their looks, even these small changes to your makeup had you feeling like an entirely different person. Fitting, especially since you needed a new alias for tonight.

The notes of a piano floated through the air, a soft background to the sounds of forks clinking against plates as you sat waiting in the restaurant. As per plan, you and this agent from EXO were supposed to meet up at for dinner at a place called “The Ristorante” to discuss your plans for tonight over some ridiculously expensive Italian cuisine. This schedule had been arranged to give you two a couple of hours to go over any last minute changes, and then to head over to tonight’s party.

The objective was to blend in with the rest of the guests at Brandon Kwon’s end of the year gala, held to celebrate all of the work that his manufacturing company had done in the past year. His company, Kwon Pharmaceuticals, was best known for their antidepressant, Sutitrin. What the public wasn’t aware of was the failure of their topical cream, Dermatol, and the lawsuits that had been hushed up by the company. While Dermatol was supposed to help with severe acne, many trial patients reported rashes, intense burning sensations, and even severe allergic reactions. A couple of people had even succumbed to the harsh wounds inflicted upon them, and Kwon Pharmacuticals quickly put an end to the test trials, but they couldn’t erase the failures of their product from people’s memories.

And that’s where you came in. Well, technically you and Kim Kai.

Sneaking a glance at your phone, you sighed internally. It was already 7:15, and your mystery partner was still nowhere to be seen. You had been told to come to the restuarant under a reservation for a Kim Kai, a name that you were one-hundred percent sure was a pseudonym. That didn’t stop you from trying to figure out who this Kim Kai was, from piecing together a vague idea of what this man might look like. Since he was one of EXO’s men, you figured he must be pretty well-built, definitely more on the muscular side. He was probably extremely good-looking as well — it was a small joke within your circle that a good spy was an attractive one, able to use their charms to get their way out of any sticky situations.

“Miss Lane?”

Your head shot up upon hearing your pseudonym for the night, only for your breath to catch in your throat at the person standing before you.

Never in your wildest dreams would you have imagined Kim Kai to look like this.

EXO’s agent stood across the table from you, a hand over the back of his chair as if waiting for your permission to sit down. He was lean, but the slight muscles hiding under the fabric of his clothing told another story. Dressed in a crisp suit with a perfectly placed bowtie to top it all off, Kim Kai was absolutely stunning, to say the least. But compared to his face, the rest of his outfit was bland in contrast.

Hair as dark as night was swept up and away from his face, as if he were teasing you to try and decipher every nuance, every emotion in those warm eyes of his. Even as he looked at you, a hint of playfulness could be seen there, despite the neutral pout of his lips.

“Miss Lane?” he tried again, a wrinkle starting to form between his brows at your lack of response.

“Yes,” you quickly replied, nodded towards his seat. “Please, sit down.” Get a grip, Y/N. Now was not the time to be ogling men. You had a serious mission to carry out tonight.

The stranger did as told, settling into his seat easily and resting his hands on top of the table. “Have you ordered yet?”

“No, I wasn’t sure when you would arrive.” Your tone was calm, indifferent although both of you knew what message lay hidden: You’re horribly late.

“I’m really sorry about that,” he apologized. “How about I pay the bill? And I’ll drive to the gala.”

Free food? And a ride? As tempted as you were to make the deal even sweeter on your end, you had more important matters at hand. “Alright. Thank you.”

“I’m Kai.” He extended his hand across the table, waiting patiently until you shook it, your hand small in his grasp. “It’s nice to meet you. Celeste Lane, right? Or maybe ‘The Whisper’, whichever you want,” he added in reference to your name as an agent.

Celeste Lane, your cover for the night, was constructed to be a marketing genius in the cosmetics industry. “You can call me Miss Lane for the rest of the night.”

Kai nodded, leaning back in his seat, surprisingly not shaken by the distant front you put up.

Despite these small hiccups in the plan, the rest of the dinner went surprisingly smoothly. Underneath Kai’s casual mannerisms lay a driven, focused agent. It was hard not to admire the amount of work he put into memorizing every detail of the plan, along wih both of your cover stories.

“And so after the reception,” he said, waiting for you to fill in the rest.

“You will keep Brandon Kwon distracted while I sneak upstairs to the study to get the documents.” The prize for tonight — the hidden files containing the failed Dermatol tests.

“Hey, wait. Why do I have to distract him?” Kai countered, his natural pout even more pronounced as he spoke. “If we both head upstairs, we can find it more quickly.”

“And risk the chance of someone getting caught? It’s better if someone stays downstairs with the rest of the guests to make sure no one is suspicious about our movements.”

“I’m going to be a sitting duck downstairs, though. Come on, we both know that two people searching is better than one. We’ll be in and out before you know it.”

You’d have to add persuasion to your mental list of Kai’s talents later on. With a sigh, you gave a small nod. “Okay. But if anything goes wrong, you’re going to have to explain this to both of our superiors.”

“But nothing will go wrong.” Kai gave you a wink, a smile appearing on his lips as you blushed in response.

“I’ll hold you to that. Come on.” You pushed your chair back abruptly, ignoring the slight squeak it made as it scraped against the floor. “We’re going to be late if we don’t leave soon.”

“Hey, wait up!” With a toss of some bills onto the table and a nod to the waiter, Kai followed after you.

“You know, this mission calls for two people,” he mumbled under his breath as he came to walk beside you.

“I’m aware.”

“Then why do you keep acting like I’m a pawn in tonight’s plan? I’m just as prepared as you.”

“I’m not questioning your abilities, Kai.” You continued to look straight ahead, not bothering to give him a glance as you pushed the exit to the restaurant open, waiting for him to go first.

Kai gave you a curious glance before heading out, stuffing his hands in his pants pockets as he headed over to the valet. Within a couple of minutes, a navy blue Maserati pulled up to the curb.

“Really? A Maserati?” you asked, looking the car over with a skeptical eye. “Not the most inconspicuous of cars.”

“Well, seeing as Kim Kai is one of Kwon Pharmaceuticals’ top shareholders, it’s only right that I look the part. Hop in.” Kai opened the passenger side door for you, motioning for you to get in.

“Thank you,” you told him begrudingly, feeling all too out of place in such an extravagant car. The last time you owned a car, it had been a old, well-loved Honda Accord. Since you barely had time for yourself, your car had sat in your garage gathering dust until you finally had the heart to sell it. It had been with you since the beginning, even before you joined RF-15.

