Arcane headcanons | °• Sevika •°

You sit on her lap

• The Last Drop is buzzing with noise—glasses clinking, voices raised in drunken arguments, and the steady beat of music. Sevika sits at her usual spot in the corner, a glass of whiskey in her flesh hand.

• You’re perched on her lap, one arm wrapped around her neck, fingers idly playing with the short strands of her hair. Sevika’s other hand rests possessively on your thigh, her grip firm but gentle.

• She leans back, watching the room like she always does, her sharp eyes scanning for any signs of trouble. But her focus keeps drifting back to you, her gaze softening every time she catches your eyes.

• “Comfortable, doll?” she asks, her voice low enough that only you can hear it. There’s a faint smirk on her lips, but her tone is warm, teasing.

• You nod, resting your head against her shoulder. “Always,” you reply, your fingers tracing the seam of her jacket absently.

• Someone from Silco’s crew approaches, muttering something about business. Sevika listens, her jaw tightening as she considers their words. But when your arms tighten around her, pulling her closer, she glances at you and sighs.

• “Not now,” she growls at the underling, her tone making it clear there’s no room for argument. The crew member hesitates but quickly retreats under her glare.

• “They don’t like me distracting you, do they?” you murmur, a hint of amusement in your voice.

• “They can get over it,” she says, her hand tightening on your thigh for emphasis. “You’re not going anywhere.”

• You shift slightly, turning to face her more fully, and Sevika raises a brow. “What?” she asks, her voice rougher now, but her expression betrays her curiosity.

• “You’re cute when you’re protective,” you tease, brushing a strand of hair away from her face.

• She snorts, but there’s a faint flush on her cheeks that she can’t hide. “Yeah, well, you make it easy, sugar.”

• A drunk patron stumbles too close to your booth, muttering something incoherent. Sevika’s gaze sharpens instantly, her metal arm shifting slightly as if ready to spring into action.

• The patron catches her glare and quickly backs off, muttering an apology. You glance up at her, smiling faintly. “See? Cute.”

• “Keep pushing, princess,” she warns, but there’s no real heat in her tone.

• You press a quick kiss to her jawline, and she huffs, trying to hide the way her lips twitch into a small smile.

• The noise of the bar fades into the background as you settle more comfortably in her lap. Her hand moves from your thigh to wrap around your waist, holding you closer.

• “You good?” she asks after a moment, her voice soft but laced with concern.

• You nod, nuzzling into her neck. “Perfect,” you reply, and for a while, the chaos of Zaun feels far away.

• She keeps an eye on the room, always ready for trouble, but her thumb rubs slow circles against your hip, a quiet reassurance that she’s here—that she’s got you.

• The night stretches on, and the world feels just a little safer in her arms.