#sibling fluff | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

rainroses45 · 7 months ago

Text

Over the Edge

☾ description: i don’t know how to describe this basically you have a one to one talk with sirius and regulus makes a surprise appearance (Sirius Black & Sister Reader)

☾ a/n: i watched the edge of seventeen cried my heart out AND THEN WROTE THIS BC OMG I GOT MAJOR INSPO (NOT EDITED)

☾ song inspiration: Novo amor - ontario instrumental

☾ Warnings: uuummm none that i can’t think of..does sadness count?

⋆˖⁺‧₊☽ the edge of seventeen ☾₊‧⁺˖⋆

┊ ┊ ┊ ┊ ┊

┊ ┊ ┊ ˚★⋆｡˚ ⋆

┊ ┊ ⋆

┊ ★⋆

You stood in front of the dimly lit hallway - watching, waiting for some explosion to happen. A giant fire or a crash of useless antics giving you a reason to open the door, yet nothing happened. The whisk of the cool air caused a ghostly tune to string your ears into a ringing of pain. You continued to stand still but what if, what if you could just drop dead and never have to speak to him again. Curse this stupid family, and curse this pride you held within your harden heart.

The door seemed to stretch farther and farther away from you with every tick of that annoying clock downstairs. Without letting another thought pass through the statue of time, you took a shaky step forward and knocked on his door.

You stared at the black door for a moment before deciding to leave, but just as you were about to turn your back, you heard the creak of the floorboards.

Sirius opened the door. He simply believed it was Regulus needing comfort after having another nightmare situation with father, but he was surprised to see you 5 feet away from him. His younger sister, his only sister, his stupid dump sister that he tries so hard to protect from his parents.

Gently he closed the door behind him, stepping forward into the cold hallway. He said nothing as he took a step towards you, a harden face that reeked of anger but held sadden eyes.

You looked at the floor tinning your lips trying to remember what you were going to say.

“I- I just wanted to say that I’m,” you stumbled over your words as you looked at him wide eye and nervous. “I’m sorry for being a bitch tonight….and for the past couple of weeks, and the past couple of 15 years before that.”

He avoided your gaze, looking down the railing way of the stairs. His hands grasped onto the darkened wood, zoning down at it as you continued your apology.

“I know this isn’t any easier for you- or that,” he looked up to see your gaze soften at your words. You fiddled with your hands trying not to shake.

“I think some deranged part of me was thinking I’m the only one with real problems,” you lightly laughed as you looked up at him. “Like that makes me special,” you took a deep breath, “you know ever since we were little I would get this feeling like - like I’m floating outside of my body looking down at myself and I hate what I see.” Your lip trembled as you tried to wipe away the tears falling down your face. Your older brother stood still, watching as a tear ran down your cheek and fell to the floor.

“How I’m acting, the way I sound,” the rasping of your voice against your throat caused you to cough a bit. Roughly you wiped you face as you tried to stand strong. You probably looked pathetic right now crying in front of your brother who had to go through so much worse compared to you.

“And I don’t know how to change it,” you lowered your gaze down disgusted, “and I’m so scared that that feeling is never gonna go away.” Your chest rose fast but would never rest as you let the tears fall. Sirius stood still letting out a sigh before letting you continue.

“I’m sorry, really-“ you look up at him for the first time with a clear vision before turning around to head to your room. “Good night.” You whispered, leaving your brother alone in the hallway.

Sirius snapping out of his thoughts quickly called out quietly, “Y/n.”

You turned around from the staircase looking at your brother. He was wearing his pajamas from school. The proud colors of red and yellow blinded you. They stood illuminating the darkness of your black dress that mother had chosen for you for tonights dinner party.

Sirius walked towards you determinedly which caused you to flinch in fear. Grunting, your brother pulled you into a hug, holding you tightly towards his chest. You shockingly put your arms around him and closed your eyes.

“This is nice,” you took a deep breath, letting your tears stain his shirt.

“So I don’t get invited to group hugs or what?” Both of you let go as you saw Regulus making his way upstairs. “Unbelievable, I turn my back to go eat a cream puff and my two siblings are hugging without me.”

“Oh get in here you nitwit,” you laughed you pulled him into the hug. Now all of you were crying silently into each others arms. You wish it could be like this forever, but you were part of the noble House of Black. A truly distinguished punishment of the fates.

“I love you guys.” You whispered.

“We love you too sis.”

HELLLOO LOVIESSS IM ALIVEEE!!! and i’m trying to stay active with writing since i’m out of school (have been for a while but been recovering from a burn out) and what better way to keep me going then writing sad fluff :) MUAH MUAH

#sirius black #sirius black x sister reader #regulus black #regulus black x sister reader #sister reader #the noble and most ancient house of black #marauders #harry potter #marauders era #sibling fluff #RECOVERING THE TRAUMA OF THIS FANDOM #sirius orion black #sirius and regulus #regulus deserved better #the edge of seventeen #I LOVE THAT MOVIE SO MUCH

36 notes · View notes

brxflovskii · 24 days ago

Text

saving thanksgiving | kyle broflovski

✩ character: kyle broflovski (+ stan marsh)

✩ synopsis: in which thanksgiving dinner at the marsh’s goes awry, so your little brother kyle and his best friend look to you for help!

✩ tags: cursing, brother-sister bonding, kyle’s older sister is friends with stan too, randy is a horrible cook, craig + butters mentioned, you get kinda maternal lol, literally just fluff. just fluff and cuteness, you take the boys on an adventure (you take them away from randy’s cooking), oc mentioned! (kenny’s older sister) not proofread!

you loved thanksgiving. how could you not?

every year the broflovski family would come from far and wide and cram themselves into your house, shuffling through the door in a line to pinch yours and your brothers’ cheeks before piling your mother’s delicious cooking onto their plates.

okay, you only really loved the last bit. it made up for the amount of ‘my goodness, you and your brothers are so big now — you know i used to change your diapers when you were a baby!’ the three of you heard. it was magical how sheila broflovski’s famous turkey, mac and cheese, stuffing, mashed potatoes and turkey gravy managed to bring the household together and make small talk so tolerable.

but this year, you weren’t able to feel that recurring joy. this year, you and your family were invited over to the marsh household to celebrate thanksgiving as a town. it took quite a bit of convincing from randy and sharon, but eventually your mother gave in on the promise that she wouldn’t have to slave away in the kitchen.

so your distant family resorted to staying in new jersey to celebrate while you and your family headed over to the marsh house with some other friendly families. your parents were pretty close to sharon and randy marsh, having known them for the many years you guys had lived there, so you were pretty well acquainted with the two marsh children; stan and shelley.

moreso stan because of his tight-knit friendship with your little brother kyle. shelley was right in her awkward stage and hated social interaction more than she hated stan, so she was holed up in her bedroom after stacking up a little plate for herself and nipping at anybody who dared to try to greet her.

the horror began when you filed into the kitchen when dinner was announced as ready only to find that randy was going through one of his chef phases again. granted, none of it looked terrible because they were all attempted copies of recipies passed down from the greats, but it was only when you started eating did you realize that randy mainly cared about presentation.

sharon glanced at her guests’ faces as they began to choke down their food, her eyes screaming apologies until they settled defeatedly into her lap. they had absolutely no hail mary: everybody was personally instructed by randy not to bring a dish so that he could really show off his skills. he was the only one who didn’t seem to find any faults in his process, wolfing down his food with several cans of bud light.

you exchanged glances with your parents, begging with wide eyes to be excused. you had told her about katie mccormick, kyle’s friend kenny’s older sister who was your age, and her plan to have a little friendsgiving, but your mother shot you down with a brief but stern glare. so you looked over to kyle and ike, who looked like they would commit the worst of the worst crimes for even a whiff of your mom’s garlic mashed potatoes.

the night went on pretty smoothly regardless, after everybody managed to scoot the food around their plates and pretend they had gotten full off of a few bites; you lingered around at the table for a while after dinner to talk with the adults about school and your job, sharing and relating horror stories and gossip until you saw stan and kyle slip away from the table and sneak upstairs. right before kyle vanished in a little blur, he had motioned for you to follow them.

it relieved you, and it was times like this that made you thankful for your close relationship with your little brother. and that was how, after a well-played excuse of needing the restroom, you wound up in stan’s bedroom with the two, slumped on the boy’s bed beside kyle while they played some cookie-cutter first person shooter video game. the two exchanged curses and exclamations with each round when your phone buzzed in your lap.

katie mcwhoremick <3: hey, you coming?

you sighed, head slumping against stan’s neatly made comforter. kyle gave you a strange side glance as you furiously typed away.

me: no, and i’m fucking starving dude.

me: gordon randy cooked this year.

katie responded after a while, her text bubble hovering.

katie mcwhoremick: oh fuck no 😭

katie mcwhoremick: i’ll save you and your brothers a plate? :/ i’ll have kenny bring them to you later or something?

me: my hero <3

me: nah, don’t sweat it, mrs. tucker brought some bread pudding thank god

katie only responded with a heart and you set your phone down to find both stan and kyle staring at you with mischief and devious plots behind their squinted eyes. “oh, god, what are you fuckers cooking up in there?” you groaned, the gravity of it setting in when you saw they had actually set their controllers down to think.

they refused to share their little ideas, both of them assuming the other was on the same page. so they resorted to silence, but it wasn’t kept for very long when an idea suddenly wormed itself into your brain and you shot up with a gasp.

“hey, do we still have that pizza in the freezer?” you nudged kyle, who easily bit the hook you had dangled in front of him. interest filled his green eyes and he looked over at his best friend to see if he was also considering the proposition.

he thought for a moment. “yeah, but how are we gonna get past mom and dad? and are we bringing ike, too?”

