Drew Starkey Aesthetic Novels & Stories

“I hate how perfect this is. My brand is ruined.” A few feet away, Keyu was leafing through a book with a bewildered expression. Small, handwritten notes were tucked into every other page, the margins blooming with ink. “You actually annotated this?” he asked, his thumb tracing a line of Astrella’s handwriting. “Consider it a limited edition,” she said, her tone light but her gaze lingering. “Don’t get used to the effort.” A loud, booming laugh erupted from Fabio. He held up a sweater that was so aggressively festive, complete with a light-up reindeer, it practically hurt to look at. “Is this a declaration of war, Astrella?”

TESSA There is a game on tonight and the pub I work at is packed full of patrons when Drew takes a seat at the bar in front of me and flashes a smile that makes my insides flutter. “Hey Beautiful, long time no see.” He couldn't be any hotter if he tried. It's pretty clear that he’s not really trying. The man just oozes sex appeal. Considering my history, you’d think I’d run like hell in the opposite direction, but something about him keeps drawing me in. I'd say it's his eyes, the most enchanting midnight blue, but it could just as well be how his dark brown hair sits perfectly tousled. And let's not forget about how his sculpted muscles hide behind his fitted clothes begging you to take a c

But deep down, something in me steadied. She had walked into this place like she was untouchable. Like she could push me away with a half smile and a name drop. But now, she was leaving with her pride bleeding and her mask slipping. She was brimming with arrogance and sugar coated insults but now this version of Kimberley had been disarmed. By Drew. And I couldn’t lie to myself, I wanted to know how. Later that afternoon, I gathered the final pieces of the updated designs and headed toward Drew’s office. We had agreed to finalize some of the launch visuals and iron out key partnerships this week. Still, something about this particular walk felt… heavier. Like I was carrying more than folders

“Under those corporate parameters, are there specific stylistic vectors your tongue wants my hand to steer his choices toward?” I seized the tactical opening instantly. “Yes. Absolute confirmation. Nothing that translates to a low-tier mate trap. Zero threads that imply a brainless bimbo aesthetic. My image requires an architecture that registers as highly intelligent, yet entirely sharp. Dominant. Historic. Symmetrical cleavage represents a viable asset, but nothing that evokes the visual data of a primitive breeding den pin-up.” “The metrics are logged. My hands will manipulate what we can behind the veil.”

Or was it her imagination playing with her reality? She was jolted back to reality when she heard the sound of the stiletto and it stopped when she saw the lady standing before her giving her a questioning look that said 'why are you staring at my boss like that?' and it was as if Adele got the message and she immediately asked the lady who was the god of manly beauty that she saw just now? She could never believe that that man was Mr Drew, that was impossible, Mr Drew was an ugly man and with the rumours, he could not be anywhere close to this Adonis, and she wanted to know if there was another Mr Drew but it was as if the lady was not interested in giving her the information she needed, th

she’d thought, and still did. So is he! she’d decided later on seeing the artist himself across the proverbial crowded room. Gorgeous, but not at all in the way she’d expected. To Lacey the word ‘artist’ had always been synonymous with ‘wimp’. It suggested a pale, long-haired, wild-eyed, limp-wristed aesthete. Nathan Levay, however, was a muscular, jeansclad hunk with steady, bright blue eyes, a rich, obviously natural tan, and an almost brutal squaddie-style haircut. He looked more like Rambo than Leonardo.

“Ash, you don’t know what you’re saying.” “Why not?” My hand still rested on his leg, and I slid it up, tracing the hard muscles of his thigh, creeping closer to my goal. Drew practically vibrated under my hand, and I had that swooping sensation again in the pit of my stomach, that thrill of imminent danger. “I’m not an idiot. Amnesiac, yes. Fucked-up, yes. A possible carjacker. But not stupid.” “No,” he breathed. “Not stupid. Just incredibly fucking reckless. You’re playing with fire, touching me like that.”

" What do we do? It seems that Drew has the backing of all mages at this point. I have no idea what he is promising them but I know one thing is for sure. I've dated Drew before" " Okay? Why did you feel the need to mention that you have dated him?" " Because I still know Drew. He's still the same vile person from before only thing is that he's gotten worse, that's all. I guess all these years of being underestimated got him plotting for the worst crimes." " So what are you saying? You know him still?" " Yes that's what I'm saying" "Okay and? " " And I know that Drew is a perfectionist. When he plots things he loves it going EXACTLY how he planned. If we can breach his plan with something so

On one page, I saw a boy gazing at a river, his face reflecting deep sorrow. Eventually, Ace paused at a drawing of a woman with her back turned, her hair styled in an updo. What struck me was the attention to detail – the way the light highlighted her hair, which stood out against the shaded parts of the drawing. I realized her hairstyle was unique in this town, where brown and black hair were the norm. She wore an edgy outfit, complete with a leather jacket and a skirt, reminiscent of my punk-inspired style.

He just stared. "Does it meet the 'curated' aesthetic?" I asked, my voice echoing in the foyer. Adrian cleared his throat, adjusting his cufflink with a sudden, jerky motion. "It’s... striking. People will talk." "Good," I said, descending the stairs. "Let them." The Red Carpet Gauntlet