So, now that I've almost finished call my name, I'll soon start posting my next Levi/Reader longfic, this time an Underground AU. It's going to be a slow-burn, enemies-to-lovers, fwb fic with lots of heists and world building for the Underground. I made some mood boards for the canon characters, Reader, and the OCs (in Levi’s gang):
Credits: Images are from Pinterest. Some of the OCs are inspired by characters from Six of Crows by Leigh Bardugo.
more of my Levi works
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“Why are you looking at me like that?” Levi frowned, studying you over the rim of his teacup.
“I’m just thankful.”
He snorted. “For what, this shithole?”
Tea sloshed but didn’t spill as he gestured derisively at the room you shared- four claustrophobic walls barely keeping the Underground at bay. It was a nicer place than most down here, but you weren’t offended. You knew what he meant.
“This. Being here with you.”
He softened, reaching for your hand across the table. He gently ran his thumb over your scarred knuckles. “I don’t understand you.”
Listen… Young gangster Levi stomping around in the Underground, claiming territory, is hot as fuck. The man is devastating no matter the time period, but Levi in his early to mid-twenties? Sheesh.
He is fully aware of his power. He doesn’t flaunt it or brag. That’s not his way. But you would be damned to underestimate him.
He’d claimed his sector of territory of the Underbelly early on. Had he necessarily known what to do with it when he was a kid after Kenny left him? No. But he knew he was safe, and no one would hurt him. Not if he hurt them first.
And he kept that mentality throughout his career. No one fucked with Levi. And later on, by extension, Furlan or Isabel.
He’s also fully aware of how eyes darken and follow him. He doesn’t think much of his own appearance, but he’s not blind. He sees how others view him, sees their hungry greed for him.
Fine. To Levi, that’s another layer of control that he can squeeze if need be.
Many try to seduce him, catch him off-guard, and manipulate him. He flips the script with a single gesture, his presence pressing against their weak hold on the moment.
Sometimes it scares them off. Other times it makes them completely pliant.
His dominance is quiet, but absolute.
You want to be used by him? He’ll take those reins with filthy pleasure.
Levi hasn’t put much thought toward his sexuality. The person’s gender doesn’t matter. To him, it’s all a calculated game of control and release. He likes seeing how a small touch or command can make someone fall to their knees.
Every other facet of his life, Levi is stoic, quiet, orderly, bordering on cold. He doesn’t allow filth to settle in any part of his universe. Cleanliness gives him the little bit of peace he can latch on to.
But when it comes to sex? To him, that isn’t dirty. It’s a certain level of freedom and utter control that he craves. He leans into his hyper awareness, reading every micro-reaction, and exploits it.
The catch to this... is that Levi doesn’t allow himself to get closer than skin deep. Sex is sex. No, he doesn’t know you outside of this room. No, he doesn’t want to sleep with you again.
It all boils down to one aching truth. And his greatest fear.
He will not be used or manipulated or abused. He will not allow anyone to have that kind of power of him. Even if, in the end, he will share a similar fate to his mother, dying alone in the damp, dark. Forgotten.
Furlan and Isabel are a balm in his world. His own small unit that he found and cares for. The familial love he feels for them, he doesn’t know how to show it past making sure they are safe, fed and clothed.
And when he catches Furlan staring off one night, his eyes dazed, lips parted, toward the baker’s daughter on the corner. Thin and clothes tattered, but her smile warm and kind… Levi knows he’ll never understand what that feels like.
When you were born your mother left you in an alley to rot, at least that's what you've been told happened. A bunch of orphans, much like yourself, have found you crying and hungry for your mothers milk in a trash bin. This is the underground city for you; a place littered with dirt, death and bastards. This city, like the name suggests, has been built underneath the wall Sina in the old cave system that has been used for sewage reasons for decades. The original plan was that the elite of Sina had a safety bunker against the creatures, titans, roaming outside the three walls, yet they have never found appeal living in the underground. Instead it became a place for criminals, organized crime and human trafficking.
