meowmeowmeow

You guys wanted a part two, i gave you a part two. Get ready to be FED. -

Price loves his peace and quiet at home, but let’s be real—he’s a dramatic little shit about it.

If you’re vacuuming? He’s fake groaning on the couch like an old man.

“Bloody hell, I just sat down.”

“John, it’s been ten hours. The house is dusty.”

“It builds character.”

You throw a pillow at him. He catches it and uses it to nap. -

He’s obsessed with Sunday mornings. No alarms, no plans, just the two of you and the soft smell of toast and coffee.

You wear his shirt. Hair all messy, eyes half shut. He damn near falls in love with you all over again.

“C’mere,” he grumbles, arms outstretched.

You end up tangled on the couch together, wrapped in a throw blanket, watching the same old war documentaries he insists are “historically accurate.” Spoiler: they’re not.

You fall asleep. He stays awake just to stare at you. -

This man has a drawer full of random little things you’ve ever given him. Notes. Receipts with doodles. A button you once sewed back on his shirt.

You caught him once, sitting at the kitchen table after a deployment, holding a crumpled note you’d stuck in his gear bag.

“Missed you, soldier. Be safe. Dinner’s waiting.”

He didn’t say anything. Just kissed you like you hung the moon. -

He tries to help with chores, emphasis on tries.

You told him to vacuum once—he vacuumed the cat.

“JOHN.”

“She walked right into it, love, what d’you want me to do—”

He’s banned from touching anything electronic in the house. Washing machine? No. Dishwasher? Hell no. You let him water the plants. Supervised. -

Price keeps a hand on you at all times when he’s home. Sitting on the couch? He pulls you onto his lap. Brushing your teeth? He’s behind you, arms around your waist.

You once tried to sneak out of bed early. Didn’t even get halfway up before you were yanked back down.

“Not so fast, Mrs. Price.”

“Yes so fast, we need milk.”

“Milk can wait. Cuddles first.” -

He absolutely refuses to let you carry grocery bags.

You once tried to be independent and carry ONE bag. He glared at you like you insulted his honor.

“Drop it.”

“John, it’s eggs.”

“Drop it.”

You let him carry all ten bags like some suburban Hercules. He grunts dramatically for extra flair. -

He’ll never admit it, but he loves your skincare routine.

If you do a face mask, he sits there watching you like a little goblin.

“What the hell is that?”

“A clay mask.”

“Is it gonna eat your face?”

Next thing you know, you’re putting one on him. He grumbles but sits still. Thirty minutes later, he says his skin feels “tight but hydrated.” (He googled that.) - This man is the epitome of a black cat energy. Bro's footsteps so quite, he literally jump scares the shit outta you. Bastard doesn’t announce himself. Just snakes his arms around your waist, resting his chin on your shoulder, watching you stir the soup. You try to keep focused, but his warm breath on your neck is criminal.

“John, if this burns because of you—”

“It’s soup, love. Not a landmine,” he murmurs, pressing a kiss behind your ear.

You try to swat him with the wooden spoon, but he’s already grinning, ducking out of reach.

And then he goes for it—stealing a kiss right as you’re adding the salt.

𐙚 𐙚 𐙚 𐙚 𐙚 𐙚 𐙚 𐙚 𐙚 𐙚 𐙚 𐙚 𐙚 𐙚 𐙚 𐙚 𐙚 𐙚 𐙚 𐙚 𐙚 𐙚 𐙚 𐙚 𐙚 𐙚 𐙚 𐙚 𐙚 𐙚

GIRLDAD!Nanami is not a man who cries easily, but the moment the doctor places his newborn daughter in his arms? Oh. GIRLDAD!Nanami completely freezes. Just staring down at her tiny face, his breath catching in his throat when she wraps her tiny hand around his pinky GIRLDAD!Nanami who had spent months preparing for this moment, but now that she’s actually here? He is wrecked. GIRLDAD!Nanami who refuses to let ANYONE hold her unless they pass a whole background check.

