I still look like a fifteen year old

  • Griffin: I don't think I had a bucket hat. Although lately people have like sort of delighted in posting pictures of me as a child and talking about how they are "cursed," so maybe I shouldn't put that information out there? That fuckin' Carmen Sandiego HUNT? For a picture of me wearing a bucket hat? Please don't say pictures of me as a five year old, ten year old, fifteen year old boy are cursed! I was just doin' my best out there!
  • Rachel: He was very cute!
  • Griffin: No, I wasn't in a lot of em, but that's fine!
  • Rachel: You're cuuuute.
  • Griffin: I still have feelings! "Look at this ugly kid, cursed image!" C'mooon.

psa people who draw ns/fw of yuri plisetsky are TRASH

he’s a kid!! he’s a minor!! how badly do you want to sexualize a kid!! i don’t care if you ~~aged him up~~ he’s still a minor in canon and you basically just went “well in canon he is a child, but i think i should draw or write porn of him, so to make it look better im going to make him an ~adult~” guess what assholes he’s still a kid


“but its just fiction-” if youre willing to support or even produce content like that in a ~fictional~ context how the hell am i, a fifteen year old, supposed to feel safe around you in any context lol

there isn’t gonna be any argument or discourse on this post you argue with the statement here (which is ns/fw of a minor is wrong and you shouldnt do that especially if you’re an adult) you’re getting blocked there is no argument

trash. people who consume or produce porn/ns/fw of yuri plisetsky are literal garbage.

I think people see Jason as far too old when he died. He was fifteen. Do you know what fifteen year olds look like? Even if they’re considered “dreamboats” by their peers, they still have squishy kid faces. They still look like colts with long limbs and knobby knees. His shoulders were probably broad, but he still had to grow into them. 

My point is, Jason was a child. And by disregarding that important element, it erases much of his core characterization. It’s almost like shielding the Joker from the heinous actions he committed. He is a child killer. 

Jason is only nineteen now. That’s a year older than the legal age. This poor boy reached out for love and got broken glass shoved down his throat instead. 

Blood and rust and angry tears. These things make up Jason Todd, murdered child. 

Imagine #19 Charles Xavier (Request)

Requested by Anon: Could you please write a Charles Xavier x reader where the reader likes him but feels she has no chance so she pretends to hate him. But then he finds out the truth through mind reading? I’m sorry if this is complicated!! But thank you so much.

Originally posted by netflixruinedmylifeimagines

Not my gif

Words: 2622

Warnings: fem!reader, swearing, typos

A/N: So, first of all, I know that request is from literal months ago, and I’m really sorry, but I kinda put off writing it for the following reason… I actually did that once, pretended to hate someone I believed not to be good enough for (he was a dick and probably deserved it, but still) and it’s connected to some of the worst, most uncomfortable and regrettable situations of my life. If you find yourself in that kind of situation, and you think that it would be easier to just treat your crush like crap, DON’T! I’m all for making mistakes and learning from them, but I really recommend you just talk to the person or, if that’s easier, distance yourself, but being a dick towards them will just make you look and feel like… well, a dick. Don’t! And secondly, I am not incredibly proud of this fic. I don’t think it’s that great. I hope, I’m not disappointing anyone. xoxo

Charles had hired you because of the way you worked with the students, the way you treated the other teachers and the impression that you were one of the smartest, most dedicated people he had ever met. He had hired you despite the fact that you apparently couldn’t even be in the same room as him without shooting him glares and avoiding any kind of further interaction.

Charles understood that there were people, whom one just couldn’t stand. Attraction was biology after all, and maybe you just really didn’t like him, maybe semi-polite working-side-by-side was all you were able to with him, but it still bothered him.

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My Nirvana

Author: @dylan-trash-tbh
Pairing: Dylan O'brien x Reader
Words: 2299

A/N: This is sad. I am sad. Everything is sad.
Keep in mind that English isn’t my first language! Thanks a lot to my lifesaver @cynicallystiles💙 for proofreading, editing and for not letting me delete this, even though I thought it was shitty ✨ your support means a lot!

Please let me know what you think 💖


Originally posted by haidaspicciare

Who would have thought that ‘forever’ sometimes means ‘until someone better comes along’.

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you outshine the morning sun, my son

obligatory bit of captain cobra while cleaning out cs wips folder. obligatory hamilton reference. obligatory baby jones. i couldn’t stop myself.

