Don't Write Me Notes || Levi x Reader

4. it doesn't count if it's to convince the in-laws

Levi's mother is one of the sweetest people you've ever met.

Levi's stepfather, on the other hand...

The second you'd walked in the door, it had taken everything in you for your jaw not to drop. The entryway was massive, a chandelier large enough to crush you to death dangling from the high ceiling, a massive staircase that curves up to the second floor landing, with a ruby red carpet that looks like it cost more than your yearly rent.

You're trying not to let your jaw drop, but it's really hard. It's really damn hard. The fucking entryway feels like it's the size of your entire apartment that you share with Hange.

The butler that had taken your bags has set them off to the side and is now asking for your coats. Levi helps you take your coat off, passing it to the butler, and he gestures to one of the massive exits to the room. "Dinner is prepared and you're expected in the dining room," he says politely. 

"We can get there on our own," Levi tells him. The butler bows, goes back to the bags, then exits.

As soon as the butler's out of the room, you twist towards Levi, holding on tight to his arm. "You've got to be kidding me," you hiss through your teeth. "You couldn't have mentioned this?"

"I told you he was rich," he whispers back, frowning at you.

"Not this rich!"

Levi sighs, glancing to where the butler was, to the main entrance, then back to you. "Last chance to back out," he says warningly.

You pause. He's saying it in a way that indicates he expects you to, and... no, you don't want to. You're a bit freaked out, yes, but you can pull yourself together. It doesn't mean you don't want to do this.

"I'm fine," you tell him, fingers curling around his bicep. "Just- just give me a rundown."

He stares at you for a second, like he wants to make sure you're sure, but eventually, Levi nods. "Alright," he murmurs, and he steers you towards one of the doorways. "Be appreciative, but don't gape. Address him as Mr. Lovof. I just call him Lovof."

"Lovof? Not Ackerman?"

"I never took his last name. Legally, my mother never did either, but she's still referred to as..." Levi's nose wrinkles up and you can see the distaste in his expression, so you squeeze his arm to let him know you get it. "I'll handle most of the conversation. Hopefully there won't be much. I can cut this off early, say we're tired from the drive, and get us out of there."

You nod along, forcing yourself to take slow breaths to calm yourself down. "Okay," you agree. "We've got this."

He hums as he turns you down a hall. "Yeah," Levi murmurs. "Sure."

Not very reassuring, but judging by how tense Levi is, he's as nervous about this as you are. You squeeze his arm and one of his hands covers yours, squeezing in return. Some sort of comfort in all of this.

Levi turns left at the end of the hall, mutters "almost there," and leads you into a massive room with even larger windows. It's a long, rectangular table with at least a dozen seats around it, covered with a plain white tablecloth and vases of flowers and candles. Large windows across one side of the room show a view of the backyard, a long rolling field of green. 

Sitting at the head of the table is a tall man with a stern glare that makes you straighten up. He's got a dark, receding hairline in a slicked back hair style that you think is meant to keep him from looking as old as he is, but his hair is thinning and he's got wrinkles around the corners of his eyes. He's got a dark mustache, neatly trimmed as it rests over his pinched frown. You think that's Lovof.