Levi Is An Observant Lover.

Levi is an observant lover.

He’ll study you. All of you, every aspect of you. The words that make you frown in offense. The ones that instantly draw a smile to your lips. The way you like your tea; the times you’d take a coffee instead. The ingredients you push to the side of your plate during lunch. The temperature of your water in the shower. The snacks you crave after midnight. The silly little things that lift your spirits, and the trivial ones that put you down. When you’re in the mood to be in his company, and when you want to be given space. When his dry remarks are welcome, and when you prefer his silent presence. The places where you like to be touched, and the ones that make you slightly pull back. The way you kiss when you’re in the mood for love, and the way you do when you’re tired and want to call it a night instead.

Nothing slips him. He absorbs it all. And then does it all the way you like.

He may not be vocal about his feelings, but every move of his is attentive and drowns you in affection. And that’s all one could ask for in a lover. Because being understood without having to speak, listened to without ever being made to feel like a burden, and unconditionally taken care of and into consideration, is true love.

//gn!reader

One second you're taken in a deep sleep, and the next you're awoken with a twitch by a violent jolt and a sobbing gasp through the dark.

Levi tears out of your arms and sits up, panting wetly.

Nightmare. You blink in a flurry to clear the sleep from your eyes and mind and reach over to the bedside for the lantern. Turning the small knob ignites a warm flame, and casts light.

Levi's knees are bent and pulled up to his chest. Hunched over, he looks smaller than usual, and now that you can properly see, you notice the way he's clutching his chest and tightly gripping his hair. By the sound of his heavy breathing, you can tell he's holding back tears.

Frowning, you crawl up slightly behind and beside him. Your fingertips draw against his back in ghostly circles, in case he doesn't want be touched.

"Sorry," he whispers.

"It's okay. It's going to be okay."

His shoulders deflate a little. In firmer up-and-down motions, you rub his back, and press your forehead to his narrow shoulder. After that, he catches his breath a little easier.

Nightmares are nothing new with Levi. You can bet on the chances of him apologizing every time he wakes you up, and with how violent they usually are, that's also guaranteed. But you haven't gleaned much success at making him understand that you don't mind. Not one bit.

In time he melts against you, so you're swaddling him. You prop your chin on his shoulder and stroke his hair, soft as though your fingers glide through water.

"Do you wanna talk about it?" you ask.

You wait.

"…No." Then he sniffs. "Tea."

You chuckle a little. "Would you like company?"

"I knew you'd say that." He sighs, stroking your knuckles. "Fine."

You squeeze him close. "It's a deal."

sometimes i forget how reading is just. marvelous. just an absolutely fucking endlessly joyful activity. i’ll go about my life and not read one single book for months and be like why am i morose! why am i so apathetic! what is missing here!!!! and try to look for whatever it is that is lacking and never find it anywhere and i get so tired and sad and angry, and then i’m finally like i’m gonna stop everything for a couple days and read a really good book bc i don’t care about anything else. and suddenly i get motivated to work bc i know i’ll read when i’m on break. i get more creative. i want to watercolor again and bust out the shameful fabric stash with all my unfinished sewing projects. god even my dreams get more vivid!! what the fuck! and i’m like here is the magic i was looking for, why did i ever think i was going to find it anywhere else. it was always here!!!

Suddenly yearning to have Levi wash my hair

Just imagine Levi, with gentle hands and a soothing touch, carefully wetting your hair with warm water, ensuring it’s thoroughly saturated. You find yourself lounging back in the bathtub, one that Levi thoughtfully prepared for you, and he sits by your side, always eager to serve despite his gruff exterior. The steam fills the air, creating an atmosphere of relaxation and indulgence.

As Levi’s long, slender fingers work their way into your scalp, you can feel the perfect amount of pressure being applied. Each fingertip seems to possess a unique ability to relieve tension and melt away stress. His touch is a harmonious blend of soothing and invigorating, coaxing your senses into a state of tranquility. The gentle graze of his perfectly trimmed fingernails against your skin sends waves of delight through your body, evoking a pleasant shudder that courses through you, reminding you of his capable hands.

Levi’s attention to detail is impeccable. With utmost care and precision, he ensures that every strand of your hair is thoroughly lathered and cleansed. His fingers move in slow, circular motions, massaging your scalp and spreading the lather evenly, creating a truly indulgent experience. The scent of the shampoo fills the air, adding to the sensory delight.