Henry Mills, to be honest, was tired of the crying.

Yes, he was a fifteen-year-old who was just now experiencing the pain of a baby sibling—Roland didn’t count; the child was walking and talking completely normally by the time they met—but he was still terribly annoyed.

Liam was adorable. According to his moms, he looked like Henry himself as a baby. Henry didn’t really see it; Liam looked exactly like Killian except with hair of a lighter brown, more like his. According to Regina, Liam was a much better baby than Henry—she said it with a reminiscent smile just tinged with pain and remembrance.

But good heavens, Liam cried so much.

He spent as much time over at Regina’s as he could, but really he needed to see Emma too. So every now and then he suffered through a night or two of a screaming six pounds of young infant.

He read to the kid as much as he could, since Killian claimed that the boy sometimes actually slept a few hours at night after said story. Therefore, Henry tried to be decent and take Liam off Emma and Killian’s hands for a while so they could get a modicum of sleep. He held the kid in one arm—after Killian showing him how to not drop the wiggling child—and flipped the pages in the book.

He could have sworn that Liam preferred the tale of Charles and Leia without being told that the two were his parents.

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Essays in Existentialism: Closer

Can you do a prompt based off chainsmokers & Halsey track ‘Closer’ Clexa as exes who meet again in a hotel bar.

You look as good as the day I met you
I forget just why I left you, I was insane.

There was something about being back in a place that once encompassed the entire known world. That world which blossomed from a single street as a kid, to a neighborhood as a teenager, to a city as an adult that was full of memories, until it became too small, too saturated, and then, like a colonial explorer, the first tentative steps were taken out into the world, and the tiny microcosm was held in the amber of swell memories and forgotten embarrassments.

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Old Home Place 1985 von anoldent
Über Flickr:
The summer after I finished school I set off into the mountains of North Carolina to build a log cabin, armed with a few books, and hand tools, but no experiance or skills. I set up my tent and expected it to take six weeks to build. Six months later I still hadn’t finished the chimney or started the roof. But this is what it looked like on a misty November morning a few years later. I lived here for about eight years, and owned it for about fifteen years after I built it in 1976 with local fieldstone and oak logs I cut, peeled and notched on the site, working alone with hand tools. It had no plumbing, I carried water from a nearby spring, and I heated it in winter with about half a cord of wood a week which I cut and burned in the open fireplace. Eventually I moved into Asheville and had to sell it, but it was a large part of my life, and I miss it more with each passing year.

‘Excerpts from Journal #4’

rating: gen
word count: 3229
summary: A first-person view of Stanford Pines’ initial thoughts and discoveries of the strangest anomalies of all—his own family.
a/n: before i say anything else, this wonderful fic wasn’t written by me, but @theaustinstollhaus
he popped out of a hole in the internet like a weird genie and took me up on a fanfic request, follow him. seriously all the credit goes to him, but he insisted i post it.

the foundation/inspiration that lead to the making of this was this post, which i’m sure a lot of you might remember.

(personally when i first read this i was so blown away by how delightfully and humorously in-character it is, almost as if these were excerpts from the actual journal and i hope you enjoy it as much as i did <3)

