Ethereal Outfit Novels & Stories

“That sounds perfect. I could use a change of scenery.” Ethan got out of bed and dressed quickly in a crisp white shirt and tailored pants, while Sasha slipped into the bathroom to freshen up. When she emerged, Ethan’s breath caught in his throat. She wore a deep emerald green evening gown that clung to her curves in all the right places, the color making her eyes stand out like jewels. The gown had a low back, with thin straps that shimmered under the dim light, and her hair was pinned loosely, soft curls cascading down her shoulders.

The woman told the tale. “Well, if you think about it, the story is kind of, well, creepy,” Blair spoke but soon her eyes started to widen with joy. “I will be taking this, thank you very much.” The woman turned to me as she showed me an elegant emerald gown with ruffs for it’s collar and golden linens around it. It was paired with a green that added more elegance to its nature. “Do you like it, Miss Revington?” she asks. “Actually, I am very much impressed. From which fairytale was this based?” I asked out of sheer curiosity somehow it was familiar to me.

I whispered to the empty room, turning off the screen. The next evening, I arrived at the estate gates precisely on time. I’d chosen a purple bodycon dress that felt like a second skin, the color of a deepening bruise against my pale skin. I’d swept my hair back with a simple white ribbon—an innocent contrast to the cool, predator-like detachment in my eyes. As Ethan stepped out of his black Range Rover, his eyes raked over me, and for the first time in years, I saw the beast in him stir. His pupils dilated, his nostrils flaring as he took in the sight of me.

With her slightly distracted, I had the opportunity to take in her beauty. I don’t think I’ve ever believed in the word ethereal until my view of her changed. She looks like she stepped out of something too beautiful to exist in the real world. That dress— soft as mist, pale as moonlight— fits her like it was sculpted onto her. The bodice hugs her waist so perfectly that it feels unfair, like whoever designed it knew exactly how to frame her. The gentle curve of the neckline, the way it rises and falls with her breath. It makes my chest tighten just watching.

Each woman's outfit was a tribute to their unique personalities, while still harmonizing with the overall theme. Lady Eleanor, a picture of grace, wore an elegant gold gown that flowed like liquid sunlight. The intricate embroidery on her dress sparkled like stars, capturing the essence of her timeless beauty. A sage green sash cinched her waist, adding a touch of the event's color palette. Her demeanor exuded regal poise, perfectly in tune with her title.

Despite the hundred protests of stylists, he refused to let her go and shut them up with a glare. On the other hand, draped in the ethereal elegance of a white bride gown, she emerged as the embodiment of timeless beauty. The off-shoulder silhouette gracefully showcased her delicate collarbones, adding a touch of subtle allure to the ensemble. The gown, a canvas of pristine white, became a masterpiece with intricate embroidery that wove a story of love and commitment into the fabric.

Kira at this moment, casually tied her hair up with a simple hairband. She was wearing a sky blue long dress, the hem swaying with her dance steps, singing “Eternal Whispers” for Ethan. Her eyes sparkled like stars, her charm adding a touch of glamour to the overall scene.

She added, "Cold water." Ethan didn't want to do that, but he couldn't talk her out of it. She was completely drenched in the bathtub. The glitter over her exposed skin was shimmering. In addition to her wet hair, she looked like a mermaid. She was gorgeous. The dress wrapped around her body tightly. Despite its luxurious design, the garment was so thin that it outlined her perfect curves easily. Ethan hurriedly shifted his gaze away, blaming the stylist for being so professional. That outfit definitely highlighted her features. Her beauty was surreal.

Here, faeries don leaves and vines as their garments, their forms draped in nature's bounty, while others don diaphanous fabrics that billow and swirl with each whisper of the wind, much like the ebony folds of my own dress. Glancing down at my attire, I note the daring slit that exposes my thighs and the bare midriff that defies convention. It's a departure from the modesty I've always known, yet there's an undeniable allure to the ensemble—a sense of empowerment that courses through me with every step, infusing me with a newfound confidence.

Yetta was wearing a light green checkered gauze shirt with a silk skirt in a matching shade, paired with white sandals. Her hair was elegantly coiled into a bun with a few stray locks cascading on her forehead. She stood by the fountain, surrounded by geraniums and wind chimes, resembling a lady in a painting: serene, elegant, and dreamy.