With a small shake of your head, you took in a deep breath. Now wasn’t the time to be reminiscing about the past, especially a past that you weren’t particularly fond of.

The door on the other side opened up, with Kai sliding into his seat effortlessly. With a parting wave to the valet and a starting of the engine, he gave you a quick glance before heading off. “You ready?” he asked.

Stay focused, Y/N. “Yeah, I am.”

Brandon Kwon truly lived up to his reputation as one of the nation’s “pharmaceutical geniuses”. His home was more of an estate, with groves of trees and animals scattered across the expanse. You were even surprised to see a huge body of water resembling a ridiculously large lake near the house. As Kai brought the car around to the front of the mansion, you sucked in a breath at the swarms of people entering the lavish home.

“These rich people and their money,” you muttered under your breath. “I hope I’m not underdressed.”

Kai turned to look at you, one of his hands still resting on the steering wheel as his eyes looked you over. “You look beautiful. I’m sure you’ll fit right in.”

His words took you off guard, and you found yourself looking out the window instead. “Thank you,” you blurted out, choosing to focus on the other guests milling around.

On your other side, Kai watched you with a knowing smile, giving a small chuckle before moving the car forward.

Once he had passed the car off to yet the second valet for that night, he came around to your side to help you out. Instead of taking the hand that he held out to you, you chose to use the side of the car for support.

“You know, we’re supposed to be dating,” he leaned down, whispering into your ear.

The sudden proximity of his lips to your ear had a thrill running down your spine, even as you grimaced at your involuntary reaction. With a sigh, you finally took his hand. He was right, after all. Kim Kai and Celeste Lane: dating for three years and with an expected engagement coming in the near future, much to your chagrin. Whoever had come up with your cover stories for tonight had been having too much fun in the process.

The guards at the doors soon had both of you cleared, and you let out a breath of relief as you crossed the threshold. “I’ll head up in about half an hour. Wait about fifteen minutes, and then meet me upstairs. I’ll be in the study.”

Kai nodded, the movement almost imperceptible as he continued to escort you inside. “Got it. Stay safe.”

You paused before responding, trying your best to remain polite, acting strictly on business. But how could you act so coldly to Kai when he continued to behave like such a gentleman? “Thanks, you too.” There was no room for any more conversation as a finely dressed man came striding up confidently towards both of you. The man of the night, no doubt.

Everything about him screamed lavishness, from the golden wristwatch that he wore to the perfectly coiffed hair laying atop his head. Even his smile was blinding, teeth almost unrealistically bright. “Nice to meet you, I’m Brandon Kwon. And you are?” He looked to you for your response, a hand outstretched.

“Celeste Lane,” you proffered, moving to shake his hand. Unluckily for you, Brandon Kwon had other ideas. Instead of shaking it like you had intended, he brought your hand to his lips, kissing the back of it before letting go and giving you one of his million-dollar smiles.

“Charmed to meet you, I’ve heard you’re a new up-and-comer in cosmetics. Your company is quite lucky to have you.” He shot you a wink before turning his attention to Jongin, the glint in his eye dulling as he studied the man before him. “And you must be Miss Lane’s guest for tonight. Kim Kai, I presume? It’s nice to meet our seventh-highest shareholder in the flesh.”

“The honor’s all mine.” Kai held out a hand, only to drop it awkwardly as Brandon ignored it altogether.

“You’ve got a treasure on your hands, Mr. Kim.” It was obvious to you and Kai that he couldn’t keep his eyes off of you for more than a couple of seconds. To be honest, it was starting to creep both of you out.

Kai gave a nervous laugh, running a hand through his hair. “You’re right. She’s really something, isn’t she? If you’ll excuse us, we were actually headed to grab some drinks.”

“Oh, of course! I’ll catch up with you later.” Brandon gave you a parting grin as he left, his hands stuffed in his pockets as he went to greet his other guests.

“Thanks for that,” you mumbled under your breath.

“No problem. Come on, let’s get some drinks in us, loosen up before the real stuff happens.”

Unable to help the smile rising to your face, you finally decided to let yourself relax a little bit. “Alright. Let the party begin.”

Almost twenty minutes later, and Brandon Kwon had gotten to meet every guest in the room and even give a lengthy speech about the greatness of Kwon Pharmaceuticals. It was also during this time that you finished your martini, a series of hiccups escaping from your lips.

“Are you okay?” Kai asked, eyebrows furrowed as he leaned in closer to you from where he sat. His glass still sat unfinished, his first drink of the night.

“Yeah, just a little bubbly. It’ll pass.” Another hiccup cut you off, and you set your glass down on the table beside you. “I gotta get ready to head upstairs.”

“Maybe it’s a good idea if I go upstairs first instead. You know, to give you some time in case you need it.”

“I’ll be fine, Kai. Just make sure that no one notices that I’m gone, especially Brandon.”

“Okay,” he replied skeptically, getting up from his seat. “But as soon as we find the documents, we’re out of here. The longer I’m around him, the more I get creeped out.”

“Agreed.” Using the table to push yourself up and out of your seat, you smoothed down the skirt of your dress. “I’ll see you in a little bit, then.”

Kai’s gaze lingered on yours, an unreadable expression lying behind those eyes. “See you.” With that, he turned around, heading back into the middle of the party to go and socialize while you got a head start.

Thinking back to the map of the house that the two of you had looked over earlier, you remembered that the study was on the east side of the mansion. Doing your best to sneak out undetected, you made it into the grand hallway with careful, calculated steps. The guards at the front doors didn’t notice you, both of them caught up in a conversation that you didn’t catch. You made it over to the staircase, a hand resting on the balustrade as you began your ascent.

Thanking every god above that the upstairs floor was carpeted, you hastened your steps. The heels of your shoes were digging into your feet from your quickened pace, but at this time, it didn’t matter. Your only thought at that time was of getting to the study undetected. It didn’t help that you still had a slight case of the hiccups, each one making you more and more paranoid.

As you reached the end of the hallway, you hesitated, your head slowly peeking out to survey the area. You let out a small gasp, retreating back against the safety of the wall as your heart began to beat erratically. There on the other end of the hallway stood two guards, each one menacingly tall as they stood in place. The only way to the study was past them, but how could you even carry out such an impossible feat?

