Work Text:
Your single releases on a Friday night.
It’s a slow song built on piano and a chorus that climbs higher than most singers are comfortable attempting. It spreads quickly through the internet, fans dissecting every note, every lyric, every pause you make that honestly has no meaning at all.
By Sunday morning, Levi Ackerman uploads a cover.
You discover it because your phone begins vibrating violently with notifications. Your fans are furious. His fans are smug. Music blogs explode with headlines like LEVI ACKERMAN RESPONDS TO NEW SINGLE WITH STUNNING COVER. You stare at the video thumbnail for a long moment before pressing play.
Levi sits in a dark studio, wearing headphones and an unreadable expression of indifference. His voice enters the song softly, almost carefully. But then the truth comes out. He shows off. He pushes the notes higher, louder, and stronger. It’s a silent challenge to you and only you.
Your stomach flips.
“Damn it,” you mutter to yourself.
Because it’s beautiful.
And the comments beneath the video are already chaotic.
NEW ARTIST RIVALRY HAHAHA
they’re fighting through music lol
he did it better
You scroll further.
just kiss already
Your eye twitches.
.
Eight months later, the cover war escalates. Every time one of you releases a new single, the other releases a cover within a day. You change the arrangement. Levi adds a lower harmony. You take his rock single and turn it into a piano ballad. Levi transforms your acoustic track into something darker.
Fans lose their minds. Compilation videos appear online titled: “Levi Ackerman vs. You: The Musical War.”
Armin—your manager—shows you one during a meeting. The video contains clips of both of your covers, interview moments where Levi refuses to mention you, clips where you refuse to answer questions about Levi. And then a montage of both of you singing the same chorus. The chemistry is ridiculous.
You groan, “This is stupid.”
Armin shrugs. “It’s working.”
The video has a comment with almost eighty thousand likes.
The sexual tension is insane.
You slam the laptop shut.
.
Two weeks later, your agent calls you.
“We want you to do a duet,” he says.
“No,” you say.
“It’ll trend.”
“No.”
“You’ll chart higher.”
“No.”
“It’s with Levi Ackerman.”
“...No.”
A long pause. Then your agent says the sentence that ruins everything. “The fans already think you’re secretly dating.”
That shouldn’t change anything for you, but it does. You’ve never been above using a little public drama and rumors for clout. If this is what you have to do to boost your career…
You stare at the ceiling and bite your fist, letting out a sigh of defeat. “Fine.”
.
The first time you see Levi in person is in the recording studio. You arrive early, your nerves already buzzing as the elevator doors slide open and reveal a hallway lined with framed platinum records. One day your name will be up there. You can only hope, anyway.
You expect Levi to be late—he strikes you as the type to disregard people’s personal schedules. He isn’t. He’s already inside the studio, sitting quietly in a chair with headphones resting around his neck and a lyric sheet held in one hand.
For a moment, you just stare. Seeing him in person is different from watching him through a screen. He looks exactly the same, and yet not. He’s definitely shorter than you thought. You think about making a comment on it, but a voice in the back of your mind whispers that you need to get along with him. You at least need to tolerate each other.
Levi glances up. Your eyes meet. There’s a brief moment of silent recognition, like two storm clouds finally colliding.
So this is him. The guy who’s been one-upping you for eight months. The guy who’s always pushing your notes higher and harder than you ever could. The guy who’s done nothing to dissuade the rumors that have spread like fire.
Never mind what you said. You have half a mind to sock him in the face right now.
The producer eventually claps his hands together awkwardly. “Great! Let’s—uh—start with rehearsal.”
The moment the music begins, something strange happens. Your voices fit together. Not competitively or aggressively, but naturally. Your harmonies fall into place like two puzzle pieces. Levi’s voice is low beneath yours as the chorus rises.
The producer freezes. The engineer slowly lowers his headphones. Levi notices it too. Your voices blend together too well.
That’s… annoying, he thinks.
Across the booth, you’re having the exact same realization.
Why does this work so well? you think.
The producer finally whispers, “Well… that’s going to sell a million copies.”
.
Later, during a break between takes, you sit on the floor of the recording booth reading the lyric sheet more carefully. The song is about two people pretending to hate each other because they’re afraid of what’s really there. It wasn’t a song you or Levi wrote this time—you had a team of songwriters as they wanted this one to hit high on the charts. Clearly they want the last laugh.
You glance up. Levi is leaning against the glass wall across the room, arms folded, watching you with that same intensity he always had. You wonder if he noticed the lyrics too.
Levi did. That realization has been bothering him for twenty minutes.
Eventually, the producer and engineers step out for coffee. The room becomes quiet. It’s just you and Levi. The silence stretches long enough that it becomes impossible to ignore. You sigh.
“Why do you keep covering my songs?” you ask.
Levi raises an eyebrow. “Why do you cover mine?”
“Answer my question first.”
He sighs and shrugs slightly. “Because they’re good. And I like singing them.”
Oh. The honesty catches you off guard. You lean back against the wall, your arms crossed over your chest. You’re still angry. There’s thousands of artists he could go start a war with, and he chose you? Wrong choice.
“You’re still trying to out-sing me.”
Levi scoffs. “You started it.”
“I did not.”
“You released a piano version of my rock single.”
“It sounded better.”
Levi steps closer. “That’s debatable.”
The tension between you shifts. You’re acutely aware of how close Levi is getting to you. Maybe you should have gone out with the others for coffee.
“You know what your problem is?” you say.
Levi narrows his eyes. “No.”
“You’re competitive.”
“You rewrote the entire bridge of my last song.”
“Because the bridge was weak.”
Levi steps closer again. Now the space between you is barely a few feet. Your heart beats faster. Levi swallows, his throat bobbing. Interesting.
“You think you can sing my songs better than I can,” he says quietly.
You tilt your head. “Can’t I?”
Levi puffs a breath out in a scoff. The tension that has been building for months—through songs, through covers, through interviews and fan edits—finally reaches a breaking point.
“Your fans are ridiculous,” he mutters.
You laugh. “Your fans started it.”
“They think we’re dating.”
“They think we’re enemies.”
“They think we should kiss.”
The words slip out before Levi can stop them. Silence crashes into the room. Your eyes widen slightly. Levi immediately regrets speaking.
“Forget I said that,” he says.
But the moment has already shifted. Sparks dance in the air between you, drawing you closer to him. You step forward. “Maybe the fans are onto something.”
Levi’s pulse jumps. He can’t believe you. He scoffs and says, “You’re insufferable.”
Then he closes the distance.
The kiss is sudden. Months of tension snapping all at once. Your hands catch his shirt as his mouth presses against yours. His mouth moves against yours with hunger, tasting of black coffee, his tongue teasing the seam of your lips until you part for him. A soft gasp escapes you as he deepens it, one hand sliding to the nape of your neck to angle your head just right. His free arm wraps around your waist, pulling you flush against the solid warmth of his chest.
For a moment neither of you thinks. You just feel. You feel his body fitting closer against yours. You feel his arm tightening around your waist. You feel him bite your bottom lip. You feel it all.
When you finally pull apart, both of you are breathing harder than expected.
Levi clears his throat and runs a hand through his hair.
“…Don’t tell the producers.”