Makeup Aesthetic Novels & Stories

If I was really pretty, would Killian still fall in love with someone else? “You are perfect, Astrid. Your skin is naturally even and flawless, there’s nothing for me to cover. Your brows also looked so natural that I only used clear gel to groom it. Since this is a special event, I only applied makeup on you to give you that dramatic look,” the makeup artist explained. I remained silent, not knowing what to say. Since she’s a professional, she knows what she’s talking about. Meanwhile, I really don’t have any idea about these kinds of things.

He smiles. "Because you do. Makeup doesn't make you look beautiful. Your face does that. Makeup just heightens everything and underlines it. Just like coloring. You outline, but you don't have to color it in to see the picture with color, but you do, so it's easier to see the beauty." I sigh. "You see things a different way." He nods. He looks at Ken. "Thank you for joining us," He hums. "I didn't get much of a choice. You had Grace ask me. I usually can't say no to her." Dex smirks.

"I don't know what I would have done without you." Emma sat beside her. "You would have figured it out. You're the strongest person I know." Rachel looked at her. "I'm not strong. I just don't know how to give up." Emma smiled. "That's what strength is." --- The makeup artist arrived at 9:00 AM. She was a young woman named Celeste, with bright pink hair and a calm, professional demeanor. She set up her station in the corner of the room and began laying out brushes, palettes, and foundations.

Long, jagged gashes split open on both sides of her mouth, nearly reaching all the way to her ears. "Do you still think I'm beautiful?" Contrary to her expectations, I showed no sign of panic or disgust at all. I simply smiled and nodded. "Yes, you're very beautiful." I looked at her with a gentle smile. "Every woman has her own kind of beauty. You just need more confidence. As for the less perfect parts, makeup can help refine them. That's not a big problem." Many of my clients struggled with appearance anxiety. When someone lacked confidence, I knew a negative reaction was the last thing I should show. That was just professional ethics.

I made my way to the living room and took a seat beside mum. She smiled at me and gave me a hug when I came in. “How's my beautiful daughter doing? How did your day go?” She asked. I grimaced. I get that they always made extra sure to tell me how beautiful I was and all that, so I wouldn't feel bad about how I looked. But I wished they realized they only made me see myself less and less in the light they were trying to paint to me. I just didn't see what they saw. Beautiful? Yeah, right.

She was too focused on her future, too blind to the truth, too innocent to see the darkness that surrounded her. Hilary, her gaze fixed on the mirror, her fingers gently smoothing her hair, watched as a make-up artist, a professional brought in by her mother, worked on her face. The make-up artist was a master of her craft, creating a look that was both simple and sophisticated, highlighting her natural beauty without masking it, enhancing her features without overshadowing them. Hilary, her heart filled with a mixture of gratitude and annoyance, felt a sense of discomfort at being the object of so much attention, so much effort. She just wanted to be herself, to be normal, to be free from t

She looks stunning. “You look good too. No makeup?” “No makeup, you know how much I don't like it” “What do you mean you don't like it, since when?” Her eyes questioning me with raised brow, “You love wearing makeup more than me and you have the most beautiful makeup products collections. No wonder you didn't notice I took some of them.” I blinked repeatedly, Aurelia likes make up? I never thought of that. “Makeup makes me feel more confident about myself and I'll do anything that gives me little happiness’, those were your words. Plus you use them to cover the dark undereye you got from sleepless nights worrying about your mate.”

I locked up and then called an uber to McQueen's mansion which was located 2 hours from here meaning I would have to spend the night there because it would be too late to come home. I had taken a nap and was awoken by light tapping on the window. It was Jeffery, McQueen's security guard, once he saw me he opened the gates and the driver dropped me off by the entrance. I thanked him and walked up the stairs. I was really exhausted but the night was only starting. I went to Harush the makeup artist and sat in her chair. She admonished me for having braids because I couldn't wear a wig and then the process started. Stripping from my clothes I sat in a tiny bikini as Harush spray tanned my skin

Each crystal feels imbued with intent as if they are tiny fragments of a larger, unsolved riddle. Finally, she moves to makeup. A soft touch of iridescent blue eyeshadow graces my eyelids, making them pop like never before. Each stroke of the mascara wand adds depth to my lashes, rendering them almost feathery. When she applies a rose-tinted lip gloss, I feel like every aspect of my being is being highlighted yet also questioned.

I was then whisked away to a salon that was part of the boutique. An hour passed, maybe more, as my hair was styled into a sweeping cascade of curls and my nails were painted in a silver sparkle. My eyes were accented in smoky shades that made them look twice as large, and the rest of my face was turned into pure marble with makeup I could hardly feel. I was tempted to think the aestheticians were magical.