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Whenever Sirius and Harry had a chance to be alone together, during their time at Grimmauld Place, Sirius would always indulge Harry by speaking about his parents.
The kid just couldn’t get enough of listening to things that they had done. It made Sirius happy, to no end, to see Harry actually smile, but he was more interested in knowing more about his Godson’s life before he came into it.
He decided, one afternoon, to start grilling Harry about his first few years in the magical community.
With much coaxing, Harry finally admitted “My aunt and uncle tried to stop my letters from coming in my first year.”
Sirius sighed; he expected as much from Petunia, he had met her once briefly, long enough to know what type of woman she was, anyway.
Harry looked so uncomfortable with is confession that Sirius figured he should share some of his family’s insanity to reassure him that he wasn’t alone “I know how you feel. My dear old mum tried to stop my letters from coming in my second year. She figured if I didn’t get my letter I wouldn’t be a Gryffindor. Idiot.”
Harry laughed along with Sirius before saying “You should have seen their faces when even the place where I slept changed on the envelope when I moved out of-” Harry cut himself off quickly, suddenly hyper-aware that he had never told anybody about where he had slept for the best part of ten years of his life.
“Out of where?”
“Er… nowhere, I just moved rooms after my first letter came.”
But Sirius wasn’t easily fooled “You’re an awful liar Harry. Even worse than James.”
“It was nothing” Harry hastened to assure his Godfather.
Sirius rolled his eyes “Which means it was something. Where did you sleep before you moved Harry? You can tell me.”
“I don’t want to tell you because it doesn’t matter!” Harry snapped hotly, lashing out defensively.
Not swayed whatsoever by his Godson’s behaviour, Sirius replied gently “It matters to me.”
“Would it make a difference if I said I didn’t want to talk about it?” Harry asked flatly.
“Absolutely not” Sirius replied cheerfully “You think I spent all those years badgering Remus to stop being such a closed book for nothing?” Sirius asked smugly “so why don’t you just tell me and save us both the pain of me constantly having to harassing you for the rest of your life.”
Harry turned the thought over in his mind, he could tell just by looking at him that Sirius wasn’t bluffing. Harry sighed. “The cupboard under the stairs” he breathed, so quietly that Sirius barely heard him.
Sirius’ eyebrows contracted, unsure he understood his Godson “what about it?” he asked.
Careful to avoid Sirius’ eyes he said “that’s where I slept until I was eleven.”
“Where?” Sirius questioned leaning further across the table, unable to believe what he was hearing.
“You heard me” Harry said beginning to get defensive again. Sirius could almost hear the mental walls, which Harry had just begun to let down around him, suddenly bang shut again.
Sirius attempted to hold down the fury he that flared up inside of him at finding the child who he often thought of as his own son had been forced to sleep in a cupboard for ten years.
He wanted to spring out of his chair, hunt down the Dursley’s then go and find Dumbledore. But any of those options would only serve to panic his Godson more so he held himself to his seat and forced himself to focus on the surly looking teenager sitting across from him, who was glaring down at the table, hating himself for looking vulnerable.
Sirius took a deep and shaky breath “why?” he asked as calmly as possible.
Harry didn’t need any clarification “They hated me, what I was… they said something about trying to stamp the magic out of me” he mumbled indifferently, still avoiding his Godfathers gaze.
Sirius felt as if a bucket of icy water had been dumped over his head.
“Sta-stam-stamp it out of you?” he choked out in horror, the colour completely draining from his face “don’t they know how dangerous that is?!”
“Honestly I don’t think they’d care” Harry replied blandly before he could stop himself “I’m fine though.” he added quickly “so it doesn’t really matter.”
“Doesn’t really matter? Of course it matters! Why wouldn’t it matter?”
“It never mattered before” he mumbled.
“Well it matters to me. I never want to see you get hurt, I care about you Harry, you know that right?” it had been a rhetorical question but Harry hesitated as if he were considering all the possible answers.
This was wrong.
Harry knows how much he loved him right?
Surely Sirius had told his Godson that he loved him!
But there he was, sitting there trying to think of the right answer to a question that shouldn’t need one.
“Harry… you-you are the most important person in my life. You’re like a son to me and I love you more than you could ever believe” Harry looked disbelievingly at him “ever since the day you were born, no, the day I knew you were on your way I loved you. You have to know that!”
“Nobody’s ever said that to me” Harry admitted quietly.
“Said what?”
“That they love me.”
Sirius felt like he couldn’t breathe, his hands balled up into fists. His Godson was fifteen years old and nobody had ever told him that they loved him. Even with his crummy family Sirius had still been told he was loved well before that age, by Regulus and Andy and even James had said it when Sirius had gotten him out of his first ever detention.
Even though he spent the remaining seven years of their friendship getting him into detention.
Sirius couldn’t believe he had let this slip by him. He had always just assumed Harry knew that people loved him, that HE loved him. He was a failure as a Godfather.
When Remus found out he was going to blow a gasket.
“You are so loved Harry” Sirius started uncertainly, stressing the words so that Harry would believe him. He’d never been in a situation like this, he never thought he would be, kids were supposed to just know that their par-Godparent loved them “I don’t want you to ever forget that”
Harry looked away from him again but Sirius could see the beginning of a watery smile on his Godson’s face.
“I should have told you sooner” Sirius added grimly, his expression darkened “and I think I’m going to have a word with the Dursley’s… after my name is cleared” he tacked on with a sigh after seeing Harry’s panic at the prospect of him venturing out of the safety of Grimmauld Place.
How could such a wonderful, caring kid think that he was unloved?
“Thanks Sirius. You’ve kind of helped already anyway” Harry said with a sly smile “I told the Dursley’s that my Godfather broke out of prison to kill a man but that you liked to keep in touch with me and check that I was happy. Now they pretty much leave me alone.”
Sirius roared with laughter “you’ll be a Marauder yet. Good on you Harry!”
Though it was hard for Sirius to drop the issue of the Dursley’s negligence and obvious child abuse, he knew that Harry did not want to talk about his home life in the least. So he kept laughing and joking with his Godson, telling him stories about his parents and embarrassing moments from his youth.
But Sirius knew this was far from over. He would be having a word with Dumbledore, a loud word, about Harry’s home life.
Dumbledore was about to find out the meaning of an angry parent.
But for now Sirius was content to spend as many good times with his surrogate son as he possibly could, learning about his first two years of school, which couldn’t possibly be as bad as his third or fourth, and feeling content in the fact that his Godson had at least two normal, moderately Dursley-free, years of school before he started on his adventures