Racking your brain for any ideas, your shoulders eventually slumped forward in defeat. It looked like there was only one option.

Clearing your throat as you rounded the corner, you did your best to stand tall, your gaze steady as you stared down the two men at the end of the hall. “Excuse me, I’m a bit lost. I’ve been looking for the restroom?”

“Sorry, miss. This side of the house is strictly for residents only. There’s a restroom downstairs near the foyer,” one of them spoke up.

Doing your best to seem as innocent as possible, you let a whine slip into your voice. “But I was told to come upstairs. Mr. Kwon specifically told me that the one over here was open for use. You’re free to double-check with him, if you’d like.”

The guard that had spoken up first opened his mouth, a puzzled expression on his face before the other guard cut him off. “That’s fine, miss. As long as Mr. Kwon knows.”

“Thank you, gentlemen.” Passing by the two men, you flashed them a grateful smile before continuing on. Once you had rounded the next corner and was out of sight, you leaned back against the wall. With a hand over your heart, you gave yourself a couple of seconds to recover from the shock of the situation. It seemed like the heat of the moment had scared the hiccups out of you, something that you were thankful for. You just had to hurry up if you wanted to get out of this unscathed. It wasn’t only RF-15 that was counting on you, but EXO and Kai as well.

Your thoughts flickered to Kai downstairs, and you hoped that he would be able to make it past the guards without raising any suspicion.

After a few minutes of opening and closing doors in the hopes of stumbling upon Brandon Kwon’s study, you finally found it. Quickly stepping inside, you closed the door behind you. Wasting no time, you scurried over to the large desk settled in the far back corner of the room. Your hands flew over the wooden surface as you pulled open drawer upon drawer in search of the confidential documents. When nothing unusual turned up, you switched your attention to the laptop on his desk.

A quick tap of the mouse awoke the laptop, already unlocked and open to his homepage. “Thanks for leaving your computer unlocked, idiot,” you mumbled under your breath. Soon, you were scouring through the files there as well. Nothing of importance was found, most of them innocuous, expect for the astoundingly large file of porn that you immediately closed upon discovering.

Just as you were starting to grow frustrated, the study door opened. Your head shot up, eyes wide in horror until you realized who it was. “How did you get past the guards?”

“Told them I was looking for my girlfriend,” Kai answered, coming to look at the laptop screen from over your shoulder. “They said you were in the restroom? How did you get them to fall for that?”

“I said that Brandon told me to use the upstairs one. I guess they’re so terrified of their boss that they didn’t even question it.”

“Or they figured their boss probably had other motives to get you up here.”

You leaned back slightly, giving Kai a glare. “That’s disgusting. I already found his stash of porn, do you really want to bring up those memories of him practically staring at me like I was up for sale?”

“His stash of porn?”

“Kai!” You snapped your fingers in front of him, your lips curling in a grin when he flinched back in surprise. “Focus. I’ve searched the desk, but the rest of the room still needs to be cleared.”

“Gotcha.” Soon both of you were each busy with your respective tasks, Kai doing a fine sweep of the room while you continued to search on the laptop. Brandon Kwon wasn’t the brightest of people, having left his email browser open for anyone to see, but no traces of the secretive documents were found.

You finally gave up, closing the laptop with an indignant huff as you went over to join Kai. “Any luck?” you asked him, peering around his shoulder to look at the folders in his hands.

“So far, just a lot of suspicious looking tax reports. Do you think they’re related?”

“They might be. Keep looking, we’ll save these just in case they come in handy later on.”

For a couple of minutes, the only sounds in the room were those of papers being shuffled and your footsteps as you put away the files that Kai had already looked through and deemed irrelevant.

“Oh shit,” you heard him curse under his breath. “I think I’ve found it, Miss Lane.”

Quick as a flash, you were back at his side, plucking the pages out of his hands. “Dermatol Testing Sessions,” you read aloud, eyes growing wider as you continued on. “Deemed unsafe for use based on the results of the testing sessions carried out, Kwon Pharamaceuticals has been denied use to create and distribute the topical product, Dermatol.”

“We got him,” Kai announced with a triumphant grin, looking down at you and awaiting your response.

“Kai, the doctor who signed this form — Eileen Hsu. She could be in a lot of danger if this got out to the public. Hell, she might even be the one who hired us to get these papers. If Brandon Kwon’s already gone through all the trouble to pay off everyone who knows about this and to practically erase it from public records, can you imagine what he’ll do to her if he finds out that these are gone?” You saw as his victorious grin changed to a look of horror, his mouth falling open and his eyebrows jumping up in surprise.

“I’ll let EXO know once we get back. For now, we need to get out of here. Come on.” Leaving the mess of boxes and papers behind, Kai reached down for your hand and headed for the door. Before he could grab the handle, the door swung open from the other side, revealing Brandon Kwon and the two guards from earlier.

“Miss Lane, if you had wanted to speak to me in private, all you had to do was ask,” he spoke softly, making the hairs on your arms rise in fear. “I didn’t realize you and your guest had disappeared until I heard from security that the two of you were spending an awful lot of time in the restroom upstairs.” His gaze flickered to the boxes left scattered on the floor before settling on the pages still held tightly in your grasp, his eyes cold and unreadable. “Although I’m guessing you’ve seen more than you had bargained for.”

“Perhaps,” you replied, just as calmly. You coukd feel your fingers beginning to shake, your nerves fighting to break through the cool facade you wore. With the hand that still held yours, Kai gave it a gentle squeeze, and before you knew it, you were squeezing his hand in return.

“Your empire holds a lot of power,” Kai spoke up. “Kwon Pharamaceuticals is almost spotless when it comes to scandals.”

Brandon Kwon’s eyes narrowed at this, already sensing where this was heading.

“Except for maybe a couple of things,” Kai spoke with a sly smirk, nodding towards the boxes of dirty secrets behind him.

Inmediately, Brandon Kwon rushed forward, hand balled in a fist as he aimed for Kai’s face. Kai let go of your hand and quickly dodged the hit, landing a punch to Brandon’s gut.