Cooing? Baby talk? Making silly faces? If you told him that before he became a dad, he’d scoff. But now? This man will do anything to hear his sweet girl giggle. GIRLDAD!Nanami who'll gently rock his baby girl to sleep. She will NOT cry in his arms, like she completely trusts him. GIRLDAD!Nanami is the one who gets up at 3 AM to change diapers and feed her. He doesn’t even wake you up. He just silently takes care of it. GIRLDAD!Nanami who sings his sweet little girl in Danish. Sometimes hums soft lullabies while rubbing circles on her back.

GIRLDAD!Nanami carries her EVERYWHERE. Grocery store? Baby strapped to his chest. Walk in the park? Her tiny hands holding onto his shirt. GIRLDAD!Nanami who nearly cries the first time his sweet girl calls him "Dada". Tea parties? Tiny plastic tiaras? He participates with a straight face.

GIRLDAD!Nanami who refuses to say no to his baby girl. "Babe, she can’t have another cookie." "It’s just one more."

𐙚 𐙚 𐙚 𐙚 𐙚 𐙚 𐙚 𐙚 𐙚 𐙚 𐙚 𐙚 𐙚 𐙚 𐙚 𐙚 𐙚 𐙚 𐙚 𐙚 𐙚 𐙚 𐙚 𐙚 𐙚 𐙚 𐙚 𐙚 𐙚 𐙚

ignore these hehe :D

Price is up at the crack of dawn, even when he’s home. Military habits die hard. But instead of rushing off to train, he takes his time watching you sleep. He adores how peaceful you look, face buried in the pillow, hair messy.

“Too bloody gorgeous for your own good, love.”

He always makes coffee first thing in the morning. Your coffee is made with care, perfect sugar-to-milk ratio. His? Jet fuel. The man drinks pure black coffee like a lunatic.

If you wake up early, he pulls you into his lap, letting you sit between his legs as he rests his chin on your shoulder, sipping coffee together in comfortable silence. This man cannot cook for shit. You let him try once, and the kitchen almost caught fire. His ‘specialty’? Scrambled eggs that somehow taste like regret.

If you’re cooking, he’s always hovering. Arms wrapped around your waist, chin on your shoulder, murmuring- “What’s on the menu today, sweetheart?”

You have to swat him away because he steals food off the pan.

“John, I swear—STOP PICKING AT IT.”

“I’m just taste-testing, love.” (No, he’s eating half of it.) Price is a touch-starved bastard. He constantly has a hand on you—your thigh, your back, your waist. He hates sleeping alone. If he’s home, you are glued to him.

Post-mission cuddles? He holds onto you like you’re his lifeline.

Comes home, sighs deeply, collapses onto you. He buries his face into your neck, muttering “Missed you so damn much.”

He physically cannot sleep unless you’re in his arms. If he has nightmares? You always wake up to comfort him. He tries to brush it off, but you cup his face, run your fingers through his hair.

“You’re home, John. You’re safe.”

And just like that, the tension leaves his body. This man walks on the side of the road closest to traffic. Always. Hand on your lower back when walking through crowds. If anyone even looks at you wrong? That stern Captain Price glare™ is activated.

One time, some guy at the grocery store got too close to you— Price instantly went into overprotective husband mode.

“The fuck you lookin’ at, mate?”

You had to drag him away before he decked the poor man. Don't let this man near laundry. “John, you can’t just throw your combat gear in with our clothes.” “...They all get clean, don’t they?” Absolutely not. One time, you found a grenade pin in the washing machine.

“JOHN WHAT THE HELL IS THIS?!”

“…Souvenir?”

You ban him from doing laundry after that.

When he gets rare days off, he’s the laziest bastard alive. He’s in sweatpants and a loose t-shirt, sprawled on the couch. If you try to get up? Nope. He pulls you back down.

“Where d’you think you’re goin’, sweetheart? You’re stayin’ right here.”