“yeah, i’d feel like an asshole if i didn’t invite craig. he’s suffering, too.” stan chimed in, to which you responded with a scoff.

“dude, one pizza isn’t gonna feed the current population. it’s us three or nothing. i don’t even think ike likes pizza.” you lied, knowing your baby brother liked to nibble on the soft dough and did very much enjoy pepperoni. but you were starving and you knew the two boys were, too. they were getting to that age where the kitchen didn’t stand a chance against them.

kyle’s eyes narrowed. ike likes pizza, his expression said. but eventually it faded into one of defeat and he shrugged. “yeah dude, i’m hungry. no offense to your dad, stan.”

“full offense, that food was shit.” stan mumbled as he shut down his computer.

you led the little group downstairs and prayed you could make it to the door without anybody noticing you, but it seemed your mother was waiting for your descent. “oh, bubbie, where are you kids headed to?” sheila asked, making all three of you spin on your heels.

you could see kyle and stan actively avoiding the curious gaze of their friend who was still at the table. a gaze that shifted to you while you recanted your rehearsed excuse of, “well, we need to take a few laps around the block and work off all of that food. kyle’s blood sugar might be a little off.” you lied, slapping the ginger’s shoulder when he shot you a ‘what the fuck’ look.

blame the diabetic, why don’t you? you heard his words echo in your head despite him never uttering them.

“oh, god,” sheila dove for her purse. “do you need his glucometer?” worry made her voice waver a bit, and you were quick to calm her down.

“don’t worry ma, he’s fine!” you started to usher the two outside. “just need to reconnect with nature, you know how it is.”

“you know, sheila,” mr. stotch spoke up from the other end of the table. “i don’t know how you do it. you never hear kids say things like that anymore. see, if butters was more like your kiddos, maybe he’d be here instead of grounded in his room at home.”

you winced at the idea of the sweet little boy locked up in his bedroom on thanksgiving, his parents enjoying — that being an overstatement — dinner without him.

while your mother graciously accepted the flattery, with a little concern, you slipped outside and ran down the driveway with the boys before anybody could question you guys further.

“are we seriously walking? your house is like a few blocks away.” stan grumbled.

“complain again, you’re going back upstairs, asswipe.” you shot back as you revealed the car keys that you had swiped from your dad’s coat on the rack by the staircase. the boys hurried into the car and in just a few seconds, you were barreling down the road, a frozen pizza on your mind.

you adjusted the radio to some van halen while the boys chatted excitedly among themselves, kyle hanging over the back of his seat to face stan. you wanted to poke him and tell him to put his seatbelt on, but he rarely ever had adventures like these.

“hey,” kyle started as he plopped his butt back into his seat. “thanks, dude.”

you spared him a quick glance, smiling. “yeah, yeah.” you patted the top of his green hat, smushing it down onto his ginger curls.

“yeah, thanks,” stan spoke from over your shoulder as you pulled into your driveway. “i wish i had a sister like you, man.”

“hey,” you said playfully, “you do have a sister and she loves you.” you pointed a loosely lecturing finger in his direction, flattered at the compliment but silently feeling a little bad for the way stan spoke about shelley behind her back.

you could never imagine yourself and kyle or ike having such a strained relationship. from the day kyle was born and ike came home from the adoption center, sheila and gerald drilled the importance of family into all of your heads. you cared for those boys like they were your own children, if that’s what having children felt like. sure, they pissed you off and worked your last nerve like they were getting $50 a minute for it, but they were your flesh and blood.

still, stan gave no response, only a thin-lipped stare that definitely told you otherwise. you rolled your eyes and gestured for stan to get out of the car.

the two dove onto the couch while you preheated the oven and fished the delectable boxed pizza out of the freezer to thaw for a minute. it didn’t take long for it to cook and the three of you had grubby plates and empty bags of chips scattered around the sofa while you watched the screen. you had no idea how fortnite worked so you opted to cheer and boo when you thought appropriate.

“dude that was so much better than my dad’s cooking.” stan sighed after the pair’s nth victory. the boys were beginning to get visibly sleepy and you knew you had about twenty minutes before you had to pull a blanket out of the closet for them.

you shot a quick text to your mom explaining why your car was no longer at the marsh’s house and to call you when they were ready to head home — which would surely be soon. mrs. tucker’s bread pudding definitely wouldn’t last long with them.

your attention was broken when you felt a gentle weight on your shoulder and glanced down to see kyle curling up against your bicep. you wrapped your arm around him, squeezing him in a hug.

“best thanksgiving ever,” he mumbled as they geared up for, very likely, their last fortnite round.

happy thanksgiving yall! hope everyone had good food unlike the entirety of randy and sharon’s dinner table 🫶

#south park #south park fluff #fluff #kyle broflovski #butters stotch #stan marsh #south park kyle #south park masterlist #kyle broflovski fluff #kyle brovlofski #sp kyle #sp fluff #sibling fluff #older sibling fluff #stan marsh fluff #sp stan #south park stan

11 notes · View notes

stuntdemon-6 · 2 months ago

Text

When the White Winds Blow...

Game of Thrones (show) fanfic. Pre-series. Fluff. A little bit of ansgt in Jon's section, cause even at 11 he's still a broody little bastard. 2,000+ words

Summery - The storm was fiercer than any Winterfell had seen in years. The wind seemed to shake the stone walls, and it was impossible to sleep with the thunderous noise outside. Northerners don't scare easy, especially not from something as simple as the weather… But children do. The Stark children are no exception. They knew if they sought out their parents, their Lord Father would just send them back to their beds. They were far too proud to seek their Septa, even the youngest little lord. Where else are they supposed to turn, except their older brother? It's the snow that's scaring them, so it should be a Snow that comforts them, shouldnt it?

Authors Note: I know Rickon would have been born already, in the show's timeline, but I couldnt decide where a 1-ish year old would fit into this story. Like, would he be in a nursery? Does he still have a wetnurse? Would Robb have gone to his room to get him, and bring him to Jon's to be with the rest? Or would they leave him to the Septa, or would Catelynn be checking in on him? I don't know. So I decided he doesnt exist. lol.

---

Winterfell hadnt seen a blizzard of this magnitude in a long while. The wind was harsh enough to knock a grown man off his feet, tonight. The temperature dropped low enough to freeze your fingers off in no time flat. Soon there would be so much snow that hardly anyone would be able to walk through it. It wasn't anywhere near the kind of weather winter would bring soon enough, but after such a long and comparatively mild summer, it was truly an unsettling event. Northerners don't scare easy, mind you, especially not from something as simple as the weather… But children do.

The first to give into fear was Bran. To the surprise of no one. He was the youngest, after all. A child of only 5. He had already been jumpy during the day when the storm was only just beginning. No matter how many times someone assured him it was 'only the wind,' he still startled at every gust and refused to step outside. His older brothers teased him, but for once he didn't care. The winds howled like the monsters in Old Nans stories. And as the storm picked up, his ever so brave brothers stayed nearer and nearer to the main doors until they too began finding reasons not to leave. That scared Bran even more.

Another burst of wind came screaming past his covered window, and Bran could have sworn the great stone walls of Winterfell were trembling just as much as him. He wasnt an easy kid to scare. He wasnt. But try as he might, he couldnt choke down the gasp that escaped him, sitting bolt upright in his darkened room. He still had a candle burning at his bedside. He wasnt supposed to, not at this hour. He just didn't want it to be so… dark. Not with the noise outside. Not with the way his heart pounded.

Another scream of wind, and he had enough.

He threw aside his blanket and reached for the candle, all but running for his bedroom door. It wasnt until he grabbed the handle that he rememebed he wasnt supposed to wander the halls this late. The knowledge didnt stop him, but it did slow him down. He pealed the door open quietly and padded out into the hall, bare feet moving silently across the cold stone floor. He knew he couldn't go to his parents. His father would just send him back to his room, say something about how they have nothing to fear from wind. His mother would walk him back and tuck him in, but then she would leave, and he would be alone again. He could go find Septa Mordane, but he quickly dismissed the thought. He didn't want just anyone to know he was afraid. And besides, she would tell his mother.

His feet carried him down a familiar path, and when he realized where he was going, he was almost shocked at himself. It's so obvious, he thought, why didnt i think of him first?

Sansa didn't think there was anything wrong with being afraid, really. Not that she was, of course. But if someone else were afraid tonight, she would understand it. It only took one glance out the window to find reason for it. Sure, the sound of the wind was startling, but that should do little more than make you jump. Maybe keep you from falling asleep. No, the sound was no reason to be afraid.

The sight, though…

She shouldnt have looked outside. She should have kept her window closed like she'd been told, to keep the wind and the chill out and not let the warmth of her fireplace escape. But you can't fault an 8 year old for being curious, can you? What greeted her when she pulled the shutters back was not her usual view. It wasnt the familiar gardens and pathways and endless night sky full of glittering stars that she often wished upon. There were no trees, no towers, no walls or battlements. In a moment of pure shock, she almost wondered if she had imagined all of that. All she saw now was white.

The snow was falling so heavily, so densely, that it was all the eye could see. It blocked out the sky. It blocked out the ground. Sansa had once dreamed of what it'd be like to fly among the clouds, but if this was what she would see up there, than she wanted no part in it. It didnt even looked like she was in Winterfell. Or rather, it looked like Winterfell was gone.

Suddenly, Sansa found it difficult to breath.

She knew it was irrational. She knew it was just snow. It was just snow. In the morning, when the storm passed, the snow would be gone and Winterfell would return to her. She would look out her window and be able to see the sun. Everything would be fine come morning.

But morning was not coming anytime soon.

And Sansa was not fine now.