As soon as the guards saw their boss hit the floor, one sprang into action while the other began yelling for backup into his earpiece. You ducked under the first guard’s punch, leg coming up to kick the second guard between the legs. Before the guard could even fall to his knees, you were pulling the earpiece out and smashing it into pieces underneath your foot.

A sudden groan from behind had you whirling around, only to see Kai holding the first guard in a sleeper hold. Once the guard slumped down to the floor in an unconscious heap, Kai reached for your hand again, pulling you out into the hallway. “Come on, we only have five minutes, tops,” he murmured urgently.

The two of you ran down the hallway in the opposite direction from which you first came in, the sounds of people rushing up the stairs growing louder as they came closer. “Kai, we need to find an exit,” you hissed.

“We need a way downstairs.” Kai began running faster, and you silently cursed the fact that you were the only one hindered with wearing heels. You kicked your shoes off, not caring where they went as you focused solely on being able to get away in time. The carpeting of the floor was soft against your feet, but once you two got outside, your feet would be in for a world of pain.

“Here!” Kai stopped in front of a door, one you remembered from looking over the blueprints as an exit for the staff working there. He pushed it open with ease, leading you down the stairwell. Both of you were breathing heavily with exertion, tired out from the chase and the fear of being caught.

The staircase continued on in a spiral until reaching the first floor, and both of you pressed your ears against the door, struggling to figure out if it was safe to make a run for it. All you could make out were the sounds of metal clinking and something sizzling, but no signs of any guests socializing.

“On three, we run to the nearest exit and jump into the closest car. Got it?” you whispered frantically.

Kai nodded, his head bobbing once as his eyes took on a determined glint. “One, two,” he counted.

“Three.”

The door flung open, both of you rushing out into the kitchen and garnering the stares of multiple kitchen staff.

“Hey, you can’t be in here!” one of them shouted out, a tall woman in chef’s garb pointing a spatula in your direction.

Not wasting any time with words, you dragged Kai over to an open doorway, pushing past waiters and guests as you ran past.

“There they are!” you heard someone shout. As if kicked into overdrive, your legs began moving faster, the panic numbing the pain in your body as you and Kai ran out onto the veranda of Brandon Kwon’s dining room. Past the railing surrounding the vast veranda, you spotted a dark black sports car, almost impossible to see amongst the darkness of the night.

“Kai, jump!” you yelled at your companion as both of you neared the veranda’s railing.

Both of you let go of each other’s hands, Kai using one hand to brace himself on the railing as he pushed himself over while you did the same. When your feet landed on the rough, cobbled driveway of the mansion you immediately cried out in pain, the sensation comparable to walking directly into a fire.

“We’re almost there.” Kai was at your side, one arm around you as he half led, half carried you over to the car. Luckily for both of you, the car had been left unlocked — another testament to the naivety of these preposterously rich people. Kai opened the door for you, running around to the driver’s side as you barely managed to get yourself in the car.

As you looked out through the windshield, you caught sight of Brandon Kwon pointing at the car, his face aflush with anger and sweat pooling on his forehead. Before you could yell at Kai to hurry up, he had slipped into the seat beside you, slamming the door closed behind him.

“They left the keys in here,” Kai scoffed, just as appalled by the lack of security.

“Kai, just hurry up and GO!” you all but shrieked, throwing your seatbelt on and bracing yourself.

The car was soon thrown in reverse, backing up before Kai switched gears and slammed his foot down on the gas. You clutched to the door, head turned to look out the back window at the mess you two had left behind. Some of the guards were getting into their own cars, headlights flashing to life as their engines rumbled.

“Thank God this prick doesn’t have a gate around his house,” Kai spoke, more to himself as you found yourselves speeding away. The road to the mansion was empty, and the closest neighbors were at least a mile away, increasing your possibility of a successful escape.

“We’re not safe yet,” you added. “Once we get far enough, we need to dump this car and get these documents to the drop-off point.” The person who had requested for the scandalous documents had promised to leave a safety deposit box open under Kai’s name at a bank downtown. Once the pages were securely locked up in the safety deposit box, the job would finally be complete. Most banks typically closed around dinner time, but your mystery employer had pulled a few strings at a bank to ensure that they would be open when you arrived to drop off the documents.

“And get you something for your feet,” Kai interrupted.

You had briefly forgotten about your feet, the burning discomfort returning as your rush of adrenaline faded away. “We can worry about that later, right now we have more important things to take care of.”

Kai hummed noncommittally, a furrow between his brows as he continued to drive.

It didn’t take long for the car to reach the familiar downtown streets, especially at the speed with which Kai was driving the car. He pulled into an empty parking lot, the area stationed in front of a closed auto shop only a couple of blocks away from the bank.

Kai was out of the car before you could even get your seatbelt off, opening your door for you. As you moved to step out, he held his arms out to you, flashing you a look of apology before he scooped you up into his arms.

“What are you doing?!” you hissed, embarrassed by the sudden contact. Caught between two emotions, you couldn’t tell which one which you were feeling more of: annoyance at him carrying you, or comfort at the kind gesture.

“You’re injured, and we need to get to the bank. You can yell at me later,” he said simply, breaking into a run as you jostled back and forth, cradled safely in his hold. “You’ve still got those papers, right?”

Pulling them out from where you had kept them secure in your dress pocket, you looked them over. Everything was thankfully all in place. “Yeah, they’re all here,” you told him.

“Good. Because if we went through all this and lost a page, I would’ve lost my mind,” he grumbled, his breathing growing jagged as he continued to run.

“Kai, I’m too heavy. Put me down before you tire yourself out.” Your hands pushed against his chest, trying to get him to put you down but to no avail. His arms only held onto you more tightly, and Kai ran even faster.

“I’m okay. Just a little more,” he said, more to himself than to you. You could see the way his jaw was strained, the harsh wrinkling of his eyebrows as he focused on getting both of you to he bank.

Seeing as there was no point in arguing further, you let your head rest against his shoulder. Despite the jostling of it as he ran, you hadn’t felt nearly this content in a long time. Kai was a gentleman in every sense of the word, so kind and selfless almost to the point of inducing cavities with how sweet he was. Anyone would be lucky to have his heart, to have him care for you like other couples did.

Unfortunately, you two didn’t have the luxury of living like other people.