Wrinkles - Imagine request

Request:  Hi! Could you maybe write a deanxreader fluffy fic where dean is self conscious about something in his body and the reader comforts him,please and thank you.

Characters: Dean x reader, Sam (mentioned), Castiel (mentioned),

Word count: 1,306

Warnings: Dean’s self-consciousness.

A/N: I hope this is as fluffy as you wanted it. Also, Dean’s perfect self made it a pain in the ass to find something he could be conscious about so uh… Yeah, let roll with the age. Enjoy!

He looked at his reflection for the millionth time that morning. He wasn’t twenty anymore, and he sure as hell had more scars than he remembered.

Of course, he was still super toned and all, but his age was starting to weight and he just couldn’t help but to feel like crap about it.

“I’m a fifteen year old girl.” He mumbled as he realized he was judging his body just like girls in chick-flicks did. ‘A fifteen year old girl in the body of a grandpa’ his mind joked, making him fall back into the low self-esteem pit.

He walked closer to the mirror. Not only did he have white hairs even on his scruff, but he was also starting to get wrinkles all over his face. When did it happen? He couldn’t tell, but it had taken him by surprise that morning when he came out of the shower only to find his biggest fear coming true: He was old.

“Babe?” (Y/N) spoke as her knuckles meet the door.

“Give me a minute, sweetheart.” Dean begged as he walked away from the mirror and proceeded to put on as many layers as he could.


For the rest of the day, Dean avoided any kind of furrow, smile or any other gesture that would involve his face from getting even more crinkles. Sam and (Y/N) noticed, but decided not to ask because Dean wasn’t looking in the mood to talk.

Later, at night, Dean locked himself in the bathroom to change his clothes, which took (Y/N) by surprise for she was used to seeing Dean changing in front of her. Once again, she didn’t ask. After all, Dean needed time and then he would talk to her.

It wasn’t until (Y/N) was fast asleep that Dean slid out of bed and back to the bathroom. He was sure (Y/N) had some creams and even facemasks that helped with wrinkles, and he was more than willing to try them on even if it meant risking his manliness.

“Okay, you can do this, just keep it for thirty minutes and you’ll be free of wrinkles.” Dean whispered to himself as he applied a black goo all over his face.

While he waited, he found some old hair dye (Y/N) had once used to turn herself ashy blonde. Dean remembered how different she looked like, but he also remembered the long time that hair dye lasted.

“You can do it, you can do it.” He repeated to himself as he prepared the very last bit of hair dye in a bowl (Y/N) kept in the bathroom.

He thought he was being silent, but the mess he made by scrambling over her face creams and the smell of hair dye, woke the huntress up. She had been leaning against the bathroom’s door frame, listening closely to every move Dean made.

“Grey coverage… Forty minutes… Crap,” She heard Dean mumbled, “It’s fine, we can do this, I can do this.”

After ten minutes of complete silence, the huntress decided to open up the door; surprised that Dean hadn’t put a lock on it.

Dean wasn’t only covered in her black face mask, but he also had his hair and beard covered in blonde hair dye. What the hell had gotten onto him?

