Part Two

***

"(F/n)..." you heard someone say quietly. "(Ffff/nnnnnn...)"

It sounded distant and it barely caught your attention within the haziness in the depths of your mind. You wished whoever it was would stop calling you, as you had little intention to acknowledge it. Your body was heavy and engulfed in warmth; you were just too comfortable to care about whatever was gently shaking you.

"(F/n)!" the voice snapped, accompanied by a painful sensation at your forehead.

You groaned, finally out of your dreamless state and half-way cognitive. "Fuck, Mikasa," you whined into your pillow, realizing she flicked you across the head. "Go away."

Your roommate chuckled briefly and sat at the edge of your bed. "Do you know what time it is?"

It took you a moment to process her question before you glanced with half-lidded eyes at your alarm clock on the bedside table. 6:36am.

"Yeah, half past 'way too fucking early for me to be up,'" you griped before burrowing into your covers again. You were not a morning person and probably never would be. In fact, no amount of coffee in the world would ever make you a morning person.

Mikasa was perfectly aware of this fact. So much so, that she once claimed you were the Devil's sister and had the mouth of a true sailor if you were ever woken up before 12pm. You couldn't help it though; your job didn't have specified times and your most creative hours were late into the evening. Often, you wouldn't find yourself in bed before one or two in the morning. Although, most of the time if was usually three or four.

"'Bitch-ass Motherfucker' has been calling you for the last thirty minutes," said Mikasa blandly.

"What?" you asked from underneath your blankets. It was honestly too hard for you to understand anything at the moment, since she woke you up after only four hours of sleep. After thinking on her statement for half a minute, it finally made a connection in your brain.

You bolted up right, throwing the covers aside violently and practically screamed, "Wait, what!?" Your eyes were wide as saucers and you were definitely a fully functioning human being now in under two seconds.

Mikasa gazed at you, unperturbed with your reaction. "I said, 'Bitch-ass Motherfucker' has been calling and texting you since six AM," she repeated, sipping her coffee calmly.

"AH, fucking bitch!!" you cried, leaping from your bed and only in your sleeping t-shirt. "Fuck fuck fuck!"

"It's on the counter in the kitchen," called your roommate after you nonchalantly. "And there's a pot of coffee for you if you want some."

You mentally thanked your beautiful, kind roommate for looking out for you in all aspects; ever since you've taken on the job as Attack on Titan's lyricist six days ago, you've been a bit of an unorganized frenzy. You've been up late trying to come up with lyrics and arrangements that would appease them, but it was more difficult than you initially thought because they hadn't given you much direction. In truth, no one had even contacted you since your initial meeting and you wondered just what you were expected to be doing in the meantime, other than the obvious.

Levi had emailed you twice, actually, but it wasn't exactly the "contact" you had been hoping for. However, nothing in the content appeared being useful information to you about your job and more of a way for him to harass you about your portfolio; he had been going over it very carefully now that you were paired up with him and he wanted to get a feel of your style.

Your eyes scanned the kitchen counter and found your cell phone charging by the coffee maker. Mikasa even charged your phone for you because you were too tired to remember last night. You had eighteen missed calls, eleven text messages, and zero voicemails, much to your surprise.

"Ah shit," you grumbled just as Mikasa returned from your bedroom. She sat down on the couch in the adjacent living room and watched you frantically read the messages. All of them consisted only of vague questioning such as 'Are you fucking kidding me?' and short insults like 'You little shit.'

"I turned on the flat iron for you. It should be ready in a few minutes," Mikasa said, still sipping her coffee without a care in the world. Your hair must have looked ridiculous if she turned on the flat iron for you.

"AH, YOU BLESSED ANGEL!" you exclaimed. "I'll return the favor soon, I swear."

She just smiled faintly but you didn't miss the hint of mischief in her usually emotionless eyes. "Let me meet Eren and we're even."

"Dammit Mikasa," you snapped, throwing her an exasperated expression as you returned to your room. "Is that all you ever think about?"

Before she could reply, your phone lit up and began to vibrate. You looked down with dread at the incoming phone call from "Bitch-ass Motherfucker."

"Son of a bitch," you hissed before pressing the accept call icon. "This is (L/n)."

