Emily Corpse Bride Aesthetic Novels & Stories

She sews it up tight to fit her size and taste. And who do we have here? Scorpion couldn't help but compliment what he was looking at as he chuckled lightly. Emily's body shape made her look more like the goddess of war. Emily gave him a deadly glare and said,. You know I should be home right now, so if you would kindly give me my bag, I would gladly be on my way home without causing you any trouble at all. Oh no, you hold it right there. If you are going to finish a job for me, then you are on your way.

EMILY Tomorrow I was supposed to be married to Alessandro for real this time. I didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. I sat at my dressing table, staring hard at my reflection as if it might suddenly rearrange itself into something happier, something softer. But it didn’t. I didn’t look like a bride. There was no glow, no anticipation. If anything, I looked like a widow—hollow-eyed, drained, already mourning something I hadn’t even been allowed to keep.

The man did not force himself on her, yet she knows that she still doesn't want what is happening right now. Everyone was looking at her. Those red eyes that seem to judge her regardless of her origins and goals She could feel herself trembling in place as she held a bouquet of flowers in her hands, wilting the petals of the blossoms. It was both majestic and creepy at the same time. The corpse bride, as they call her. Her hair was curled into big waves, bouncing at her back as she walked through the rough path of black carpet. Althea could not feel a sense of affection or any emotions at all. She only sees herself walking through the altar, about to be wed with the devil.

Rainier standing tall in the distance. Our photographer, a talented young woman with a keen eye for capturing candid moments, was positioning us for the next shot. Emily, wearing a bridal gown that enhanced her curves and highlighted her fair complexion, looked ethereal. I'd chosen a bespoke charcoal suit, which Emily had mentioned made me look "dapper."

“Didn’t see you there.” Emily stood, her dress clinging to her skin. “It’s okay,” she said quietly, trying to keep her composure. But Grisle wasn’t satisfied. She tilted her head, eyes gleaming. “That dress… was that off-the-rack? It looks like something from a clearance bin. Honestly, if you’re going to marry into the Adams family, you should at least try to look like you belong. You’re going to put Warren and the entire family to shame.” Emily’s throat tightened. Her fingers curled at her sides.

But it wasn't just the dress, Emily is a beauty. Soft, pale skin that hasn't touched sun light in almost 10 year, a thin fragile body from years and neglecting her stomachs request for food, perfect posture cause Charles like elegant women, long beautiful blond hair, bright blue eyes that always looks wet like shes just about to cry. She walks effortlessly in heels like shes been walking in heels all her life. Her aura was light but also heavy, elegant and feminine, strong but fragile, eyes glued to her like metal to a magnet.

“It’s going to be a beautiful day.” And just like that, I was swept into the bridal current. They pinned, painted, pressed, powdered. Brushes danced across my skin, rollers in my hair. Champagne was offered and refused—I couldn’t even think of drinking. Not with my stomach tying itself into so many knots I could barely breathe. Danielle popped in halfway through. Her squeal echoed through the suite. “Emma, you look like a literal dream. Like an ethereal forest fairy queen bride hybrid.” I blinked at her through the mirror. “That’s oddly specific.”

Emily admires herself in the mirror, turning to see if her dress is provocative enough. She chooses a dark blue dress that clings tightly to her body with a very low neckline, revealing most of her shoulders and chest. It's a deliberate choice to seduce, but she's not satisfied yet. Emily then picks another dress in a deep red color. Bolder, with a V-neckline, is more provocative, as the front split goes all the way to the edge of her stomach. Not to mention the additional slit on the thigh area that reaches the upper thighs.

John would like her very much because her scent was so unique and haunting. I immediately smelled a strong and fresh milk vanilla ice cream. I watched as Emily approached me. She was dressed plainly, in a white bodysuit with a pair of jeans and white sneakers. This is her signature outfit. As always, no makeup and a high ponytail. However, today she looks different to my eyes than she usually does. She seemed more striking without makeup than with makeup; her skin seemed fairer and rosier than usual as if she were a baby; her fragrance was more intense than usual, she was like a walking vanilla cake with fresh milk, and I couldn't wait to rip her clothes off and lick her all over.

It was like she had dumped a bucket, no a dam, of ice water over his head. “We didn’t want to wait, you know?” “But you’re Emily Maine. What about the big poofy dress and, I don’t know, wedding of the decade and all that stuff?” “You Condor men are all the same. You think weddings are nothing but big poofy dresses. Anyway, the dress is taken care of. CC is making it and the rest of it is all just details,” Emily said, taking a deep breath. “I’m ready.”