━━━━━━━━ ✴ ━━━━━━━━

Meet "Riven," a product of a cybernetic experiment that blurred the line between humanity and machine. He wasn't born like this—he was rebuilt. Once a decorated soldier, Riven’s body was salvaged after a catastrophic battlefield incident, his remaining flesh fused with bleeding-edge tech. The world calls him an unstoppable weapon; to him, he's a man chasing the shreds of his own soul. Android x Scientist! Reader

━━━━━━━━ ✴ ━━━━━━━━

Riven wasn’t rebuilt just to survive. You had a singular mission in mind—a near-impossible goal that required a being more machine than man.. 🔧When you first rebuilt Riven, he was a shell—his voice was monotone, his eyes hollow. He followed your instructions like a machine, rarely speaking unless prompted. There were no pleasantries, no “thank yous,” only blunt, mechanical efficiency.

"Where do you need me? Give the order."

You weren’t sure if he resented you for saving him or if he was simply beyond caring.

🔧The first time you saw Riven react with emotion was over something small. Maybe you handed him a repaired piece of gear without saying anything, and he muttered under his breath:

"This fits better. Guess you’re learning." It was so unexpected, you almost dropped your tools. He had just teased you. Slowly but surely, his wit started creeping through the cracks.

🔧Riven watches you work constantly. At first, it’s unnerving—those cold, calculating eyes fixed on your every movement. But you realize it’s not mistrust; he’s studying you, learning how you work, because he doesn’t understand why you’d care so much about him.

"You don’t need to fix me perfectly every time, Doc. I’m built to break."

"I don’t leave work unfinished, Riven. Sit still."

🔧One night, while fine-tuning his neural systems, you stumbled on a corrupted memory file. For a split second, his guard dropped—you heard snippets of his past, his voice raw and human. He didn’t lash out or shut down; instead, he stared ahead and said quietly:

"....Don’t look at me like that, you can’t fix this part of me."

You didn’t push him, but that night, you left a blanket over his chair when you finished your work. He noticed.

🔧Riven isn’t good with words when it comes to care, but his actions speak volumes. If you’ve been up too long working, he’ll stand behind you and lean down to mutter:

"Go to sleep, Doc. This thing will still be here when you wake up." And if you protest, you’ll find your tools taken out of your hands as he shuts the lab lights off himself.

🔧Riven takes your safety personally. If you’re ever in danger—whether from mercenaries, drones, or even a collapsing building—his instinct is to shield you first and fight second. He does it silently, but there’s an edge of urgency in his voice:

"You don’t get to die, Doc. Not after all this."

🔧When he returns damaged—gashes through metal plating, his synthetic skin frayed—you scold him like a concerned parent.

"You think you’re invincible, don’t you? Sit down, Riven." He doesn’t argue. He just stares at you with that unreadable expression and lets you work, the tension in his shoulders easing as your hands mend him.

Sometimes he mutters under his breath when you’re too focused: "Your hands don’t shake anymore. You’ve gotten good at this."

🔧Riven can be sarcastic, sometimes even darkly humorous. He throws comments your way that only someone who trusts you would dare say.

"So what’s the verdict today, Doc? Am I still pretty, or did you make me uglier?"

"You’ve always been pretty, Riven. Just sit still before I lose my grip."

🔧You’ve learned to give it back to him. He actually smirks when you push back because it reminds him he’s not just a weapon to you.

"Riven, I swear if you tear that neural wire again—"

"Relax, Doc. I’ll give you something to fix tomorrow. Wouldn’t want you to get bored."

🔧Some nights, when you’re both too exhausted to pretend otherwise, you sit in the dim light of the lab. Riven leans back against a wall or your workbench, his voice softer than usual.

"Do you ever wonder what’s next, after all this?"

"After defeating the [enemy]? I don’t know. Maybe I’ll open a coffee shop."

"…I don’t drink coffee, Doc."

"Then you’re not invited." Moments like these remind him he’s still allowed to dream, even if he doesn’t believe he’ll live long enough to see it.

🔧One day, you started playing music while working, and to your shock, Riven quietly remarked:

"I remember this song." He didn’t elaborate, but from then on, music became a constant in your lab. It’s your way of reminding him there’s still beauty in the world.

🔧If you’re ever injured, Riven loses his composure. He doesn’t rage or panic—he focuses, taking you somewhere safe and patching you up with an efficiency that mirrors your own care for him. He doesn’t yell, but his voice is strained.

"You’re the one who’s supposed to keep me in one piece, not the other way around." He's a worrywart.