"Yeah, I know who this is, dumbass," said an irritated voice on the other end. "Otherwise I wouldn't have called you so many goddamn times."

You ground your teeth together as your searched your closet for a pair of jeans. Levi Ackerman seriously angered you on a level you could not describe. There was no one on the planet who could infuriate you within ten seconds of talking and you sincerely had no idea why he was so cruel to you, especially since you hardly knew one another.

"What the hell were you doing anyways, huh?" he continued on. "I've got a tight schedule to adhere to, you know. I don't have the time to be chasing after-"

"Look, I'm sorry I missed your calls, alright?" you cut in as politely as you could manage. "But I was asleep and left my phone in the kitchen last night. It won't happen again."

There was an unmistakable click! of Levi's tongue, a noise that strangely aggravated you. "Excuses don't make progress, (l/n)," he said tersely.

"Did you need something?" you finally snapped, having no interest in getting lectured. You knew you should have tried to be more amiable but it was far too early in the morning and you zero cups of coffee yet for you to have the patience to pretend.

"I am going to text you an address once I hang up. Meet me there. Eight thirty AM. That gives you roughly an hour and thirty minutes so you have no reason to be late. Period," said Levi firmly so that you had no room to argue with him. "And bring me coffee. No cream, one sugar."

"Wait just a second!" you began to say. "I am not your personal assista-"

He already hung up. You stared blankly at your phone, a sort of blind rage filling up your body. Without thinking, you flopped on your bed and let out a very long, muffled scream. Mikasa was standing in your doorway, idly watching you shout profanity into your pillow while flailing around like a child during a tantrum.

"Was that Levi?" she inquired. You abruptly looked at her with such a fierce gaze that she nearly laughed.

"That shit head better watch his fucking back," you replied, a dark tone riddling your words as you stood up to get dressed. "I'm gonna show that asshole I've got everything it takes to be successful in this business and his fricken band is going to be the one that gets me there, so help me God."

"I'll take that as a yes," said Mikasa, patting you on the cheek affectionately. "And hey...it's good you're so passionate about this. I know you'll do great."

You wanted to thank her but you were still too furious with Levi to say anything nice.

She turned on her heel to go to her room but she paused in the hallway to glance at you. "You better do good, because if their next album is shitty, I'll know it's your fault," finished Mikasa with a mildly threatening look. You narrowed your eyes at her; you were not sure if she was messing with you or not but you didn't want to find out.

"Hardy har," you said sarcastically, sticking your tongue out at her.

You phone vibrated and you looked down at the address Levi had texted you. Accompanied with it was only one other thing: And don't bring me shitty coffee, brat.

"Ah, just fuck off already," you groaned to no one in particular. After a moment of staring into the expanse of your room, you decided to see where this address was on your map application. Luckily, and surprisingly, it wasn't that far away from your own apartment building. Wherever you were meeting him, it was only about a twenty minute walk or a ten minute taxi ride and was located within the heart of the city.

With a final sigh, you stood up to get ready. You wished he would have given some indication as to where you were going and why you needed to meet him. Not to mention the fact that he didn't even consider giving you any advanced notice. A day before would have sufficed. Levi was selfish if he thought he could spring up a meeting last minute like this on you with little regard to your time and life. Clearly, he assumed the world revolved around his own schedule.

"I hate this guy..."

***

You blinked, gazing up at the building rising high above your head. You glanced around the busy street, wondering if maybe you were missing something important, and doubled checked if you got the address correctly.

It was accurate.

The words The Palazzo was embellished across the building, the entrance sporting two nice fountains on either side of it and greenery to match. You knew exactly what this building was but you were now unsettled by the fact that Levi wanted you to meet him here.

You've got to be kidding me...you thought, thoroughly annoyed and bemused. You adjusted your briefcase of materials into your other arm and put your phone back in your purse. Gathering up your wits, you picked up the tray with two coffees that you got from the nearest coffee shop that you had put down on the fountain and went inside only to be met with a grand and beautifully constructed hall. Everything was cream marble and there were luscious leather couches strewn through the high ceiling room. Why there were two more fountains in this hall was beyond you.

