hands off
synopsis: meeting your girlfriend at her bar shouldn't be complicated. until someone decides you look "lonely." sevika disagrees. strongly. Pt.2
content warnings: public confrontation, harassment from a stranger, brief physical intimidation, soft dom sevika ish, protective!sevika, implied unsafe environment, drinking (not reader), sevika x reader, established relationship.
The bar is loud enough to rattle the glass in your hand.
Smoke curls thick beneath flickering neon, bodies pressed shoulder to shoulder, laughter too sharp, arguments sharper. Someone’s already bleeding near the dartboard, and no one cares. This place runs on adrenaline and cheap liquor, and tonight it feels even more volatile than usual.
You weren’t supposed to come alone.
The bar is louder than you expected—not just music, but shouting, chairs scraping, the sharp crack of glass somewhere behind you. You keep your shoulders tight, trying to look like you belong, even as your fingers curl around your drink a little too hard.
A hand lands on the counter beside yours suddenly.
Too close.
“Haven’t seen you around,” the stranger slurs. His voice is smooth in a way that makes your stomach twist. He leans in, invading your space without hesitation. “You look lost.”
You offer a polite smile, the kind usually meant to end conversations quickly. “Just waiting for someone.”
“Yeah?” His eyes flick over you, slow and deliberate. “Maybe I can keep you company till they show.”
His eyes drag down your figure, and you immediately wish that you had waited for Sevika to pick you up rather than meet you here.
“I’m okay, thanks.” You angle your body away, trying to create distance, swallowing the bile rising in your throat. The crowd presses tighter behind you, and you mistakenly bump into someone else.
The stranger shifts with you, shrinking the gap again. His elbow plants on the counter, giving you even less room. “C’mon. Don’t be like that.”
“I really am fine,” you say, a little firmer.
He chuckles under his breath, like you’ve said something amusing. “Mhh you sure look fine.”
Your lip curls in disgust, he’s starting to become a problem now.
His fingers tap the bar near your hand, then inch closer. You move your drink away on instinct and he picks up on it, face contorting in morbid pleasure, and the sight makes you even more uneasy.
“Relax,” he drawls. “I’m jus’ talking baby.”
“I’d like to be left alone.”
That should be enough. Usually it is. But you know better.
He leans closer, and you can smell the alcohol on his breath now. “You sure? ‘Cause you walked into the wrong place to be alone.”
Your pulse picks up. You glance toward the bartender—busy. Toward the door—blocked by bodies, and that’s even if he lets you get that far. The music swallows everything.
“I told you, I’m waiting for someone.”
“Yeah?” His smile sharpens. “He sure is taking his sweet time.”
His hand slides onto the counter again, closer to yours, then just barely brushes your sleeve, definitely not by accident. But enough to test what kind of reaction he’ll get out of you.
You jerk your arm back aggressively. “Don’t touch me.”
His expression morphs into anger, but he covers it up quickly. “You’re scared.”
You don’t answer.
The creeps posture shifts, like he’s finally decided something. His hand moves to the back of your stool, fingers curling around it.
“You don’t gotta be,” he says quietly. “I’m not gonna—”
Then the room changes—conversations dip and people nearby begin to whisper. A ripple moves through the crowd, quiet but noticeable. Like pressure dropping before a storm.
Heavy boots approach.
The guy is still too close, his hand braced behind you, when a presence drops into the space beside him. A metal hand plants on the counter with a dull, heavy thud.
“Move the fuck away from her.”
The words are low, sharp enough to cut through the noise of the bar.
The stranger freezes. Slowly, he turns his head —and you watch the color drain from his face as he recognizes who’s standing there. His mouth opens, then closes again, like he’s forgotten how to form words.
“I— I was just—”
Sevika steps closer, and suddenly there’s no space left at all. Her shoulders square, eyes locked on him, expression colder than you’ve ever seen directed at anyone who wasn’t a threat.
“I wasn’t asking,” she seethes.
He lifts his hands a little, palms out. “Hey, relax I didn’t do anything—”
Her mechanical fingers curl into the front of his collar before he can finish. The movement sudden enough to draw a collective hush from the people nearby. She pulls him forward and he stumbles, forced up onto his toes.
“You’re done talking,” she mutters.
His breath catches. “Alright— alright—”
“If I ever catch you anywhere near her again,” Sevika continues, voice quiet, dangerously even, “I won’t bother being polite about it.”
He swallows hard. His hands hover uselessly at her wrist, clearly not daring to try and pry her off. “I didn’t know she was—”
“I don’t care.” Her grip tightens around his neck, enough to make him wince. “You keep your distance. You understand me?”
He nods quickly, trying to gurgle out a response.
You step closer to her, heart racing. “Sevika…” you say softly, touching her arm. “Hey, It’s okay.”
She doesn’t look at you immediately. Her eyes stay fixed on him for one more long second, like she’s deciding whether or not to follow through. You could hear a pin drop, people were staring, but no one dared to step in. They all know better.
“Sevika,” you repeat, gentler. “You can stop he’s not doing anything anymore.”