Septa Mordane would say she was being silly. Mother and Father would, too. Gods only knew how badly Robb would tease her if he saw her like this. But she needed someone to make it alright. Someone she could see right now to remind her that she was home. She was safe. Winterfell hadn't left her, even if the window told her otherwise. More than anything, in that very moment, Sansa needed to be held.

There was no shame in being afraid, she reminded herself as she left her room. And if there is, there's one person who wont judge me for it.

He was not scared. That's what Robb told himself, sitting at the foot of his bed with his eyes trained on the door, listening to the wind. He was 11 years old. He was practically grown. And he was a Stark, at that. He was not scared of a storm. He could fall asleep whenever he pleased, as easy as any other night, he just… wasnt tired yet. His thoughts were too busy, is all.

A storm this bad would bring heavy snowfall. Robb had seen plenty of heavy snows. Snow that came up to his knees, up to his waist even. Snow that he had a hard time moving through without help. But none of those storms had sounded this bad or lasted this long.

The storm started during the day and had only gotten progressively worse and worse, showing no signs of letting up anytime soon. How much snow would they end up with? Would it be taller than him? Would it be taller than even Father?

Would they be able to open the doors? Would there be too much for the servants to clear away, and leave them trapped inside until it began to thaw? It had been freezing cold for days and would likely stay that way. Would the snow thaw at all? How many days would it take for them to get back to life as normal?

How were horses and carts supposed to get in and out, if the snow got that bad? Would they be able to get food? Were the horses going to freeze out there?

Oh, gods.

No, he was not scared. He wasnt. He was just being… practical. That was it. Thinking about the potential risks, like a man, like the future Lord of Winterfell should. He wasnt scared. He was cautious.

A shuffling sound drew him out of his thoughts. Quiet enough that it would have been drowned out by the wind outside, if his ears hadnt already been searching for anything else to focus on. It sounded like…

With a smile, he got to his feet. He knew exactly what that sounded like. He pulled the door open, "Little late for a stroll, isnt it?"

Arya jumped nearly a foot in the air. She spun on her heel, backtracking to where he stood and hissing out, "Keep your voice down."

"You're not supposed to leave your room at night." He pointed out, smile still in place even as he lowered his volume to match hers.

"I know that!" She replied.

"Then where are you going?"

She shrugged, "To bother Jon. Why do you care?" Her words were the only calm thing about her. Her back was ramrod straight. Her eyes darted around the hall as if waiting for a monster to jump out and claw them both to shreds. When another gust of wind passed by outside, Robb watched his little sister jump once more.

"You're scared." He observed.

"Am not!"

"Than go back to bed."

Arya crossed her arms. "No."

"Because you cant sleep." Robb couldnt help but tease, "Because you're scared."

She scoffed, "You're awake too."

"I'm not tired."

"Yeah, right."

He wasnt in the mood to debate with a 6 year old girl. Not when his own thoughts were still on his perfectly reasonable concerns about the storm waging all around them. He heaved a dramatic sigh and shut his bedroom door behind him. "Come along, then, sister. Let's go bother Jon together. I'll make sure the scary wind doesnt hurt you on the way."

As they got closer to Jon's room, just down the hall from his own, Robb let a shakier and less practical thought cross his mind. Gods, Jon, please still be awake.

Jon's thoughts were not on the storm, but on his siblings. He knew them all better than anyone. Even Sansa, who recently began to fully grasp what the word 'bastard' meant and started to pull away, started only refering to him as her 'half-brother.' Despite distancing herself, she was always right next to the rest in his thoughts. He knew none of them could possibly be asleep during a storm like this. That was what kept him awake.

His younger siblings were strong, but they were still small. Jon remembered being 8 like Sansa, 6 like Arya, 5 like Bran. He remembered how badly storms used to scare him then. How he would curl up in bed, keep a candle burning in secret so as not to be left alone in the dark, refuse to look out his window in fear of what he would and wouldnt see. He remembered the one time he'd tried to seek some comfort. Wandered out of his room in the dead of night, hoping to find Septa Mordane or Maester Lewin or, hells, even Father. Anyone who might be able to assure him that the storm would pass.

He found Lady Catelynn instead. He had been younger than even Bran was, now. Hadnt truly grasped the meaning of being a bastard, hadn't yet understood why Lady Catelynn seemed to hate him so much, and in his fearful state he had all but forgotten. The scolding he received was an effective reminder.

Jon wished he could check on his siblings. There wasnt a shred of doubt in his mind that they were all scared, tonight. This storm was worse than any the younger ones had seen in their lives. Even Robb was probably unnerved by it. More than once, Jon had gotten out of bed and made it halfway to his door, intent on heading to one of thier rooms and knocking. Just knocking. If they didn't answer, than maybe he was wrong and they were able to sleep. Maybe they were tougher than he had been, at their ages. And if not, if they were as scared as he thought they'd be, than they wouldnt have to be scared alone.

But he knew they'd all send him away.

Robb would be offended at the mere thought of him being afraid of a snowstorm. Arya, too. They both saw themselves as far too strong and rational for that. Sansa might be open to having company, but she would never want his company. Not anymore. Bran might let him in, but he would be worried about Jon getting in trouble for being out of bed so late. He wouldn't want him to stay.

So there he laid. Staring at the ceiling above his bed. Worrying about his siblings.

When the sound of shuffling feet and quiet voices met his ears. He sat up slowly, careful not to make a noise as he strained to hear more. He couldnt make out any words, but he heard several people speaking in hushed tones just outside his door. Then a hesitant knock.

He got up and answered it.

Robb stood at the front of the pack, a sheepish look on his face. Arya was at his left, face set in a frown and arms crossed, taut as a bowstring. A step behind to Robb's right was Bran. The poor kid was shaking, his expression holding nothing but fear and making no attempt to hide that fact. At the back stood Sansa. She was the one to break the moment of silence that settled over them as Jon stared at them in open confusion. To the shock of every single one, she shoved right passed the other three and directly into Jon's arms.

He drew her close on instinct. His mind might still be struggling to make sense of it all, but if his sister needed to be held, than he would hold her. She didn't need to ask, and he didnt need to ask why. His eyes drifted over the faces of the rest, meeting each in turn, before it all clicked in his mind. He kept one arm around Sansa as he stepped aside to let them in. Bran wasted no time in climbing up onto Jon's bed and tucking his knees up to his chest. Arya followed suit, planting herself like a tree right next to him.

Robb shut the door softly behind him, whispering into the quiet room, "Hope we didn't wake you."

"No," Jon replied, "Wasn't tired."

#jon snow #robb stark #sansa stark #arya stark #bran stark #Game of thrones fanfiction #Jon Snow fluff #Sibling fluff #Wholesome Stark Siblings #no incest #Because in this fandom that has to be said #The Stark siblings being siblings is something i need to see more of in this world #And Jon being the protective big brother we all know he is #First game of thrones fic btw #Hope its halfway decent lol #cross posted on ao3

15 notes · View notes

circus4apsycho8 · 2 years ago

Note

Hello! I love your blog so I wanted to make this request for Ninjago!!

I was wondering if you could write a scenario for each ninja were they have an older sister reader where the reader is reflecting on hard times from the past and the ninjas are there to comfort their older sister and just a bunch of sibling fluff!!( Also is it alright if you do Kai and Nya together so they both can have an older sister cuz some writers do them separately!!!) No rush take all the time you need 🩷🩷🩷

𝚊/𝚗: 𝚘𝚏 𝚌𝚘𝚞𝚛��𝚎! 𝚒 𝚕𝚘𝚟𝚎 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚒𝚍𝚎𝚊 𝚘𝚏 𝚋𝚒𝚐 𝚜𝚒𝚜 𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚎𝚛 :))))) 𝚒 𝚑𝚘𝚙𝚎 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚎𝚗𝚓𝚘𝚢!

older sister!reader scenarios w/ the ninja

𝚔𝚊𝚒 & 𝚗𝚢𝚊

You’re happy that your parents are back. You really are.

So, why does it feel like you’re lying to yourself?

You find yourself alone in the Bounty early one morning - just before training. The others have yet to wake, leaving you to the quiet and your thoughts.

A stab of guilt courses throughout your heart as you think about your parents - both safe at Four Weapons. You, Kai, and Nya would be stopping to visit them in a day or so. And part of you is…what? Apathetic? Is that how you’re feeling?

When your parents had disappeared all those years ago, they had left you to look after both your siblings and the shop - hardly a burden a child should have to bear. But you did. Many nights, away from Kai and Nya’s prying little ears you would silently cry - mourning their disappearance, wondering if they’d ever be back. With the stress of it all piling on, you had hoped and hoped for them to return.

But they never did.

And so it continued - the stress, the chores, the ongoing lack of money, the burden of raising your siblings. It sucked every ounce out of you, and a side of you had been angry. Angry that your childhood had been snatched away overnight.

Are you just taking it out on them? Are those feelings finally resurfacing for you to sort through?

Conflict gnaws away at your insides as sneaky footsteps pad in your direction. A creak in the wood catches your attention as you snap your head in the noise’s direction.

“Woah! Sorry, didn’t mean to scare you,” Kai notes, grinning apologetically as he sits down a few feet away. Nya follows suit, the three of you sitting cross-legged in a triangle shape.

“You just look kind of down,” Nya admits, folding her hands together. “Is everything okay?”

You sigh, glancing over the horizon. “Yes…well, I don’t really know.”

“It’s about Mom and Dad, isn’t it?” Kai prompts.

With a sigh, you nod in response. “Yeah.”

“We haven’t really gotten the chance to talk about it,” Nya notes. “And a lot’s happened.”

“Are you guys…happy?” you wonder.