There was a man of African descent sitting by a podium of some sort, almost like a concierge desk one would find at a hotel. He was in a well-fitted employee uniform that resembled a lot of a bellman and he was somewhat elderly, as his hair was mostly greyed out but he appeared to be friendly. Currently, he was smiling at you while you had been awestruck by the architecture of the room.

"Are you lost, miss?" he asked finally. His deep voice echoed a bit throughout the large hall but you felt a little more at ease for some reason now that he spoke first.

You approached his desk with a bit of apprehension. "No..." you said slowly, still taking in the grandeur. "Sorry, I'm just shocked."

The man laughed lightly. "What are you here for then?"

You shook your head, refocusing yourself. "Levi Ackerman asked me to meet him here," you replied. "But he didn't give me any indication on where he would be."

The elderly porter continued to smile genuinely. "Ah, I see," he said looking over a clipboard. "I believe I know who you are then."

He went quiet for a minute, save for the light and cheerful humming he was doing. "Ah, here we go," said the man. "Mr. Ackerman called down to let me know that you, Miss (F/n L/n) would be coming to see him."

The man looked at you gently and you couldn't help but smile back. So friendly. "That's me," you affirmed.

"I believe you," replied the man before he playfully narrowed his eyes at you. "But building policy requires me to see a form of identification first. Especially since Mr. Ackerman is our most notable resident celebrity here at The Palazzo and he has many fans trying to sneak up to his apartment."

"Oh, I'd imagine so," you laughed dryly. You set down the coffee tray and dug through your purse. "Trust me though, I am not a fan. Just a...co-worker."

The attendant continued to smile. "You hesitated," he noted while examining your license ID. "If you're not his fan, you ought to be his girlfr-"

"Oh god no!" you hastily exclaimed. "I have absolutely zero interest in man like him. We are business partners or some equivalent to that."

The man just chuckled to himself as he worked with a machine in front of him. "I daresay, it is a first to hear a girl say that," he said. "Any girl I have met adores Mr. Ackerman. My own granddaughter is..."

He paused for a moment, swiping a card on the machine and in thought. "For the lack of a better word," he continued, "obsessed with him and the group he is in. She thinks it's quite amazing I'm the steward of his apartment building."

The man handed you your license and another card displaying The Palazzo name across it just as you snorted at his statement. "Don't kill her idealization of him or she'll be crushed," you said in a knowing tone. "He is not as he seems."

"Oh, I know!" he replied cheerfully. "That Mr. Ackerman is a real stoic one, isn't he?"

'Stoic' wasn't the first word you thought of if you were to describe Levi. 'Unfriendly' and 'rude' were far more accurate but you decided to bite your tongue and just agree with the porter.

"Anyway, my dear, the card I gave you is a temporary guest card key that will let you into his apartment. Do you know what floor he lives on?" he asked.

You shrugged. "I could only assume the top floor?" you surmised.

"That it is." The porter tipped his head at you. "There are three elevators for the building. Use the one that says 'penthouse access' on it. That one is the only one that reaches the top five floors, where the penthouses are located. Now, that elevator opens right up into his apartment but the door won't open unless you swipe the card, otherwise it'll take you back down here. You'll see the small machine once you're inside. All you have to do is swipe the card, face up, over the screen and it'll read it. But you should hurry though. I'm sure Mr. Ackerman doesn't like lukewarm coffee."

You laughed. "Thank you so much, Mr..."

"Call me Ray," said the man politely. "Oh, could you do me one favor though, Miss (L/n)?"

You had started gather your things up when you answered that you would.

"Well, first, let me ask you this? Do you think you will be coming here often?" he inquired.

There was no way to stop the roll of your eyes. "I hope not."

"Your honesty is refreshing," Ray said. "Well, could you kindly ask him to start authorizing permanent guest key cards? He won't return my calls, and the building manager doesn't want to bother him, but he is using up all my temporary ones with how many people come in and out of here. Some of them I see at least once a week, like his personal trainer or his vocal coach. Of course, many guests are for other residents but half of my inventory goes to Mr. Ackerman alone..."

You shook your head. "I will ask him," you assured, "but to be true to my honesty, Ray, I doubt he will listen to me. He and I don't like each other much."

"I understand. Thank you for trying." He winked at you as if to say 'good luck' and you grinned.