Charming, really, but it is everything you have ever known. The older orphans have provided you with food and care the best they could, raising you until your twelve birthday. They were family to you, teaching you all the things you needed to survive down here; stealing, fighting and manipulating your surroundings. The oldest was Jakob Mauer, a boy born by a prostitute who was beaten to death by a client. He was the one to name you, Nyx, after the goddess of the night from your favorite fairytale.
He had a little sister, Maia, who would always help you with altering stolen clothes to fit you. There were also the twins Alec and Peter, who had been around Maias age.
All of them have died or have gotten lost in the same year you turned twelve. Jakob was shot by a military police officer, you were present during his death, an imagine you won't be able to forget for the rest of your life. Maia was kidnapped by traffickers when she was sixteen, you haven't seen her since and believe she was sold as a slave to a rich family in Mitras. Peter died of an illness he has carried with him for months now and after his death his brother Alec seemingly vanished overnight.
You had to survive on your own from that day on, something that hasn't turned out to be far more dangerous than being in the protection of a group. How you survived to the age of twenty you don't really know, it has been harsh years in which you endured plenty of injuries, broken bones and nearly starved on more occasions than one. But you did make it to a point in your life where you got a job at the cemetery and were able to afford a small apartment of your own.
The job at the cemetery requires you to bury the dead, open up graves and dispose of the remains. They surprisingly pay you well, since the job is deeply unhygienic and dangerous. Body's transfer diseases, plus you never know what killed them in the end. When working with the remains of lost souls and sinners alike, you always dress from lead to toe, covering your face and hands with clothes. You bathe yourself in alcohol afterwards.
Burying the dead is not your only occupation though. During the night you go on little sprees through the city and steal whatever you need to survive. Food, clothes, hygiene products and occasionally money or objects you could pawn off to someone. The rest of the money you keep well hidden from the greedy hands of strangers, hoping it would some day be enough to buy yourself a citizenship for above ground some day.
Today was like any other day; you stood up at six and left for the cemetery at seven. You ate some blend tasting porridge and noted how you needed some more food or money to have something to eat tomorrow. At the cemetery you had two burials and opened up five graves with your colleague Felix, a middle aged man who constantly smelled of poor tobacco. After that you left for home, washed your clothes and drenched yourself in the ill smelling mixture of cheap vodka, water and soap.
After hiding and counting your money for the day you decided you had to go on a little stealing-spree again. You have taken notice of a rather large house in the northern side of the city. It's inhabitants appear to be a group of three; two men older than yourself and a girl. Words have it they are leading a criminal organization dealing with highly dubious missions. No human trafficking, but drugs and bounty hunting appears to be involved; whatever gives them a heavy sack of money at the end of the day.
While yes it's risky to steal from them, you know for certain that people like them could always get more gold fairly easily, so taking a little bit from them won't hurt much. You have dressed in your darkest clothes, suited yourself with a variety of weapons and made your way to the north at seven p.m. knowing well that they operate in the night and won't be at their headquarters for quite a while.
Like a sleek cat, you choose to run over the roofs, finding it saver than to travel through the busy streets below. Climbing, jumping and balancing are some of your skills you have been perfecting since childhood, something your late friends required from you. They have ordered you to steal for them on multiple occasions, teaching you the way through the shadows perfectly.
You know how to adapt to your surroundings and you damn well know how to enter or exit homes without anyone noticing. Usually you choose to steal from the people you buried, knowing they won't be in need of it anymore anyways. But tonight you decided to be a little more bold and needed something better than rotting bread, molding clothes and silver coins. You want vegetables and gold, and you sure as hell know that the group in the north district has what you need.
After an hour you finally make it to the center of said district. It's busy around their house and you have to choose a spot to hide a little too far away than you would like, but your safety is more necessary than to spy on them for a while. You recognize the people down there to be members of the group, led by the people you are targeting right now. From what you have found out their leader is called “Levi”. A man in his late twenties who has been famous for being raised by the mass murder Kenny the reaper. No one really knows what happened to him, one day he goes rampage and organizes a bloodbath in the streets and the other he's gone, leaving no trace behind.
“Man, tonight's gonna be great! I can tell.” A young man cheers, kicking a rock while leaning against the wall of the house whose roof you are currently occupying.