“I am,” Kai admits. “Uh…but I’m also kind of nervous, if that makes any sense?”

“Me too,” Nya adds. “I just…I don’t know what they’re going to be like, or how they’re going to act, or how I should act…”

“It’s certainly going to take some adjusting to have them around,” you muse. “But I guess I’m in about the same boat. Happy, but conflicted all the same. And I’m beginning to understand why, I think. Because…well, of course I can empathize with their situation. I get that it wasn’t their fault. But, at the same time, I still can’t help but be angry. I don’t know…it’s just a lot. And with Sensei gone, it makes it more difficult for me to process.”

“I know…and it happened so fast, too,” Nya replies. “It was hard to process all at once. And I think that any feelings you might have are valid.”

Kai nods, his eyes blazing with that comfortingly familiar determination. “Just know that we’re with you. We’ll tackle this together, like we always do.”

You grin, a tear running down your cheek as you shift to your knees, scooting towards your siblings so that you can bring them both in for a hug.

“I love you two so much,” you mumble, voice breaking slightly. “Never forget that.”

𝚓𝚊𝚢

“No way.”

“Yes way,” Jay counters, chuckling as he dangles a key from between his fingers, smirking at you before going to unlock the door to the giant mansion before you – the mansion that apparently belonged to your biological father.

Sure enough, the door swings open, allowing the two of you to slip through. Jay makes for the light switch while you’re left gawking at the interior.

“Fritz Donnegan? What?” you mumble, staring at a giant statue of the character.

“Our dad played Fritz Donnegan!” Jay chatters excitedly, beckoning you closer to him. You frown at that title – dad. Cliff Gordon? Your true father? It doesn’t stick well with you just yet. While they aren’t your biological parents, Ed and Edna would forever be your mom and dad. Not some egotistical, womanizing actor who hadn’t bothered to make contact with either of you.

Regardless, you make your way over to your little brother, arms folded as you watch him move a golden trophy. To your surprise, it opens a secret room.

“Isn’t this just the coolest thing?!” Jay chirps, rushing inside. “Our dad has a secret room!”

You sigh, unable to prevent yourself from smiling at your brother’s excitement. At least he’s happy.

“Yeah...it’s cool, I guess,” you mumble, glancing around. “Wow, he actually kept up with us?”

“Yeah, he did,” Jay answers as the two of you study the section of the wall filled with pinned pictures and articles featuring you and Jay. “I guess he cared at least a little bit.”

You remain silent, turning away from the wall as a newfound bitterness wells within your chest.

“Hey...what’s wrong?”

“I...I don’t know,” you confess, sitting down on the floor with a sigh. Jay sits a few feet away from you, a toy gun in his hand. “It just...doesn’t feel real. Or right, for the matter. I mean...we’re his kids, but he didn’t even want to meet us. Well, I-I get that having kids isn’t for everyone, and still we don’t know what happened between him and our biological mom, but still.”

“I understand,” Jay agrees, twirling the toy in his hands. “I mean...I didn’t have much time to process it either, what with the threat we had been facing at the time. But this doesn’t have to change the fact that Ed and Edna are the ones who raised us. We don’t have to stop calling them Mom and Dad because of this.”

You pause momentarily, pondering Jay’s words before nodding. “Yeah. Yeah, you’re right. Thanks, Jay.”

“Anytime,” he replies, aiming the toy gun at you before pulling the trigger. You squeal, expecting to be hit by foam dart or something. “Haha! Got you!”

You frown, glancing at the fake gun only to find that there’s a flag with the word “Zap!” printed on it.

“Jay...” you growl, sitting up slightly.

“Ah!” he shrieks as you promptly tackle him.

𝚌𝚘𝚕𝚎

“No. Nope. Not happening. We will steal that cup before I have to deal with him again,” you spit, stomping out of the brig.

“Wait, why?” Kai wonders, the others glancing among themselves in confusion.

Cole sighs, holding his hands up to the rest of the team before following you out. “Hold on, let me talk to her.”

You hear this, sighing in irritation as you make your way outside of the Bounty. “Are you seriously willing to put up with Dad’s shit just to get the Blade Cup when we can just steal it? We won’t risk our cover that way either!”

“Okay, wait, just slow down,” Cole encourages. You twirl to face him, crossing your arms as you glare at him. “Trust me when I say that I don’t want to face Dad either.”

“Great. We’ll steal it tonight and be on our way.”

“But I don’t want to exactly steal it either,” Cole adds.

“Cole, we’re talking the Great Devourer here. You know - massive snake that will consume all of Ninjago. I think I’m willing to break a few locks rather than risk the entirety of mankind, thank you.”

“I agree, but I think there’s something else we should both consider,” he starts tentatively. You clench your jaw, hoping he doesn’t bring up what you think he will. “I know that we’re not on good terms with him right now. But...people can change-”

“No,” you decline, stepping back. “Lou won’t ever change. He’s got his head so far up his ass that he refuses to confront reality. He’ll just force his kids to do it instead!”

“That was then!” Cole counters, voice still calm. “We don’t know the person that he is now. Don’t you think that Mom would have wanted us to give him another chance?”

“Mom is dead,” you hiss. “And she would have been mad at how he handled her death.”

A heavy silence drapes across the two of you as you find yourself tearing up, averting your gaze from your little brother.

“I...you know I’m not denying that, right? I’m not saying that your points are wrong, because they’re not. We have a reason to be mad with him. But...all I’m saying is that we just give him a last chance. We can keep our cover going, or we can tell him who we really are, but...I don’t think it’s right just to avoid him now. If we see that he hasn’t changed...then we can just cut him out completely.”

You stare absentmindedly out towards the sunset, contemplating Cole’s words. Part of you doesn’t know if you’re ready to see Lou again, but...the other half of you knows that Cole is right.

Closing your eyes, you nod. “Okay. Okay. You’re right. But...if it goes downhill...”

“We won’t talk to him again,” Cole assures. “Sound doable?”

“I think so,” you reply, smiling sadly at him. Cole quietly comes over to you, offering you a hug which you accept.

“We’re not going to let him walk over us again,” he mumbles.

“I know. I know. I just...” you trail off, unsure of how to phrase your feelings as he hugs you.

“We’ll figure it out,” he replies. “We always do, don’t we?”

𝚣𝚊𝚗𝚎

Your fingers absentmindedly trace patterns within the snow topping the earth, eyes lingering on the tombstone jutting from the ground.

It’s been months since your father died, leaving you feeling lost and with a newfound little brother whom you’d met at his funeral.

Tears sting at your eyes as you close them, wishing you had found Julien earlier. Why did he have to pass so quickly? He was a good man, and you were only just beginning to reconnect with him after being separated for a few years.

Your thoughts are interrupted by the crunching of snow behind you. After taking a moment to wipe your tears, you turn around.

“Oh,” you say, spotting Zane standing a few feet away from you. “Hi, Zane.”

“Good afternoon,” he greets quietly, coming to sit beside you. For a moment, the two of you are simply quiet, both working through your own thoughts. “I thought you had left for college?”

“I’m about to,” you explain, gaze downcast. “I just...needed to say goodbye, I think.”

“I understand,” Zane answers. “Our team is preparing to take another mission, so I know I will not be able to visit for quite some time.”

You nod, biting your lip as a tear falls from your cheek. “I miss him, Zane.”

Zane turns to look at you, eyes furrowed and expression sharing your pain. “As do I.”

“I wish he was still here,” you admit. “I just...how do I know that I’m taking the right path if he isn’t here to guide us?”

“There is one fact I know for certain: he would be proud of us no matter the path we choose,” he states. “He would be so happy to see you beginning your new life.”

You smile softly, nodding in agreement. “Yeah. You’re right. And he would be proud of you, too.”

𝚕𝚕𝚘𝚢𝚍

You can’t believe that woman has the audacity to show herself to the two of you. Your glare is stuck on Misako for a moment before you spin, immediately making your way out of the area.

Thankfully, Lloyd seems to be on the same page because he follows you through the twisted halls of the museum, both silent as you stew in your anger. Soon enough, the two of you find a secluded spot to sit at.

“After all this time...” you trail off, exhaling sharply as you shake your head. “Now she’s showing her face. Can you believe it?”

“No...no, I can’t,” Lloyd answers, sitting down next to the bottomless pit. “Why now? And not when we needed her?”

“And especially after Dad tried so hard to keep us together! She just cast us aside at some random school. For what? To get rid of us?”

“Who knows,” Lloyd responds as you sit next to him. You remain silent, biting your lip to prevent your voice from shaking.

Even without words, Lloyd understands that you’re upset. He simply lays his head on your shoulder, the two of you thinking in silent support of each other.

“What do you think we should do?” Lloyd wonders after a few minutes, pulling away slightly.

“I honestly don’t know,” you admit, shaking your head as you stare at the depths of the pit.

“Well...whatever you decide to do, just know I believe in you,” he adds.

You smile softly, ruffling his hair. “Thanks, kiddo.”

#ninjago & reader #ninjago x reader #older sister reader #sibling fluff #ninjago x sister!reader

146 notes · View notes

mislamicpearl · 6 years ago

Text

Some of my favorite Derse Twins sibling moments

They're the most sibling siblings that ever siblinged I love them so much.

Originally posted on DeviantArt July 2, 2018

#mispearl art #mispearl homestuck #homestuck #dave strider #rose lalonde #derse twins #karkat voice: this is not shipping you heinous tool #sibling fluff #my favorite brother sister pair ever #dave homestuck #rose homestuck #hs fanart #repost art from da #the siblings ever

17 notes · View notes

knwatchesninjago · 11 months ago

Text

S1E1 Rise of Snakes

OHMY GOSHHHH!!!! I LOVED THIS EPISODE SOO MUCH!!