With that, you hurried over to the elevator he specified and pushed the up button. After a minute or so, the doors slid open and you quickly went in to push the thirty-fifth floor. Surprisingly, the elevator was quick but not fast enough for you to feel that awful swoop in your stomach.

You were dreading this as the floors went higher. You had no idea why Levi would ask you to meet him at his house. It was strange and annoying. You were not hired to make house calls. The more the elevator climbed, the more you were brought back to reality about how much you could not stand the guy.

Once the elevator reached the top floor, an automated voice of a woman rang throughout the small room. "Authorization required," it said in mock politeness.

"Yeah yeah," you said, swiping your guest pass on the screen located by the buttons.

"Access granted," relayed the voice.

The doors opened and you found yourself stepping into a large, skylit foyer. Of course, you were lost in the way the clouds above your head seemed reachable. Just the entrance itself was beautiful and you wondered just what the penthouse was going to look like. You refocused yourself and hurried on, not wanting to get on Levi's bad side anymore than you already were.

The foyer opened up into two different directions, one on either side of you. Nothing initially indicated which way you should go, so you instinctively went left.

The hall opened up into what looked like the dining room but you nearly dropped the tray of coffee when you saw the entire room had open windows to the deck and view outside. Even from this far back into the house, the skyline of the city was strangely impressive; tall building rise and fell as your eyes traced across the clouds and architecture.

"Wow..." you whispered, setting down the coffee on the glass dining room table. You had to admit, Levi had a great sense of style in regards to his home. Everything was immaculate and beautifully arranged.

There was still no sign of Levi but you were way too interested in the penthouse to care where he was at this point. From the point at where you were standing, you could see an open wine room, all the slots seemingly filled with red and white wines. You snorted at this and turned to see another doorway that ajar.

Curious, you peeked inside. This had to be the master bedroom, judging by the size of it and the small library of sorts off the the right and another door that led out to the deck. You really did not want to get caught looking at something private and you wandered back into the largest open room. As you walked, it seemed that the left side of the curved room was the dining area, then there was the kitchen and further on the living room, and then finally another living room of some sort.

There was a beautiful grand piano in the last open area room, the light from the floor to ceiling windows gleaming on it's surface. You desperately had the urge to sit down and use it, but you knew if you did that without Levi's permission he would probably kill you. Literally or not so literally, you weren't sure.

Near this room was a wet bar of sorts with many hard alcohols lining the wall and several brands of beers were tucked away in the small fridge too. Levi did not seem like the type to drink but you wondered if maybe it was all for show. Right next to the wet bar was the media room with an extraordinarily large television mounted on the wall. Again, Levi did not seem the type to mindlessly watch TV.

The one thing you noticed immediately about his house was that there seemed to be nothing personal around. No pictures of family or friends, nothing that would indicate that the penthouse was a home and less of a convenient living space. To you, it looked like one of those houses straight out of an interior design magazine.

"You're late."

The voice behind you caused you to leap up in fright. You had been staring at the deck outside again and the skyline view of the city. You turned to face him, ready to get an earful from Levi.

He was staring at you with a look of disdain, one eyebrow raised and his arms crossed. He was shirtless and what you believed to be sweat was glistening all over his skin. You hated to admit it, but he had a rather attractive build and no amount of hatred you had for him could make you deny it. You only assumed he had been working out, judging by his mild labored breathing, his gym shorts, a pair of workout gloves, and a small towel draped over his shoulder.

"Well, I wasn't expecting to meet you at your house so I didn't account for the extra time that had to be spent with Ray downstairs," you replied curtly as you tore your eyes away from his chest. "Nice place."

Levi snorted. "Thanks," he said without much feeling. "Where's my coffee?"

It was your turn to scoff at his statement while he turned on his heel and went into his vast and beautiful kitchen. From the looks of it, it didn't seemed like he used it much, as it was way too clean to be used frequently.

"On the dining room table..." you said, still distracted with his house. "Oh, before I forget...Ray asked me to ask you if you could start authorizing permanent guest cards."

Levi had just grabbed both coffees and brought them back into the kitchen when he looked at you with a sort of annoyed confusion. "Why?"

"Because you're eating up the building's card inventory," you stated flatly. Whatever the answer was going to be, you didn't care but you wanted to make sure you followed through with Ray.

