Arcane headcanons | °• Sevika •°

You have a panic attack

• Sevika notices something is off the moment your breathing changes, sharp and erratic. Her eyes flick to you immediately, her expression shifting from relaxed to focused in an instant.

• She sets down whatever she’s holding, abandoning it without hesitation as she moves to your side, her mechanical arm whirring faintly with the motion.

• You’re clutching at yourself or shaking, your hands trembling. Without a word, she crouches down in front of you, placing herself directly in your line of sight.

• Her hand, warm and steady, rests lightly on your knee while her mechanical one hovers just over your shoulder, not wanting to overwhelm you with too much pressure.

• “Hey,” she murmurs, her voice low and calm, cutting through the noise in your head. She keeps her tone soft but firm, grounding you without adding to the chaos.

• She doesn’t ask what’s wrong right away—she knows better. Instead, she focuses on anchoring you, her touch solid and unwavering.

• “Look at me, sugar,” she says gently, her gaze steady but not demanding, giving you space while still holding you in the moment.

• If you’re unable to meet her eyes, she doesn’t push. Instead, she adjusts, scooting closer and taking your hands in hers, her grip firm enough to ground you but never restrictive.

• “Breathe with me,” she instructs quietly, her chest rising and falling in slow, deliberate movements. She exaggerates it slightly so you can match her pace, her own breathing steady and rhythmic.

• Her thumb rubs soothing circles on the back of your hand, a repetitive motion meant to calm, her human hand warm against your skin.

• If you start to hyperventilate or shake more, she gently guides you to lean against her, wrapping an arm securely around your back. Her touch is protective, shielding you from the weight of whatever is crushing you.

• “I’ve got you,” she murmurs, her lips brushing against your temple as she speaks. Her voice carries a quiet conviction, as if daring the world to try and hurt you while you’re in her arms.

• She stays patient, never rushing you or trying to force you out of the panic. She knows it’ll pass, and she’s willing to stay with you through the worst of it.

• When your breathing finally starts to slow, she leans back slightly to look at you, brushing a stray tear from your cheek with a surprisingly gentle touch.

• “There you are,” she says quietly, her smirk faint but reassuring, as if to remind you she’s always steady, always your anchor.

• Once you’ve calmed down enough, she shifts to sit beside you, pulling you against her side so you can rest your head on her shoulder. Her arm drapes around you, keeping you close.

• She doesn’t push you to talk, letting the silence settle comfortably between you. If you want to explain, she’ll listen without judgment, but she’s just as content to let the moment pass quietly.

• After a while, she mutters something low and teasing, like, “Told you I’m good at keeping you in line, princess,” her way of lightening the mood without dismissing what you’ve been through.

• For the rest of the night, she keeps you close, her presence a quiet reassurance that you’re safe, no matter what.