“Finally,” Kai breathed out, startling you out of your thoughts. The lights of the bank were still on, and you could see through the windows that a couple of people were still inside. Kai carefully maneuvered both of you through the revolving doors, gasping and out of breath as he scanned the lobby of the bank.

A woman came walking over, eyeing you with a raised eyebrow before turning to Kai. “May I help you?”

“Yes, we’d like to access our safety deposit box,” he replied, glancing down at his pants pocket before meeting your eyes. “I gotta get the key out, can I set you down?”

“Yeah, of course,” you stammered out, self-conscious with the stares of the bank staff on you. Kai set you down gently, watching as your bare feet touched the carpeted floor of the bank’s lobby.

“Right this way, please,” said the bank greeter. She shot a glance at your feet again, nose crinkled up in distaste before leading you over to a bank teller.

The man at the window soon had Kai’s ID and key verified, and led you two through the maze of hallways until you finally reached the infamous safety deposit box. “I’ll leave you two to your work,” he told you before returning back to the front.

“The sooner we get these locked away, the better,” Kai mumbled as he turned the key in the lock. He swung the tiny door open, pulling out the drawer of the box before pausing.

“What? What is it?” you asked, coming closer to peek inside.

At a loss for words, Kai pulled out two envelopes, one labeled for each of you. “Our next directions, probably.”

You took the one that he offered to you, your alias printed on the front in a swooping, elegant font. As you opened up the letter, you recognized the seal on the front page: RF-15. The contents were just as Kai had predicted, the next steps to be taken to ensure a safe return back to headquarters.

“I’m headed to the harbor after this. I guess I’m taking a boat back to headquarters. You?” you asked, stuffing the letter back into the envelope and in the pocket of your dress.

“The airport. EXO’s sending me out of the country for my next mission.”

“Well, then we’d better hurry so that you don’t miss your flight.” Ignoring the feeling of Kai’s eyes on you, you hastily shoved the treasured documents into the safety deposit box, closing the door and locking it soon after. “Come on,” you told him. You yanked the key out from it’s spot, holding it out to him.

Kai hesitated, hand half-outstretched before he took the key from you. “I guess this is goodbye then?” He stared down at you, eyes dark as he watched you somberly.

“I suppose so. We’ll have to wait and see if our agencies decide to do work togther again.” You extended a hand, waiting for him to shake it in a parting farewell. “It was nice working with you, Kai.”

He smiled, hand coming to meet yours. The skin of his hand was warm, fitting for such a warm-hearted person. “Call me Jongin.”

You flinched in surprise, taken aback by this sudden divulging of information. To a spy like you, your true name was the most priceless thing in this world. Giving out your name like this was reckless, especially considering how many untrustworthy people lay in your line of work. But something about Kai — well, now Jongin — had you wanting to break down these facades, to get to know the real person behind them. With a flushed face, you told him your name, the hint of pink on your cheeks only growing brighter when he said your name aloud.

“I hope we see each other again soon.”

Once you finally made it back to headquarters in the early hours of morning, you wanted nothing more than to sleep for the rest of the day. But as protocol would have it, you were required to report back to your superior first. He never told you his name, didn’t even have a nickname for you to call him. So, you were stuck calling him “Boss”, “your superior”, both of which he allowed.

You stumbled into his office, half-asleep and still in pain from walking around barefoot all night. “The documents are safe, sir. The agent from EXO and I both made it out of the bank safely.”

“Good. Get some rest, you’re not scheduled to work until next week.” He didn’t even bother to look up from the spread of papers on his desk, his eyes flitting from line to line as he read.

Next week? Usually you barely went a couple of days without any work. “Am I being punished for something, sir?” you asked, worry in your voice.

Your boss finally looked up from his work, examining you through his glasses. “Punished? Are you saying you’d rather not have a week off?”

“I meant that I’m just surprised to have such a long amount of time to recover. I’m ready to go back out whenever you need me to.”

“You’re going to want every bit of rest you can get. We’ve arranged for you to take on another mission with Kim Kai once he returns from his overseas mission. Unless you have any objections?” he asked, scrutinizing you with a curious gaze.

“Not at all, sir.” If anything, you were ecstatic to be paired up with Jongin again. There was no denying the euphoric rush that ran through your veins when you thought of him, the way you had to push back a smile at the sound of his name. Maybe it wasn’t such a bad idea to at least try to attempt to be friends with Jongin, now that every attempt to push him away had worked out with no success.

Hopefully you would have your feelings sorted out by then.

A/N: finally jongin’s spy au is up! it was a long time in the process and i’m still trying to get part two done, but hopefully you all enjoy it! school’s been kicking my butt, but i had a day or two where i was able to sit down and work on this for long periods at a time (otherwise this would have probably still been stuck in my drafts haha) i hope you guys are excited for part two!

@mikapeanut

#kpoptrashtag #exo scenario #kai scenario #kai fanfic #jongin scenario #jongin fanfic #exo fanfic #writings

78 notes · View notes

catcher-inthe-rye · 4 years

Text

I feel so repulsed by how I look but at the same time I feel like I don’t know how I actually look anymore. I hate looking in the mirror. I can’t stand how my body feels when I shower, or when I’m getting dressed. I hate how much space it takes up when I’m sitting down or even when I’m shuffling about in the kitchen. It feels so lumpy and jiggly and like it’s not how it should be. I hate that some clothes I love fit tight when they used to be more loose. I feel like an abnormal unlovable giant. I hate it when I’m not wearing make up outside and the wind blows so I can’t cover my face with my hair. It feels like everyone who ever sees me judges my face and my body and thinks that I look disgusting and I should be ashamed. I am ashamed. I am embarrassed. Every single day I wake up thinking I wish I looked different. Things that people used to say to me haunt me and whenever my brain replays them it feels like my heart gets stabbed all over again. Because they were always right. And it’s not like I’m even doing anything to make it better? I’d love to get more fit but there’s some kind of mental block stopping me. I comfort eat too much and I eat when I’m not even hungry, because I’m bored. Why can’t I just stop eating? I wish I could shed this body off and finally be free from this prison. My body is a prison. I like my fashion style but sometimes I get put off wearing it because I feel like I look too masculine cause of how big I am. I hate being the ugly friend and feeling so out of place, feeling so on the sidelines of every friendship group. I just want to feel comfortable in my skin, healthy and cool. But instead I’m a big lump of ugly. I fucking hate my face full of acne and acne scars, I hate how round it is, how big my forehead is, how little eyelid space I have for eyeshadow. I fucking hate how much weight I put on and how things don’t fit right. I hate that I don’t feel sexy at all and so out of place. I feel so undeserving of any romantic attention.

