Sevika’s gaze hardens like stone the second anyone crosses her, eyes sharp and shoulders squared.
The air shifts when you step into the room—her tension eases without her realizing.
Her hand unconsciously brushes your lower back as you pass, a protective gesture she doesn’t think twice about.
Even in a crowded bar, she tracks your movements with quick glances, ever watchful.
Your laughter breaks through the smoke-filled haze of The Last Drop, softening her stern expression.
When you catch her eye, her usual smirk turns faintly lopsided—less calculated, more genuine.
Arguments with others are sharp, decisive—arguments with you? Her words stumble, rough voice softening.
She grips your wrist too tightly when you walk through Zaun’s darker corners, then loosens her hold with a guilty murmur: “Sorry, sugar.”
Late nights when the city’s weight clings to her shoulders, she melts against your touch—head bowed into your lap, tension slowly bleeding away.
Rough hands that break bones without hesitation now trace your cheek with a featherlight touch.
Her metal hand, so cold and unyielding, hesitates near your skin—as if afraid to harm something too precious.
“Don’t look at me like that, doll,” she mutters when your gaze lingers—too much softness unnerves her.
Yet she never pulls away, even when vulnerability tugs at the edges of her iron walls.
Your tears shatter her quicker than any fist—panic flashing behind steel-gray eyes as she cups your face.
Whispered reassurances tumble from her lips before she can think—"I’ve got you, princess. Always."
Anger burns hotter when someone hurts you—fists clenching, jaw tight, but she swallows it down for your sake.
Rough nights leave her restless, but your steady breathing beside her grounds her more than whiskey ever could.
Her arm wraps around you in sleep, instinctive, holding you close like she’s afraid you’ll vanish.
Even Silco noticed—the sharp glances Sevika throws your way, the way her shoulders drop around you.
“She’s your weakness,” he once remarked. Sevika only exhaled smoke and muttered, “Maybe.”
But in truth, you’re not her weakness—you’re her tether. The reason her fists unclench and her pulse slows.
The reason she fights, bleeds, and survives, even when the world around her crumbles.
YOU ARE READING
Arcane headcanons | °• Sevika •°
Fanfictionokay so since nobody realy writes any headcanons about this god damn fine looking women (i swear she is killing me TT) i decided to do it myself. this will basically be only about Sevika, like the titel already said. The first page is for request, i...
