روايات وقصص ضمن Abdl Bedtime Stories

He is uncomplicated and warm and asking nothing I am not ready to give, and the city is golden outside and my children are with Adèle and I have been turning down things that are meant for me for long enough. "Friday," I reply. His smile is immediate and genuine and it does not calculate anything on the way to his face. "Friday is perfect," he agrees. I pick up the children from Adèle at seven. Bath time. Lavender negotiations. Ace's rubber duck submarine. Grey's structural documentation. Willa presiding from the far end of the bathtub with composed authority. I put them to bed. Ace narrates his own bedtime story, which defeats the purpose of reading but his version is honestly better.

That I also used that spoon just moments ago? My face heated up, and I avoided his gaze. “I'm going to the bathroom.” I quickly tell him and then I run out of the room, so as to not make a fool of myself again.. ¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤ That night, before I left, Sophia and Franklin asked me to tell them a bedtime story. Even though I had experiences in putting Xavier and Clayton to sleep, I only knew of the story of the three little pigs and of course Cinderella but my boys weren't ever interested in that second one.

“This is what he’s reading now.” Arabella made for the door. “Mom, please stay.” Arabella stayed. Axel was in the middle as the two of them laid on the sides of the bed. Then Axel went on to flip through the pages, choosing the story he wanted to hear. He took his time. More time than he usually did. Like he already knew which one he wanted to hear. A story about little Chad and his small family. He paused briefly, then read the last line quietly— “And that night, Chad fell asleep between them, thinking it was the happiest day ever… because his mom and dad were both right there with him.”

Aurora sat cross-legged on the sofa while hugging her rabbit doll, while Daven was already half-lying on Camelia’s lap with eyes that were beginning to grow sleepy. But as usual, before going to sleep, the two children always had a request. “Uncle Calvin!” Aurora called out with sparkling eyes. Calvin, who was tidying up the milk glasses on the table, turned around with a smile. “Yes, little princess?” Aurora immediately raised her little hand. “We want you to read us a bedtime story.” Daven, who had almost fallen asleep, immediately sat up again and nodded quickly. “Yes! An exciting story!”

Chapter 4: LORA'S POV. Mom always used to tell me before her death, “no good comes from men.” She was so wrong, because having Roderick between my thighs, with his lips firm around my clit, was the best thing that had ever happened to me. He had thrown me on his bed earlier, still naked and wet. He didn't mind that his bed was about to be soaked, and he definitely couldn't wait a few seconds before tearing my clothes off my body and pushing his face in-between my thighs.

"Mama. Dada. Luna sleep?" "It's 7 PM, baby. Way past your bedtime." "Story first?" "Always story first." We followed her to her room—no longer a nursery, now a full toddler room with a big girl bed she'd recently transitioned to. "Which book tonight?" Alexander asked. "ALL books!" "We're not reading all the books. Pick three." "Five!" "Three." "Four!" "Deal. Four books." She selected them carefully. "Hungry Caterpillar. Wild Things. Good Night Moon. And... this one!"

LUCY'S POV I rolled onto the bed and let out a deep sigh. My life has always been like this, quiet, dull, painfully predictable. I would come home from my boring nine-to-five job, sink into my bed, scroll for a while, sleep, and wake up the next day to repeat the same routine.

Finn, the apparent leader of this abduction, leaned down over her, his eyes gleaming in the light of the fire. “There’s no one to hear you scream, and if you utter a sound, I’ll rattle your jaw.” She nodded her understanding and crawled to an upright position. He nudged her backside with his boot and chuckled when she whirled around in outrage. “There’s a blanket by the fire. Get on it and get some sleep. We leave at first light.”

I said with a small laugh. The remaining nighttime was spent in bedtime routines and warm baths, in stories and toothbrushes. Mirabel insisted on one of Clinton’s old bedtime tales — something about a crocodile and a mango — and I fumbled my way through the story while they giggled under their covers. When they finally dozed off, I stayed a while longer in the hallway, just watching them sleep. Japheth curled toward the window. Jake, hugging his teddy. Mirabel, one leg dangling off the bed as if dreaming of her little bride walk.

Then, I lay beside him once he was fully settled and comfortable. “Mommy, tell me a bedtime story,” “Now?” “Yes. It will help me sleep faster. Also, nobody has told me bedtime stories since you left…” ‘since I left to prison…’ I wanted to say it out loud but I didn’t. The tears I’d been holding accidentally fell out of my eye, and I sniffed discreetly. “Of course.” I cleared my throat and began. “Story, story, story time. There was a far, far away land, and a King ruled a nation known as Anthill, filled with so many people who called themselves Anthillians.”