#personal #personal vent #rant #rant post

0 notes

chamomileoclock · 4 years

Text

things i dont say out loud;

No matter how good I feel about myself, I end up hating myself when I see the reflection in front of me. No matter how confident I feel in my own skin, my size makes me insecure and disappointed. That’s why I don’t usually take photos and rarely post my own. I even hid and archived some of mine that I posted years ago. Not everyone could understand this crazy issue I have so I don’t explain it to anyone. Some things are better left unsaid and it’s easier this way.

Even I know they’re the consequences of post-injections but do they understand? So I usually shrug it off.

Generally, basically, I love my face in real life more than my candids and some wrong angle-shaped selfies. But I admit I don’t always love those pimples on my nose and fainted scars on my chin. I got insecure very easily when I see pretty girls with long thighs, wide gaps between and aesthetic model posts from instagram. It got me feels really bad once I start to compare my whole self with those strangers. Comparing is such a cruel way to jeopardize one’s confidence and self-esteem. But now I know that most people don’t show off their unloved ugly sides on public. We all grow at our own rates and beautiful like flowers.

Some think that I don’t like my appearance and myself just because I don’t really post my pictures on social media. And how absurd it is to assume. Probably you don’t feel me. How I’m afraid to post something about my pics and how much courage does it take to post one. You don’t know I always (always)delete back at once I upload something of me. And it sucks but this is me and I gotta deal with it. One day when I have strength enough to post of me, I’ll off every comment box and wishing I could also close the liking button. Because baby why would I need anyone’s anything sweet or mean reactions when I’m liking myself and it’s all that matters. In my life I’ve seen so many people who dress up to post a lot but still hate their outlooks but in contrast I’ve encountered a few who are on the opposite side. But cheers for those babes who post and love themselves at the same time and still try to accept when they feel low. We all are human beings. We all have feelings. And it’s abso-fucking-lutely okay to not feel perfect all the time.

I stop finding validation from anyone, from anything. From any mirrors. From anyone’s judgemental looks. Actually life works really funny sometimes. I mean why should I have to change my comfortable pants again when someone doesn’t agree with me and hit me with unreasonable facts. Why do I look short in reflective glass-doors when it seems long when I look down to my legs. And why my skin looks so smooth on the living-room mirror but the one in my room shows the acnes explicitly.

So THE message I want to give is it’s okay if you don’t if you can’t like/love yourself right now. It’s an option. It’s a choice. It’s a survival like Lizzo said. And in our daily lives we have to choose carefully for the mirror to check up ourselves. Because mirrors are different according to the lighting, shape and height. And sometimes they lie when they receive wrong brightness and I hope you don’t always believe what they tell you. Never ever rely the idea of yourself on a thin metal and boneless tongues. Being you is a struggle but damn it’s worth more than every penny.The last thing I want you to know is find the validation within yourself because eventually it will stay longer or could be the longest than from anywhere, anyone and anything.

My dear, you’re not alone on this journey. You got this!

0 notes

chierushi · 5 years

Text

On Boy Friends

Somebody once talked to me about how there are more single ladies than men. From that circle, few of them are Christian men. Take a handful and you have Christian men with good character. Today, to date a "man of God" has become a requirement, something that adds up to the pile of never-ending list of things we expect from our would-be spouse. With my past experiences and stories I've heard from different people, I've come to think that it is almost impossible to even find one decent man. For the past year, the Lord has been proving me wrong.

I was at a low point in my life where I started to have a low self-image. I felt so unloved, unhappy, ugly, worthless. This man invaded my pity party that night, and he sent a personal message. He told me that he was once viewed himself the same way, maybe even worse. He said, building his self esteem did take years, but the foundation is strong that nobody would ever ruin it for him. He reminded me of my own. No man should take that away from me easily. He was so mad that he wanted to take the matter into his own hands. The personal message he sent that night was actually asking for my permission if he could just give one jab to that person's throat. I appreciated that he let me know that he's on the side of my honor and dignity.

One random evening, this guy asked me to hangout and visit our other friend. Since we haven't seen each other in a while, I agreed. His mother had just passed away that time, and I haven't personally comforted him, so I guess that's a good opportunity. Halfway through our conversation, I realized that mourning for our friend is not exactly the reason why we were gathered. They didn't invite me late at night to only talk about themselves, but to check up on me. They sound like they are more angered at the injustice than me. At one point, I was just listening to them rant, and thought, "they were sharing my burden!" And they still are today. Every now and then, they shoot me a chat and ask me about my current condition. There are several moments that they send me a photo of them hanging out together and wishing I was there. Right there, I knew that I could count on them as brothers for life.

Some of my peers have only time to offer, and that was more than enough for me. They were taking me almost regularly to whatever place just to listen to me rant. As a former leader, it became hard for me to express my pain in a way that I wouldn't be a stumble to somebody else's faith. Even if I try, the analyses of it all was not what I needed. I never opened up to these guys before, and at first it felt weird to tell them about my problems. I am forever grateful for they have provided me a safe space to do vent out. They didn't speak to me much; their few words went something like "Ah, yeah, that's bad." It seems like they weren't helpful, but they were, big time! My pain was validated and heard and given response to, no matter how short their replies may have been. I could never get why they chose to be with me during those dark days, but they did anyway. For once, I felt secured.

We were out of town. I can't remember the exact happening but we were laughing, and for some reason, I expected them to make fun of me. Why the hell am I waiting for it? Why am I conditioned to prepare for such an attack? I found myself weirdly disappointed because there was none. I was so used to people occasionally telling me I'm pretty, but they constantly made me feel insecure. I don't know how that happened. Maybe because it was with the same people that I first heard how acne and the growing waist line made me "almost" pretty. But with these folks, it's different. I've been friends with them for such a long time and not once have I heard them call me beautiful, but also, not once have I felt that I'm not. During casual conversations with me opening up about a boy problem, they always assume that it's the boy who wants me, and not the other way around. I uncomfortably laugh at it, but I've got to admit: I like it.

