Hopeless Romantic Aesthetic Novels & Stories

and moved back. Everything was too much for me to intake. All surreal but scary. I composed myself and said," I used to think you are an irritating, arrogant, and ruthless businessman. Never in my dreams, I thought you can be a ‘hopeless romantic’ too.” "See, when it comes to romance, I believe in keeping it simple. For a second, did you call me ‘hopeless romantic’ by any chance?", his words held a little annoyance. Very little that to be noted.

Girls in bikinis running around,some people playing at the ocean tide,some lovers acting all romantic and showing affection,kids building sand houses. "Awwnn...look at that....so sexy"says Nina whose attention is solely fixed on lovers showing affection and acting romantic toward each other. "Look at what?"Says Jane who was trying to figure out what it was that was making her friend trip. "The lovers ofcourse...just look at the romantic scene"she says blushing "Stop looking at them like that before they see you which will in turn make them uncomfortable". "I don't care"says Nina,a beautiful young lady in her late 20s,long hair,body shape like an hour glass,slim and fair in complexion.

All of them wanted to be the woman who would earn the fixation of those startling eyes, who would carve out a path to his heart and make him bare the secrets of his soul to them. Except me. I found him dull. Oh, yet another artsy, sensitive romantic who wore black sweaters and carried a canvas messenger bag and had a stupid pretentious name. Axel Pierce, like his parents had known he would be a brooding old soul. Yet another college boy with longish hair and pouty lips and a permanent scowl on his face as he pondered the injustice of life and the illusion of liberty and the lack of inspiration to be found in the world. Another tortured creature that stood amid the roar of a surf-tormented sh

Saying it made him closer, made the obsession sharper, made the ache inside me almost unbearable. I closed my eyes, letting my imagination spin even further. I pictured him leaning across the balcony railing, hands just shy of mine. Our eyes meeting, the distance between us charged with something unspoken. He would hear me whisper his name again, slower this time: “Mark…” And in my mind, he smiled, head tilted, lips just slightly parted. He didn’t laugh, didn’t speak, didn’t pull away. He stayed. He existed there, in that imagined space, a perfect, tantalizing mixture of real and unreal, and I could barely breathe.

She said nothing. I picked up the small remote and turned on the screen. A photo of an Italian estate appeared on the panel: limestone villa, olive trees, a long table beneath hanging lights, an evening sky the color of champagne. “Classic Italian garden,” I said professionally. “Romantic, heritage-driven, safe for old families who still believe linen can demonstrate moral character. Perfect if you want to look like a woman finally accepted by history.” Alessandra lifted her eyes. I clicked to the next slide. “Modern minimalist. Clean, expensive, slightly cold. Ideal for a bride who wants everyone focused on her face because the decor is too polite to compete.”

This time, when I looked at the two puppets seated at the head of the table, I finally noticed something strange. They looked… a lot like Derrick. Were they modeled after Derrick's parents? However, it did not make sense. Derrick was already there, so why were they still searching for a 'groom'? The answer came to me as I recalled what another player had said before. Ximena hated men, and any 'groom' she chose would be torn apart. It seemed like there was a hidden thread in that dungeon's mission. I had once asked Ximena why she killed those grooms and even fed them to the puppets. Her answer had been simple. To maintain the 'souls' of those puppets.

All empty amusement to placate the vapid masses. Of course, a true artiste held such fare in lofty contempt for its emotional dishonesty and intellectual paucity. Which was precisely why I intended for Hailey to choke and flail upon its shoals like a landed fish. To cede back any shred of respect I might have begun affording her dangerous authenticity. "Oh goody - Withering Loins, the RomCom," she muttered in a tone of light sarcasm after scanning the title page. "I'm sure this will prove the height of dramatic craftsmanship."

Let’s see how this one ends for our girl. [And if she rejects him, he gets angry and kills people anyway. Same outcome, different flavor.] The air felt charged, hormones spiking fast. That familiar dryness hit my throat again. My eyes felt glued to his face. I couldn’t look away. I’d experienced this before. There was a dungeon once, Rose Manor. The feeling was exactly the same as when I ran into Zero and Jackson back then. The moment I lock eyes with an anomaly that fits my taste, my stupid love-struck brain starts overheating on its own.

Her heart nearly stopped. “You’re successful now,” she said. “You have everything. Why would you want the same girl you left behind?” “Because I never stopped loving her.” The room felt suddenly smaller. Dangerous. Hope was a dangerous emotion for Evelyn. “I don’t believe you,” she said. “You don’t have to,” Lincoln replied. “But I’m not giving up this time.” Her chest tightened again. Every man she had dated after Lincoln had been an attempt to replace something that could never truly be replaced.

I want a romantic relationship with the one I love, not until I found my Mimo, which I have longed for since I was a child. If she can't remember me anymore, I will make her remember. "Tell my sister to mind her own business. I am going now, and I just finished working out, and I need to take a bath, bye." I drop the call and angrily go to the bathroom to clean myself. Even if I am a hopeless romantic, I am proud of it because I want true love to express myself. I want to give love, be possessive and be romantic at the same time. This time, no more rejections, no more being shy. I will get Mimo no matter what. If I do not marry her, then I'll be single forever. She will be my last chance aft