🔧When faced with an impossible situation—when enemy’s forces close in and the odds are bleak—you and Riven have a way of grounding each other.

"You don’t have to stay with me for this, Riven."

"And leave you to screw it all up? Not happening, Doc. We’re finishing this together."

🔧Riven may be a weapon, but to you, he’s so much more. You remind him of his humanity, even when he feels like there’s nothing left. In return, he’s your shield—the one constant in your dangerous life.

He calls you “Doc” or “the genius.” On rare, quiet occasions, he says your name.

You see him not as a machine, but as a man trying to piece himself back together—much like you’ve rebuilt his body.

At the heart of it all, you’re each other’s anchor. Riven fights because you gave him purpose. You fight because he gave you someone worth believing in.

🔧Riven would never admit it out loud, but you are the first person who’s ever seen him as something other than a weapon. And for that, he’ll burn the entire world down if it means keeping you safe.

"You fixed me once, Doc. But you’re the only reason I haven’t fallen apart again." In this fallen world, you made him- your anchor.

━━━━━━━━ ✴ ━━━━━━━━

A/n : new prompt :D yay i tried :') part 2 ? also credits go to original artist who created that kick-ass design of Riven !

━━━━━━━━ ✴ ━━━━━━━━

[Sully Family x Lost Sibling! Reader (reader is Na'vi)] Synopsis : Years after a devastating loss, the Sully family is reunited with their long-lost eldest sibling, a moment that reignites both joy and heartache. Once thought gone forever, their sibling returns as a formidable warrior—precise with a bow, swift to tame an Ikran, and gifted in strategy—leaving the family in awe of their strength and resilience. The reunion reshapes their bonds: Neteyam finds a steady partner to share his burdens, Lo’ak gains a rival and confidant, Kiri discovers a spiritual kindred, and little Tuk showers her newfound sibling with endless love. For Jake and Neytiri, it’s a bittersweet journey of healing, balancing pride in who their child has become with the weight of time lost. Warnings : very wholesome you will combust

━━━━━━━ 𓆟 ━━━━━━━━

-Jake and Neytiri had spent years mourning the loss of their firstborn, their hearts heavy with the weight of a child they believed Eywa had taken back. They never spoke about it openly in front of the other kids, not wanting their grief to cast shadows on the present. -When they first hear rumors of a lone Na’vi wandering far from the clan’s territories—someone who doesn’t quite fit in—the hope seems too fragile to entertain. -Neytiri dismisses it at first, her voice hard with pain: “It cannot be. Eywa has already decided their path.” -But Jake, ever to hold onto that speck of hope, feels something stir deep within him, a nagging sense that they need to find you. “What if it is them? Yawne, we have to try."

-When the family finally sees you for the first time, it’s almost surreal. -Your features are unmistakable—your eyes, your build, the small markings that Neytiri remembers tracing when you were just a baby. -Jake freezes in his tracks, his normally steady composure cracking as he whispers, “It’s you... It’s really you.” Neytiri’s reaction is more visceral. She falls to her knees, tears streaming down her face as she reaches out, her voice breaking: “My child... my baby...” -Neteyam is silent at first, the realization hitting him like a storm. He had heard stories of you but never imagined he’d see you. His hands tremble as he approaches, his voice soft but shaking: “Is it true? Are you... my sibling?” -Tuk clings to Kiri, confused but excited. “We have another sibling? Really?!” Lo’ak, ever the joker, tries to lighten the heavy moment: “Guess we’re not the favorites anymore, huh?”

-The initial reunion is a flood of emotions—tears, laughter, disbelief. Neytiri holds you close, her hands shaking as she cups your face, her words a mix of apology and joy: “I thought we lost you. Eywa has brought you back to us.” -Jake struggles to maintain his composure, his voice thick with emotion as he says, “We thought we’d never see you again. Look at you... You’ve grown so much.” While they’re overjoyed to have you back, Jake and Neytiri also carry immense guilt. -Neytiri often stays up at night, staring at you while you sleep, whispering quiet apologies to Eywa for letting you slip away. -Jake tries to make up for lost time by teaching you survival skills, even if you already know them. “I should’ve been there for you. Let me show you, just in case.” His attempts to reconnect often come with a tinge of overprotectiveness, something you can’t help but find endearing. -They both shower you with subtle but heartfelt gestures—Neytiri weaving intricate beads into your braids, Jake carving you a small totem to carry as a symbol of family.

