Ideal Image Novels & Stories

She began to let her mind wonder, which wasn’t uncommon for her. Leah let the scents around her take her mind to somewhere else, somewhere more pleasant. She imagined herself in a garden surrounded by flowers. The image was serene, and she imaged laying in the garden with the man of her dreams. She smiled. She wished she was marrying someone of her own choosing. She imagined the man to be tall and built like a football player, or a lumberjack, with a cute smile and a kind heart.

he said as he cocked his head to the right. I unconsciously obeyed what he said and saw this girl laughing with her friends. She looks like a model. I think she is tall. She has a long wavy hair that suits well with her body. And above all, she is a goddess. Her looks are so unearthly and I don’t know if there is someone that is even more beautiful than her. I smiled. So, that is his ideal type. What am I compared to that lady right? Who was I to expect that he would probably just tell me that he doesn’t have an ideal type because he has me in his life already? And who was I to expect he would like me?

I have wanted to achieve sparkling glamour, power, position, and pleasure. I wanted to kill Alpha Ibhaan–not to avenge my Bastardo husband’s death–but to feel a sense of contentment and worth. The whole thing made much more sense than it did now. More than him, I was in combat with myself. Not realising that it was not him but it was I who had to change. I was living in an image that I had carved in my imagination. It was all in my head. A world so powerful, influential, and well-maintained that it had almost reached the bounds of the illustrious word: perfect.

I inquired. His eyes narrowed but a small smile graced his lips. "I see that they are curious," he pointed out before his face turned serious. "No," he replied and nodded. I couldn't call whatever we had as a relationship. It wasn't anything close to it. What we had was just plain pleasure and nothing more. "Alright then, the next question is... What is your ideal type?" I asked. He seemed to think for a while before he responded. "My ideal time is someone who can't cook, tall, smart, devoted to her work and has a beauty mark under the corner of her eyes," he replied.

6"4 tall homosapien, with a handsome, attractive face, a beautiful pair of eyes which are black like charcoal, well-defined and broad Chiselled Jawline and shoulders, his lips pink, his skin glittering with freshness, his six packs was visible from his T-shirt, his biceps and triceps bulging out beautifully. Chimamanda was feeling hot inside her already, he was a sight to behold, the tingles in her were building up, he was making her speechless all of a sudden, but she wasn't going to give in. "I am a tough girl, no one messes with the Odenigbo's especially Chimamanda" she quickly says to herself.

I asked picking the ball again to continue slicing the vegetables. "I don't know, I've never been in a relationship not to talk of marriage its your man we are talking about here. Handle him yourself" She shrugged "Don't you have any plans of settling down?" I asked "Nope, I don't see marriage as a priority. If it comes I accept it but not for now" she replied "What If prince charming comes riding a white horse to steal your heart away?" I teased her "Keep living in your fantasy, The last prince got hooked by Meghan Markle last weekend and moreover, prince charming doesn't exist and even if they do they don't ride horses no more. They ride cars" She sat in front if me analyzing the whole pri

“Well, although people aren’t typically afraid of you, they do want to live up to you.” I wrinkled my nose. “What?” “You’re an ideal, honey. People are drawn to you because you’re beautiful and confident, and then they find out you have a wicked sense of humor and are sweet on top of that, and they can’t help but want to be near you. But you expect the highest and best out of people and when they don’t perform, you tend to back away a little.” My stomach churned a bit. “Why am I an ideal?”

I smiled, he will be the end of me. "Real Madrid jersey, only the top" I guess I should also make his imagination run wild. "No undies I suppose" "It's night, so yes no undies" "It's amazing how I have a perfect image of you even when I haven't seen you, I guess am imagining you as my ideal woman". Damn he has an ideal woman, of course all men do, what if am nothing like his ideal woman. I want to send him my picture atleast for him to know if I am his ideal woman. Then again if I send him the picture and I am not his ideal woman he will start keeping his distance which I am not ready for.

No one can tell any longer whether it is a painting or a photograph. Supplementary to her wishes is the desire to possess the epitome of beauty. Its thoughtfulness of desire madly walks in the notion of her mind that was unbeatable and bounded by cruelty. Unable to depict her wishes into reality, she shows her yearning through creativity. A young woman of her same age with the same physical appearance as her was painted and shown to be happy in remoteness, surrounded by nature. Although the young subject has the same facial features, its traits are enhanced; a little larger than her lip shape, more refined eye shape, neat eyebrows, naturally longer and uplifted eyelashes, and smoother skin t

Like if I want to have friends other than the ones assigned to me the world will end, the zombies will come marching, and that will be that. I give Hubter the half-assed smile he crashes, where I curl my lips up at him. It's a signal of compliance and approval on my part. This must be how Princess Diana felt trying to obey her husband. The world knew she had to pretend to be something she wasn't and it destroyed her. That's how this is for me, I am trapped in a model's body with a career that I want and don't. I never thought I would want something at the same time as hating it. I love posing for photos, but the pressure to be more than myself follows me like the ghosts of thousand deaths.