Bedtime Stories For Adults On Spotify Novels & Stories

“I think… I’d like that.” He helped me onto the blanket he had laid out on the terrace floor. We sat side by side, shoulders touching lightly. The stars were breathtaking. I felt my body relax in a way I hadn’t in months, just letting myself exist in the quiet company of Damon Moretti. “I want a bedtime story,” I said suddenly, breaking the peaceful silence. He looked at me, raising one eyebrow. “A bedtime story? From me?” “Yes. You’re my bedtime storyteller tonight,” I said, trying to sound playful, though my heart was racing.

"Good night." TO BE CONTINUED

* I fall asleep with my phone on my chest. Hope blooming in the darkness. Tomorrow, everything changes. Tomorrow, I'll be brave. Tomorrow.

"You know the rules. Bedtime is bedtime. And besides, they probably want to have some grown-up talk." "What do grown-ups talk about?" I think for a second, then grin down at him. "Taxes," I say. "And their boring, boring jobs." Brandon wrinkles his nose in distaste. "Ugh." "Yeah, it's terrible," I say with a mock sigh, "but you have to do it, when you're a grown-up. Luckily for you, you're still a kid. So we don't have to talk about mortgages, and instead, I get to tell you a bedtime story. How's that sound?"

he murmured, writing it like it was a mission objective. She watched him. Focused. Serious. Intent. Like a determined father trying to memorize a world he had missed. “And he likes stories before sleeping,” she added softly. Reid paused at that. “What kind?” “Adventures. Brave heroes. Silly monsters. Anything where someone protects someone else.” He nodded slowly and wrote: Bedtime stories – protective theme. The room felt different now. Not heavy. Not tense. But quiet. “You already had lists for me too?” she asked after a moment.

"But for tonight, you are going to wear my shirt. I am going to hold you and I will dream of what it's going to feel like to be inside you." Naudia slides the T-shirt over her head to both my relief and disappointment. I go to my dresser and find myself a pair of shorts. I slide my shorts on and pull Naudia over to the bed. I lay down, and Naudia lays down next to me. I wrap my arms around her, and she snuggles closer to me. I kiss the top of her head and whisper. "Let's get some sleep." "Goodnight Daddy." I groan and she giggles. Damn her. "Goodnight Naudia."

Dad’s mansion in the hills - marble floors, twenty-foot ceilings, the kind of place that makes people whisper when they walk in. It had turned into chaos now Aunts arguing over stuffing recipes in the kitchen, uncles yelling at football on the massive TV, cousins chasing each other through the halls. I’m Max, eighteen. Senior year. Rich-kid problems, right? Except tonight I couldn’t sleep. I’d By midnight the house had finally gone quiet. I’d been rotting in bed for hours, scrolling TikTok with the lights off. My stomach growled, and that's when I knew I had to get something to eat

She nodded earnestly, her little face serious as she scrubbed away. We then went to their room, where I helped them into their favorite pajamas. Zenith chose his dinosaur ones, while Zendaya picked her unicorn set. “Alright, into bed you go,” I said, tucking them under the covers. “How about a bedtime story?” Their faces lit up, and they nodded eagerly. I sat on the edge of the bed and began, “Once upon a time, in a vast and endless desert, there was a single seed. This seed was special because it had a dream—to become a beautiful flower.”

It was a voice note from Rebecca, sounding soft and pitiful. "Matty, the light in my living room broke. There's no one home right now. Can you come over and help me?" Matteo frowned and was about to decline when another voice message came through. "Matty, I know you're bringing Ms. Walsh to the Gallagher family dinner tonight. I'll be all alone tonight, and without the light, I—" She didn't finish her sentence, but the message ended with the sound of quiet sobbing. Matteo clenched his jaw.

“The relaunch, the pregnancy, everything with Stevie. I just want to make sure you’re not taking on too much.” His concern warms me in a way I can’t quite put into words. “I’m okay,” I say, squeezing his hand. “I mean, I’m tired, and some days it feels like I’m spinning ten plates at once, but... I’m okay.” Later, after we’ve cleaned up and gotten Collin into his pajamas, we all pile onto his bed for storytime. Bill reads his favorite book—Goodnight, Goodnight, Construction Site—using the silly voices that make Collin giggle uncontrollably.