Wednesday Fanfiction Romane & Geschichten

Rachel did a good job at distracting me. *** The next day, I woke up feeling rather heavy. My head seemed like it was spinning, and I struggled to prop myself out of bed. I went downstairs and found Wednesday was just about to go out for work. She noticed that I was blushing and revealed that she heard me having a long night call with Rachel. She teased me with all of this teenage love stuff which isn't really affecting me knowing the fact I don't have any feelings for Rachel.

ISABEL Wednesdays belong to Marco. Where Ares brings lightness, Marco brings depth. Our evenings always start with conversation without fail. Over dinner or wine or coffee, we talk about things that matter. Business strategy, philosophy, the nature of power and how it corrupts or clarifies. He pushes me to think harder, sharper, deeper than anyone else ever has. It's intoxicating in a completely different way than Ares's joy. The first Wednesday, he takes me to an art gallery opening not the kind Ares took me to, warm and romantic with stolen kisses in viewing rooms.

LENA It was a Wednesday. I want to be precise about this because the Wednesday quality of it matters, not a significant day, not the particular and weighted day of a Sunday dinner or a foundation meeting or any of the specific and notable occasions that had accumulated since September. A Wednesday in the third week of November, the particular and ordinary quality of a midweek evening, the specific and unremarkable shape of a day that had been a working day and was becoming a working night. The foundation documents had expanded.

It was a Wednesday. No particular reason. Not Sunday which was when she usually called. Not after something had happened that made her need to hear his voice. Just a Wednesday evening in the fourteenth floor apartment with the city below and the script notes on the table she had been meaning to read for an hour and hadn’t. She sat down to read them. Something tried to surface. Not a thought exactly. More like the edge of one. Something from the last few days that she had been keeping below the line and that kept finding the line anyway.

I turned to Ava, "babe, did you sleep well?" "You were beside me throughout the night so I had no option but to enjoy the night." I chuckled and she continued "How was you workout session?" "Well, It was great. You should join me sometime." "So I can grow muscles? No thanks, I'll pass." I knew she knew what I was saying but since she decided to feign ignorance, I changed the topic and turned to the kids. "So, who knows what today is?" "Wednesday!" Nash screamed "Yes Nash, it's Wednesday but that isn't the correct answer. So who wants to try again?"

Rather, he encourages it by saying, “I’ll be going out tonight. Try not to break anything while you two are going at it.” “Ah!” I yell out loud, placing my hands over my ears. “Nope! I don’t hear either of you!” I call out, singing loudly so that I drown out their words as I make my way over to the lounge. “Not a word. Can’t hear anything!” I continue, though my flustered reaction only causes the two to laugh more. “You have a feisty one on your hands there,” Bucky chimes to Jay with delight sparkling in his eyes. “I never tire of the werewolf’s mating rituals, especially when the female likes to deny she feels anything for her mate. They all give up in the end, though.”

just a little bit. "Well, well, if it isn't our little pretender returning," I look at the door and see Adam leaning against the frame. "Not now, Adam," I say impatiently. "What did the boss do this time?" he asks, smiling. "Or rather, what did you do this time?" I groan in disgust. Do I have such a bad reputation? "Operation Monroe," I say quietly. Adam's eyes widen in shock, then he bursts into loud laughter. "Are you kidding me?" he asks, breathless. "You're the girl who screwed up the whole mission?" he asks while trying to catch his breath.

My Alpha Lover Livia's Pov The exhaustion of walking almost ten kilometres dawned on my body as I lay tiredly on my bed with my heels and bag still intact. “Oh, how did everything go so wrong?” I sadly lamented as I began to prepare a hot shower. This time last week, I was psyched about my wedding preparations with who I thought was my happily ever after and this week, I'm stuck with working with a wolf who wants to make me his bride and my ex-fiance who made a fool out of me for years.

she said. "There's no situation." "Six weeks of Wednesdays." "How do you even Nora." "Obviously Nora." A pause. "What's it like." "Easy," I said. "Annoyingly easy." "Why annoying." "Because I keep looking for what's wrong with it." "Maybe there isn't anything." "There's always something." "That's the divorce talking." She paused. "What do you actually feel." I looked at the ceiling. "Like I want more Wednesdays."

Noah had simply sat there, present and attentive, and helped him sort through the pieces. The Wednesdays were different. The Wednesdays were not therapy. Wednesdays were the place where the interior staff met the exterior world, where the person Noah had come to know in the room met the person who ordered coffee and walked through the city and had opinions about the weather. They were, in their own way, more vulnerable than the Thursdays had been. In the room, there were rules. There was a frame. There was the clear understanding that the intimacy of the space was contained, that it existed only within those four walls and that specific hour. The Wednesdays had no such container. The Wednesd