Adult Bedtime Stories To Read Novels & Stories

"I want to stay with you now. I miss you so much." "I know, sweetheart. How about Mommy tells you a really fun story? You get some sleep, and when you wake up, I promise I'll stay a few extra hours with you. How does that sound?" "You promise?" "Pinky swear!" I cross my fingers and kiss them. "Okay." I help him get comfortable in bed and sit in a chair to start telling him the story. "I want the story of The Girl with the Red Hood." "Oh wow, that's not exactly a bedtime story, Alex!" I grumble. "How about something more…"

Because the only way out is forward, even if it hurts. “Wanna hear me read your bedtime story?” I smiled when she nodded. I stood up and walked towards the mini shelf in her room, which housed several stories from best-selling childhood authors. Author TED is, so far, my favorite children’s book author. She doesn’t just tell realistic stories; she weaves tales of courage, faith, hope, and love in a way that moves not only the child being read to but also the parent reading aloud. I picked up The Dancing Princess.

“Here, Daddy.” I laid down next to them, and when I started to weave a story about the animals on the ceiling, Naomi linked our fingers together, while Becky laid her head on my arm. Just like that, all the stress from the day was gone, and I knew that no matter what, I was never going to miss another bedtime story.

“I’ll tell you lots of stories until you fall asleep.” Her little nod nestled into the crook of my neck. And just like that, my world stopped spinning. I tucked her into bed beside me, wrapping the covers around her small frame. She curled into the pillow with expectant eyes, and I began to speak—spinning a tale about brave princesses who conquered beasts with the power of kindness, about noble knights who protected those who couldn’t protect themselves. As I spoke, her eyelids began to droop. Her breathing slowed. The weight of the day finally began to lift from my shoulders, replaced by the soft, rhythmic rise and fall of her chest beside me.

I nodded and followed her to our little angels' room. Samantha tucked in Poppy, and I tucked in Violet. Poppy and Violet couldn't sleep without listening to bedtime stories, especially Poppy. I brought out the story we'd be reading tonight, "The Christmas Cookie," since Christmas was just a few weeks away. Samantha and I started reading the story, making it more real by adding sound effects with our mouths. Our little angels giggled, "awwn" ed, and pouted their lips until they fell asleep.

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!”

"Serena, Mr. Prescott said you misunderstood." She bit her lip and held the book out to me. "This is the book he reads to me every day. If you're not comfortable with it, you can listen in too." I looked at her and didn't take it. Her voice dropped lower. "Mr. Prescott is really tired, you know. Could you stop pressuring him?" I smiled. "Ms. Hayes, do you know what I'm best at?" "I'm best at making people cough up everything they've swallowed, with interest."

I don’t like it when he looks at me, it give me these weird feelings in the pit of my stomach. “Mommy, eat,” Xavier said as he brought a fork to my mouth. Smiling at him, I took a bite and shuffled his hair. I sat down beside him as I began eating. After eating and watching TV for some time, Xavier wanted me to read him a bedtime story, which after tucking Vincent in, I’m in Xavier’s room reading Pinocchio. I take a look at him to see his eyes already drowsy. He was already falling asleep. I kept the book back on the bedside table. “Good night, baby,” I whispered.

I whispered with a loving smile, "which story would you like tonight?" Mathew's face lit up with excitement, his tiny hands reaching for his favorite book. "The one about the brave little wolf, Mumma!" I chuckled as I opened the book, a captivating story about a young wolf's grand adventure. Mathew listened with rapt attention, his eager eyes fixed on the pages as I spun the tale of bravery and exploration. By the time I reached the part where the little wolf found solace under the silvery glow of the moon, my son was already fast asleep.

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.”