Arcane headcanons | °• Sevika •°

She refuses to ask for help

• Sevika sits at her workbench, gritting her teeth in frustration. Sparks fly as she tries to solder a connection in her metal arm, the tool trembling slightly in her flesh hand. The arm is damaged—again—and the intricate repairs are proving to be beyond her reach.

• She slams the tool down after the third failed attempt, the sound echoing through the room. Her jaw tightens as she glares at the useless limb. She mutters to herself, low and sharp, "Damn thing…"

• The door creaks open behind her. She doesn’t need to turn around to know it’s you. You’ve always had a way of showing up when she’s trying her hardest to avoid you. "What do you want, doll?" she grumbles, not looking back.

• "I could ask you the same thing," you counter, stepping closer. Your eyes dart to the mess of tools and wires on the table, then to her arm. "Why didn’t you tell me it was broken?"

• She huffs, leaning back in her chair and crossing her arms, her metal one sparking faintly at the joint. "I’ve got it handled."

• You step in front of her, hands on your hips, your gaze soft but unwavering. "Sevika, you can barely move it. Let me help."

• "I said I’ve got it," she snaps, but there’s no real bite in her words. The vulnerability in her eyes betrays her—she hates feeling like this, like she needs anyone.

• You crouch down in front of her, placing your hands gently on her knees. "Sugar," you say softly, "you don’t have to do everything alone."

• She looks away, her jaw clenching. For a moment, there’s nothing but silence between you, the tension thick in the air. Finally, with a sigh, she mutters, "Fine. But if you mess it up, I’m blaming you."

• You smile, kissing her cheek before standing and grabbing the tools. "Don’t worry, I’ve watched you fix it enough times to know what I’m doing."

• As you work, she watches you intently, her gaze softening despite herself. Your hands move with precision and care, and for once, she lets herself relax, trusting you completely.

• "You’re good at this," she murmurs after a while, her voice quieter than usual. It’s not an admission of defeat—it’s her way of saying thank you without actually saying it.

• You glance up at her, smirking. "Told you. Now sit still and let me finish."

• When you’re done, you test the arm’s mobility, flexing the fingers gently. "There," you say, satisfied. "Good as new."

• She rolls her shoulder, testing it out. The arm hums smoothly, no more sparks or grinding noises. She doesn’t say anything for a moment, just looks at you with an unreadable expression.

• Then, she reaches out with her metal hand, brushing her fingers against your cheek. "Thanks, doll," she murmurs, her voice soft, almost tender. "I owe you one."

• You lean into her touch, smiling. "You don’t owe me anything, Sev. Just…let me be there for you, okay?"

• She doesn’t respond, just pulls you into her lap, wrapping her flesh arm around your waist while her metal hand cradles the back of your head. "You’re too good for me," she mutters into your hair.

• You laugh softly, your arms wrapping around her neck. "Maybe. But you’re stuck with me anyway."

• For the first time that day, she lets herself smile, holding you close like you’re the only thing in the world that matters. And maybe you are.