Walking Among Spirits (Levi x Reader) [REWRITE]

[ Chapter 18 ]

Content Warnings:

•Season 4 Part 1/2 Spoilers
•Mentions of Death
•Strong Language
•Violence
•Ghosts
•Blood
•Death
•Panic
•Guns
•War

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Flashback

"I ain't cut out for this, (nickname)!" Your father exclaimed as he had attempted to fix your hair (disregard if you don't show, have or have very short hair). The poor man was still brand new to girly things and the older you got, the more difficult it was. "I'm gonna have to have Tamara help 'ya." The man sighed which made your face contort to disgust. "No way! I don't wanna be around her!" You complained and crossed your arms over your chest. "Sorry, (nickname), that's the way its gotta be." Your father shrugged then left your bedroom.

You sighed to yourself and looked in the mirror at your appearance. It was painfully obvious a man was the one responsible for how you looked everyday. Your clothes never matched and your hair was never neat (disregard per the previous statements if they apply to you). You, yourself, hardly knew how to take care of your appearance. Everyone else made it look so easy, especially at the Girls Home.

The next time you went, your father had stayed to chat with Mrs. Akimoto after dropping you off, probably to discuss the matter. If he was willing to learn, perhaps he would spare you the "bonding" with Tamara. You would rather continue to deal with mismatched clothes than have her be responsible for you, instead.

However, he still recruited Tamara to take you out to the market one day for new clothes as you were getting taller, outgrowing your old wardrobe. You were not at all thrilled, to say the least. You walked a few steps behind the obnoxious woman, not wanting to be seen near her in public. As you glanced around, you noticed all sorts of girls with their mothers as they helped them shop. To them, you looked no different but that was actually not the case. Tamara was not your mother and she would never be such. You always promised yourself that.

"Your dad said you need new clothes. Go pick out a few things." Tamara said coldly and pointed to a table of girl's clothes made by an old woman. You looked over at the table before approaching and politely nodded at the woman behind the stall. You felt incredibly overwhelmed by all the options, not knowing what looked best or what would fit. You stood there and pondered, eyes darting back and forth between each article.

"Um... I don't know what I like." You nervously confessed to Tamara after you approached her at a different stall. The strawberry-blonde woman sighed irritably before she even made eye contact with you. "How come?" Was all she asked with a bored look. "I... I uh..." You stumbled over your words, always nervous under her glare. "Come on." She sighed again and led you back to the clothing stall.

After that, you had no say in what she picked. She figured that since you did not know your own taste, she would make all the final decisions just to get it over with. She hated being around you just as much as you did. To her, you were nothing but a nuisance, and your dislike for her was not helpful for her reputation. Yet, you were surprised she had gotten you nice-looking clothes when she always tried to make you look bad. Although, it probably would not do her any good to get on your father's bad side when she constantly tried to be the sweet angel. You never understood why, though.