marveldcmistress - Tumblr blog

marveldcmistress · 2 months

Text

protection (2) — ari levinson

summary: Ari and your father have been business partners for ages, and it seems that he doesn't care for you. This doesn't stop you from trying; scheming to make the older man fall for you the same way the rest of your father's men have, too.

pairing: dbf! ari x reader

warnings: swearing, use of guns, shooting

wc: 3.1k

masterlist | navigation

Ari stays in the building for the entirety of your dance class. He stands watch in the window for approximately four minutes, promptly disappearing from view the second you start stretching. You keep a wide smile on your face throughout practice; the idea of the big, bad, powerful Ari Levinson bored to tears while he waits in the front of the building for you is just pure joy.

At two-twenty nine, Ari appears in the window once more. His eyes connect with yours immediately, and he takes exactly one second to rake over your sweat-laced and thoroughly worked body before he looks to the floor.

Once you’re dismissed, you take your time crossing the room and grabbing your bag. A few dancers leave while Alex catches up with you, discussing routines and stretches while you both pack your things. Assuming the sound of the door creaking is just other dancers leaving, a part of you is surprised when you hear that deep, loud clearing of the throat behind you.

Slowly, you turn, finding the same blue-eyed, bearded man you’d been lusting after for days. He’s glaring, eyes flickering between you and Alex.

“Two-thirty one,” Ari says slowly, glancing down at his watch as if to prove himself correct, “Car. Now.”

You roll your eyes, “Could I just have one—”

“No.”

Huffing, you zip up your bag and tell Alex you’ll catch up with him on Friday, then turn toward Ari. He levels Alex with one last glare before he follows closely behind you, letting you lead the way out of the studio.

“You don’t have to be so rude,” you mumble, “What’s the harm in having a normal conversation once in a while?”

“Pointless,” he replies easily, opening the front door for you and gesturing you forward before he exits behind you.

The action, while simple and done for you by all of your father’s men, makes your heart skip a beat.

“Right,” you say, trying to calm your racing heart, “You only talk about money and killing people.”

He chuckles, and you realize it’s the first time you’ve heard that sound. Although he’s not being genuine, it still registers with you.

“Exactly. Now, keep your head down, or else.”

You swallow and do as instructed, which you’re sure surprises Ari as much as it surprises you. He keeps one hand on his gun, and his other ghosts over your back, still refusing to touch you. When you reach the car, still parked in the same place, he opens the passenger door for you, gets you in, then hurries around to the driver’s side.

“Do you really think someone is after you?” you question, your tone incredulous.

He side eyes you, “Can’t be too careful.”

“Wouldn’t want anyone messing up even one hair on your head, huh?”

With a shake of his head, Ari starts the car and flips on the radio, which covers up the next few words out of his mouth.

“It’s not my hair that I’m worried about,” he says, and when you look over at him, he puts his sunglasses on and stares ahead, “Seat belt.”

You obey; sliding the seat belt across your body and clicking it into place. Your stomach growls as Ari pulls out into traffic, and you regret not eating much of the breakfast Javier made for you.

“Can we stop somewhere to get food?” you ask.

Ari scoffs, “What, didn’t enjoy your boyfriend’s feast?”

“He’s not my boyfriend.”

“He damn sure acts like it,” Ari grunts, “You can eat at the house.”

You roll your eyes, tossing your head back against the seat like a child. He doesn’t react — not even when you turn your head and stare at his side profile. He just keeps driving, eyes covered by sunglasses and grip tight on the steering wheel.

“Please,” you say quietly, innocently, watching his jaw immediately lock up.

Bingo.

He doesn’t reply, but he shifts uncomfortably in his seat. You bite down on your bottom lip to hide a victorious smile, then lean in closer.

“Please, Ari, I’m so hungry.”

You watch his head turn, his eyes connecting with yours. Even through the lenses of his sunglasses, you can feel his glare.

“For fuck’s sake,” he mutters, “Where?”

You guide Ari to one of your favorite food trucks in the city, where he circles around until he can find a spot close enough to it that he feels comfortable with. He looks around before he gets out of the car, and with a hand over his gun, he crosses over and gets you out, slamming the car door behind you.

“Make it quick,” he mutters, pulling a fifty from his pocket and shoving it into your hand.

“Fifty?” you question, raising a brow.

He looks away from the street and down at you, widening his eyes as he shrugs, “What? Is that not enough?”

“No, I—” you stop yourself and regroup, remembering what you’re trying to do with Ari, “Do you want something, too, Mr. Levinson?”

You step closer as you ask; purposely batting your lashes at him and watching as his throat catches. Then, in one second, Ari shakes his head and nods in the direction of the food truck.

“Stop fucking playing,” he tells you, “Go.”

Rolling your eyes, you move forward to place your order. Ari remains only two steps behind you; scanning the street like his life depends on it. Maybe it does, you think.

You order your food at a leisurely pace, knowing it’s making Ari sweat. He seems fixated on something, you realize, when you move away to wait on your order. Taking the two steps over, you cross your arms in front of your chest and look in the direction Ari’s glancing in.

“What’s going on?” you ask.