━━━━━━━ 𓆟 ━━━━━━━━

-Neteyam, being the oldest after you, feels an immediate kinship. He idolizes you in a way that catches you off guard. “You were always the strong one, weren’t you? Mom and Dad used to talk about you like you could do anything.” -From the moment the family reunites, Neteyam is drawn to you. His role as the responsible older brother has always been his identity, but now, seeing you—capable, strong, and wise—he feels a weight lift. -One evening, as the two of you sit on a high branch overlooking the forest, Neteyam glances at you, his voice soft: “I always wondered what it would feel like to have someone like you to look up to. Now I know.”

-Lo’ak’s first instinct is to test you. He’s always been the rebel, and he wants to know if you can keep up. -He constantly challenges you to races, sparring matches, or daring climbs. “Bet you can’t beat me to the top of that tree,” he taunts, already halfway up. But when you outpace him, he groans dramatically. “Okay, okay, maybe you’re a little cool.” Beneath his playful teasing, though, is a deep admiration. -Lo’ak rarely says it out loud, but the way he watches you when you're literally doing anything—speaks volumes. After a particularly close hunt or winning a race, he slings an arm around your shoulders, his grin boyish and proud: “You’re just showing off now, aren’t you?

-Kiri feels an almost spiritual connection with you. She’s drawn to the way you carry yourself, and often spends hours talking with you about Eywa and the balance of the world.

-“Do you feel it too?” she asks one evening, her voice soft as the bioluminescent forest glows around you. When you nod, she smiles, her eyes filled with quiet wonder. “I knew you would. You’re one of us.”

-She loves showing you the hidden wonders of Pandora, her excitement bubbling over as she guides you to a glowing grove or a stream filled with darting, luminous fish. “This is my favorite place,” she confesses, her voice a whisper. “Now it’s ours.”

-You often catch her sketching in the dirt or weaving patterns inspired by your adventures together. When you ask about them, she shrugs, a shy smile on her lips: “Just trying to remember these moments.”

-Tuk is absolutely smitten with you. From the moment she met you, she declared you her new favorite sibling. She’s always by your side, her small hand slipping into yours as you walk through the forest. “Can I come with you?” she asks, her big eyes shining with hope. -You find yourself teaching her little tricks—how to shoot a tiny bow, how to climb trees safely—and her laughter fills the air as she tries to keep up. “Look! I’m like you now!” she cries, beaming with pride. -At night, she curls up beside you, her head resting against your arm. “Don’t ever leave again, okay?” she whispers, her voice tinged with the innocence of a child. -The Sully siblings have always been close, but with you, their dynamic shifts in the best way. -You quickly become the target of their good-natured teasing, but you’re not afraid to dish it back.“I think you’re losing your touch, Neteyam,” you tease after a sparring match, earning an exaggerated groan from him and laughter from Lo’ak. -Lo’ak and Tuk team up to prank you, only to get caught when Kiri casually spills their plan. “You’re terrible at keeping secrets,” Lo’ak mutters, glaring at his sister. -One night, under the stars, the five of you sit together, the forest alive with its soft, glowing hum. Tuk is nestled against your side, Kiri is braiding your hair, and Neteyam and Lo’ak are arguing over who caught the biggest fish that day. -You take it all in—the laughter, the warmth, the love—and feel an overwhelming sense of belonging.“We’re stronger together,” Neteyam says, breaking through the chatter. He looks at each of you, his gaze lingering on you last. “All of us.” -Lo’ak groans dramatically, “Alright, enough of the sappy stuff.” But he doesn’t pull away when you ruffle his hair, nor does he hide the smile tugging at his lips.