“For sure. I'm just hoping Isabell won't ruin it again. Fucking jinx.” Another one replies, cursing the only girl on their team.
“Yeah. It's really noble of Levi to take in strays, but come on, no need to give her ODM.” At that you stirr, eyes widening at the newfound information.
You have heard of criminals that stole a punch of ODM gears a while ago, but you haven't linked that incident to Levi's little gang at all.
“Shit.” You curse, knowing how dangerous a skilled user of an omni-directional mobility gear could be. The military police are already deadly with it, but someone like Levi could probably raise hell if he wanted to.
“You guys done with shit talking my desicions?” Another one intervenes the thugs conversation, a voice so deep it sends a shiver down your back.
“Sorry Levi, I never meant to-”
“I don't care shithead. You think I'm gonna put your sorry ass into ODM gear when you can't even balance on a fucking wall?” For a while it's quite, the man's voice filled with authority shushes down all his men instantly. There is no mistake this must be Levi. You can't see him from your position, but you damn well know it's him from the way he struck fear in the whole street.
“Tch. Thought so. Now come on, we are leaving.” Their leader decides, forcing them to gather away from your hiding spot and leave the house altogether, a blonde man locking the door of your target before he too follows after the group. And then you see it; silver metal hanging on his hips, peeking out from underneath his long cloak. This is it; this must be their stolen ODM gear. You need to consider this if you had to spontaneously run from them, it would certainly get a little more tricky to do so when they could fly through the freaking air and follow you. That way you wouldn't be safe neither on the streets nor the rooftops.
You wait another twenty minutes before you dare to break into their house. Picking on the lock of the front door would be too obvious, so you have chosen the backdoor on the ground floor. Breaking open that damn lock has taken you another fifteen minutes, which slowly starts to get on your nervous. You need to be quick in there, as you can't tell when Levi and the others would return.
Finally, with a satisfying click, the backdoor opens. You slip inside silently, shutting the door behind you and taking a deep breath to calm your racing heart. The house is quiet, the air carrying a faint scent of tea and something metallic. The interior is surprisingly clean for an underground gang, organized even. Not a single speck of dust lingers on the polished surfaces. It’s unsettling in a way, the kind of tidiness that screams control and discipline.
You shake off the unease and get to work, gliding from room to room with practiced efficiency. The first floor is devoid of anything useful, just a sparse kitchen and an immaculate sitting area. The drawers and cabinets are filled with the basics: utensils, some dishes, and a few supplies, but no money or valuables. Whoever lives here isn’t stupid enough to leave anything important lying around.
Moving cautiously, you ascend to the second floor. It’s darker here, the windows shuttered tight, and the faint creak of the wooden stairs makes you grit your teeth. There are three doors, and you start with the first one on the left.
Inside, you find what looks like a shared bedroom. Three cots line the walls, each with neatly folded blankets and a small trunk at the foot. Opening the trunks, you find only clothing, nothing of value. A couple of silver coins in one, but not enough to risk taking. You need something bigger, something worth the trouble. The last door opens easily, revealing a small, sparsely decorated room. This one feels more personal, with a single bed and a desk against the wall. You approach the desk, pulling open the drawers to find: nothing. Not even hidden storage compartments. Frustration bubbles up in your chest as you search the rest of the room, coming up empty-handed once again.
You’re about to give up when something catches your eye: a gleam of porcelain in the corner of the room. Tucked away on a low shelf is a delicate tea set, clearly out of place in this otherwise spartan environment. The design is intricate, with faded gold detailing and floral patterns that have been carefully preserved. It’s beautiful and old, most certainly of great value.
You crouch down to inspect it, running a finger over the smooth surface. This could be worth a decent amount of money, maybe even enough to last you a couple of weeks if you find the right buyer. It seems important, too: placed with care, as though it holds sentiment to someone. For a moment you hesitate. This is different from stealing a sack of bread or a pouch of coins. Someone clearly cherishes this. But desperation wins out, as it always does. You carefully wrap the pieces in a cloth you brought with you, securing them in your bag.
