Soft Clothes Novels & Stories

♱ •⋅ 1750 B.C. ⋅• ♱ •⋅ Elaine ⋅• ♱ Those fabrics that were soft as silk were spread across the huge bed, a huge bed that was only being occupied by me...by me and no one else.

Tentatively, she reached for the towel. The moment the fabric touched her skin, she sighed in disbelief. It was impossibly soft, softer than anything she’d ever felt. It was like being wrapped in a cloud spun from silk and warmth. The pajamas, too, were a revelation. The black fabric was smooth and cool against her skin, hugging her frame without clinging. She couldn’t help but marvel at the craftsmanship, wondering if all things in this world were made with such care.

The soft rug beneath my feet that felt like walking on air. Everything about this room felt like it had been designed specifically for me. And when I opened the closet, my breath caught. It was packed with clothes. Designer clothes. Beautiful, expensive pieces in fabrics that whispered luxury with every touch. Cashmere sweaters in soft neutrals. Silk blouses that caught the light. Jeans that looked like they’d been tailored to fit me perfectly. And they were all my size. Every single piece. I pulled out a sweater—cream-colored and impossibly soft—and checked the tag.

Or someone. “Pathetic,” I muster under my breath but I don’t move away. Instead, I peel the shirt over my head and the cold air hits my skin, making me aware as Goosebumps rises along my arms, tracing the ink that wraps around them. I reach into my drawer and pull out a long nightwear, it’s a set i wear when am in one of my moods. It’s a soft but expensive sleep wear with a flowing fabric that drapes instead of clings to the skin with its thin straps. The kind that shifts when you breathe. The kind that moves when you walk.

“Yes, please!” And so, I touched the baby clothes. Resisting the urge to hug them to my chest like I usually did, before moving further to get some other soft items from a nearby rack- a muted peach onesie, a dusty rose headband, and a white cardigan with tiny cloud prints along the trim. “This softens the whole look,” I murmured quietly, laying the new items beside the others. Pairing them. “The tones play off each other now without feeling too loud. It’s gentler”

He was more excited about gliding through the water on his belly and watching it slosh up and never even make it halfway up the sides. Once I had him thoroughly scrubbed clean, I grabbed one of the towels off of the vanity shelf and couldn’t help but bring it to my cheeks. The towels were so soft and fluffy and just huge. Nothing like the ones I usually grabbed during the Black Friday annual sales. Those were only the bare minimum of soft after adding so much fabric softener that they could mold themselves into that talking bear and walk off.

I pulled it out and unzipped it with a slow, steady breath. First, clothes. I grabbed two pairs of jeans, my favorite black leggings, and several soft t-shirts—the ones that didn’t wrinkle easily and made me feel strong in my skin. A zip-up sweatshirt followed, along with two sports bras, seven pairs of underwear, and enough socks to get me through two weeks if I stretched them. A pair of thermal leggings went in too, just in case the nights got cold.

Giving her brother a really good show. "Wow, wow. You are so sexy sis." Aaron exclaims, clapping his hands together. "I know that." Alexia replied him, taking off her gown. "Why.. why, are you taking off your gown sis?." Aaron asked her, gulping down a little. "Why are you asking?. Do i make the great Aaron nervous." She grinned, taking off her tights. "No.. not really. I just want to know.. why my sis is taking off her clothes in a karaoke" He answered, narrowing his eyes at her.

There is a difference between soft and weak that I had spent years confusing. Soft is what you choose when you no longer need to be impenetrable. Weak is what you are when softness is taken from you without your consent. I was choosing this. That was the whole difference. I drew a coat—long, in charcoal wool, with deep pockets and a collar that framed the face without constraining it. Something a woman could wear to a difficult meeting, or to sit on a cottage floor with a dog and a child. Something that did not require you to decide in advance who you were going to be that day.

If he wanted Kat to see him otherwise, a suit designer might help. Instead of agreeing with her point of view, he decided to have a little fun with her. “The Salvation Army has a thrift store. She sat back, shaking her head. “Looks matter, dammit. ’ After a moment, he sat up straight again. - Let's go take this morning as an example. — Yeah... — What happened this morning? — In the laundry room. I was in sweatpants, right? Made from soft fabric, hugging your curves. Same as salwar kameez light cotton,