Arcane headcanons | °• Sevika •°

You are insecure

You sat on the edge of the bed, arms crossed over your stomach, fingers digging into the fabric of your shirt. The dim light of the room cast soft shadows, but it didn’t make the feeling any less heavy.

Sevika was getting ready, shirt half-buttoned, fixing her cuffs in the mirror. She glanced at you, then paused, her sharp gaze lingering a little too long.

“What’s wrong, sugar?” Her voice was steady, but there was a slight edge—like she already knew something was off.

You shrugged, but it wasn’t convincing. The way your hands stayed pressed against your stomach, the slight way your shoulders curled in—it told her everything.

Sevika turned, walking over, boots heavy against the floor. She didn’t rush, didn’t pry, just came to stand in front of you, arms loosely crossing over her chest.

“You gonna tell me, or do I gotta figure it out myself?” she asked, voice low, teasing but not unkind. She always had this way of making things feel lighter, like whatever was bothering you wasn’t as heavy as it seemed.

You hesitated, fingers gripping your shirt tighter before muttering, “Just… don’t like how I look sometimes.”

Sevika exhaled through her nose, slow, measured. She crouched in front of you, resting her arms on your thighs, close but not pushing. “That so?”

Her hands slid up your legs, fingers rough but warm, stopping just at your hips. She didn’t say anything for a moment, just looking at you, like she was trying to figure out where this was coming from.

Then, without warning, she leaned forward and kissed your stomach through your shirt—slow, deliberate, letting her lips linger.

Your breath caught, and she did it again, just a little higher, then lower, her hands keeping you steady as if you’d try to pull away.

“Don’t get it,” she murmured against you, voice quieter now, almost thoughtful. “You really think I don’t love every damn part of you?”

Her hands smoothed over your sides, strong but careful, like she was trying to make you feel what she did. Like she could press the thought into your skin until you believed it.

“This,” she continued, pressing another slow kiss just below your ribs, “is mine.” Another kiss, lower. “Mine.” Her fingers dug in just slightly, grounding. “And I love it.”

You swallowed hard, the weight in your chest shifting, not quite gone, but lighter somehow. Sevika had that effect—steady, unwavering, like she could hold all the things you couldn’t.

“Doll,” she said, finally looking up at you. “Ain’t gonna let you talk shit about what’s mine.”

You let out a shaky breath, a small, reluctant smile forming. “That so?”

She smirked, finally standing, tilting your chin up with two fingers. “That’s so.”

She kissed you then, deep, slow, pulling you closer like she needed you to understand. Like she’d do this every damn time if it meant you’d see yourself the way she did.

And maybe, just maybe, with her, you could start to.