━━━━━━━ 𓆟 ━━━━━━━━

-Jake has always carried the pain of losing you deep within him, a wound he thought would never heal. As much as he’s overjoyed to have you back, there’s a part of him that struggles with the guilt of all the years you spent apart. -He watches you carefully in the first few days after the reunion, his sharp, observant eyes catching every movement, every expression. His voice, usually confident and steady, softens when he speaks to you. “You okay, kid? You settling in alright?” It’s casual, but there’s an unspoken fear behind the words, a need to make sure you’re truly here. -Jake’s pride in your abilities is almost immediate, but it grows tenfold as he watches you adapt to the Na’vi way of life with such ease. -When he sees you take down a target with a single, precise arrow, he lets out a low whistle, a grin spreading across his face. “Now that’s what I’m talking about. You’re a natural, just like your old man.” -Jake has always been fiercely protective of his family, but with you, it’s different. It’s not just about keeping you safe—it’s about making up for lost time. He wants to be there for every moment, to catch up on the years he missed. He’s quick to jump to your defense, even when it’s not necessary. -If anyone in the clan questions your place, Jake steps in before you can even respond, his voice firm but calm: “They’ve earned their place here. You’ve got a problem with that, you talk to me.” -As much as Jake wants to protect you, he quickly realizes you’re more than capable of handling yourself. -This both surprises and humbles him.“You don’t need me hovering,” he admits one day after watching you dispatch a group of enemies with precise, calculated movements. “But you can’t blame a dad for worrying.” His grin is sheepish, but there’s a flicker of pride in his eyes that makes your chest ache. -Jake doesn’t always say the words outright, but his love for you is evident in everything he does. The way he checks your gear before a mission, the way he pats your shoulder after a successful hunt, the way he looks at you when he thinks you’re not paying attention—all of it speaks volumes. -One night, as you sit beside him under the stars, he breaks the silence with a rare, heartfelt confession. “I thought I’d lost you for good. And now, having you here... I don’t think I’ll ever be able to thank Eywa enough.” His voice is rough, filled with a mixture of gratitude and regret.

━━━━━━━ 𓆟 ━━━━━━━━

-Neytiri’s reaction to your return is a whirlwind of love, grief, and relief. She holds you tightly the moment you reunite, her tears mingling with the warmth of your skin. “You are home,” she whispers, her voice breaking as she cups your face, memorizing every feature. -At first, she can’t let you out of her sight. Years of fearing she would never see you again have left her protective, almost overbearing. Her eyes follow you wherever you go, her instincts sharp, ready to shield you from anything. -Neytiri is in awe of the person you’ve become. When she sees your precise aim with a bow or the way you ride your Ikran with effortless grace, her heart swells with pride. -She takes great pride in teaching you the finer details of Na’vi culture, even if you’ve already mastered much of it on your own. “You are part of us, my child. This is your place.” -Neytiri’s protective nature manifests differently than Jake’s. Where Jake might give orders or try to shield you, Neytiri approaches with quiet understanding. -When she sees you tending to a minor injury after a hunt, she rushes over, her hands gentle but firm as she insists on helping. “Let me see. You may be strong, but even warriors need tending.” -Neytiri takes you to her favorite places in the forest, sharing the beauty and serenity of Pandora with you. She points out the hidden treasures of Eywa’s world, her voice reverent as she speaks of the balance in all things. -One evening, she brings you to the Tree of Voices. Together, you connect to the tendrils of the tree, and she whispers, “They have watched over you. Eywa has always known you would come back to us.” -Neytiri enjoys teaching you skills you might have missed during your time away, like the subtle art of weaving or the ceremonial dances of the clan. But she’s also open to learning from you, impressed by the strategies you devise and the clever ways you solve problems. “You have your father’s mind for battle,” she says with a grin one day, “but your heart... that is mine.” -Neytiri makes it clear that she will fight for you, as she always has for her family. When anyone questions your place in the clan, her voice is sharp and unwavering: “They are my child. That is all you need to know.”