Her jaw tightens, then she releases him with a small shove. He stumbles back, nearly knocking into someone behind him.
“Go,” she spits flatly.
He doesn’t argue. Just mutters something under his breath and backs away, then turning and disappearing into the crowd as fast as he can manage.
Sevika watches until he’s gone, shoulders still tense, before she finally turns to you. The anger in her expression softens the moment her eyes meet yours.
Her hand settles at your waist, immediately grounding and protective. The same hands that could commit violence were the ones that held you the most gently.
Up close, you can see the immediate concern crowding her features. Her eyes scan your face, your shoulders, the way your hands are still slightly clenched.
“Did he touch you?” she asks lowly.
You shake your head. “No. Just… wouldn’t back off.”
Her jaw ticks. “Yeah. I saw.”
For a moment she doesn’t move, like she’s deciding whether to stay put or get you out of the noise. The crowd presses in again, the music swelling back to full volume, some people still glancing your way.
Her hand finds your wrist then— not rough, just steady. Familiar.
“Come on,” she murmurs.
She doesn’t pull you immediately. She waits until you step closer on your own, then her grip slides to your lower back, guiding instead of dragging. It’s instinctive, protective, but careful—she’s aware she already made enough of a scene.
She leans down slightly so you can hear her. “Let’s get out of the middle.”
You nod, relief settling in now that the adrenaline’s fading. The weight of what just happened starts to hit—how close he’d been, how trapped you felt. You stay close to her side as she steers you through the crowd.
People part automatically. Some stare. Sevika ignores them, her hand hand in your back a lifeline at keeping you present, thumb brushing once in a small, reassuring motion she probably doesn’t even realize she’s doing.
She leads you toward the back hallway where the music dulls into a low thump. The lighting is dimmer here. When the door swings shut behind you, the sudden lack of noise feels almost surreal.
Only then does she turn fully toward you.
Her shoulders drop a fraction, tension finally bleeding out. She reaches up, hesitates for half a second—like she’s checking herself—then cups the side of your face gently.
“You sure you’re okay?” she asks again.
“I’m okay,” you repeat reassuringly, tilting your head to rest against her forehead.
Her eyes don’t leave your face.
“You came alone,” she observes.
It isn’t a question.
You shrug weakly. “I thought I’d find you.”
Her jaw tightens, but her voice stays low. “You don’t walk into places like this without me.”
There’s no anger directed at you—just worry wrapped in something firmer. Before you can answer, she lifts your chin gently between her fingers, tilting your face toward the light. Her thumb brushes just under your eye, like she’s checking for something only she can see.
Satisfied, she exhales quietly and shifts closer, guiding you back a step until your shoulders meet the cool metal wall behind you. She follows, not crowding, just closing the distance enough that the rest of the hallway fades away.
“I don’t like not knowing where you are,” she admits, her hand sliding up your arm, grounding and steady. “Especially here.”
“You came pretty fast though,” you tease gently, trying to ease the last of the tension.
A faint smirk pulls at her mouth. “Yeah.” She dips her head slightly. “I look forward to seeing you all day.”
Her fingers lace with yours, familiar and easy, and she lifts your joined hands, pressing them lightly against her chest. Her heartbeat is slow, controlled, but you can feel the residual adrenaline beneath it.
“Next time,” she murmurs, softer now, “you wait for me… please.”
The vulnerability of the request surprises you, she doesn’t usually ask for things often, but when she does, you’ll be damned if she doesn’t get it.
You tilt your head, studying her, then lean in slowly. Your fingers curl lightly into the front of her shirt, drawing her just a fraction closer. You let the space between you narrow until your lips brush the corner of hers—not quite a kiss, just enough to feel her breath hitch.
“Hmm, Or what?” you murmur against her mouth.
Sevika goes very still. Eyes darkening slightly. She exhales through her nose, the tension in her shoulders easing just a fraction.
“Or I come find you,” she says quietly. “Same as tonight.”
There’s something steady in the way she says it, not a threatening or impatient, just certain. Like you don’t really have a choice in the matter.
Her thumb brushes your side once, grounding, before she closes the distance and presses a soft, deliberate kiss to your lips.
When she pulls back, it’s just enough that you can still feel the warmth of her breath on your skin.
“Stay with me tonight,” she says suddenly, hopeful. “Upstairs. It’s quieter.”
You glance toward the ceiling—her private room above the chaos, away from wandering eyes and loud music.
“Okay.”
She nods once, relief flickering across her features. Then she presses a slow kiss to your temple, lingering just long enough to steady you both.
“Good.”
When she pulls back, she opens the door, but her hand never leaves you. She keeps you tucked at her side as she guides you toward the stairs, away from the noise, away from the tension, like the world below is something she can shut out simply by keeping you close.
And she doesn’t intend of ever letting you out of her sight again.
a/n: I know this is short, but it’s my first time writing for sevika so I was just testing the waters. as always, feel free to express any of your thoughts, and if you want to be tagged just comment you do:)
taglist: @qqueenpprincee