As you close your eyes, the weight of the world seems to lift off your shoulders, and the outside world fades away. With his nails purposely dragging along your scalp, a sensation of pure bliss washes over you, causing all your muscles to become limp and lax. In that moment, all the stresses of the world melt away, leaving you with a deep sigh of relief. The tension in your body dissipates as Levi’s touch continues to work its magic.

Amidst this serenity, Levi’s voice resonates with depth, adding another layer of comfort to the experience. “You better not fall asleep again. It’s like you want me to carry you to bed,” he playfully remarks, his gentle words acting like a soothing lullaby. The melodic quality of his voice blends harmoniously with the warm water enveloping your senses, creating an otherworldly sensation of pure relaxation. The rhythmic flow of water and the soft hum of Levi’s voice combine to form a symphony that transports you to a place of complete tranquility. It feels like heaven—pure heaven.

Hey, I'm so sorry to bother you and hope you have time for this: can you give us some Dyslexic Peter Parker? There's not a lot of representation for the community and I think it would be cool. Maybe Tony finding out Peter's dyslexic on a lab day? Up to you! Also, please tag me, thank you!

@justpeterparkerthings

I don’t have any personal experience with dyslexia and I did a bit of research before writing this, but I’m sorry in advance for any mistakes or inaccuracies.

Peter loves books – he just doesn’t like reading.

As long as he can remember, he’d always had trouble reading. The words in front of his eyes would stumble across the page, making absolutely no sense to him, and he spent more time figuring out what that word is supposed to be than paying any attention to what he was actually reading. It took him ages to finish a page, and by the time he got to the next one, he’s already too frustrated to continue.

His parents caught on to Peter’s troubles quickly and did their best to help him. They would spend hours with him simply reading his favorite books, calmly correcting him and rewarding him afterwards with reading an extra bed time story. May and Ben took over once Peter moved in with them, making sure to always practice reading and writing (Peter’s second grade teacher sends them a note that he seems to have more trouble with writing than the rest of the kids in his class). There’s a bit of progress, but not enough that Peter could read a sentence without stumbling over at least one word.

Over the years, the practicing kind of moved into the background. When Peter turned from kid to tween to teenager, spending hours with your aunt practicing how to read and write instead of playing video games with your friends – or go patrolling as a superhero – becomes less and less appealing. Peter knows he’s smart, he soaks up literally everything once he hears it, so the entire dyslexia thing is even more frustrating. Whenever May asks if he’s done his daily reading, Peter just nods, kisses her cheeks and jumps out of the window to do his Spider-Man thing before she can sniff out the lie.

Besides, he’s getting by just fine. Ned reads the texts out loud whenever they’re studying together. Peter listens to podcasts about anything he finds interesting or watches videos on YouTube. He adapts, only slightly panicking whenever he has to take an exam and read the questions, but after an embarrassing conversation with Mr. Harrington, all his teachers suddenly developed the habit of reading the questions out loud before everyone is allowed to start.

Plus, Tony loves talking.

At the beginning of the internship, Peter had been so nervous. He can lift a building off his shoulders and land a plane while standing on the plane, but he can’t read properly? He can’t tell that to his life-long idol! So, naturally, Peter keeps quiet about it. And it works, because like already stated, Tony loves talking. When he explains an engine or a new update, it’s almost impossible to stop the mechanic. Besides, FRIDAY can always help out.

So, really, there’s no way Tony would ever find out.

Oh, the famous last words.

When Peter enters the lab, he’s exhausted. Not physically (that almost never happens anymore), but mentally because Mrs. Warren had them write a mock-essay for college applications and no matter how much Peter concentrated on it, the words just jumped all over the page, letters switching places every other second, making the seemingly simple task of writing so much more difficult. He’s more than ready to just sit down, tinker around with a circuit board or something and listening to Tony tell him anything, to be honest.

However, that’s not what’s greeting him. Instead, Tony sits at his bench, staring intensely at the holo-screen in front of him, FRIDAY written on top of the file.

“Hey,” Peter says, stepping next to his mentor. “Is something wrong with FRIDAY?”

Tony throws him a quick smile as a greeting before turning his attention back to the screen. “Well, I’m about to find out. There might be a bug in here somewhere, I’m not sure. She was acting up a bit.”

“That could just be her personality.”

“Believe me, I know. I programmed her.” Peter snorts as Tony points towards the printer in the corner. “Grab the sheet for me and read out what’s written on it, would you? I’ll be typing away.”

Immediately, Peter’s heart skips a beat and then starts thundering in his chest that he’s sure Tony has to hear it. But the genius isn’t paying attention, his eyes already flying over the holo-screen again. With somewhat shaking legs and trembling hands, he walks to the printer, taking the piece of paper and looking at it.