(^ keep in mind that I prob will be saying that a lot ^)

Okayyyy!!! So this ep had a lot of nice...

#FamilyBonding

---

BUT BEHOLD!!!! THE LITTLE GREMLIN LLOYDSTER IS HERE!!!!!!!!!!!

#Lloydster_Enters_The_Scene

---

And of course... it wouldn't be Lloyd if he didn't regret his life choices, loll

#RegretsLifeDesisions

---

I'm soo happy this little prankster is here!!! Been waiting for his appearance for a while!! :D

Still can't believe that he grows up to be this:

*sniff sniff* He grew up so fast!! <333

------

As usual, I'm still questioning the logic of ninjago... does physics exist in this world?!?!

*sigh*

Anyways... byeeee!!

~KN out~

https://kittenninja14.tumblr.com/post/731916269075480576/hey-yall-i-just-found-this-incredible-video-and

33 notes · View notes

alchamy34 · 4 months ago

Text

Bendy and Audrey are one of the best sibling fluff

Yeah, this is the most popular fact about Bendy and the Dark Revival. It is impossible to deny this. They were made in the exact same machine, and they weren't employees of the studio that Joey turned into Ink people.

Bendy and Audrey are two sides of the same coin. Bendy was the mistake, Audrey was the perfect creation.

I don't think Bendy is truly evil, I'd be like him if my creators saw me as a mistake or a monster and locked me up. Ngl, I can understand why GENT was satisfied to see the ink demon feeling pain after they successfully shrunk him into a harmless cartoonish form. But Bendy wasn't the real bad guy. The real villain was the man who started this nightmare Henry was trapped in: Joey Drew.

So when Bendy killed him, I kinda saw it as karma. Though I didn't hate him 100%. Audrey was the only good thing that came out of his...intentions for the studio.

Bendy in the first game was an iconic horror-themed character, but I wish we had content like a modernized version of the Bendy cartoons. Had potential and Audrey could fit the franchise in her ink form.

I can imagine a scenario where people would assume Bendy (harmless form) is the younger sibling but be shocked to know that assumption is false. Audrey would be such a good influence on the devil darling. It would be wholesome family fluff, hilarious antics and hurt/comfort.

Yes, I am aware of the number of fanfics about them being in a brother-sister relationship. And I am glad that so many people have that opinion. Great, now I want to work on an Audrey and Bendy fanfic. There's too much potential and I need to find more fanfics with the siblings' headcanons.

#batim bendy #bendy and the ink machine #bendy and the dark revival #audrey drew #bendy and audrey are siblings #siblings #family #hurt/comfort #sibling fluff #ink demon

10 notes · View notes

dogbound1128 · 3 months ago

Text

☆ You & your sibling f/o playing the wii together when you both were younger

#f/o community #sibling f/o #familial f/o #platonic f/o #f/o comfort #comforting #sibling fluff #not palestine #nintendo mention

6 notes · View notes

tbnrpotato · 4 months ago

Text

Our Own Choices

Chapter 15

Warnings: Violence, swearing, possibly blood

When we all return to the Marauder, Tech takes a look at the lightsaber wound on my arm, applying some cooling burn cream and injecting some sort of medicine into the wound, before bandaging it up.

"Thanks," I sigh as the cream numbs the burning feeling.

"You do not need to thank me. It is standard protocol that wounds are tended to after a mission," Tech replies without even looking at me, typing away at his datapad, before heading to the pilot's seat.

I sit at the back seat with Echo, Tech and Wrecker had them installed when we went for a quick supply run shortly after I joined them.

Gonky waddles over to me from the back, making some "gonk" sounds, which I understand as "Is your arm okay?" I smile and pat Gonky on the head. "I'm fine."

He seems to enjoy the gesture as he nudges me a little with his metal body. I take off my helmet and pat Gonky on the head again, breathing in the scent of the ship as I lean back in my chair. I can never get sick of the smell. The familiarity of Echo's scent, that minty one from Crosshair, the dirt from Hunter because he always sniffs it like it's cocaine, gunpowder for Wrecker, and Tech smells like the 501st barracks if the air was sour. Hunter says I smell like chlorine. I love the smell, it feels so welcoming, almost like the 501st, but in a different way.

I put my helmet back on as I remember that I'm supposed to act like a "good soldier" who "follows orders" to gain Crosshair's trust and maybe help him remove his chip like how Fives did.

I sigh as we take off for Kamino. If order 66 was issued, most Jedi would be dead by now.

Even General Skywalker.

At least Commander Tano left the order, so she should be safe.

How's Rex? Will he be back on Kamino? Is he okay? Should I comm him?

Echo puts a hand on my shoulder, noticing my worry. As much as I try to hide it, he's known me long enough to notice the little habits I do when I'm worried.

"Ad'ika, everything's going to okay," he says, looking at me with a slight smile.

"I'm just worried about Rex. Maybe I should comm him-"

"You can do it when we get back to Kamino."

I sigh at the mention of our home planet. I never wanted to go back there. Never wanted to go back to the white, sterile prison I escaped from just before the war started. But hey, it's not like I have much of a choice.

I keep my helmet on throughout the journey. It's more comfortable, really. No one gets to see my face in case I commit a war crime or something. Crosshair and Hunter fall asleep on their seats while I turn on the music from my datapad and connect it to the earpiece in my helmet, listening to Avicii music.

After a few hours of finding a bunch of music to listen to, I hear Tech say, "We are coming up on Kamino."

I switch off the music, still keeping my helmet on.

"It's good to be home. How long has it been?" Wrecker asks.

Not good to be home. And 180 rotations based on their schedule.

"180 rotations in a standard cycle, but galactic zone changes but the adjusted figure at around 205."

Oh. Damn.

"Wut?" Wrecker asks.

Are you that stupid?

Echo sighs. "A long time." He sounds so fed up, rolling his eyes when Wrecker agrees.

I sit behind Hunter and Crosshair, listening in on every conversation. I notice Crosshair turning to look at Hunter, who responds, eyes closed, with a "What?"

"You sure that Padawan died when he fell?"

"Sure I'm sure. Why?" Hunter opens his eyes as he talks.

"Well, usually when someone falls you look down, not across."

"Well some of us don't like to watch," Hunter replies as he stands up and walks to where Echo, Tech and Wrecker are. Crosshair and I remain at the back, I silently observe as he crosses his arms.

I hear thunder crashing from outside the ship, and it shakes me to my core. Only Kamino thunder sounds like that. I remember hiding in my bunk every night, trying to drown out the sounds of waves crashing against the supports. My squadmates laughing at me for being a coward, saying it was because I was defective.

One of the days the storms were much worse than usual. The thunder too loud for my liking, I could almost feel the waves reaching to the platform. I was sneaking out of my barracks, when I saw 99 carrying blasters to the weapon storage area.

"Hey Aris," he called out when he noticed me. "What're you doing still up?"

"I couldn't sleep," I admitted. "Thunder was too loud."

99 puts the blasters he was carrying to the side and puts his arm around my shoulder, guiding me into the barracks where the rest of my sleeping squadmates are.

"Cmon kid, let's get you to bed."

I climb into my bunk as another crash of thunder startles me, and I curl up into a ball in my bunk.

"Everything's going to be okay kid. Just relax and think of something else," 99 says as he puts the blanket over me, tucking me into bed. I smile up at him. "Thanks 99."

He gives me a short nod, his half-smile making the wrinkles on his face even more pronounced as he walks out.

That night I had the best sleep of my life.

And now 99's dead. And I'm all grown up. I sigh as I push the urge to cry down and focus on the present.

"Unidentified transport, transmit your clearance code," A voice from the front of the ship says.

"Clearance code? Don't they know who we are?" Echo asks.

"Must be a protocol drill," Tech replies. "Transmitting clearance code."

"Authorization confirmed. Proceed to landing bay one-tac-one."

Tech pilots the ship into the landing bay. The door of the ship opens and Hunter and Tech walk out first, with me following behind them. If I'm in the middle, hopefully no one will notice the new addition to the squad. Echo, Wrecker and Crosshair walk out behind me, all of their helmets off except me and Crosshair's.

Clones patrol the landing bay, and I spot the familiar crimson armor of the Coruscant Guard troopers. I scoff at the sight.

Fucking Coruscant Guard. Murdered a good soldier who just tried to do his duty. I would kill them any day.

"Shock troopers? What's the Coruscant Guard doing here?" Hunter's voice interrupts my silent trash talking of the Coruscant Guard.

Oh. Right. Forgot they were supposed to be on Coruscant.

"Level five lockdown remains in effect. Security teams, report to the command center." A voice on the speakers says.

Lockdown? For what? Kamino doesn't look like it's in any danger.

"This isn't a drill," Tech observes.

How perceptive.

"Aw man. What did we miss now?" Wrecker sounds disappointed.

"The end of the war," a random shock trooper answers.

"Say that again, trooper?" Hunter asks.

"General Grievous was defeated on Utapau. The separatist leadership has collapsed. The war is over."

"Just like I said," Tech says.

Of course. He's usually right.

Wrecker gasps dramatically. "It is just like you said."

I roll my eyes at Wrecker's comment as I watch troopers carry a body laid out on a stretcher covered by a piece of cloth.

A body? On Kamino? No battles happened recently...

A lightsaber falls out from under the cloth and onto the floor.

A Jedi.

So I was right. Most of the Jedi are dead.

The shock trooper picks the lightsaber up from the floor as the rest of the batch look at each other with a look that says, "something's not right".

"Is there a problem?" The shock trooper asks.

"No...problem. We'll just head to our barracks then," Hunter says, looking back at the rest of us for a moment before walking off, with the rest of us following.

