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August 19 - August 20, 2022
The man spins, immediately spotting and completely disregarding me. I mean, I don’t blame him. I’m not all that memorable, but still. My hopeful, little, romantic heart gives a twinge at being so easily forgotten. Ouch, Future Husband. Ouch.
should probably be worried about why so many people are trying to kill this guy, but I’m wearing my nice shirt, and I still have half a sandwich left, and I’m pretty sure my man is probably going to kill me too because once is coincidence, twice is suspicious, but meeting three times like this is downright proof that I’m probably someone he should kill. I mean, in his head, not in mine. I’m totally an innocent bystander with bad luck (or is it good luck?), but if I were him, I’d probably kill me on principle.
Looking around at the bodies I hang my head and shake my fist at Fox. If he weren’t the love of my life, I’d be a bit more piqued, but I guess I’m just glad he’s alive.
I’m basically his responsibility at this point. I’ll bring joy to his deadly life and he will protect me, and that’s a totally fair exchange.
I don’t have an answer for her and couldn’t say even if I did. Snicker. I love mute puns, but only when I make them.
Plus, I’ve read that it’s almost impossible to kill your fated mate, so I’m pretty confident I’m safe from you.
Don’t let anyone know you’re both sassy and crazy. Harbingers have a reputation to uphold.
Fox takes a seat on one of the sofas away from the table, and then the man pulls me into his lap. I like where this is going. Hand-holding and lap-sitting are totally things we should do. Giving him my happiest smile, I kiss his cheek again, because he should be rewarded when he treats me in the way in which I want to become accustomed.
The guys are just about to fuck for the first time, and I really want to know if the jock’s going to have a gay freakout. I love gay freakouts. They’re hilarious.
“Half our crew died fighting a Reaper, which made them too stupid to live. Don’t mourn these fuckers; just bury them and move on. Clean up the mess and start making a list of prospects.”
The words have the effect he intended, exciting me enough to roll off him and shoot him a happy smile as I head to my room, morning wood leading the way.
People say it’s the thought that counts, but if you don’t know what your person wants, you should think about letting them pick it themselves. That thought definitely counts.
“Diamonds. Cufflinks, pocket watch, tie pin, collar chain, pocket brooch, and engagement ring.” Fox gives me a level look. “The ring is for later.” Of course it is; that does not stop me from jumping into his arms and kissing the ever-loving shit out of him. I love it when the important people get on board with my plans.
Isn’t it lovely how I’ve already trained Fox to be more communicative? I’m a goddamn miracle worker, aren’t I? Mute boy trains the silent type to talk in less than a week. Amazing.
“I’m not calling you ‘Dad.’” “Don’t be ridiculous,” Fox murmurs. “Call me ‘Oppa.’” Obviously I’m Papa. Fox nods approvingly as Bellamy looks at him with an expression of utter disbelief. “Your reputation is a bald-faced lie.” Fox taps the rim of Bellamy’s bowl. “Finish your ice cream. It’s past your bedtime.” “Please send me back to Santanos.”
Fox puts his arm around my shoulders and pulls me into a snugglehug. Don’t look at my word like that; it’s a valid description. I reserve the right to make up important words.
Wow, Bellamy in professional assassin mode is scarily competent. He’s totally going to end up being Annette’s favorite minion. I’m not even jealous; I’m just really fucking proud of my boy.
blinking at him like he’s stupid. I know he’s not but filling the silence with not-yes-or-no questions is dumber than a mute boy. I can say that; it’s my disability, and I can be as un-PC as I want to be when it’s convenient for me.