“Don’t look,” he mumbles, “That black SUV was back at the studio. Keep your head down.”

Hand on his gun, Ari nonchalantly steps in front of you. Keeping your eyes on Ari, you take a step closer, then another, until your chest is practically touching his arm. Expecting him to remain still and not react at all, you’re pleasantly surprised when he turns his palm, pressing his warm skin to your tee shirt covered stomach.

“Ari, what should we do?” you whisper to him.

“We aren’t doing anything,” he fires back, “I will handle it. Your only job right now is to act natural and stay calm.”

“Do you want to leave?”

Ari clearly debates his answer, and just as he starts to shake his head and urge you to go wait for your food, the back door to the black SUV opens, and a tall, slick man in a gray suit steps out of it.

“Fuck,” Ari whispers to himself, then grabs ahold of your arm, “Get in the car. Now.”

He starts to drag you away from the food truck and toward the car, ignoring your protests.

“Ari, what’s happening?” you question.

“Eyes down,” he barks, long legs moving too quickly for your liking.

“Wait, just—”

“No,” he growls, “You do as I say, when I say it. Get in the fucking car.”

He opens the passenger door for you and shoves you inside, not willing to meet your eyes as he slams the door shut behind you. Huffing, you collapse back against the leather and cross your arms like a petulant child, watching as he crosses the front of the car.

You expect him to get in. You expect him to peel out of here, forgetting your empty stomach and all of the cash you still have in the palm of your hand. Instead, he walks across the street and right up to the man in the suit, who is staring directly at the car Ari had just shoved you into.

You watch, squirming in your seat as Ari stands straight, fearless, and reaches up, grasping the man’s jaw and directing his gaze to Ari instead of you. The sight makes something inside of you feel warm and fuzzy. Protected.

They exchange words, and Ari’s hand never leaves his gun. It’s tucked into the waistband of his jeans, pressed tightly against his back. You can feel yourself being driven to insanity at the image of Ari, looking strong and powerful, protecting you in the middle of the street. It resonates with you that your goal had been to make him crazy — which is the exact moment the plan comes to form in your mind.

Whatever the situation had been, Ari seems to de-escalate it. Your eyes go wide when both men start to step back, and the potential loss of the sight of your protector has you reeling. Without taking the time to think it through, you pull open the passenger door and step out of the car, making direct eye contact with the man in the suit. He starts to grin, and when Ari turns around, his eyes darken at the sight of you out of the car.

Right there. That’s all you wanted.

Feigning innocence, you start to walk over to them, ignoring how Ari spins and holds his hand out to you to try and stop you.

“May I go get my food, Mr. Levinson?” you ask, jutting your bottom lip out.

“Y/N,” Ari breathes, his entire body tense, “Get back in the car.”

“But—”

“Ah, she’s a pretty little thing, Ari.”

Ari’s jaw clenches as the words wash over both of you. Not missing a beat, you smile, leaning to the right of Ari to get a look at the man.

“Thank you,” you reply sweetly.

Ari grabs your forearm, pulling you back into his line of vision.

“Don’t speak to him,” he growls, “What the fuck do you think you’re doing, huh?”

You shrug, “Javi never makes me wait in the car.”

Ari laughs dryly, then pulls his gun from his waistband. He holds it at his side, grip on you still tight, to the point where you’re sure you’ll see bruises. Without breaking eye contact with you, Ari speaks.

“Are we gonna have a problem here, Cristian?”

The man behind Ari chuckles, “Of course we are.”

Ari’s eyes shut for one second as he processes the response, then opens them again and levels you with a glare. You swallow, not liking the look in his eye, but before you can even try to apologize, he spins and takes a shot, then tugs you away.

You don’t have time to process any of it — too busy being surrounded by Ari’s body and focusing on keeping up with his movements. You hear a few more shots, not able to determine if they’re to Ari or from him — and keep your head tucked tightly into his chest.

When he makes it to the car, he approaches the driver's side and pulls it out to cover you both, then tosses you into the passenger seat. Just as you get your bearings, Ari steps down on the gas and doesn’t stop; letting the car get as far between you and the shooters as possible.

For a long moment, the car is silent. It’s the type of silence you fear; the silence before the yelling. The screaming. The violence. You know Ari’s going to rip into you, and for that, you shrink down in your seat and watch him out of the corner of your eye. If the blow is coming, you want to see it, first.

His knuckles turn white on the steering wheel. You can smell him on your body. His gun rests in his lap, and he makes no effort to move it. You look down and find the change from the money he gave you scattered across the floor, but you don’t dare move to pick it up.

The blow doesn’t come. The yelling doesn’t come. Quickly, you figure out that the silence is worse. You’d rather Ari scream at you. You’d rather know that you pissed him off than have to sit in silence with no idea what happens next.

So, you do what you always do. You speak.

“Ari—”

“Not one fucking word,” he demands, his voice dangerously low, “For once in your life, you’re going to listen.”

You nod and shrink even lower, which surprises both of you. The authority of his voice brings out something in you — the same thing that had come out when you saw Ari protecting you against that man and whatever he wanted.

