Work Text:
A quick scour of the club bares many options to choose from, but truth be told, saddling up to them seems like it would put yourself in an even more precarious situation. Not that you’re judging on looks, but the goal here is to deescalate the amount of danger you’re in, not get yourself laid out from touching the wrong person.
As if Janna herself heard your prayers, the people of the club part in such a way to reveal an older woman. She’s sitting at a card table smoking a cigar, but most importantly, there’s a smile around it. Whoever she is, it seems she’s in a good mood and maybe she’ll have some empathy regarding your situation. She’s a little older but still someone you’d be attracted to, if you weren’t in such a state of panic to fully appreciate her.
The man you ditched at the bar is closing in. She’s as good as you’re gonna get.
It takes some shouldering and squeezing through the crowd to get to her. Luck is on your side because she throws her arm over the back of her seat in what looks to be a celebratory move, giving you the perfect shot to plop yourself down clumsily onto her thigh.
The smug, playful smile on her lips freezes as she takes in the new addition to her lap. Truthfully, her expression appears only slightly confused, like this occurrence has happened before, though most likely by her bidding. Her predacious eyes track the movement of your hand sweeping around her neck to rest on her shoulder guard. Then before she can tear into you, your stalker breaks through the crowd and diverts her attention to him.
The man falters for a split second upon seeing who you’ve sat on. After a little uncertainty and heavy scrutiny of your face, he seems to have read into your little act. He huffs a nervous laugh and moves to take your arm.
“Sorry, boss. This one got away.”
Your hand tightens its grip on her shoulder pad, not-so-subtly flinching your body closer to hers. The older woman’s eyes track the movement, mouth twisting in displeasure as her gaze darts back and forth between the two of you.
Her silence has your heart sinking in your chest and you’re pretty sure she’s about to hand you over until you feel a grip on your waist, securing your place at her side.
“Are you bothering my lady?” A swarm of butterflies alight in your belly at the sound of her voice. It’s suited to her perfectly, rich and dark and dangerous.
The cigar stubbing out on the ashtray should’ve been your first clue to how this was going to end.
Her eyes swoop from the ashes to the unfortunate soul in front of her in a lazy motion, a dark eyebrow curved in inquisition.
“I- Sevika, she’s yours? I didn’t know-”
“How long was he following you?” She doesn’t raise her voice to talk over him. He simply shuts his mouth as soon as she opens hers.
You’re stunned. The look on her face is terrifying and even though you’re not on the receiving end, it’s enough to render you speechless.
After several beats of your silence her head turns to you, eyes softening considerably at your petrified expression. She expects an answer, that unyielding look on her face demanding obedience but… it’s different. It’s not in the testy manner she used to speak to the guy whose fingers are still gripping your elbow, the eager touch now replaced with a trepidatious one. The woman draws your attention back to her with thick fingers that rub against your navel in a soothing motion, giving you the go ahead.
“Like 30 minutes? Ever since I sat down at the bar.”
In what you hope is a subtle movement, you wipe the sweat off of her shoulder guard that accumulated under your palm.
No one barks at her to continue the game. All participants remain silent, not daring to breathe too heavily lest they draw that murderous gaze to them.
Just whose lap are you sitting on?
All of the earlier, careful contemplation of which being would provide the utmost security… and you’re sure you just chose the most dangerous one in the building.
“That’s a long time. Can’t find anyone willing?”
“Boss that’s not-”
“So they’re lying?” Her eyebrows raise in mock surprise. “Came to sit on my lap, all some elaborate scheme to what? Prove you get no game?”
The guy flushes at the round of chuckles that follow her joke, the first sound out of any of them. You subtly try to remove the arm you so brazenly thrown around her neck until she halts you with a,
“You’re alright, honey.” So tender and forgiving compared to the unmerciful, insulting tone she was just using. The words must have been solely for your benefit-an idea you cannot wrap your head around-because she guides you off her lap anyway. If she was intimidating sitting down, she is an absolute brute of a woman standing up. It shows as she firmly sits you in her seat, gentle enough to where you can tell it took some effort. She touches you so confidently it’s obvious she’s used to manhandling others, and you don’t want to go down that rabbit hole of thinking.
At least a head taller than the man, she peers down at him.
“Your hand. The one that was touching them.”
To your utter shock, he offers it up only with some blubbering. Whoever she is, defying her isn’t an option.
It takes your mind a second to register what happens.
She’s incredibly quick for her size. Those lazy, slow movements earlier were an act or… something. Faster than you can blink, the guy’s hand is shattered. Bones crushed and sticking out of the skin.
Blood. So much blood. A scream rings in your ears. Yours, and you quickly clamp a hand over your mouth.
No one is immune to the sight of violence in the undercity. It’s a daily occurrence, but this is the first time you’ve seen something this graphic this close.
“Throw him outside. Make sure he doesn’t see a healer.” She pauses her retreat to clamp her hand around his jaw and lean in close. “I’ll know if you do.”
You’re in shock. That’s the only reasoning for how your mind tunes out the violence and instead focuses on how she’s slightly bent over directly in front of you.
She’s sculpted. How she fits herself into those pants is beyond you. You can see every ridge and ripple of her quads through them. Those biceps, how they flexed as they popped bone through skin as if they were nothing-
The woman has the most mouth watering hips. That skin of her middle is on display in a way that’s blinding, a sharp V teasing down under her belt. And when she bends over? Scandalous. Gods, and her breasts. Is everything about this woman perfect?
And now she’s looking at you watching her as if she’s a piece of meat. Essentially kin to what she just maimed this guy for.
Her face is unreadable as she approaches you, gently ushering you to stand up so she can take her seat. What you don’t expect is those same bloody hands to softly guide your hips down until you’re perched on her thigh again.
It’s quiet, beyond the whimpering of the man being removed by other guys you hadn’t known were there. She watches with a bored, mildly disgusted look on her face before she snorts and goes to pick up her beverage.
“What were you drinking before that asshole ruined your night?”
She’s patient. Too patient as your mind blanks on every beverage you’ve had in your life until you somehow remember and blurt the name of it out.
The terrifying lady hums and squeezes your waist in a way that shouldn’t be reassuring but is.
“Hear that? And another of my usual.” Movement to your left announces someone’s departure. The half full glass is easily knocked back and gently set down after noticing how tense you are in her arms. Scrutinizing eyes look you up and down.
“You wanna leave?”
You shake your head.
The woman nods and finally seems a little disappointed at your fear-stricken silence. As she frustratedly attempts to light her cigarillo, you speak the first words that weren’t influenced by that asshole.
“He didn’t ruin my night.”
The flickering light finally sparks, heating the end. She side-eyes you a bit warily.
“I mean, it wasn’t all bad. I met you, didn’t I?” Terrible. Horrible flirting made worse by dramatic fluttering lashes.
It does the trick though. Smoke pours out of her mouth with her sharp chuckle, clearly caught off guard.
“Name’s Sevika.”
“Sevika.” You repeat, a little foolishly, no doubt with a smitten look on your face. It’s several moments until her eyebrow quirks expectantly and you stutter out your name. And okay, the awkwardness actually seems to be amusing her so maybe you’re overplaying it.
Sevika repeats your name back, mocking you lightheartedly. Her cheeks hollow as she inhales her smoke, blows it out the corner of her mouth away from you, and holds it towards you questioningly. You’ve never tried one before but suddenly you feel like smoking twenty.
A mistake, since one hit has your eyes watering and you struggling to muffle a cough. Sevika laughs and presses those scarred lips to your cheek in a way that’s proud.
“You ever play poker?”