This country is not so good at single people, and this guy was hit by that very hard. Even with all the pressures being given to him, I'm so amazed that he is able to still pursue his dreams. He's very much single and very much into looking for a partner, but he kept on telling me, even as teenagers then, that nothing would come between him and his ambitions. In a world full of men who are just busy with looking for a wife, here comes a guy who has many plans other than a girl by his side.

I haven't had a romantic thing which each of them. I am so sure they are also there's nothing else besides being friendly to me. I guess, I wrote this to say that good men exist. Decent friendships with the opposite sex is possible. These kind of friendships are so wonderful because they are not doing it to impress me; they are just being a good person, giving me the treatment that I should be getting, the respect that I deserve. I am so thankful that the Lord surrounded me with such men, both religious and not.

"[Appeal] to older women as mothers, to younger women as sisters, in all purity [being careful to maintain appropriate relationships]." —1 Timothy 5:2 AMP

#ChierushiBlogs

0 notes

fireflyskitters-postgrad · 6 years

Text

Being Ugly and Beautiful

I was an ugly kid.

Not as a toddler, because toddlers are generally cute, all plump and round-faced with their happy, shameless antics. Maybe when I was around eight, and from then on. I was stick-thin, posture always somewhat caved in on myself because my childhood was spent reading books, with oily and acne-studded skin, fake straight hair that fell flat against my round face, unruly eyebrows, and thick spectacles. And braces.

I was aware that I was ugly because other people somehow found a way to tell me, whether behind my back or right to my face. It’s startling now to think that as early as eight, I was already sizing myself up based on my appearance; I could feel deeply wounded, inadequate, because of my body. Somehow, ugly attached itself to unlovable, so it was a personal flaw made all the worse since I couldn’t scrub it out of me with enough motivation.

I’m not sure when my appearance started improving—when I stopped wearing glasses and switched to contacts, for some reason. As if revealing the eyes can make such a difference. They’re probably my most distinctive feature, large and dark and lidded with thick lashes.

Then the changes happened one by one. The braces came off, I started shaving my legs and minding how I dressed, my hair grew out to its natural messy shape, and I found an effective dermatologist, shoving off the anti-PCOS pills and settling for meticulous treatments, acids layered on skin and diamond peel scrubbing out the insecurities. I became presentable, maybe even close to pretty.

One time, I was talking to a boy late into the night, and he told me—with a suspiciously genuine look—that I’m beautiful.

My default reaction was to be flattered, because he’d been putting up a good conversation and I was attracted despite myself. But on another level, a cold voice started digging through, insisting that I’m still the same. I couldn’t understand why eighteen-year-old me could be looked at like that, while eight-year-old me got the exact opposite response, flirty adoration set against disdain and disgust—eight or eighteen, I was still me, why the difference in treatment?

It was flattering, but also somewhat hollow for a compliment, and every time I heard an echo of it, I wasn’t sure what the proper response was. Because people—especially men—expect you to blush a little and give a self-satisfied smile. Evaluating my looks ruthlessly, I’d say that I’m somewhere in between average and beautiful, but much closer to average—and maybe the only reason that it’s even slightly past average is because I’m thin, which is today’s convention for beauty.

I’m not bullshitting myself—I wouldn’t turn it away as a compliment. And yet it’s also not satisfying. Like being told in plain language that the sky is dark today, or traffic sucks—there’s no insight or revelation, you’re only saying what you see. But why not put a little more effort in and point at something that’s harder to notice?

Everyone deserves a gaze that says beautiful while being looked at in the face, and yet that sees right through the face.

0 notes

lotsofdogs · 7 years

Text

I Stopped Working Out to Lose Weight—and Feel Happier Than Ever

“Oh, you’re not fat—you’re just big-boned!”

It’s a phrase I’ve heard my entire life from well-meaning friends, family, and strangers. But when they refer to my robust 5’10″ frame as “big-boned” and “curvaceous,” I can’t help but hear the word “fat,” even though they’re not saying it outright.

Throughout my pre-teen and teenage years, these comments on my body bred insecurities and led to a pretty unhealthy body image. Eventually, I didn’t just feel voluptuous, heavy, big-boned, or any other kind of term for “big”: I felt that this characteristic made me unworthy and unlovable.

Today, I’ve learned to appreciate my body for its shape. Being strong and tall allows me to power through climbs in indoor cycling classes, smoking even the class regulars in the front row. But it took me a long time to get where I am today—and it wasn’t easy.

As a kid, despite my dislike for the way my body looked, I always admired what it could do.

My heavier build helped me exceed in sports at an early age. The same boys who’d sneer and snicker should they be forced to take my hand during music class chose me first to be on their teams in P.E. class. My added weight and height in comparison to the other girls in my class was an asset—I could pummel members from the opposing soccer team with barely a flinch of my body and block basketball shots simply by standing next to the shooter. These physical characteristics gave me prowess and, most importantly, acceptance within that circle of boys I desperately wanted to please.

So, in a sense, I didn’t hate my body entirely. I hated the way it looked—always lumbering over my appropriately sized friends in pictures (I was the second-tallest person in my sixth-grade class photo, both boys and girls). But I did feel empowered by it each time I’d outrun another girl on the soccer field or came in first in the mile run in gym class.

My love-hate relationship with my figure continued onward through junior high and high school. Each time a boy would jokingly ask me out or sneer some unintelligible comment under his breath my way while walking down the hallway, I’d just funnel my focus into practice later that day. I had to be big to help my team win.

When sports ended and college began, so did the purpose for my larger frame.

My size was no longer a positive attribute that gave me power, and I was back to feeling like the “fat girl” who was unlovable. To deal, I’d drink, hitting up the bars Thursday through Sunday. While part of it was to mask my depression, it was also one of the only times I believed I’d get any type of sexual or romantic attention from guys—when they were drunk.

That heavy reliance on partying continued after college, until one night at the bars when I got in a minor tiff with a man—I don’t even remember what it was about—and he ended our interaction by essentially calling me fat.

It wasn’t the first time a stranger had call me fat, but something about this exchange was different. I reached a breaking point. It wasn’t what he said or did—it was how I felt in that moment. Dehydrated from drinking too much alcohol. Exhausted from constantly being hungover. Depressed and filled with self-loathing that made me never want to leave my apartment. I had gotten to the point where I was partying and doing pretty much nothing else. I knew I needed to change, and in my mind, that change meant not being the “big” girl anymore.