Levi examined his coffee to differentiate which one was his before he took a tentative sip. You waited for his reaction, almost positive he would make a fuss on the fact that it was not piping hot like when you first bought it but he didn't say a word. You vaguely wondered why he had you get coffee for him when he obviously had a very nice coffee maker and undoubtedly much better coffee beans here in his home. His visage wasn't much to go off of either, as you could not tell if he was at least tolerant of his cup.

You picked up yours and sipped quietly, finding that the brew was still quite warm but not hot enough where it would burn your tongue. The silence wasn't very long but you were grateful he didn't throw a hissy fit about his coffee and instead was thinking intensely about guest cards.

"Well, then ask me properly." Levi crossed his arms and his gaze was stern.

"Excuse me...?" you replied with an eyebrow raised. Was he challenging you?

You let your gaze follow him as he turned to go and open up one of his cupboards to retrieve a very plain coffee much to pour his remaining drink into. "I said ask me properly," he repeated. "You merely passed along a statement, but you didn't ask."

Is he fricken serious!? you thought, anger rising in your throat again. However, you bit back your nasty retort and settled to just calm yourself internally. It was clear Levi had some kind of sadist complex because he liked jerking you around. He knew he could too because your career depended on him.

"Could you please start authorizing permanent guest card keys?" you said through your teeth. "As per request for Ray, your steward."

Levi began to reply but you held up your hand hastily to cut him off.

"I don't care what the answer is, you can call him back yourself to let him know what you decided," you added.

His face remained expressionless for a while though you had a feeling he didn't like the way you spoke to him just now. You, however, did not care in the slightest. You could only be polite for so long if he was going to continuously irk you.

There was a very slight smirk forming across his lips but you had no idea what he was thinking, much less as to why it was appearing. It was eerily reminiscent of the expression he had at the end of your meeting last week. He had not been pleased at being paired up as songwriting partners and had practically threatened you once everyone had left.

"Why are you looking at me like that?" you snapped finally.

Levi shook his head indifferently. "No reason," he replied before sipping his coffee in a strange manner. You've never seen anyone hold their mugs like that. "I'll think about it."

"Like I said, I don't care." You also sipped on your coffee, tearing your eyes away from him. "And another thing," you went on, "why are we meeting here? House calls aren't exactly professional."

"I have a busy schedule, even when I am not in the studio," said Levi casually. "Meeting here would kill two birds with one stone."

Secretively, you rolled your eyes. "I see." You weren't following him but you decided not to push it.

"I don't like going out anyways," he admitted, but a little more quietly than before. You narrowed your eyes, unbeknownst to him, unsure how to take the comment. You couldn't imagine he had some form of social anxiety, being a celebrity and all, but upon further analyzing, you did realize he was a bit introverted.

"Alright," said your counterpart, snapping his harsh gaze on you again, "while I shower, I want you to go over all my previous work."

"What?"

Levi let out a very sharp sigh. "Dammit, open up your ears! I want you to look over my past lyrics. All of them, even the ones that didn't make it into the albums."

It appeared he was back to being surly again and though he had not seen it, you flinched when he had barked at you just now. You reminded yourself to be patient. You had too much at stake here.

He didn't give you a chance to reply as he was already heading towards his bedroom. You only assumed you were expected to follow because you had no idea where he kept everything. There was this aura between you and him that you felt more like his assistant than his partner and it bothered you immensely.

"Why?" you settled to ask. Mentally cautioning yourself not to lose your temper this time around with him was a constant thought in your mind; you could not afford to lose this opportunity because you and some big shot singer could not get along.

"I keep everything, even the shit we end up scrapping," explained Levi impatiently. He was going through his desk drawer in his in-bedroom office and piling folders, leather bound notebooks, and paper work onto it while you gazed at his living quarters with curiosity.

Again, nothing very personal was seen, other than several awards for Attack on Titan's music along his library wall.

"I want you to look them over because you need to understand how I do things. I've got a damn process," he continued. "I don't have time to sit here and constantly check on your shit to make sure it meshes and blends with mine so I may as well have you see how I've been doing things for years and have you work with it. You and I have different approaches to creating songs."