“Dean.” She called and the hunter jumped.

“(Y/N)! I uh… This isn’t what it looks like.” The huntress tilted her head as her hand reached his face, meeting with her well-known de-aging facemask. It was actually to help the skin against sun and other toxins in the air.

“This is my cream and…” She looked at the trash can, “My hair dye… What are you doing?”

Dean sighed, not being able to lie to her, not at that time of the night and definitely not while wearing her beauty products. “I went out of the shower this morning to find myself becoming old.”

“Old? Dean, you’re not even forty, what are you talking about?” She smiled tenderly.

“I have white hairs and this stupid eye crinkles and… I don’t know I…” If he weren’t using the face mask, (Y/N) would’ve been able to tell he was blushing in embarrassment.

Yes, she knew he was right. She knew every part of his body by memory, and she was aware that Dean was in fact no longer a kid. However, to her, he was just perfect.

“Dean…” She called, and he looked up at her.

“Don’t dare to tell me otherwise because I know you know I’m telling the truth.” Dean spoke rapidly. (Y/N) let out a heavy sighed and offered him a sly smile.

“You’re right, but I might as well tell you what I think.” She spoke carefully. Moments like those made talking as hard as walking on eggshells.

“I’m all ears.” Dean mumbled.

“First take that off.” She ordered softly, “The facemask won’t vanish the wrinkles and the hair dye is too different from your hair colour and uh… Everyone will notice.” Dean’s eyes widened as he turned around, leaning over to the sink and washing everything off. In the meantime, (Y/N) went back to sit in bed.

After a few minutes, Dean appeared from the bathroom and joined her under the sheets.


“So you’re old.”

“I know.” Dean sighed.

“And I’m also getting old, and Sam is getting old and Cas’ vessel is getting old and…”

“What’s your point?” Dean grumbled.

“My point is that you can’t fight nature back.” She responded, “We’re all ageing and, if you ask me, it’s a wonderful thing to age next to someone like you.”

“Old like me?” Dean chuckled.

Hot like you.” She smiled, cupping his face in one hand, “I’ve seen many men age and trust me, you are one strange example of growing old with style.”

“Is that so?”

“Yes… I’ve seen pictures of you as a kid and, trust me, you look hotter and even more manly now than you did back them.” She whispered.

“How? My eyes have wrinkles…”

“It’s a sign that, even in this life, you’ve laughed so many times you got wrinkles.” She giggled and Dean did too.

“What about the white hairs?”

“Barely noticeable considering you’re blond.” She replied.

“And the scars?”

“Battle marks.” She winked, “Some of which I patched up after being heroically saved by you.”

“Do you really mean all of this?”

“Of course, why wouldn’t I?” Dean thought it for a second, not being able to come up with a proper answer.

“I will continue to age, you know?” Dean mumbled.

“And so the rest of us.” She spoke softly.

Dean shifted closer to her, resting his head on her belly as she caressed his still damp hair.

“I love you, Dean.” She whispered after a while of silence. Dean lifted his gaze to meet hers.

She was a lot older than the first time Dean saw her. Yet, he still thought she was the most beautiful being alive; was that how she felt about him?

“I love you too.” Dean spoke, crawling up to meet his lips with hers in a soft, shy kiss.

Dean’s head fell on the pillow next to (Y/N)’s. They were face to face and her hand was travelling through his skin, tracing every line there was.

“How can you not see how handsome you are?” She whispered.

“Maybe I’m too much into your beauty.” He replied, making her giggle.

“You won’t stop being a flirt, won’t you?”

“Never in a million years.” Dean smiled.

“Even if you get even more white hairs?”

“Even then.” Dean nodded. (Y/N) cupped his cheek, stroking his skin lightly with her thumb.

“That’s my man.” And with that being said, she kissed him once more, letting that lead into a long night of slow love making and endless promises that would never be broken.

Thai Food- Leafyishere Imagine

In which Calvin and (Y/N) move from talking in an elevator to an actual date.

Originally posted by leafyrares

Note: This is a continuation piece to my other imagine, Elevators. You don’t really need to read it in order to understand this one, but here’s the link in case you need some background. 

