Arcane headcanons | °• Sevika •°

"Sailor song"

(I recommend to listen to the song "Sailor song" while you read this)

• The dim, flickering lights of Zaun's underbelly glow like fireflies through the fog, casting long shadows on the cracked walls. You sit in the corner of a room heavy with smoke, your eyes fixed on Sevika as she plays cards with a crew of thugs.

• Her every movement draws you in—the way her metal arm gleams in the low light, the effortless roll of a cigarette between her lips, the sharp curve of her smirk when she wins a hand. She owns every room she’s in, and you’re just one of her possessions—willing, obsessed, tethered.

• You’ve tried to leave before, but it’s impossible. The thought of being without her pulls at your chest like an anchor tied to your ribs. Sevika doesn’t make it easy either, her touch always dragging you back just when you’re ready to walk away.

• She glances over her shoulder mid-game, her sharp eyes catching yours. A knowing smile tugs at her lips as if she can feel the intensity of your gaze from across the room.

• “Be patient, doll,” she calls, her deep voice cutting through the murmur of the room. “I’m almost done here.”

• You don’t respond, just nod, because your voice feels small in comparison to her. You clutch the glass in your hand tighter, the condensation dripping onto your fingers.

• Hours pass. She doesn’t stop. The haze of smoke thickens, the noise grows louder, but she’s still there, holding court, unbothered. And you, still waiting, unable to leave, unable to pull yourself away.

• Finally, Sevika stands, stretching her broad shoulders. The room moves around her, men shifting, offering her space as though she’s something to be revered. She takes her time strolling over to you, her smirk cocky, like she already knows you’ll forgive her.

• “You’ve been good, sugar,” she murmurs, leaning down to brush her lips against your temple. The scent of smoke and steel clings to her. “C’mon, let’s go home.”

• You follow her through the streets of Zaun, her hand resting lightly on the small of your back. The touch is light, almost careless, but it feels like a lifeline, keeping you tethered to her as the world spins around you.

• Back in her apartment, she shrugs off her coat and collapses onto the couch. You stand awkwardly by the door, unsure whether to be angry at her for making you wait or grateful she’s finally here.

• “What’s wrong?” Sevika asks, her tone casual, like she doesn’t already know. She lights a cigarette, leaning back, her legs spread in a stance of complete ease.

• “You don’t even see it,” you murmur, your voice breaking slightly. “How much I need you. How much I—”

• She cuts you off, standing and closing the distance between you in two steps. Her metal hand gently cups your chin, forcing you to meet her gaze. Her eyes, sharp and unrelenting, soften for just a moment.

• “I see it, princess,” she says, her voice low and serious. “Don’t think I don’t. You’re mine, and I take care of what’s mine.”

• The words are a balm and a chain, wrapping around you tightly. You hate the power she holds over you, but you crave it all the same. You nod, your breath hitching as she pulls you into her chest.

• Her arms wrap around you, her embrace firm and grounding. Her flesh hand strokes your hair, her lips pressing a kiss to your forehead. “I’ve got you, sugar. Always.”

• You cling to her like a sailor to a lifeline, the storm of your obsession crashing around you. Sevika doesn’t pull away, doesn’t push you off. She lets you have this, lets you hold on, because she knows you need her more than air.

• As the night deepens, you fall asleep in her arms, still tethered to her even in dreams. The knowledge that you’ll never be free of her should scare you, but it doesn’t. It feels like home.