You’re not sure what to expect when Ari starts speaking again, so you keep your head down and stare at your hands in your lap.

“I’m not sure what the fuck possessed you to get out of the car,” he starts, “That bratty fucking behavior may work with your father, or Javier, or whoever the fuck, but it doesn’t work with me. Do you understand that? Do you hear what I’m saying to you?”

His voice raises as he speaks, and when he pulls his hand back and hits the steering wheel, you flinch right where you sit. You’re suddenly scared of him in a way you never have been before, and when he looks over at you, you close your eyes.

“Damn it, Y/N, answer me!” he yells.

“Yes!” you scream, pushing as far away from him as you can get, “Yes, I understand, Ari.”

He doesn’t bother replying to that, and you both let the silence fall once again. You can feel the tears stinging your eyes — a far cry from the emotionless girl you’ve always posed to him. You turn your head to the window and demand the water away; insistent on not crying in front of him. He takes in a breath, then lets it out, then speaks once more.

“I swear to God, you pull a stunt like that again and I’ll bend you over my goddamn knee.”

You don’t respond. You don’t move. You just remain rooted in your seat, pushed up against the passenger door, and watching as the city passes you by.

Not one more word is uttered until you get back to the house. Ari pulls the car into the garage and shuts off the engine, but doesn’t get out right away. Afraid to even move, you wait for him to excuse you from the car.

“Get out,” he mutters.

Without a word, you grab your dance bag, leaving his cash on the floor of the passenger seat. You’re shaking with embarrassment, anger, and fear, but none of that stops you from slamming the passenger door as you exit.

Before you make it three steps toward the house, Ari’s door opens and he scoffs before he gets out, slamming his door even louder than you. The noise makes you flinch.

“You’re really going to act like a fucking brat when you almost got both of us killed?” he yells across the garage.

“Sorry,” you mumble, clearly not meaning it.

He laughs again, but it’s cruel and unforgiving. You take another step forward, but jump in shock when Ari’s suddenly behind you, grabbing your arm. He pulls you into the house, grip tightening every time you try to pull away. You both find Javier and your father in the sitting room just off the foyer, and they both stand abruptly, reaching for their guns when they see the way Ari is gripping you.

He grabs his own weapon and then releases you, shoving you toward the stairs.

“You, upstairs,” he barks at you, then turns to Javier, “You, in the office. Now.”

Javier’s gaze moves from Ari to you, and when Ari raises his gun to Javier’s head, you jump into action. Your father is quicker than you; diving in between you and Ari and holding you back.

“What the fuck is going on here?” your dad yells out.

“Ari, don’t—” you start, but Ari stops you.

“You’re in no place to be giving me demands,” he says, keeping his gun where it is and turning back to Javier, “Now, let’s have a talk.”

Javier swallows, his grip on his own gun tightening. It’s at his hip, aimed to the floor, but you know he’ll pull it out if he has to.

“About what, Mr. Levinson?” he asks.

Ari clenches his jaw, not speaking right away. Your father runs a hand through your hair, trying to calm you down before he turns to the men.

“Ari, what’s going on? What happened? Why is she so worked up?”

Ari ignores your father, seemingly completely focused on Javier.

“Let me paint you a picture,” Ari starts, “Let’s say you’re out with her, and you sense danger. What’s the very first thing you do?”

Javier looks over at you, as if you’d be able to provide some sort of explanation for what he’s supposed to say.

Ari growls, “Don’t look at her, look right here. What’s the first thing you do, huh?”

“Get Y/N to safety,” Javier says immediately, “Why are you asking me this?”

“How? What do you do with her to get her safe?”

“Mr. Levinson—” Javier starts, but Ari’s in too deep. He steps forward and presses his gun to Javier’s temple, ignoring the way you fight against your father to stop him.

“Answer me,” Ari rumbles.

“I put her in the fucking car,” Javier yells, “The bulletproof car. That’s what I do.”

“Ari,” your father says gently, “Let’s take a breather. Tell me what happened.”

Again, Ari ignores him and steps closer to Javier, but lowers his gun. Your father’s grip tightens around you, but you don’t feel it.

“If I ever find out that you jeopardize her safety just because she bats those fucking lashes at you, I swear to God, there won’t be anywhere you can hide from me. Are we clear?”

“Yes, sir,” Javier nods.

“Good,” Ari replies, then turns back to your father, “Now, we should prepare for tonight. I think Cristian might be a little upset.”

Your heart sinks when your eyes connect with Ari again; trying to process everything he’s said since the two of you arrived home. The protector in him is making you look at him lovingly, but the asshole in him is making you afraid.

“My love,” your father draws you in, “Why don’t you go upstairs and take a bath, hmm?”

You stare at your father for a moment, then nod, “Okay.”

“Good,” he smiles, “You’re safe. Don’t worry about a thing. Go on.”

Your eyes travel from Ari, to Javi, then to your father once more. All three men watch as you turn and travel up the stairs, none of them uttering one syllable until they hear your bedroom door close.

a/n: i hope you guys enjoyed! please leave me some words if you can! reblogs are appreciated :)

*i no longer have a taglist , follow @mackenzieslibrary for updates!

507 notes · View notes