Warnings: General fluffiness? lol  

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The Old Gods Demand It

Author: CommaSplice

Ship(s): Rickon/Shireen

NSFW? Safe for work

Trigger warning(s):  Mention of depression and other mental illness (implied)

Brief Summary: Rickon Stark has a crush on Shireen Baratheon. Attempting to ease into a situation where she might be willing to date him, he asks her to help him bake some cookies without telling her why. When she asks the reason, he gets flustered. A little lie soon grows rapidly out of control.

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anonymous asked:

Anything you say?...well if you ever get the chance, I would love to hear your version of a Erwin/Mikasa/Levi fanfic :3 nothing kinky just these two handsome devils fighting over this beauty


This was just one of those fics… I’ve edited this thing so much and I’m still not 100% happy with it, but it looks better than the first draft soooo yeah. haha I hope you at least like it, anon! 


At fifteen minutes past noon, six-year old Erwin Smith was supposed to dust the sand from his khaki shorts, bid his friends farewell for the day, and make his way to the group of mothers chatting under the shade of the old oak tree by the swing sets. Searching a sea of pastels for the light blue cloth of his mother’s sundress was a chore in itself, but like clockwork that summer, every day at fifteen past noon, her perfectly manicured hand found his and they would cross the street to their yellow-painted townhome with a picket fence among the other white picket-fenced townhomes painted in pinks, oranges, yellows, and blues all in a row.

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yamadahizashit  asked:

🏵+u know i gotta??

how did our muses meet ? | open !!

❝ Mic … well, I met him before Mic was even created. Well … the hero that everyone knows as Present Mic, at least. It’s been … fifteen years and it’s still one of the few videos you can find of me on the internet if you’re looking for things about Present Mic. ❞

❝ I met him at our first year sports festival. We did something relatively similar to what the first years did this last year … and it ended up that we were against each other in a old fashion fight. I introduced myself as they were setting up the arena and bowed before the match like one should when meeting a formidable opponent in a sparring match and … it was over before Mic could even take a breath to use his quirk. I’d broken his nose and pinned him in a heartbeat … or at least something close. ❞

❝ I guess we at least have an interesting story to tell if people ever want to know how we met … not everyone can say they broke their fiancé’s nose the first day the met them … but I did offer to walk him to the infirmary … so I think that helped get me on his good side, in the end. ❞

Love Is

Request by anon: prompt: Person B getting sick/injured and watching Person A with the most loving expression as they take care of B. Person A gets ridiculously uncomfortable with Person B staring at them with such you-are-my-world admiration, and ends up flicking B on the forehead to break their trance. jay park plez

Sorry I haven’t updated in like a week ? I’ve had alot of shit to do lately, but I’m back on track now. I’m currently working on finishing the next update to Loving Woo Jiho fic...It’s taking all my creative energy out of me i swear haha.

-Admin Kitty

Originally posted by causeitbangs

When she wakes, she looks like death warmed up. Dark circles ring her eyes, her skin as pale as snow and her voice croaky from a night of vomiting.

I’ve only been up three hours, but just looking at her I feel tired again. It wouldn’t take a genius to work out just from her face that it has been four days since she had a whole night of sleep.

“Hey there, sleepyhead..” I say quietly, reaching out to brush her hair out of her face.

Her face scrunches up, but she lets go of a little smile, “Jeez, I’m not used to you being this nice…Where’s Jay gone?”

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Daddy 5SOS Preference: First Day of (High) School - Luke

“Can you do a preference where the dads baby their kids when they’re preteens/teens and they’re out in public and the dads baby them and the kids get embarrassed/mad”

“could you please do a 5sos one where it’s their kids first day of high school and the dads are upset so the mums have to like calm them down lol and the kids are like “dad ur embarrassing me””

A/:N: I hope you enjoy this one! It was so cute and fun to write, and slightly different, I think. Let me know what you think of this prompt, don’t be afraid to message me! I’m still taking NON-ANON prompts! Love you guys! xx

“Mom, please!” Kayla begged you. “Please don’t let Dad go to swim with me. Are you sure you can’t go?!”

“Sorry, love,” you smiled sadly. “You know I can’t. What are you so worried about? He’s been to plenty of practices before.”

“Mom, he always starts the cheering.” Kayla deadpanned. “It was cute when I was ten, but now it’s just embarrassing.”

“He’s just proud of you,” you explained, patting her shoulder. “I’m sure it’ll be fine.” Kayla huffed, giving you a side look.

“Are you sure?” she asked.

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