Emily Blunt Face Novels & Stories

Brightness clouded the room and my eyes widened like saucers used to feed elephant, to see who it was. "Your kick still hurts too much, Emily!?", she said, wiping the little blood from the corner of her lips before tugging at her hoodie which fell on her shoulders to reveal her scarlett curls and she shook her head a little to ruffle her hair that fell across her face with some admirable prettiness. Winking smartly at me, she extending a hand towards me for a handshake, her mouth chewing and popping bubblegum.

“I mean, his face. Describe his facial features.” “Oh,” Emily immediately felt stupid. “Oh. I mean, of course, that’s what you meant. I was going to get there. I mean, eventually.” Her smile didn’t leave her face. “Of course, ma’am.” “So, um, his facial features,” Emily was suddenly conflicted on what to say out of fear she was going to be overspilling. “He looks okay. He always furrows his brows but right, that’s not the point. How do I describe someone’s face? He has pointy nose? Not too pointy though. Like perfectly shaped pointy nose. Um, what else? His cheekbones? He rarely smiles but whenever he does, they come to life in a way?”

His face was fixed at the wall with no smile but disgust. “What are you doing here?!!” The gruttal voice sounded in her ears and she raised her head. “Oh my goodness!!” she placed both her hands over her lips Emily widened her eyes when she saw the face of the person.

The only way to shut him up was to comply. She sprinted—well, limped—to the basin and scrubbed her face until it stung. She unpinned her matted hair, trying to rake her fingers through the silver-brown mess. She looked at her reflection. No war-paint, no jewelry, just the hollowed-out look of a girl who lived on scraps. She wasn't an Alpha Queen with flawless skin; she was a mountain stray. She snapped the selfie and hit send. Silence. Five minutes turned into twenty. Emily pouted at the screen. Was she that hideous? Did the reality of her wolfless face kill the fantasy?

Taking a second bite of steak, I dropped my fork; my food now tasted bland. My face formed into a deep frown while my brain replayed the day's drama. I had to admit she didn't look as pretty as she did before, with her hair now a tangled mess and dark circles under her eyes. Yet, I was still very upset. Emily, like I'd known her to react concerning Adrian, was still very possessive and desperate—two traits that were not going to take her far. I clicked my tongue in disapproval.

With great hesitation, she turned her face backward. However, before she could speak, suddenly a punch hit her face, right in the nose. The sudden pain made her body fall backward, losing balance and unable to hold on any longer. Emily fell to the ground, shocked and confused by what had just happened. The pain in her nose, combined with all the emotions that had accumulated, made her feel even more devastated. This incident added to her list of suffering, and she was forced to face the increasingly harsh reality. It turned out that Connie, Lucy, and Jennie were following behind. Very cruelly, Connie punched Emily in the face, causing thick blood to flow from one of her nostrils. The violent

Emily got ready, her eyes blinking prior to locking onto the image. And it was during those moments when Emily blinked that Millie’s face changed. At first, it became smudged, like a picture that was slightly out of focus. Emily pawed at her eyes to remove the blur. This appeared to only make matters worse because then Millie’s face appeared as a black smoke that wavered, framed by dark tendrils of mist. And not only did Millie’s face become smoke, so did everyone who was facing up-field. Emily took a step backwards, the muscles in her legs twitching with fear. When a series of bright green eyes opened in every smoke-face she saw, her legs seemed to liquefy and gave way.

Kingsley tried to gently wipe Emily’s face with the towel to remove the lille blood from her split lip, and to remove her makeup to see how bad the damage was. “I do not think that anything is broken,” Mrs. Kingsley said looking at the bruising and swelling, “but you are going to feel and look rough for a few days.” Standing on shaking legs, Emily walked over to the sink and looked in the mirror. The reflection in the mirror made her gasp. She knew that she would see bruising and swelling since both sides of her face had been struck in the last twenty four hours, but she had no idea it would be quite so bad. Emily pulled down the neck of her ruined top to see an almost perfect bruised handpr

In mirror.. a face of young woman appeared .......it isn't her face..But of course she knew this face... these blue eyes are exactly like the contact lenses she used..then....but these are real ones... Eldest lady of Daudet family.. Emily Daudet... so she was born in this body ..after a few moments of silence in which Emily's whole memory was playing in her mind as a flash back she get to know..the truth of Emily ..so different from rumors..

Freya drawled, "your darling fiancée and baby mama here decided to get fancy with her bread-cutting skills." Emily groaned good-naturedly. "Oh god, you don’t need to actually tell the story." "She cut open a bread roll towards the palm of her hand," Freya continued, relishing the chance to embarrass her friend. "Didn't expect the knife to go through as quickly as it did, and bam! Sliced her palm open like a pro." "It wasn't that bad," Emily protested weakly. "Eight stitches," Freya countered, holding up her hand to demonstrate. "And you nearly fainted at the sight of your own blood."