"Best hurry. There's a mandatory general assembly at 1500," the shock trooper says.

We walk through the sterile, almost blinding white hallways of Kamino. I instinctively stay close to Echo, not to the point of looking like a clingy child, but still within half a meter radius of him.

Echo looks back at me. "You okay?"

I take a deep breath to calm my nerves. "Yeah. I just...never thought I'd find myself back here. Again." It's my way of saying, "I don't want to be back here. I'm so scared."

Echo gives me a short nod, which is his way of saying, "Everything's going to be okay" in public. We pass rows of troopers marching towards somewhere, in an almost robotic way.

"It's not just the clones on Kaller," Hunter says. "All the regs are acting strange." Tech looks around. "Let's test that theory." He proceeds to walk up to a random clone and asks, "Excuse me, trooper. What division are you from?"

Obviously annoyed, the clone elbows him in the side with his blaster. "Step aside."

"Oh, well they seem the same to me."

"I'm not surprised. I'd be annoyed too," I speak up, trying to lighten the mood. No one replies.

We reach their barracks and the moment the door opens, I'm greeted with the scent of oil, rotting food, and sweat. I scrunch up my nose under my helmet.

Tech walks in first, then Wrecker, who exclaims how it's good to be back while setting his helmet on a crate.

"The smell's getting worse," Echo comments.

"You're still new. You'll get used to it," Hunter reassures him, patting him on the shoulder. Crosshair pushes past the both of them. "Speak for yourself."

I hesitantly walk into the barracks, the smell gets stronger when I enter. I look around, observing my surroundings. It's quite messy, Tech has a bunch of random parts scattered on the table, Echo has a hammock at the side, and Crosshair's bunk has crates in front of it to block people from entering it.

This is the first time I'm entering their barracks. The last time they went back to Kamino I refused to go, and they went to pick me up in a few days. Those few days were the best of my life.

Crosshair goes to sit on the crates blocking his bunk while the rest of them go to sit at the table in the middle of the room. Wrecker marks the board for the number of missions we completed.

Still keeping my helmet on by instinct, I walk over to Crosshair, who's currently chewing on a toothpick, helmet off.

"Um. Can I have one?" I awkwardly gesture to the toothpick in his mouth.

"No," he replies. "Go away."

"Look we need to get you to the medbay right now or as soon as possible."

"Why?"

"Because there's an inhibitor chip in your head which basically makes you follow orders blindly and it's working for all the other clones except us but it's working for you and-"

"I'm fine."

"No you're not you carried out Order 66 and-"

"Shut up," he says in a dangerously low tone. My temper starts to flare up.

"Make me."

Crosshair stands up from the crates and cracks his knuckles, ready to draw his knife if things escalate. I draw my knife and get into a fighting stance.

"Woah woah woah. Easy," Hunter says as he pushes us apart. I glare at Crosshair, and he glares back. Not breaking eye contact, I sheathe my knife and shove Crosshair over just for good measure before heading over to sit next to Echo.

"11 more successful missions," Wrecker says with a grin. "Like there was any doubt." He goes to sit on his bunk, picking up his tooka doll.

"Kaller wasn't a win," Echo says.

"Says who? We completed our objective."

"Not every objective," Crosshair speaks up, picking up his rifle and examining it. I draw my sword from my back and start sharpening it absentmindedly, just needing something to do with my hands.

"Hunter let that Jedi kid escape. Or do you want to keep lying to us?"

Hunter stands up and looks out the window. "I don't like to think of executing our commanders as a mission objective."

Crosshair stands up from his position on the crates.

"An order is an order."

"Since when?"

They glare at each other for a moment before Echo breaks the tension. "None of this makes sense. Those clones served alongside General Bilaba for years. How could they turn on her like that?!"

"Because of the regs' programming," Tech speaks up.

"What programming?" Hunter breaks his death stare at Crosshair to ask.

"It's been well documented that the Kaminoans inhibited the cognitive functions of clones-"

"To engineer them to follow orders without question," I finish. Tech glares at me like I just committed a horrible war crime.

"Ha! We sure don't!" Wrecker shouts, assaulting Crosshair with his tooka doll.

"Obviously we are different. They manipulated pre-existing aberrations in our DNA resulting in your brute strength, Crosshair's sharpshooting skills..." Lucky son of a bitch. "...Hunter's enhanced senses and my exceptional mind. My guess is we are immune to the effects of the programming. Though I can't be 100% certain of it.

"Well Crosshair isn't and he's in fucking denial," I say with a sarcastic smile underneath my helmet. Crosshair is walking over to probably punch me in the face when Echo gives him a glare which makes him back off. He knows how protective my ori'vod can be.

"What about Echo? He was a reg before he joined us. And Aris," Hunter asks.

"Well see guys Echo was probably damaged on Skako Minor because look at him right now no offence ori'vod, and since I'm an actual defect they probably didn't even bother I mean they were gonna terminate me anyways," I laugh under my helmet. Echo pats my shoulder. "Good thing they didn't then."

"All personnel report to the staging area for a briefing on the state of the Republic," a voice says over the speakers.

"This is one meeting I don't want to miss," Hunter says, walking to the door.

"First time for everything," Tech comments as we all head to the staging area. Troopers stand in neat rows, helmets on as they stare up at the holotransmission of a hooded figure, they look almost robotic. The thought of their individuality...Fives and Echo's chaotic nature, Hardcase's constant urge to shoot something, Uncle Wolffe's sarcasm, Rex's parental instincts, all gone...it gives me chills. I'm hardly paying attention until I hear the word "Jedi".

"...And the Jedi rebellion has been foiled. The remaining Jedi will be hunted down and defeated!" The hooded figure says. "The attempt on my life has left me scarred and deformed."

"You can say that again," Wrecker says. I almost burst out laughing.

"But I assure you, my resolve has never been stronger! In order to ensure the security and continuing stability, the Republic will be reorganized into the FIRST GALACTIC EMPIRE! For a safe and secure society."

Galactic Empire????? Man the Republic sounded so much better though-

Everyone starts cheering, except me and the batch. What's so exciting about Jedi getting killed? Right. Must be the inhibitor chip.

I look around to try and find any 501st members. None here. I'll comm Rex later. Right now, I need to focus on getting Crosshair's chip out.

I sigh as I glance at Echo, who looks equally confused as me.

"Ori'vod?" I turn to Echo.

"Yeah?"

"I need to talk to you in the barracks later. It's about Fives."

He lets out a sigh. "Okay vod'ika."

a/n: IM BACK IN THE HOUSE BOISSSSSSS

#the bad batch #the bad batch crosshair #tbb #tbb crosshair #tbb hunter #tbb tech #tbb wrecker #the bad batch hunter #the bad batch tech #the bad batch wrecker #self insert #found family #female clone #the bad batch season 1 #sibling fluff #sibling angst #gonky #gonk

11 notes · View notes

kybercrystals94 · 6 months ago

Text

Anything

Read here on Ao3!

Summer of Bad Batch | Week 3 | Prompt: "Forget I asked." | Bonus Prompt: "Can you braid my hair?"

Rated: G | Words: 1190

Crosshair wakes to a snuffling sound, and turns over to find his sister standing next to his bed. “Omega? What’s wrong?”

“I got sick,” Omega mutters, and her breath trembles. She’s crying, softly, quietly.

Crosshair reaches over and clicks on the lamp, bathing the room in a warm glow of light. But the warmth does not extend to Omega’s face, her skin pale and eyes red rimmed. She blinks rapidly, and a tear escapes, creating another shiny track down her ashen cheek. She does not look well at all.

Of all the times for Hunter and Wrecker to be gone on a supply trip for the island.

Sitting up, Crosshair asks, “Got sick where?” He really hopes he doesn’t have to clean anything up.

“I made it to the fresher,” Omega tells him, “but I still feel awful.”

“Alright,” Crosshair says, nodding. “Let’s see what we can do about that.”

He guides Omega out of his room, a hand on her shoulder. Even through her nightshirt, he can feel that she’s unusually warm. Not a dangerously high fever, he decides, but enough to make her feel miserable. The common room has a couch and a chair, and he gives her a gentle nudge towards the couch. “Lay down. I’ll be back.”

Crosshair goes to Omega’s room and finds her blankets in a pile on the floor, hastily discarded in her flight to the fresher to throw up, he imagines. He picks up the thickest of the blankets and drapes it over his right arm and then grabs her pillow. He notices the red tip of Lula’s ear peeking out from under the bed, and after a second thought, snatches the tooka stuffy up too.

When he returns to the common room, Omega is laying on her side on the couch, knees drawn up to her chest and shivering. She looks pitiful, and the twinge of sympathy Crosshair feels reverberates deeply in his chest cavity. “Here, I brought your pillow and blanket.”

Omega lifts her head and lets Crosshair shove the pillow under her. He then drapes the blanket over her, and props Lula beside her. Omega watches him dully. “Thanks,” she whispers.

“We have tea. It might help with the nausea,” Crosshair says. “Do you think you could take medicine?”

Omega nods.

Crosshair retreats to the kitchen to try and find where Hunter keeps the tea. He and his brothers are typically caf drinkers; however, housewarming gifts from the islanders had supplied them with enough tea to last several clone lifetimes. He puts some water in a kettle to boil and then spends the next five minutes digging through every cupboard before he finds where Hunter stashed the stuff. Crosshair isn’t really sure what kind of tea helps nausea, so he just chooses the one that smells the best, dropping the teabag in Omega’s favorite mug.

After letting the brew steep for several minutes, he takes the steaming beverage back to the common room. Omega smiles wanly and pushes herself up to sit cross legged, arranging the blanket over her lap before taking the mug of tea from Crosshair. “You’re pretty good at this taking care of sick people stuff,” she says, putting her nose to the brim of the mug to inhale the steam with a sigh.

