Good Night Stories For Adults Novels & Stories

“We’ll stay until you fall asleep.” Liam lies back down, his little hand reaching out to grab mine. I sit on his other side, smoothing the blanket over him. “Daddy, tell me a story,” he mumbles, his voice already heavy with sleep. Jason chuckles softly, leaning down. “Once upon a time, there was a brave little wolf who loved his Mommy and Daddy very much but was scared to sleep alone in his bed...” By the time Jason finishes the short tale, Liam is breathing evenly, lost in dreams. Jason glances at me, his voice barely above a whisper. “He’s out.”

His lips are still tilted in that wicked little smile. That night, Jabari and Amara refuse to close their eyes on the furs unless my voice tells them a bedtime tale. Even though I have spent five winters putting Zuberi and Tavon to sleep in our villa, I only know the basic old story about the three little forest pigs who built dens to hide from the big rogue wolf. The second I start whispering the words, I see the totally bored, blank stares on both of their little faces. They are way too smart for baby stories.

I would be damned if I only instructed them and left. For a million years, my order would only accumulate dirt, as Ethan and Ezra would bury themselves in their video games and Emily would baby Penny. “Mum, tell us a bedtime story.” Ezra pleaded. Defeated, I began my tale of the legendary Wolf's King and his Luna. It happened to be their favourite story, and they never grew weary of it. In less than ten minutes, they were all fast asleep, like wasted adults. I tucked them into bed and watched them sleep for a while before turning off the light.

"I know you're awake, so get up." She groaned sleepily. "James, please, I fell asleep at three o'clock in the morning, so could you please shut up and let me sleep?" she asked, hugging the pillow beside her. "And it's not my fault you didn't go to bed early; we already talked about it, so don't give me that reason. Will you stand there, or will I drag you to the bathroom?" James threatened. She moaned once more. Damn, this jerk! Despite her love for him, there are times when she just wants to torture him. Does he not notice how sleepy I am?

"You don't remember me. And I'm too old for them, but... Can you tell me a bedtime story? About anything." His daddy didn't laugh, ridicule him or hang up. There was a strange sound from the other end of the line before the man spoke quietly. "... course I'll tell you a bedtime story. Anytime." (If he wasn't so young and overwhelmed, he would've noticed how much of a struggle each word as.) "... upon a time, there was a brave pilot, who crash-landed in the desert and met a strange but kind boy. ... boy came from a planet far away ..." (1)

There was no electricity in the cottage so she went down to the lake and scrubbed the clothes by hand, she was humming to herself, and as she rinsed out the last few clothes she sang quietly, I hear the ticking of the clock I'm lying here the room's pitch dark I wonder where you are tonight No answer on the telephone And the night goes by so very slow Oh I hope that it won't end though Alone’ Alexandre smiled at the words of the song and then joined her in singing the next verse, ‘You don't know how long I have wanted To touch your lips and hold you tight, oh You don't know how long I have waited And I was going to tell you tonight But the secret is still my own

After Amelia left the nursery, Andrew turned off the lights in the room, leaving only a dim night light. He placed Asher in the small bed and picked up a bedtime storybook. "What story does Asher want to hear? 'The Adventures in the Candy House'?" Andrew asked. Asher shook his little head, sitting up from the small bed. His tiny hands wandered through the bookshelf on the bedside table, finally pulling out a book, "Ali Baba and the Forty Thieves," handing it to Andrew. "Tell this one." Andrew opened the children's storybook and started reading.

“I am not sleepy!”, the little girl grumpily said. Her father was trying to put her to sleep with a lullaby, yet failing at the same time. He let out a sigh and said, “ Zeru, you have to sleep, it is late and you have lessons early in the morning.” Zeru, “But father, I am not sleepy. How about you tell me a story instead, please.” Father, “You little troublemaker! Do you know your way out huh?! Okay, but promise you will sleep after the story and no excuse.”

he commented as he took a step forward. Shoving every single thought that was crossing my mind to the farthest place, and swallowing any comment that I could have made about his appearance, I cleared my thoughts. "That's because that's exactly what is going to happen. I'm going to read you a bedtime story,” I said confidently. However, I realized how absurd that sounded as soon as I said it. Can you believe it? The Night Reaper, in his pajamas, having a bedtime story being read to him. The universe would have had to gamble some of the ozone layer just for those words to even be placed in that order.

I sighed—long, content—nuzzling my nose against the hollow of his throat. “Comfy?” he murmured, lips brushing my hairline. “Mm-hmm. Perfect.” We lay there for a minute—just breathing, hearts finding the same rhythm again. The house was quiet around us; only the faint hum of the air conditioner and the occasional chirp of crickets outside. It felt safe. It felt like ours. I tilted my head back until I could see his face in the dim light. “Daddy?” “Hmm?” “Read me a goodnight story?” I asked, voice small and babyish again. “Like… a real one. Please?”