You were annoyed with the way he was speaking to you but he did have a point; examining his style and maybe some scrapped arrangements would help you glean more insight into how this group got to be as big as it did. He went through the trouble of examining your portfolio too, so you should have expected this. That aside, you were actually interested in just what things Levi writes about. Somehow, you couldn't imagine he would draw from his own experiences, in terms of love songs. However, if most of the songs were written by him for the group, there must be some sort of background.

If you wanted a career as a lyricist and then perhaps later on a full-fledged producer, you had to make sure that you were on decent terms with Levi, no matter what he threw your way. You were not about to let this man with a short fuse kill your dreams. If you wanted to be a songwriter, you were going to let him help you in any way possible, even if he thinks it's not help.

"Alright alright," you sighed, plucking the last notebook out of his hand and collapsing in a comfy armchair. "Take a shower already."

Levi narrowed his eyes at you. "Don't get cocky, brat."

You waved your hand dismissively at him, pretending to be thoroughly enthralled in his old work. Levi stood there for another moment, but you refused to look his way; you were sure he was glaring at you. With a heavy snort, he turned away from you, like had decided not to snap another nasty comment before heading into his bathroom. Finally, you lifted your eyes furtively, watching the way the toned muscles of his back moved as he walked.

Regardless of how much you hated him, you were without a single doubt attracted to him physically, but it was purely physical. Nothing about Levi as a person, with his difficult personality, would ever make you attracted to him otherwise.

The sound of water came from the open bathroom but from where you were seated, you could not see into it. You were glad for this. Even if you did not want to, you knew if you could see into it, you probably would accidentally get an eyeful of something you didn't want to see.

With a quick shake of your head, you immersed yourself into Levi's world.

***

I ended up in the shower longer than I anticipated, partially due to the fact that I was still sore from my workout yesterday. The warmth of the water helped my aching body relax though, and I found it hard to get out. I might have pushed myself a little too hard; my muscles were tight and moving them is hard without wincing.

Can't wince in front of the girl though. She'll think I'm weak.

And showing her any sign of weakness will give her reason to think that she could give me some type of cheeky response or the like. I am sure as hell not dealing with that shit. (F/n) is too ignorant for her to parade around with all her opinions and assumptions with how this industry works. Her enthusiasm to prove me wrong is noted though. Good. Motivation would keep her focused.

I would never admit it to her, but she does have talent. I can see why Eyebrows and that little brainiac of a manager were so eager to hire her and have her work with me. Initially, I was not keen on being paired up with her; she was brazen and strong willed and I wasn't sure if I was going to be able to get through to her. I played it off as if I absolutely loathed the idea of being her partner, but I actually did not hate the idea as much as I portrayed. I do prefer to do most of the work on my own; it's easier to get anything done when there isn't someone else with opinions and the rest of the group already trust my abilities as a songwriter. However, I internally changed my tune once I carefully inspected her dossier.

Her portfolio was interesting since she did not only write lyrics that pertained to love. I probably should not have assumed so, though she is female, but much of her words were more about personal achievements and life as a whole. If paired with the right arrangements and decent vocalist, I'm sure the result would be quite moving. Her demos were far beyond what I expected to see from such little experience. Guitar and cello were clearly her strongest talents, instruments wise, but she definitely had enough skill with the piano and violin as well. Her demos were original works, incorporating two or more of her instruments to showcase her abilities.

Thus far, she had five of her songs picked up by lesser known artists. I was somewhat surprised to find that the genres of those artists all varied. Two songs were by an alternative rock group, two by two separate pop artists with one of them more of an orchestral pop and the other bubblegum pop, and the last one was a female R&B artist. It seemed (F/n) was well rounded, at that was not only promising, but also her key to making it within this industry.

For the most part, I was intrigued by (F/n), not that she will find that out. I am aware that she thinks I hate her...but her push back upon our first meeting was surprising, if not even admirable. Not many amateurs, especially women, would have ever said something so direct to me. But she held her ground without hesitating, and I found that impressive. Stupid...but impressive nonetheless. The intrigue stemmed from her obvious ambition and determination to make a name for herself.