Crosshair rolls his eyes. “Surprised?”

“A little,” Omega admits with a grin.

Crosshair huffs and leaves to search for medicine. When he returns, Omega looks like she’s going to be sick again. Quickly, he takes her mug and she stumbles to her feet, briefly getting tangled in the blanket, before stumbling back to the fresher.

Crosshair follows and arrives in time to find her kneeling over the toilet and emptying whatever is left in her stomach. He hesitates a moment before stepping inside and awkwardly gathering up her hair with his left hand, holding it at the nape of her neck. The long seconds drag into several minutes before Omega finally leans back. Crosshair releases his hold on her hair and hands her a towel to wipe her mouth.

“Ugh,” Omega growls. “I hate being sick.”

Crosshair agrees with a hum and helps Omega to her feet. She rinses her mouth out in the sink before shuffling back into the living room and collapsing on the couch.

“Do you want to try your tea again?” Crosshair asks.

Omega shakes her head. “Not yet.”

Crosshair nods and sits down next to her, picking up the puddle of blanket from the floor and tossing it over her lap. Omega reaches up and brushes back her hair. “Could you…” she starts, but cuts herself off, frowning and dropping her hands.

“What?” Crosshair asks.

“Nothing,” Omega mumbles, “Forget I asked.”

“No, tell me. What do you need?” Crosshair insists.

Omega sighs. “I was just gonna ask if you could braid my hair, but…”

Oh. Crosshair had braided Omega’s hair before, back when he first came to Pabu after their escape from Tantiss. Hunter and Wrecker had gone to find Fennec Shand, and Omega had asked if he knew how. With the tremble in his right hand, the braids had been loose and messy; however, Omega had proudly worn them all day.

He stares down at his singular hand, nondominant and clumsy when it comes to more intricate efforts. Besides, braiding hair took two hands, not one and a stump. And while it isn’t his fault the simple request can’t be fulfilled, Crosshair feels like he’s failed.

“I’m sorry,” Omega says, “I forget sometimes.”

Crosshair doesn’t like the guilt in his sister’s voice. “Welcome to the club,” he says, hoping to ease the tension.

It doesn’t.

Crosshair stands up. “I’ve got an idea…but I’ll need to borrow something.”

Omega looks at him quizzically. “What?”

“I might only have one hand, but between the two of us, we have three. I think I can make due.”

The girl immediately brightens. She tells Crosshair where to find her hair ties and brush in her room, and soon Crosshair is brushing through a tangle of blond locks and creating a careful part down the middle. Under his direction, Omega offers up her right hand to hold whatever strands of hair Crosshair puts in her fingers, as he sloppily weaves a braid down from her hairline. Crosshair’s snippy instructions are taken in the spirit they are delivered, Omega giggling and outright laughing as she tries to follow blindly along, acting as Crosshair’s literal right hand. Crosshair smiles at the sound.

After nearly an hour of effort, Omega has two lopsided braids, bumps of unruly hair poking out where the coordination effort fell short.

“Do they look nice?” Omega asks sweetly.

Crosshair snorts. “They look like kark, but they'll do the job.”

Omega laughs. “Thanks, Crosshair.”

“Don’t mention it,” Crosshair says.

“I think I’m ready for my tea now,” Omega says, “but it’s probably cold.”

Crosshair heaves an exaggerated sigh. “Fine. I’ll make you a fresh cup. Anything else, m’lady?”

Omega considers. “Maybe some crackers?”

“Of course, anything for you,” Crosshair retorts, but the sarcasm is muted by a soft smile, and the reality that he really would do anything.

END

✨Let me know if you'd like to be added to my tag list!✨

Tag List: @followthepurrgil @amorfista @mooncommlink @arctrooper69 @nagyanna424 @groguandthebadbatch @proteatook @ezras-left-thumb @maeashryver @baddest-batchers

#summerofbadbatch2024 #week3 #forget I asked #bonus prompt #can you braid my hair #star wars #the bad batch #star wars the bad batch #sw tbb #tbb #tbb crosshair #tbb omega #sibling fluff #sick fic #Soft Crosshair #sweet sibling moments #canon compliant #post season 3 #fics by kyber

101 notes · View notes

archivewriter1ont · 13 days ago

Text

The Christmas Sweater (Modern Bad Batch AU)

Banner by @pandorademos

❄️❄️This is a gift fill for @nerdyduckrants through @galactic-gift-gathering and also a prompt fill for @local-cryptid's Crosscember Prompt #1: Sweater Crosshair. ❄️❄️

Prompt: Life Day/Christmas, Bad Batch, cozy. Word Count: 1,313

“Cody…”

Cody Fett took one more sip of his coffee before he turned away from the window, imagining the steaming liquid revitalizing his still-sleepy self as it went down – or at least caffeinating him enough to keep his eyelids open for a while. Then he looked down toward the small voice, prepared to deal with whatever new crisis this particular Saturday morning saw fit to gift him.

Instead, he was met with a surprisingly cute interruption to his weekend morning routine. “Good morning, Cross,” he grinned.

Crosshair looked like he wasn’t sure if it was a good morning or not. The eight-year-old was standing a few feet away from Cody, dressed from the waist down in what was mostly his usual attire – hand-me-down jeans from Fives that almost fit, different colored socks that Cody wasn’t sure even had matches anymore.

From the waist up seemed to be the problem that was making him frown. His thin body was engulfed by an oversized, over-decorated Christmas sweater, the hem reaching down past his jeans pockets and the bright red sleeves hanging off his skinny arms like wings.

“Fives made me wear it,” he grumbled, folding his arms. The too-long sleeves flopped over his hands with a ridiculous amount of fabric left over. “It’s too big.”

“Well, they didn’t have skinny munchkin size, I'm afraid.” At least, Goodwill hadn't. Even though the family finances were better off this year than last, with Rex old enough to work full time and the coupon games Echo and Tech played every week to see how close to zero they could get the weekly grocery bill, the Fetts still almost exclusively shopped at thrift stores. Cody didn't mind, but he was grateful that his little brothers didn't seem to, either. Better off or not, he didn't want to go back to how tight things had been right after they'd gotten custody of the quads.

Crosshair shook his head and brushed at his forehead with his sleeve-hidden hands, trying to bat away the white curls that were starting to spill over his ears. Cody mentally added haircuts to his ever-growing list of things to do before the end of the month. “Echo said you could fix it,” the boy said hopefully. “Please?”

His amber eyes shone up at his older brother and Cody found himself melting again. Curse the fact that all his little brothers knew his weakness of puppy eyes.

{the rest is on Ao3 at the link above or here}

#the bad batch #star wars #sw tbb #tbb crosshair #commander cody #hugs and cuddles #christmas #cozy #holidays #modern bad batch #sibling fluff #sweaters #great galactic gift

14 notes · View notes

this-aint-massachusetts · 5 months ago

Text

I can totally see Mike and Abby having a similar relationship to Max and Dani in Hocus Pokus, I mean it basically is the same.

But specifically that one scene where he convinces Dani to go to the old Sanderson Sisters house.

“Next year, we’re going as Wendy and Peter Pan; With the tights.”

“Can we go no tights?”

“No tights, no deal.”

“…Fine.”

Oh shit now I’m crafting a whole hocus pocus fnaf movie au-

#josh hutcherson #mike schmidt #mike schmidt fluff #mike fnaf #abby schmidt fnaf #abby fnaf #fnaf abby #abby schmidt #hocus pocus #hocus pocus dani #Max hocus pocus #fluff #sibling fluff #platonic relationships

8 notes · View notes

brxflovskii · 25 days ago

Text

curse of the curls | kyle brovlofski

✩ character: kyle brovlofski

✩ synopsis: in which kyle’s older sister teaches him how to take proper care of his curly hair!

✩ tags: fluff, brother-sister bonding, brother-sister bickering, cursing, slight family drama, mention of stan having a kiddie crush on kyle’s older sister (you), lowkey projection abt the whole hair thing as someone with curly hair.

kyle was never fond of his hair.

loudly red, poofy with kinky curls that he never learned how to tame so he stuffed all of it underneath his green trapper hat. none of his friends or family had hair like his except for his older sister, so how was he supposed to know? his mother would do it every morning when he was little, wetting and scrunching his red curls hours before school started, but she stopped when ike required more attention.

so the care for his hair stopped then, too. he ran a brush through it for a few minutes before his mother would shout his name to leave for school, or try some of his older sister’s curl masks when she wasn’t looking at bath time.

but he quickly realized that he was in over his head — or, hair. he stared at himself in the bathroom mirror, the porcelain countertop covered in hairbrushes, combs, bottles, and puddles of water. and yet his hair was still a blazing tumbleweed.

it wasn’t that he resented his hair. stan always told him it was the color of his favorite crayon, and his family said it brought out the color of his eyes and suited his face shape. he just hated how much work it was. if only he knew what that work even was.

so he resorted to calling for backup.

that was how he landed in the doorway of his older sister’s bedroom, a hesitant hand hovering over your open door. you were hunched over her desk, scribbling into a notebook while scanning a sizable textbook. your own long ginger curls were pulled into a loose loop at the nape of your neck, and kyle noted how shiny and soft they looked.

kyle knocked, words suddenly catching in his throat when you turned towards him. “hey dude, what’s up?” you asked cautiously, setting your pencil down.

you watched your little brother shift around awkwardly, muttering to himself. in one hand, he had his iconic green hat halfway tucked behind his back, and you quickly got a slight idea about his dilemma.

you waited for him to speak first, the words taking some time for him to find. “can you, um, can you help me with my hair?” he asked quietly, almost begrudgingly, before tacking on an even smaller, “please.”

you hummed aloud as you stood up, pretending to contemplate your options before gesturing for kyle to head into the bathroom. you followed close behind, gawking at the mess your brother made while he hopped up onto the stool he used to reach the sink.