I decided I needed to lose weight—or at least I thought that was the answer to my problems.

So I did. I lost weight—a lot, and very quickly. I hired a coach, consulted my sister for advice (a bodybuilding figure competitor with experience in extreme dieting and exercise techniques), and announced to my friends and my boyfriend that my life and routine would be irreversibly changing for the better. But while I doggedly tried to convince those closest to me that the weight loss was purely for “wellness” reasons, I thought (and hoped) it would help my depression disappear.

When I first started losing weight, my friends and family were really complimentary. And truthfully, the compliments I’d receive were addictive. But my euphoria would simmer slightly in those instances where the compliments seemed slightly backhanded.

“You look amazing,” one acquaintance said one evening, after he had a fair amount of alcohol. “I mean, you looked cute before. But now you’re like, really hot.”

To be fair, this guy wasn’t exactly a close friend of mine—I had always considered him somewhat of a d-bag. Still, comments like these would cause that inner, self-loathing little girl to surface. Was I not enough before? Was my life only now beginning 20 pounds lighter?

Still, while I looked trim in pictures, I didn’t feel any better inside.

What I did feel, however, was a plummeting libido (much to my then-boyfriend’s dismay), constant lethargy, increased acne, and serious body issues. I’d wake up before the crack of dawn and climb an endless staircase for an hour, go to work, then return to the gym after to lift weights in the same repetitive motion each week. I wanted to be receptive to my boyfriend’s affections and advances in bed so badly—I knew our relationship was in dire need of it. But the fear of sacrificing even an ounce of sleep for something other than my morning workout was all-consuming, and I hated myself for it.

Once I hit that 20-pound weight-loss mark, I plateaued hard. The number I’d see on the scale each morning would dictate my mood for the duration of the day, and once I was bouncing back and forth between the same two to three pounds, most of those days were dismal. I also started wearing a sport corset to work to cinch my waist. I became moody and agitated after I’d eat and feel totally uncomfortable. (Not to mention, the fish I would continuously microwave at 9 A.M. each morning as a part of my diet wasn’t exactly making me the most popular person in the office.)

While my life might’ve looked fine from the outside, I was living inside a hamster wheel. I was still depressed, and was feeling the effects of it. I felt weaker and more exhausted than ever. That appreciation I once had for my physical prowess was gone. Still, I figured it was a phase—so long as a stuck with the gym and continued to lose weight, all of my problems would be solved.

Of course, like all intense and less-than-healthy diet and exercise plans, failure was inevitable.

Mine collapsed a year and a half ago when I decided to move from Arizona to New York City for a new job. I had no friends or family in New York, and was leaving behind my serious then-boyfriend. I was all on my own, and I needed to find a place to live and learn how to take the subway. I simply couldn’t waste any energy on worrying about how I looked. I had to survive first—and the endless supply of bodega bagels, pizza, and cheesecake at my disposal didn’t necessarily help: I traded home-cooked, portioned meals for lots of Seamless takeout. What’s more, while I was still attempting to do those same monotonous workouts, I was half-assing them and simply going through the motions.

A few months in, once the initial excitement from trekking across the country died down, my body once again became a focal point. When I stepped on the scale for the first time after moving (roughly six months after I moved and stopped dieting and obsessively working out), I learned I had gained almost all of the weight back. Seeing those familiar numbers again was crushing, but I didn’t have the mental energy to start an intense weight-loss journey all over again. On top of that, I broke up with previously mentioned boyfriend, which only made me feel more miserable.

I set out to find a workout that would simply distract me from my breakup, and ended up finding so much more.

Those monotonous workouts I had relied on before weren’t very good at taking my mind off my broken heart. As I trudged back and forth on the elliptical or lifted a 10-pound dumbbell for the seemingly 100th time, all I could do was fixate on my vacant, exhausted expression in the mirror and cue up the same Spotify playlist I had relied for a year and a half. Post-breakup and living in a new city, I knew now might be the optimal time to find something a bit more immersive and experiential to shake things up. Conveniently, around that time I was also able to nab a position as a writer for ClassPass, which allowed me to do just that: tour the city’s wide array of fitness studios for free. And when I saw an indoor cycling studio just a few blocks from my apartment, I opted to give it a try. I was immediately hooked.

From the low lights to the pulsing music and cheery, supportive instructors, those classes eventually became almost-daily therapeutic sessions. Whereas my previous workouts consisted of machines positioned in front of televisions, the cycling studio felt like a high-stakes nightclub, a sensory experience even the most jolted cup of coffee couldn’t supply. From my burning quads and hamstrings to core and arms, I felt that same total-body release after each session that I had experienced on the soccer field nearly 15 years ago. I felt alive.

What’s more, I was actually good at it. Although my cardiovascular stamina certainly had something to do with it, I knew my long, muscular legs also played a part. For the first time since I played soccer and excelled in P.E. class back in grade school, my body finally felt like an asset again. An agent of power. And I began to realize that what my body looked like had absolutely nothing to do with that power.

The most important thing I’ve learned? My happiness doesn’t have to be tied to my weight.

Last week, I stepped on the scale, and despite weighing even more than when I had started my initial weight-loss journey two years ago, I’ve never felt better. From my energy levels to my self-confidence to how my body feels each morning when I wake up, cycling has transformed my relationship with exercise as it relates to my body. I’m not losing weight, but I’ve never felt healthier and happier.

Do I still wince each time someone (with the best intentions) tells me I’m big-boned or curvy? You bet. Do I find my figure more attractive than what it was two years ago when I was 20 pounds lighter? Not exactly—I’d be lying if I said I didn’t wistfully look at those pictures of me in a bikini two years ago. But part of growing older is having the ability (and confidence) to pinpoint what factors truly contribute to individual happiness. I’ve finally come to realize that true happiness isn’t tied to compliment showers from friends or fitting into size 2 jeans. My happiness is, and will always be, derived from what I achieve—whether I do it with my brain or my strong, powerful body.

[Read More ...] http://blog.myfitnesspal.com/stopped-working-lose-weight-feel-happier-ever/

#health #fitness

0 notes

johnclapperne · 7 years