The Outsiders Aesthetic Novels & Stories

All I can do is stare at Darragh Ryan with bugged out eyes. Fate has to be playing a joke. My aesthetic is delicate, sweet, romantic, cottagecore. His aesthetic is—the pants I wore all last week are fine. No shirt, no shoes, no problem. Haircuts are for the weak. I kill things with my bare hands in human form. I’ve been through hell and seen the other side. Tingles race across my skin as my stomach drops. When does it end?

How does an incubus get to sound like that? Come to think of it, how does a man with such a terrible personality get to look like that? Your attitude should match your looks; that's the way it goes. I'm not all that of a good person, so I believe my looks aren't all that beautiful. I'm not ugly. I think, but not beautiful either. But Aiden—He's nasty. But he doesn't look nasty. Aiden is causal. Plain white shirt and black pants. No design whatsoever, but he looks— and I'm cringing at the thought of this, but Aiden... I won't say it.

The overcast sky shaded all the sunlight needed for living beings, producing nothing but strong gusts of wind that occasionally brought upon the sparse leaves violently, making some of them fall onto the ground. Clearly, the weather today was not in anyone's favor. And so was the mood of a handsome young man in raisin-color outer attire. The outer shirt shielded all but the plum undershirt's necklines that matched the hue of his sash. With a sharp turned-up nose, thin rosy lips, and an oblong face covered by the dark raven hair tied up into a high half ponytail, letting down the remaining half to reach down his lower waist, the man was of aesthetic beauty.

It was horribly impersonal, lacking any trace of memory or childhood. Even under the dim light that sat against the wall of his house, I could see his sharp jawline. The light did no favors for his platinum hair, turning it into a washed-out shade of yellow. Even in the horrible light, Atlas held a certain kind of beauty that was rare in this world. His porcelain skin was blemish free, his face smooth and unyielding. His body was chiseled from marble, hard and stoic as he stood before Alyssa. His full lips were bright with color, but pulled down in what looked to be the start of a snarl.

I said. "You threw away our suitcases?" Mom screamed. "Are you crazy, Heidi? Who gave you the permission to throw our things?" "I gave myself permission—after all, I'm crazy," I replied. "What about my suitcases then?" Madeline asked anxiously, shedding her sweet, innocent image. "My new clothes and handbags are all there. They're all designer items worth hundreds of thousands!" What a pointless question. I chuckled and asked, "Do we really need to worry about whether they're recyclable or not when they're all trash?"

“It’s f-king late.” They were precisely the same height, and their profiles were almost identical, Aislen thought in bemusement that one face could create in her such a strong feeling of love and affection, but the other revolted her. Rhett was dishevelled and the green cargo pants that he wore were untied, hanging loose on his hips and revealing the temptation of a triangle of skin where the hair had been recently stripped away. That bare patch also reminded Aislen of her own recent lack of personal grooming, and whilst she had been sporting, until recently, a thatch of hair of her own, in proud defiance, with the lack of regular showers, she was feeling a little richly scented – and that w

They were the kind of eyes that seemed to look right through people, making anyone who met his gaze feel uneasy. He had a rough beard that was always slightly unkempt, adding to his menacing appearance. His nose looked like it had been broken at least once, and the crookedness of it only made him look more dangerous. His lips were thin, often curled into a scowl that didn't leave much room for warmth or kindness. Tom dressed simply but effectively. He wore a black leather jacket, tight jeans, and heavy boots that made loud thuds as he walked. His overall appearance was a reminder that he wasn't there to make friends, and his size and strength made it clear that he didn't need to.

Aesthetic's POV: “ I see… “ I murmured while looking at Spade's cold eyes then gulped many times to settle this uncomfortable feeling. “ I’m Aesthetic, but you can all call me Thea. “ I stated while wearing a fake smile on my face. How can I even smile if I know that I was sorrounded by these non-human creatures? They're all gorgeous but the fact that they have some hidden fangs inside their mouths make me wanna run away from here.

she exclaims and brings out a gray T-shirt and places it on me looking at it like some kind of fashion police. I take the shirt and I turn the front and find an image of a rock band called blood face with peculiar looking makeup. Jade and I definitely have different aesthetics. She has more of a grunge goth aesthetic and I more of a clean girl aesthetic. People tend to wonder how we're even friends at all but we somehow make it work. “What do you think?” She asks. I try to find the right words to say but nothing good seems to pop up in my mind as I look into the weird white faced men staring back at me.

The scent of frost, wet mud, and raw meat hung heavy in the air. I crossed my arms over my chest, bracing myself for the hostile glares. I was a southern princess. An outsider. I was wearing an oversized shirt, my bare legs exposed to the biting cold, entirely stripped of the silk and jewels that usually commanded respect. I expected them to look at me with pity. Or mockery. Or the same cruel disdain I had endured in Aurelia. I took a tentative step down the muddy path. A massive warrior standing by a wagon, a man with a jagged scar across his throat and a brutal iron battle-axe strapped to his back, turned his head.