Like he already predicted, none of it makes sense to him. Any normal text would bad enough right now, but subject-specific text about programming of all things?

It’s impossible.

Peter has absolutely no idea if what he’s reading is right or not.

Which mean Tony will notice.

And then he will find out about his dyslexia.

And then… then he will kick him out, right? That’s the only realistic scenario.

“Buddy?”

After all, how can Peter claim to be the protégé of one of the greatest minds alive when he can’t even read properly?

“Kid, everything okay?”

Tony will be so disappointed in him. And all the compliments he gave him, all the times he called him smart and clever – surely, he will take them back now.

“Peter?” Finally, Peter breaks out of his panicky thoughts, whirling around to Tony who’s looking at him a tad concerned. “You okay?”

He wants to say yes. He wants to tell him that everything is fine and normal and that he shouldn’t worry. But the knowledge that he can’t stop this cuts off all the air, the whisper at the back of his head that keeps telling him that Tony Stark, his idol, is about to never speak again with him, is turning into an ear-piercing scream.

Tony pulls his eyebrows together and walks over to him. “What’s going on? Don’t tell me it’s such a bad diagnosis, Doc.”

Peter still can’t answer, his eyes starting to burn from staring at the man in front of him unblinkingly. He’ll never get to see him this close again.

“Peter?” Tony asks again, putting a hand on his shoulder.

The word stumbles out of his mouth before he can stop it. “Dyslexia.”

Tony blinks. “What?”

Well, it’s now or never. “I have it,” Peter confesses. “I’m dyslexic.” Tony is still staring at him with an expression he can’t quite place, and before he can even think about what to do, his mouth is moving again. “I-I can’t read. I mean, I can, theoretically, but- The words, they just- And this is- I can’t-“

“Peter, breathe,” the man suddenly interrupts him, shaking his shoulder a bit, causing Peter to finally draw in some air his lungs so desperately demand. Tony waits until Peter took two more breaths before he continues. “You’re dyslexic?”

“Y-Yeah. I’m sorry.”

“Why are you sorry?” Peter honestly doesn’t know what to say to that. Isn’t it obvious? Apparently not, because Tony shakes his head. “I can already say that whatever is running through your head is wrong. First of all, I’m not mad. I don’t know why you might think that I’m mad, but I’m not. Okay?” Not fully believing him, Peter nods. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Because… it’s embarrassing. And I feel stupid.”

“Peter Parker, you’re a lot of things but not stupid.”

“Two weeks ago, when I chased that one robber, you said something different.”

“That wasn’t stupid, that was reckless and I should’ve used that word.” Tony gives his shoulder another squeeze. “Hey, look at me.” Somewhat reluctant, Peter does and he’s met with a warm, genuine smile. “This doesn’t change anything, okay? You still are and always will be one of the smartest living beings I’ve ever met. And the fact that you filled all that brilliant brain of yours with so much knowledge without reading a lot? That’s even more impressive.”

“I’m good at remembering stuff I here,” Peter says, suddenly feeling like he needs to humble himself because he’s not used to such honest, straight-forward compliments. “And you talk a lot, so that’s easy.”

“Ah, finally someone who enjoys hearing me talk besides me.”

The chuckle escapes from Peter’s mouth before he can stop it.

“There, that’s better,” Tony mumbles. “This isn’t the end of the world. Or the internship. In fact, this is a new beginning because you will get so many voice mails from me, you’re gonna start to regret ever meeting me.”

“I don’t think that’s possible.”

“Oh, I accept that challenge.”

This time, the chuckle is a full laugh, and with it the weight that has been crushing him every time he had to lie to Tony about this finally lifts off his shoulders. Maybe this really isn’t a disaster. Maybe this can turn out okay.

“Do you need a hug?” Tony asks, sounding way more upbeat now that Peter finally laughed. “You look like you need a hug.”

“No, Mr. Stark, I don’t-”

“Too late.”

And before Peter can stop it (yeah, like he would even want to stop it), Tony crushes him in a hug.

For a FACT I know I wouldn’t survive eating a meal with Levi - not only because I’d starve due to being too busy drooling over him to even notice my food but because he’d commit murder if he saw the way I bite the tops off my broccoli and leave the stems

I would pay money to watch Levi eat. I bet he's so meticulous and anal about his food. Everything can't touch and has to be eaten in a specific order.

And I bet he has OPINIONS on certain foods