Just as you’re standing up, ready to leave, a sound outside makes your heart drop. Footsteps. Not distant ones, but close and its approaching the back door. Your chest tightens as you hear the unmistakable click of a key in the lock. They’re back.
Your breath catches in your throat as you hear the back door creak open. Panic surges through you, but you force yourself to stay calm. Years of living on the edge have taught you to think quickly in situations like this. Running out the front door is out of the question and they’ll see you in an instant. Instead, you glance around the room, scanning for a hiding spot. Your eyes land on the wardrobe in the corner. Without wasting another second, you dart across the room, your steps as silent as a shadow. You ease the door open, slip inside, and pull it shut just as the sound of boots echoes up the stairs.
The wardrobe is cramped, the smell of wood polish and faint lavender assaulting your senses. Your heart pounds against your ribs, so loud it feels like it could give you away. The tea set feels heavy in your bag, the fragile porcelain suddenly seeming more like a curse than a treasure. Through the narrow slats in the wardrobe door, you catch glimpses of movement as the intruders enter the room. Their voices are muffled, but you recognize one of them immediately.
“Tch. Whoever was messing with the back door didn’t cover their tracks well.” Levi mutters, his voice low and cold. “It’s probably some street rat looking for scraps.” Another voice chimes in. It has to be the blonde man who had locked the door earlier.
“Yeah, but they got inside-” Levi snaps. His tone is sharp enough to cut glass. “Even left filth all over the counter. Disgusting.”
You hold your breath, shrinking back into the wardrobe as their footsteps grow louder. The sound of drawers being yanked open and the rustle of fabric fills the room. They’re searching for you or for whatever you might have taken.
“Anything missing?” The blonde asks after a moment. “Not yet.” Levi replies shortly. His voice is quieter now, but no less dangerous. The tension in the room is suffocating, and you can feel sweat beginning to bead on your forehead. You clutch the tea set through the fabric of your bag, praying they won’t think to check the wardrobe. But your luck doesn’t hold.
“Check everywhere.” Levi orders. “Whoever broke in might still be here.” Your stomach twists into a knot as the sound of footsteps grows louder. You hear the scrape of furniture being moved, the rustle of bedding being checked. Then, the unmistakable creak of the wardrobe door being opened next to you.
You freeze, your heart stopping for a moment, as if your body believes it can make you invisible through sheer willpower. Levi’s sharp gray eyes meet yours through the narrow gap in the door. His expression is unreadable for a split second: shock maybe or disbelief, but it hardens almost instantly into a glare that makes your blood run cold.
“Found you.” In your panic you throw open the door and hit the dark haired man's face, making him jump back in surprise. You take the chance and duck underneath his outstretched arm, using the moment of surprise to your advantage as you make your way to the window. You are on the ground floor and have broken through glas before, you can do this.
“Shit- you little-” He curses, quickly grabbing you by the cloak that has been covering your head. Acting quickly you slip through the neck peace and make a run for it, leaving Levi with your now loose cloak fisted in his hand. He's fast, too fast to be considered human and before you know it, he is right after you and catching you by the arm. Without a second thought you pull your hidden knife from underneath your sleeve and quickly move it to meet his arm. He easily doges it, but at the same time has to let go on his hold, making it able for you to attempt your run a second time.
With the knife outstretched in your hand and a firm grip around it's handle, you break the window, shuddering it into hundreds of pieces. At the same time you use the moment of shock to jump out of it, not caring that you sliced your arm open on one remaining and sharp piece. Adrenaline keeps you from feeling the pain for now, making it also able for you to rush down the alley, back clutched against your front, fleeing the scene in panic.
But Levi has a certain advantage, something you might have forgotten in the panic and rush. It's not only that inhumane speed of his or that painful strength he inflicted onto your wrist. No, his advantage is that ODM gear, something not only his mates appear to have but also him too. It's not surprising, really, but the moment you see a pair of hooks hitting the walls to your right and left around three meters before you, you know that you are fucked.