I hardly know her and have barely interacted with her but in some ways, (F/n) reminds me of...well, me from when when I first started out in the music business. In a strange way, I wanted to help her find her way through the mess she is diving into, but not without a fight. There is no easy way to make it big here and there are many sacrifices she will have to make along the way.

I don't think she realizes that yet. Her ambition is still optimistic and naive.

After some internal debate, I shut off the shower and waited for the last of the water to fall from directly above my head. With a sharp sigh, I exited, albeit painfully, and dried myself off. It took me a little longer to get dressed; stretching out my arms was not as easy as it should have been.

I left my closet to go pester that woman only to be met with the sound of my piano cresting over me. At first, a bubble of anger began in the pit of my stomach. The nerve that (F/n) has to use it without even asking me...but I had to admit, whatever she was playing was relatively pleasant.

Making for the living room, I continued to listen to her composition. It sounded vaguely familiar. I approached her slowly, not wanting her to know I was watching her. Pressure would either make her stop completely or falter through the piece. I kept searching the dark recesses of my mind.... I knew I've heard this before...somewhere.

I wrote this piece.

Except, I think she may have added her own strings of keys to give the arrangement a more dramatic, melancholic feel. In front of her was one of my old notebooks with scrapped lyrics, and another file with what appeared to be sheet music I must have written a while back.

(F/n) wasn't singing but sort of hummed quietly to herself. Her humming was a bit off key, so I can't imagine how she would sound if she were to actually open up that sassy mouth of hers. It seemed like she was correcting herself. She kept shaking her head and making minute changes in her chords, replaying parts several times over before beginning the whole song again.

After a few minutes of watching her sink deeper into her work, I realized she truly was passionate about music. It was not just a job to her that could make money. (F/n) enjoyed what she did.

Finally, I closed the gap between the piano and I, only to find her eyes were closed as she played the song fully. She was lost in her composition and her awful humming.

Quietly, I picked up the vanilla folder in front of her and promptly whacked her across the back of her head with it. The pleasant music came to awkward halt because she had jumped slightly and slammed her fingers a little too hard on the keys. She jumped up from the stool and her eyes were wide, as if she were caught like a deer in headlights.

"Having fun?" I asked, making sure to keep my tone as deadpan as possible. "We didn't hire you to waste my time, you know."

"U-uhm," she said, a very faint blush forming around her cheeks and ears. "I'm sorry. I should have asked first. I just...when I was looking through your old sheet music, I thought it would be best to hear it in reality then to play it in my mind. I wanted to get a feel for some of the arrangements you've made as a way to understand your creative process."

I narrowed my eyes at her to appear annoyed. In reality, I wasn't at all; she was taking initiative and that was a valuable trait. She laughed uneasily, scratching the back of her head and unable to meet my heavy gaze. I assumed she felt guilty for having played the piano without asking for my permission first, because on any other circumstance, I'm sure she would have gave some kind of snippy response.

"Tch. 'Creative process,' my ass." My tone was terse. "Whatever, if you want to play the piano so bad, just ask me, dumbass."

(F/n)'s eyebrows drew together, obviously annoyed now from the name calling. "Yeah? And how the hell am I supposed to do that when you're in the shower?" she demanded. "Not like I'm gonna waltz in there while your butt ass naked and go 'u-uh excuse me sir? Sorry to intrude b-but I was just wondering if I could touch your precious grand piano. It would make me ever so happy to use it so I can-'"

Before I could stop myself, I flicked her across the forehead. "I am not liking your sarcasm," I said with disdain. The look she gave me for flicking her was fierce but not in the slightest bit intimidating.

"What the hell is it with Ackermans and flicking me today?" she growled, more to herself than to me. "Jeezus."

"I don't know what you're going on about, (l/n)," I replied, indifferent to her complaining. "Sit."

I pointed to the piano stool and she gave me another fiery expression and I stifled my amusement. "What am I, a fucking dog?" she spit out. It was obvious that she was already growing comfortable around me, even after a very short amount of time. This was both good and bad. I wanted her to not be as reserved around me for a better working relationship but I don't want her getting the idea that she can call the shots in this partnership. Not yet, anyways.

"Yes, now sit," I pressed, grabbing her by the forearm and forcing her onto the seat. By the enraged look in her gaze but zero reply, I imagine she was trying hard to not say something back to me. She had been doing that a lot today.