“what, you need help brushing it out?” you asked, trying to find the spray bottle and detangling brush amidst the catastrophe.

“well, sorta,” kyle began, plucking the two items off of the counter and hauling them over his shoulders for you. “can you show me how you do yours?”

you cocked your head at first, beginning to separate his thick curls into manageable sections. “like, how i style it?” you asked, curious. your curl styling routine was fairly intensive, involving your diffuser and tons of mousse.

“no, like… you know, the lotions and shit you put in it to make it all soft.” he waved his hands around, hoping you would understand. you did, promptly nodding and peering into the shower curtain to grab your leave-in conditioners and a special coconut oil mask.

he read the labels on them, trying to memorize the brand or at least the name of the product. he watched in the mirror as you started to squeeze some of the coconut stuff into your palm and rub it through his damp hair. he didn’t dare admit it felt good, his shoulders relaxing like he was at a spa.

“i thought you knew how to do your hair, dude. didn’t mom ever show you?” you piped up, meeting kyle’s eyes in the mirror. kyle gently shook his head and hummed a soft ‘mm-mm.’ “wait, then what do you do to it?”

“nothing.” kyle answered. “i just brush it after i shower.”

you squinted at your brother. he showered pretty regularly for a boy his age, so you weren’t worried about that, but you wondered if he washed his curls every day. so you began a long, rambled lecture about how he needed to change his hair routine if he wanted to keep his hair healthy.

eventually you worked a mask and some leave-in conditioner into all of his hair and started brushing it through, making sure you weren’t pulling on it too hard and hurting him. “dude you’ve got hella knots back here, it’s because of that damn hat.” kyle rolled his eyes at the lecture before it melted into a wince as you retaliated by yanking on one of those knots.

“alright, alright.” kyle grumbled.

silence overtook the makeshift hair salon, you intently focused on your client’s hair and kyle intently focused on the care you were putting into brushing his thick curls out. it wasn’t rare that you put so much effort into him, but kyle hated that he never did anything like that for you.

he couldn’t buy you any great gifts for your birthday because your parents only gave him five bucks a month for doing chores, nor could he do you any long distance favors because he was only ten and couldn’t legally operate the station wagon gerald let you borrow sometimes. he couldn’t brush your curls out because he wouldn’t fucking know how to. that’s what you were here for.

kyle unintentionally let out a deflated sigh, and it pierced the silence. you looked up over the top of his shrub of hair, thinking you hurt him, but instead caught a glimpse of his glassy eyes locked on the sink and his frowning mouth.

“what’s up?” you asked softly, momentarily letting his hair go to lean against the counter. kyle tried to brush off his expression and act like he had no idea what you were talking about, but he could never fool you. maybe ike, maybe your parents, but never you. “am i hurting you?”

“no, it’s just..” kyle trailed off with another defeated sigh, “you’re always helping me and ike out, aren’t you tired of it? i should know how to do this myself by now—”

“oh, come on, what are you on about, man?” you stopped him before he could go on and on and eventually make himself cry. “no, i’m never tired of it, dude. i’m your older sister, i’m supposed to help you guys. sure, mom should’ve shown you how to do this, but i don’t mind.”

kyle’s lips formed a little pout while you spoke, and you couldn’t help but laugh at his sudden sentiment. that made his face flush red and he sent you a colorful little hand signal in the mirror. still, you recognized the fondness that fueled it. “yeah yeah, whatever dude.”

“trust me, i hated my curls when i was your age.” you admitted with a sigh.

it was true. when you were around kyle’s age, you were beginning to accustom yourself to the torment from asshole boys in your classes — the same torment you often see in one of kyle’s little friends, eric cartman — and started to familiarize yourself with a hair straightener rather than curl cream.

sheila hardly protested, figuring it was less time she would spend teaching you how to properly care for your curls. you had to navigate the world of curls and coils on your own, begging sheila to buy the products you saw on the television and in the newspaper ads until you were able to buy them yourself with allowance money. you would never want kyle to go through that, too.

and it wasn’t that you resented sheila or anything; she was a fantastic mother. she had a head of beautiful, healthy curls when she was younger, though those times were now stuck in photographs from before you were born. but since she gained a life chock full of responsibilities, she dropped her intensive routine and settled for sacrificing her curl pattern for comfort.

you were sure you would end up just like that someday. with a husband and children with your bright red, kinky hair and no knowledge left to spare them on how to make them shine.

“dude?” kyle’s voice, suddenly emerging from the edge of the long distance you withdrew to, snapped you back to the present. you caught your little brother’s eye, which were filled with worry and unease. “where’d you go?”

you straightened up and resumed the detangling behind him. “sorry,” you replied, “but as i was saying, i hated my curls, dude. peopled used to rip on me for them and mom didn’t really want to style it naturally, so i had to learn myself.”

kyle only listened. he could hear the genuine hurt in your voice and couldn’t counter it with any light jokes or words of reassurance. so he let you work it out in your head, wincing a few times when you took it out on his hair for a second.

“i lost my curl pattern when i was your age. i always straightened it or had it slicked back.”

“really? i don’t remember that.”

“it’s in a few pictures i stole outta the scrapbooks last year, so you’ve probably never seen ‘em.”

“dude!” kyle suddenly interjected, his brows coming together. “dad thought that was me because i went through that phase where i didn’t want them taking pictures of me!” he glared at you through the mirror, to which you replied with an awkward grin.

“my bad, dude. why didn’t you just rat me out?”

“i tried to!” his little outburst made your eyes narrow with frustration. “but he didn’t believe me.”

you scrambled to keep that affectionate atmosphere alive and searched for a topic to shift to. “okay, so now you leave this in for about half an hour and then rinse it out.” kyle obnoxiously rolled his eyes at your inability to be subtle, but he listened nonetheless. “and you brush it out while it’s still wet and scrunch some mousse into it to keep the curls. and let it dry — without that hat.”

“mousse? dude, weak.” kyle grumbled.

you lightly smacked him on the back of the head, hard enough to make his neck tilt but soft enough so that he wouldn’t immediately try to get you back. “you asked how i take care of my hair, dude.” he scoffed when he realized you had him in a metaphorical corner.

“okay, how often do i do this?”

you hummed, running your fingers through his hair to draw up an answer. “once or twice a week. probably less. i wouldn’t worry too much, dude. you got strong curls.”

he seemed to like this news, his mouth curving upwards into a little smile. he found your gaze in the reflection and his grin widened. “thanks.”

you tried to hide your own satisfied smile and started cleaning the mess that he had created, tucking brushes and detangling sprays back underneath the sink cabinet. “you’re welcome matchstick.” you giggled when his expression suddenly dropped and his eyes narrowed to that level where he started to contemplate whether getting yelled at was worth getting a good quick punch in.

he followed you back to your bedroom to wait for the half an hour he was supposed to let the mask marinate and hopped up onto your bed while you worked on your homework. he poked and prodded at your assignment, asking what class it was for and what you were learning.

you told him, not because you were intentionally trying to flex your knowledge on him but because you knew he would understand what you were talking about. kyle was a bright kid, that was something you two shared and certainly got from gerald.

the two of you bounced school conversation and gossip in kyle’s little friend group back and forth until the half an hour had long passed and he decided he wanted to rinse his hair. even then, the conversation still flowed while you aimed kyle’s head underneath the shower head and helped him get all of the products out.

“yeah, cartman ended up getting in deep shit when the butt-face family realized kenny wasn’t really their son and it was a prank.” his words were slightly muffled, but you followed along.

“holy crap, so there were really people with asses for faces? and they thought kenny was their long lost son because he decided to put his ass in his parka for his class picture?” you recapped the story, gawking when kyle confirmed it. “dude, your friends are fucking weird.”

“yeah… even stan?”

mention of the marsh boy’s name made your eyebrow quirk upward. he wasn’t deeply involved in the tale kyle just told, so his question had come out of left field. he knew your opinion on stanley marsh; he was a nice boy who treated kyle and your family with respect.

your family was quite close with the marshes and you practically grew up with the kids. you weren’t particularly close to them, you being significantly older than both of them, but you enjoyed their presence when they came over for dinner or when stan came over to play with kyle. the boy was fond of you, you knew that. he wasn’t very subtle about it, either.

“especially stan.” you responded with pure sarcasm in your voicr. “you need to tell that kid that i’m too old for him. i thought he was with wendy testaburger?”

kyle swayed back and forth over the edge of the bathtub. “they hit a rough patch. but trust me, i keep telling him. you think i like hearing about my best friend’s crush on my sister?”

“fair.” you sighed. “alright, all clean.” you sat back on your heels and helped him stand upright, catching his dripping curls into a soft towel.

kyle finished wrapping the towel around his head, you watching with a slight smile. he wanted to glare at you, figuring you were laughing at him.

“well, that’s my routine.” you rose to your feet and gave him a rough pat on the top of his secured towel. “just brush it out and you’re solid.”

i love my baby kyle hes just so 😞🫶 also i was going to make reader into an oc of mine but i figured it’d be too complicated, so i made it second person. let me know if you’d be interested in an au with all original characters added though! i have older siblings for just about every family lol i love souf pork

#south park #south park fluff #kyle broflovski #fluff #sp fluff #sp kyle #older sister #older sibling fluff #sibling fluff #south park masterlist #south park kyle #kyle brovlofski #kyle broflovski fluff

7 notes · View notes