His body collides with yours as he rams into you from behind in mid-air, his gear makes it possible for him to close the distance to you in just mere seconds. While you crash to the ground you try to secure your face with your arms, accidently letting go of your bag that holds the valuable porcelain in it. You hit the road with a devastating cry, the pain following soon after, as you feel your skin being ripped open on your cheeks, arms and knees. Barely registering what's happening you try to gasp for air, but the additional weight of the man on your back doesn't help, especially since the fall has pressed out all the air from your lungs.
“Got you, filthy rat.” The man cheers, slight aggression in his raspy voice, as he kicks your knife further away from your body and tackles you down into the dirt underneath you. “Breaking into my home is one thing and spreading your filth all around it is another.” He declares, leaning closer to you, as he grips your hair to move your head sideways in an attempt to reveal your face.
“But stealing from me? Breaking my damn window and making a run for it? Fuck, you must be pretty stupid if you thought you could get away with this.” The hint of a threat makes you whimper and instead of meeting his deadly furious eyes, you lock gaze with your back, noticing instantly that the shape of it has changed rapidly. “Fuck.” You breathe, having an idea what might have happened with the beautiful tea set in it.
“Looking pretty and cursing like vermin. Aren't you a charming one?” Levi compliments and insults you at the same time, holding you down while he grabs for the bag you lost in the rush.
“Let's see what you tried to-” The black haired man stops as he looks into the bag, frowning in confusion as he pulls a porcelain shard to the surface. You gulp as the expression on his face slowly shifts a couple of different emotions washing his face an ugly expression. His weight on your abdomen and lower chest seems to press you into the road even more and a silver gleam in his pupils is the last thing you see before his fists meet your cheekbone. To get an even better aim at your front he swiftly turns your body in his grasp, making you face him fully.
“You will pay for this.” He spats in a rush of aggression, his hand clutching the shard so hard his skin rips open, while his other one is in a fist; knuckles showing as he punches it into you numerous times. “You little bitch think you can get away with not only stealing but destroying my shit-” you barely listen to him anymore, the only thing you hear is the ring in your ears as his fists connect with the side of your head. You see stars, blood bursting from your nose down your lips, which colors your pale skin red. You taste the iron of blood.
“Levi!” A girl's voice screams, but the panic in her voice is not enough to stop him from beating you up.
“The MPs are coming, stop this!” His blonde companion is able to stir something inside Levi and for a moment he stops, looking from your nearly unrecognizable face to the sharp piece of porcelain that is still cutting through the flesh of his palm.
He softly, almost caringly places its edge underneath your collarbone, tracing its shape with the shard. A thin line of blood follows after, it's almost like he’s painting on your skin; thick red lines you barely register at this point.
“Hope this teaches you a lesson.” He speaks, stopping the shard right above your sternum, the screams of the military police in the distance not stopping him from leaning down to you and whisper: “You can keep this piece.” With that he rams the shard into your sternum bone, fracturing the top part with a cracking sound that leaves you breathless for a second. And before you know it he's gone, zipping through the air above you, closely followed by officers with their own gears. They ignore you, most people do.
You need another hour to stand up from the pavement and another one until you finally make it home. The shard still looks out from your flesh and you force yourself to operate it out yourself, screaming in agony as you splash the cheap potato vodka over it, cleaning it from any potential infections. Curses are the only thing leaving your mouth for a while but there is one thing that repeats in your head like a prayer:
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EVERYONE LOOK AT THE 3 STUNNING VISION BOARDS @zstayinginherlane MADE FOR FELINES AND CANIDAE!! I'm obsessed and just had to share!! It captures Levi, reader, and both of them so beautifully 🥹 Thank you so much for taking the time to make such beautiful moodboards/fanboards for this fic, love<3
His whole life had been about pain, but when you laid under him, chest heaving as you whispered into his hair you’re soft moans of pleasure, the pleasure that he was bringing you, that pain felt worth it.
He loved that after a hard day, he could fuck you endlessly and that you would derive pleasure from it instead of pain.
He loved that the bruises he left on you were from his lips and not his fists.
He loved your sweet voice whispering in his ear how satisfied and pleasured you were with what he was doing.
He loved everything he did with you. Because it was built around your pleasure instead of others pain. 
