Ari Levinson Au - Tumblr Posts

😌 omg your food tastes are impeccable as expected queen

akskskskdkefnhejejeje not this blog just being a source of inspiration for me??? i never wrote this much, && i can't stop thinking about this au since i sent my ask in-

+

You gag when you smell the meat, stomach lurching. It’s disgusting, worse than the smell of cow manure, worse than the near two-week long food you left out to rot. God, this was like someone was flipping your stomach upside down, ready to spill its contents.

And though you asked the staff to keep the meat away from you—specifically beef—they ignored you. Of course they did, because you weren’t the ruling king here. Probably thought you were overreacting, and you thought so, too. But you couldn’t help it with your pregnancy and odd cravings. 

Besides, Ari is king here, and if he wanted meat with his business partners who he invited once a week, he would get it. You just made sure to avoid when that happened, but you missed the memo this week apparently.

Especially because the meeting which usually happens on Wednesdays occurred today, too.

“What the fuck is going on?” You hear Ari through the haze. Arms grab you and pull you up towards a firm chest, and though you know he hates the contact, you bury your nose in his pine and earthy smell. God, but it still lingers in the back of your nose, and instinctively, tears fall from your body’s reactions.

You didn’t want to act like a fucking baby, but you’re much more emotional than usual. And Ari hates emotional—you know this. You didn’t deserve to gain pity, not when you’ve done so much to destroy his life. 

“I’m sorry—” You lurch away from him and pinch your nose, trying to breathe through your mouth. In. Out. It’s fine. Stop struggling in front of Ari, show him that you’re okay.

“It’s not the baby—” Unable to take it anymore, you run to the bathroom, hearing cries and questions follow you. Before you know it, you’re ripping the toilet lid open and spilling the few bites of lunch you managed, a raging headache following. Hands clench on the floor, and in a blurry haze, you feel the calm, gentle rubs on your back. Round, circular strokes that cause your shoulders to relax, and he brushes your hair back in a ponytail in his hands. Facing the floor, you focus on erasing the meat from your memory. 

Though Ari’s expression is anything but, eyes hard and eyebrows knit together. “How long has this been going on?” The voice is dangerous, demanding an answer, alerting the hairs on the back of your neck.

In reply, your voice is meek. Ashamed. You make sure to block the disgusting pile of vomit, hoping that he won’t be able to smell the stench. Because whenever you throw up, you know that it’s awful. Heck, the maids here give you dirty glances when they enter the bathroom, complaining that this is above their pay-grade. “A few weeks. But I’ve been cleaning up after myself, I swear!” 

“And the maids?” You peer up at Ari. He’s not just angry, he’s fuming.

“They don’t need to worry about it… it’s above what they should be paid. They shouldn’t be cleaning up after my messes.” 

“What did you just say?” Uh, wrong answer. Nose starting to sting, tears start to gather again. Lately, your ups and downs have been severe, and with your insecurities growing, this incident doesn’t help. 

“Look. I’m sorry, okay? I know I’m in the wrong, and I shouldn’t have shown something like this or caused a scene. But I had a rough week, and I would like to roll in bed and—”

“Hey, hey. It’s not your fault.” You can’t help but cry when Ari cups your cheeks. It’s the most gentle, the most loving, he’s been since the start of your marriage. Am I that pitiful? 

“It’s not your fault,” he repeats. “I didn’t mean it like that.”

“It’s okay if you did,” you sniffle. 

“But I don’t.” Another surprise: Ari scoops you up from under and carries you to the bed, gently placing you there. You hear the click of the bathroom door shut, and turn away from him so that you won’t breathe on him. God, it sucked having bad breath. 

Except Ari turns your head back. Places his forehead on yours.

Your breath hitches in surprise. You stare at his long lashes, at the frown marring his features, at his thumb stroking your stomach. 

You never want to break this moment. The most precious one you’ll save.

With a half-smile, you pat his hand and remove it from its place. “I promise it’ll be better soon. You should head down, okay?”

+

The next time you come down for dinner, on the day that Ari has another meeting, you’re surprised to see the staff place sushi in front of you. For weeks, you insisted that fish is okay—that in fact, you crave it more than anything else. The sudden shift from neglecting your needs to almost… adhering to it is an odd change.

“Please, try it.” Rather than walking away the moment they slide the plate over, their hands are folded together, backs straight. Like… they’re nervous? 

“I’m sure I’ll like it—”

“You like the sushi?” Ari comes down from the stairs, slinging his suit jacket on. Why is he coming down so late? Usually he’s gone by the time you wake up, but you heard the shower go on as you got out of bed. And now he’s checking in on your food? 

What’s more surprising is that he sits next to you, elbow on the table, a casual posture. But the workers in front of you seem to be vibrating with nerves, especially as he cuts them a hard look. 

“Mr. Levinson!” The chef blurts. “We didn’t know you were joining, er, Miss… we can make you a plate!” 

You smother a giggle at how he’s tripping left and right for words. It is true—Ari is an intimidating man, and you’ve been in that position countless times. With the dominance and charisma that he carries around, it’s impossible to not want to please him. Not that you’ve ever gotten a praise from him, but still. 

Facing you once again, Ari nudges the plate closer to you. “Eat one.” 

The fact that he’s concerned about your eating habits only adds to the complex feelings you have towards him. Right now, you’re practically melting, heart filled with warmth that he cares. And this is why being around Ari is so dangerous: you’d do anything for him, twisting his intentions selfishly so that you think he’s worried about you, and not the baby. 

“Okay,” you whisper, dabbing the California roll—you love the bland flavors—into the soy sauce, and taking a bite. 

It’s good. It’s exactly what you craved for the last few weeks, and you devour one after the other. 

 “You like it?”

“Like it? It’s the best thing I had all week! Not that I craved it, but I craved it.” Another bite. 

For some odd reason, he smiled. It lit up all his features as his eyes crinkled, filled with gentleness, enough to make you pause. Did something good happen to him? Maybe it’s because he’s going to meet Sharon. 

“Good,” he murmurs. “Eat a bit more.” 

It isn’t until later that you realize the chef never came back. 

BESTIE IM SOBBING! Dark!Ari standing up for her!! Also yum sushi 🍣 😌😌 YOU NEED TO WRITE AND POST THIS ON YOUR TUMBLR BESTIE (if you want!) bc it’s amazing!! 🫶🏼😩✨