Arcane headcanons | °• Sevika •°

You avoid her

• Sevika leaned against the bar in The Last Drop, her metal arm tapping a steady rhythm against her glass. She scanned the room for you, but you were nowhere to be found—again.

• Her jaw tightened as she downed her drink in one gulp, frustration simmering beneath her stoic expression. You’d been avoiding her for days now, and she hated how much it gnawed at her.

• She went looking, slipping through Zaun’s streets with practiced ease. She checked the places she knew you’d go—the market, the corner you liked for its quiet, even your favorite food stall—but you weren’t there.

• It wasn’t like you to disappear like this. Sevika felt something she rarely let herself feel: uncertainty. She hated it.

• By the time she found you, you were sitting on the edge of a dimly lit rooftop, staring out at the chaotic sprawl of Zaun. Her steps were heavy, deliberate—she didn’t bother sneaking up on you.

• You tensed when you heard her, shoulders stiffening as her boots crunched against the gravel. You didn’t turn around, and it made her chest tighten in a way she didn’t expect.

• “Avoiding me now, huh?” she asked, her voice rough but quieter than usual. She stopped a few paces behind you, giving you space she wasn’t used to offering.

• You stayed silent, your fingers gripping the edge of the rooftop. The wind tugged at your hair, and Sevika’s gaze softened despite her frustration.

• She stepped closer, her shadow falling over you. “What’s going on, sugar?” Her voice dipped lower, her words softer. “Did I do something?”

• You shook your head but still didn’t look at her. “I just need space,” you muttered, your voice barely audible over the noise of the city below.

• Her brows furrowed, and she crouched next to you, close but not touching. “Bullshit,” she said bluntly. “You don’t just ‘need space’ out of nowhere.”

• You finally turned your head to look at her, and the pain in your eyes hit her harder than any punch ever could. “It’s just... a lot, Sevika,” you whispered.

• Her hand twitched like she wanted to reach for you, but she held back. She wasn’t good at this, at feelings, but she’d try for you.

• “Talk to me,” she said, her voice softer now, almost pleading. “Whatever it is, we’ll fix it. I’ll fix it.”

• You looked away again, your lips pressing into a thin line. “Sometimes, it feels like... I’m not enough.”

• Her breath hitched, and she felt that familiar twist in her chest. She reached out then, her metal hand settling on your shoulder, gentle despite the weight of it.

• “Don’t say that,” she said firmly, her voice low but raw. “Don’t you dare think that, doll.”

• You blinked back tears, your hands gripping the edge of the rooftop harder. “Then why does it feel like everything else comes first? Silco, the bar, fights—everything but me.”

• Her stomach sank, guilt spreading like wildfire. She didn’t know what to say, didn’t know how to make you see how much you mattered to her. But she had to try.

• “I’m shit at this, I know,” she admitted, her voice barely above a whisper. “But you? You’re it for me. You’re the only thing that matters, doll.”

• You turned to her again, eyes shining with unshed tears. “Then why does it feel like I’m always waiting for you?”

• The words sliced through her, but she didn’t flinch. Instead, she reached up with her flesh hand, brushing your hair out of your face. “I’m sorry,” she said, and it was the most honest thing she’d said in a long time.

• For a moment, you just stared at her, the weight of everything unspoken between you hanging heavy in the air. Then, finally, you leaned into her touch, your forehead resting against hers.

• “I can’t keep doing this, Sevika,” you murmured, your voice breaking.

• “You won’t have to,” she promised, her voice rough but steady. “I’ll do better. For you, I’ll do better.”

• You closed your eyes, letting out a shaky breath. “I hope so,” you whispered, leaning into her warmth even as doubt lingered in your chest.

• And for the first time in days, Sevika felt like she could breathe again, even if she knew she had a long way to go to make things right.