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#wow i'll be honest he's the customer i hate lmao – @postwarlevi on Tumblr
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Eliza Ackerman

@postwarlevi / postwarlevi.tumblr.com

30s Lives for domestic fluff, just wants to take care of Levi no requests, forgive me. Will ask for suggestions at times.
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Summary: Destiny works in mysterious ways, doesn't it? Never in your life, you would have imagined that losing your job and spending your last dollars on an overpriced black coffee, would drive you into your soulmate's arms. But here you are, slowly falling for the charming businessman Jean Kirschtein, while babysitting his daughter. A.N. I will try to upload every Sunday, but I can't promise to hold the schedule at all times. Warnings are for each chapter and do not apply to the whole story. A Masterlist for this series will follow asap. Dad!Jean Kirschtein x Fem! Reader Warnings: mentions of being fired, the usual holy-guacamoly swearing Wordcount: 1.6 k Prologue

Like a pile of misery, you huddled in the furthest corner of a way too polished cafè. 'Le Mirabelle' you believed was the name.

On any other occasion, you would have loved the french flair, but right now, your stomach twisted at the thought of spending six dollars on overpriced coffee. Money was tight since you lost your job. 

'Budget cutbacks,' your former boss had said while assuring that it had nothing to do with you. Bullshit.  You told yourself that you hated this hell-hole anyway - deserved better. But in the end, you knew that you were trying to avoid confrontation with your frustrations.  You loved everything about your former occupation as a journalist. Since you were a little girl, you desired to write. Creating fantastic, extraordinary stories that people would hold dear to their hearts. And working for 'The Paradis Times' as a columnist was exactly that. 

"Madame, you want another drink?" Your glazed eyes peeled off the laptop, which stood on the tiny table beforehand until they met a petite waitress.  Her voice sounded polite, but her slightly annoyed look indicated that you beleaguered this table for too long already.  Sheepishly you peeked at the scrunched-up ten-dollar bill in your half-opened purse. You had nothing much left. Maybe some cash you hid in your underwear drawer for times like these, but that seemed about it. 

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