take that sunglasses off baby

She's not your kid. Back the f*ck off

It’s almost as if you could sense this would be a bad trip. Especially traveling with your daughter, Cleo. Shawn and you had always tried to be as subtle as possible while traveling with her, but at some point it was bound to become intense. You both knew- from personal experience- people would lose all respect in a matter of seconds for a picture.

“Cleo, hold on to mommy, ok?” Cleo nods, smiling.

“Good girl.” Shawn expresses before kissing her on the cheek and standing back up.

You feel terrible as a parent, for putting Cleo in this position. You could control yourself a lot more than Shawn. Cleo, being his little girl.

“Shawn..you have to stay calm. If you get upset Cleo will get upset.” He just gives you a sharp nod, barely looking up. He’s talking to one of your security guards. You try to block out their conversation, focused on keeping our child safe.

You play a simple game of peeky boo with Cleo, wanting to distract her as much as possibly. You cover her eyes and she giggles uncontrollably.

“Ok guys, let’s head down.” Your time is interrupted and Shawn steps onto the escalator first and then you. Security guards behind us and a couple already waiting for us at the ground level. It was far past midnight and you would rather have Cleo awake then being woken up by scary flashes from people she doesn’t know.

“Babe, just put you’re face into my jacket if it’s too bright, ok?” You give her a reassuring smile and kiss her small forehead. You have an old baseball cap on, adding a pair of sunglasses. Cleo’s baby bag is over your opposite shoulder and you’re afraid you’ll drop everything. Sadly, Shawn can’t carry all of the bags and you assured him it’ll be fine.

“Shawn! Y/N!” “How was your time in New York?!” “Are you guys excited to be home to Los Angeles?!” “Y/N can you look this way please?”

Shawn glances back at Cleo and you every few seconds, but you keep your eyes on his shoes, following him into the crowd. Cleo snuggles her head into your shoulder and your heart begins racing. The crowd around the all of you becomes more and more restrictive.

“Mommy, I’m scared.”

“Shhh, baby it’s ok.” You take off your sunglasses and quickly give them to her.

“Cleo, can you give us a big smile?!” Your put your hand on her head, not allowing her to look up.

“Don’t fucking talk to my kid, got it? Ever.” You hear Shawn snap, a few feet in front of you.

“Bro! Calm down!” The screaming as escalated and you’re hurrying now, beginning to lose sight of Shawn.

“Shawn, not now.” You plead with him. Security has grown closer and you’re ready to be out of the limbo.

“Are you kidding me, where’s the car?” You can hear his voice, but Cleo and yourself are still stuck within the mob.

“It’s looping around now, sir. I’m sorry. The driver went to the wrong terminal.” There’s a sting in Shawn’s voice that typically is never there. Honestly, it can get quite terrifying.

As soon as Cleo and you make it out of the crowd, Shawn grabs my hand leading us further away from the photographers. If you could even call them that.

“Are you ok, babe? That was insane. I don’t think it’s ever gotten that bad.” You take a deep breath, realizing Cleo is shaking and crying.

“Shawn… Cleo, babe. Shhh, it’s ok.” Her face is entirely red and Shawn takes her from my hold.

“Cleo, can you talk to daddy, please? Cleo. Y/N, oh my god. Cleo? Babe, talk to daddy. What’s wrong?” You take the sunglasses from her eyes, finger combing her dark hair.

“Here I have some water.” You quickly reach into your bag, unscrewing the cap. Shawn quickly takes it, instructing Cleo to drink.

She takes small sips, beginning to calm down.

“I think she just had a panic attack, or something..” being a parent, it was completely horrifying. You never wanted to see your kid in any sort of distress. It doesn’t give you any future hope for traveling with our daughter.

You rub her back as the black SUV pulls up to the front. The driver comes out, loading our bags as he apologizes profusely.

“It’s ok.” You know Shawn would rather scream at him, but that won’t get us anywhere besides a headline on TMZ.

As soon as you’re all in the car, Cleo crashes. There’s no car seat and you end up holding her in your lap. Not the safest way of travel, but we don’t live far from the airport.

“Are you calm now?” You ask Shawn.

“You know how much those guys piss me off. They have no respect. They can treat me like that, but not my kid. What kind of shit was that?” You rub his arm before gripping loosely onto his hand.

“Sadly, it’s their job.” You glance over at him, pushing his hair out of his eyes.

“It’s a shitty job. God, I hate when that happens. It reminds me of when we first started dating. I thought it couldn’t get worse, but when you have a kid it’s terrifying. I’m always afraid Cleo will end up getting hurt. Look at tonight? She had a fucking panic attack.” He reaches out, stroking Cleo’s hair. Her breathing has centered and all you want is to be home and get her in bed. Where you know she’ll be safe.

kinda want a horror movie with a suburban mom & dad & their stupid baby and their house gets haunted by hella demons. at the climax of the movie, the demons are taking over the baby’s room and the dad is trying to be all Macho Hero to get to the baby and the mom yells “FUCK THE BABY! WE CAN MAKE ANOTHER ONE!” and that line hits the dad with this sudden ‘oh, right’ and they just bail. fade to black. open on a new suburbia, a few years later. the mom and dad are hanging out with their new toddler playing in the front yard. the dad turns to the mom and says, “man, i’m glad we ditched that other kid. this one’s way better.” and the mom just nods in that white suburban mom way. then a black crown victoria screeches up to the house and two FBI agents emerge. they found out about what the parents did to their first kid. “that kid was garbage anyway!” says the dad. “that may be the case,” begins an FBI agent, “but now that garbage baby you abandoned 4 years ago….” [takes off sunglasses, looks sternly at the parents] “…has kidnapped the president.”

  • REPORTER: We're here with Chris, a guy who leaves pervy comments on Instagram pictures of girls he kind of knows, as well as semi well known to very well known actresses, female musicians, etc. Hi, Chris.
  • CHRIS: Yo.
  • REPORTER: Chris, what's your favorite comment to leave?
  • CHRIS: Ooh, good one. I can't decide! It's like asking a mother to choose her favorite child!
  • REPORTER: But if you had to...?
  • CHRIS: I would say either "holy boobs!" on a picture where you can see a little bit of boob, or maybe if a girl is wearing something sexy I'll say "great, now I gotta go fap," meaning that I intend to use the image for masturbation assistance.
  • REPORTER: Both great ones. We've just GOT to know. Why do you do it?
  • CHRIS: Cuz sometimes you just needs to (*takes off sunglasses*) HIT EM WITH THAT MALE GAZE, BABY!!!!
  • (He starts dancing. A banner unfurls that reads "Man of the Year." Fireworks. Fade to black)