━━━━━━━ 𓆟 ━━━━━━━━

-It doesn’t take long for the Sully family to notice you’re more than just their lost sibling—you’re a force to be reckoned with. -Neytiri is the first to notice your precision with a bow. She observes silently as you nock an arrow, your stance firm and your aim deadly. The arrow sails through the air, splitting the fruit on a distant branch perfectly in two. Neytiri’s lips part in astonishment before a quiet, proud smile spreads across her face. She tilts her head, her voice carrying a rare, gentle tone: “Who taught you this?” -Learning to bond with an Ikran is no easy feat, but you take it as a personal challenge. The family watches anxiously as you ascend the rocky cliffside, Jake muttering under his breath, “They should take it slow. No one gets it on the first try.” -But you surprise them yet again. The bond happens so seamlessly that Jake stares in stunned silence, Neytiri gripping his arm as if to confirm it’s real. -Lo’ak blurts out, “There’s no way! It took me three tries!” Tuk, wide-eyed, tugs on Kiri’s arm. “Did you see that? [Y/N] is amazing!” Kiri smiles, watching them with fondness in her eyes. -When you soar through the skies for the first time, the exhilaration is clear on your face, but the family’s awe is almost comical. Neteyam watches you with unshaken admiration, his voice barely above a whisper: “I don’t think Eywa has ever made someone like them.”

-As the Sullys adjust to your presence, it’s clear you’re not just “the lost sibling” anymore—you’re an integral part of the family. Every member looks to you in their own way, whether it’s for guidance, comfort, or simply a shared laugh. -You’ve become a bridge between the past and the present, a reminder of what the family has endured and how much stronger they’ve become together. -Around the fire one night, Neteyam says it best: “We’ve always been strong, but with you here, we’re unstoppable.” And as you look around at your family—the warmth in their eyes, the love in their smiles—you realize he’s right. -This was your family, your fortress..

━━━━━━━ 𓆟 ━━━━━━━━

(Edited, yes i did.) sorry if this is too long lol Hope you LOVED it, if not then haha i'll try to be better <3 pls leave a like TvT and go drink waterr >:0

━━━━━━━ 𓆟 ━━━━━━━━

Summary : How each Arcane character might feel if the reader called them their favorite person Pairings : Violet, Ekko, Jayce, Victor, Jinx x Reader Warnings : Too much fluff ─ ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆─ Vi (Violet) ₊˚⊹ ᰔ⭑.ᐟ

Vi stops dead in her tracks. She was mid-conversation, her usual cocky demeanor on full display, but your words—“You’re my favorite person, Vi”—hit her like a sucker punch. Her brows furrow slightly, almost as if she didn’t hear you correctly. “Say that again?” she asks, her voice lower, more serious. You repeat it, softer this time, and it’s like watching a storm give way to sunlight. Her tough exterior crumbles just a little, enough for you to catch the faintest pink rising to her cheeks. She exhales through her nose, shaking her head like she’s trying to brush it off, but her lips curl into an unguarded, lopsided smile. “You’re somethin’ else, you know that?” she mutters, hands finding her hips. Her fingers fidget slightly against her belt, betraying the nerves she rarely lets show.

There’s a pause before she steps closer, her shadow falling over you. Her scarred knuckles brush against yours, hesitant, searching for permission. When you don’t pull away, she grips your hand with a firmness that’s comforting rather than overwhelming. “I don’t know what I did to deserve that,” she says, her voice rough, almost cracking, “but… thanks. That means more than you know.” For the rest of the day, she’s quieter, stealing glances your way with a softness that’s rare. You notice the way she keeps you within arm’s reach, as if silently claiming you as hers. ─ ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆─ Ekko ₊˚⊹ ᰔ⭑.ᐟ

Ekko stops in the middle of adjusting his goggles, the usual smirk on his lips faltering as your words register. “Wait, wait,” he says, holding up a hand like he needs a moment to process. His brown eyes, bright with youthful energy, widen, and for a split second, he looks utterly vulnerable. “You serious right now?” His voice cracks just a little, his usual smooth confidence giving way to something rawer. When you nod, his grin comes back tenfold, wide enough to rival the light of the sun. He laughs, the sound bubbling out of him uncontrollably. “Man, you really know how to make a guy feel special.” But it doesn’t stop there. Ekko steps closer, his movements brimming with energy, his curls bouncing with each step. He plants himself in front of you, arms crossed, but the playful gleam in his eye is unmistakable. “Favorite person, huh? That’s some serious stuff,” he teases, though his voice softens at the edges. His fingers tug at the chain around his neck—a small, nervous gesture—as he leans in, his tone dropping to a near whisper. “Guess what? You’re mine too.”