I almost wished she did, but (F/n) kept her cool as best she could.

I proceeded to sit down next to her on her left and she noticeably stiffened next to me, but I chose to ignore it and thought I'd pester her some more. "By the way, they way you hum is very unpleasant. You were cracking and your pitch was off," I said casually. Her hands balled into fists in her lap and her cheeks grew red again from embarrassment.

"I'm well aware of that, hence why I am a lyricist not a singer," she said defensively. "....god, you're so annoying."

It took all of me not to chuckle; I had an image to uphold in front of her. While she continued to mumble some curse words under her breath, I put the sheet music in front of us and glanced at the song she had paired with the arrangement. Underground.

This was a very old song; I had written it years ago, in the days that Attack on Titan were still young and unknown. I drew off of personal experience for that piece, having had a relatively rough upbringing. I named nothing specific in the song but it was more about finding a life outside the walls of doubt and hurt; it was more about believing in my own determination.

"Feel free to add whatever and wherever you wish," I said as I slid my fingers on the keys of the piano. I inhaled slowly and began to play the arrangement but with some of the adjusted chords (F/n) had made earlier. I tried to remember exactly how she hummed the song so that it fit the music.

Ten seconds after the intro, I let the opening words tumble out, singing to match or compliment the keys. I saw (F/n) look at me with a wild sort of stare; I don't think she expected me to sing in front of her this soon into our partnership. I disregarded the look and continued to serenade her, at least somewhat.

She moved her right hand towards the keys but hesitated to add something. I gestured to her to play with a slight nod of my head, still carrying through the song. I sensed her relief at this and she added her own chords here and there to match mine but in higher keys. There was a smile forming slowly on her lips; I think she was trying to hold back her elation but it was beginning to be too difficult.

I wanted her to know...to see something she created, at least somewhat, in a more finished form. (F/n) needed to know that this is exactly why were in this business, to see and hear our own talents create works of art. Even if they never make it to the public. We love what we do and we will continue to create despite adversity or obstacles. This was my way of motivating her to push through the shit that the industry could be sometimes.

Even if that shit is a partner or someone of authority.

I never would have thought to pair Underground with any of the previous music I already had, but she saw its potential in less than thirty minutes. I knew our partnership would thrive. However, as I said before...I am not going to make this easy for her. She needs to earn her place and work hard for it. And though she will never hear it come from my lips, I have a feeling she will make a name for herself.

With or without my help.

***

Author's note: Hey howdy hey! This will be a long winded AN, sorry in advanced! But that's why I put at the end instead of at the beginning.

I am glad I am finally able to get out of writer's block with this particular series. As a "by the way," I am not very familiar with all the aspects of creating music/tracks/lyrics, so I do the best I can with knowledge I have. I try to research to a certain extent, but since I'm not getting paid for this, nor is it Original Works, I don't put that much time into it. Also, a side note reminder: I have never read the manga of SnK, so I'm actually quite behind on news and stuff. Additionally, if anyone is interested in the basic floor plan of Levi's penthouse, here is the link to it. Obviously the one titled PENTHOUSE is what I used for inspiration. http://www.escalatower.com/listings/floorplans

The series as a whole will involve the other members of the group, but I wanted to sort of set up the "dynamics" between the reader and Levi in this one, so there wasn't much plot to it. I sowwy. Please be patient. xoxo also wanted to try a Levi's POV section. Third person story telling is actually where I thrive, so first person and limited omniscient POV is my weakness. ( I think that what reader inserts are.) One day I'll write strictly third person since that's how I write outside of reader inserts.

Secondly!!! Go check out RosieRevenge's brand new story entitled Voice. Her story is inspired by The Lyricist: Big Break one shot of this series and I could not be anymore honored. Although, at this moment, there is only one chapter, I ask you guys to go read it and give her some support!

Lastly, thank you everyone for all the follows, votes, and comments. In particular, thank you for all the encouraging words and for all the constructive criticism (looking at you specifically kaneki_coffee). On that note: I beg of you guys, if you have any complaints or input or critiques on my writing, it is much appreciated as I have so much to improve on. So many of these other Wattpad authors put me to shame haha

Love you guys!! xoxo