no. not my chloe
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@frazher
no. not my chloe

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BREATHTAKING PHOTOSHOOTS Freida Pinto
fortuneseek.
“jee-sus, you must really be crazy about him then. ‘n here i thought i was gonna have to let him down gently, y’know, give him the whole, ah, ‘she’s just not right for you’ speech. he’s tried to uno reverse me on that one once or twice, but it’s like i always tell him — do as i say, not as i do.”
“wow, you didn’t even consider i might just really enjoy history,” he’s right, of course. and usually the call out would bother her. usually. chloe grins. “not as you do. right, you seem the type to dabble in the more questionable types of women. if you go missing, i’ll let nate know those women didn’t leave a crumb of you behind. good for them, honestly.”
fortunefavour.
“what charlie doesn’t know won’t hurt him. besides, i’d hate for him to call off your tea dates. where else am i gonna get thrown out of on a sunday afternoon? apart from — never mind.”
“apart from — the library. that was clearly what you were going to say. you’re welcome.”
Booksmart (2019) Directed by Olivia Wilde

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fortunefavour.
clever. he gets that a lot. usually it’s from people who want nothing more than to see him a well - ventilated — but still jarringly handsome — bullet - laden corpse, and usually ‘his own good’ isn’t at the top of their priority list. from chloe, it’s more an endearment than anything else. he’ll roll with the punches on that one.
so to speak.
“hey, i think i can handle a little discretion, thank you. i can be discreet. remember ayutthaya?”
validation doesn’t follow, so he takes his eyes off the road for another beat just to glance at her. just in time for that grin. that grin, the bait and lure, the one she wears when she’s throwing him the kind of challenge that they both know he can’t turn down. she’s right. tempting, to an almost compulsive degree. skepticism creases his brow regardless. a client holed up in a mansion. rich assholes with too much time and money on their hands who seemingly love the smell of wild goose.
“yeah, i’m — familiar with the myth, chloe, but — i mean, it’s a myth. your ‘friend’ sounds like a nutjob.”
and yet, she’s still smiling. nate narrows his eyes in tandem with a sudden hitch at the lefthand corner of his mouth.
“… but you’re smarter than that, which means you’ve already verified that this is worth looking into. because you never waste your own time and you don’t get out of bed for anything less than a sure thing. okay,” the hitch turns to a grin, another glance thrown her way. “i’m in. let’s go catch up with our old pal jason.”
watching him connect the dots when she has the intel and he doesn’t is almost as arousing as anything else they do together. almost. the way his mind works is a thing of beauty. chloe leans over completely, pressing a kiss to his cheek.
“look at that, you really do know me. if we weren’t about to hop a last minute flight out of here, i’d tell you to pull over right here,” she teases, half serious. settling back in her seat again, she pulls her phone out to scroll through some client emails and draw up some pictures from the files.
all hidden away on her phone. in case it made it to the wrong hands of course.
“as you’ve likely gathered already, the fleece isn’t actually any article of clothing,” she continues, still shuffling through various images. picture of old greek relics. sculptures of jason. of his ship, the argo. ah, there it is. “you know how most legends try to make sense of the kernel of truth they find? make it easy for consumption, turned into a warning. an unattainable story of heroism and certain doom,” chloe pinches the screen and drags her fingers out, zooming in on a particular piece. the key to it all, for lack of better figure of speech. “the fleece wasn’t real, no, but medea did help him find something.”
it isn’t a fleece the enchantress is offering him in the picture of a worn tablet, but something more solid. something akin to the heart of greece. her father’s hold to kinghood wrapped up in magic he wished to keep for himself. “my client doesn’t realize the intricacies of all this. a shame really.”
fortunefavour.
“yeah, i really wouldn’t care if you did.”
“... i know. don’t tell charlie, but you happen to be my favorite, too.”
fortuneseek.
“american. definitely american. just don’t ask him that, though, or you’ll be sittin’ through a 12 - hour history lesson.”
“you’re assuming i haven’t sat through it already before — twice.”
fortunefavour.
“y’see — ? now this is why you’re my favorite.”
“and here i thought it was because i taste like curry.”
fortunefavour.
“— he has his moments. i’ll give him that, as long as i don’t have to defend my title again.”
“again? as if there’s even competition.”

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fortuneseek.
“wha— really? you think i had somethin’ to do with all that? nah, nah, that’s all him. swear to god. i am, without doubt or irony, one hundred percent the humble one. kid’s had a chip on his shoulder the size’a frickin’ jupiter ever since he was little. i don’t know how he even carries that thing around.”
“an american chip or a british one?”
“your brother’s hilarious. not nearly as much as you, but still funny.” / @fortunefavour.
fortuneseek.
“whoa, hey, hold up — marriage? ‘kay, don’t take this the wrong way, ‘cause he sure seems sweet on you, but do me a favor ‘n lose his number, huh?” and he’s about as serious as she is. not a bad start. “seven feet’s a li’l much. sounds more like nathan’s ego on a bad day.”
“... oh. oh, well now my heart’s just broken.” one of her eyebrows arches, a grin actually curling into place along her mouth now. “is that something else he gets from you? i only ask because you mentioned the looks and well... ”
fortuneseek.
“ehhh, people only talk if they think it’ll get to you. they lose interest pretty quick once it doesn’t.” a beat, then a low laugh. “— figured you might. ‘m not gonna snitch on him, ‘cause he’ll get all dramatic about it, but he kinda — what’s the word? he simps. yeah, that’s the one. he’s got it bad.”
“— always good to know. is this where you casually, but with a bit of charm, ask me what my intentions are? marriage, of course. i’m thinking straight out of high school. a white picket fence. definitely dogs. two? likely two. i know he’ll want you to have a guest room — ” the look on her face says it all for her. “i pictured you taller. seven feet, at least.”
fortuneseek.
“technically, he looks like me. sorta. that a frequent thing for you, people talkin’ shit — ?”
“semantics,” she shrugs. “mm, try elaborate lifetime movie worthy rumors. people talk, it’s not a big deal. nate talking, though ... now you know i have to ask, right?”

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fortuneseek.
“he talks about you, y’know. like, a lot.” / @frazher.
“ — that could’ve been mildly concerning to hear if i didn’t know who you were talking about. you look like him.”