Later, you find him tinkering with something in his hideout. It’s a small, intricate pendant, the gears moving in perfect harmony. When he hands it to you, there’s no mistaking the pride in his voice. “A favorite deserves somethin’ special, right?." ─ ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆─ Jayce ₊˚⊹ ᰔ⭑.ᐟ

Jayce freezes, his broad shoulders going rigid as your words sink in. He was mid-laugh, hammer slung over one shoulder, radiating the confidence of someone who’s used to leading and inspiring. But this? This was different. He turns to face you, the sunlight catching the gold accents of his armor and the stray strands of hair falling across his forehead. His dark brown eyes search yours, the vulnerability there stark against his usual bravado. “You mean that?” he asks softly, his voice so low it’s almost a whisper. When you nod, his lips part in a smile that’s so genuine it could melt steel. His laugh comes next, warm and boyish, and he shakes his head like he can’t believe his luck. “Wow,” he breathes, rubbing the back of his neck. “That… that’s probably the nicest thing anyone’s ever said to me.” For all his brilliance and ambition, you can tell your words have touched a part of him he doesn’t often let show.

He sets the hammer down with a soft clink and steps closer, his larger frame almost shielding you. His hand brushes against your shoulder, tentative at first, before it settles there firmly, grounding you both. “You’re something else, you know that?” he says, his tone a mix of admiration and affection. “Guess I’ll have to work extra hard to keep that title.” ─ ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆─ Viktor₊˚⊹ ᰔ⭑.ᐟ

The room goes still. Viktor’s pen stops scratching against the paper, suspended mid-air as if your words had reached out and taken hold of it. His head tilts slightly, golden eyes peering up at you through strands of messy brown hair. “I—what?” he stammers, the faint tremor in his voice betraying his disbelief. It’s rare to see Viktor, the ever-focused genius, so utterly disarmed. He sets the pen down carefully, as though afraid any sudden movement might break the spell. “You’re joking,” he says, though the slight hitch in his tone suggests he desperately hopes you aren’t. When you shake your head, his lips part in a soft, almost boyish smile—one that carries no trace of his usual guardedness. “Your favorite person…” he repeats, testing the words as though they were foreign. His slender fingers, ink-stained and delicate, fiddle nervously with the edge of his sleeve.

“I… don’t think I’ve ever been anyone’s favorite anything,” he admits quietly, his accent thick with unspoken emotion. There’s a long pause before he meets your gaze fully, his eyes shining with a mixture of gratitude and disbelief. “Thank you. Truly.” Later, you’d find him working late into the night, crafting something small but exquisite. When he finally hands it to you—a delicate charm inscribed with intricate patterns—it’s accompanied by a shy, almost bashful smile. “For my favorite person,” he murmurs, the words soft but heartfelt. ─ ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆─ Jinx ₊˚⊹ ᰔ⭑.ᐟ

Jinx’s entire body reacts to your words. Her head snaps up, her electric blue hair flying as she whirls around to face you, pink eyes wide with disbelief. “Wait, WHAT?!” she screeches, her voice high-pitched and chaotic. She grabs your shoulders with both hands, her grip firm but not painful, as if she’s trying to ground herself in the moment. “Did you just—did you just say I’m your favorite person?” Her face is a kaleidoscope of emotions—shock, glee, a flicker of doubt, and then unrestrained joy. She laughs, a sound that’s wild and unhinged but full of genuine delight. “Oh, man, you’re not pulling my leg, are ya? Swear on it! Swear on a cupcake!” When you assure her, she lets out a triumphant whoop, throwing her arms around you in a tight, slightly chaotic hug.

But as the laughter dies down, something softer emerges. Her hands linger on your shoulders, her manic energy settling into something more vulnerable. “I mean… that’s cool and all,” she says, trying to play it off, but her voice wavers. “Didn’t think anyone’d ever say that to me.” She pulls back, her grin still wide but tinged with something deeper, more fragile. “Guess that makes you my favorite, too.”