okay i meant to post this yesterday but yO GIRL WAS TOO BUSY SETTIN OFF FIREWORKS & ENJOYING HERSELF bC yOLO!!!!1!1!
anyways this imagine should be a lesson to you to STAY SAFE on this holiday (if you're American or a US resident), even a day late!!
***
"Babe!" Shawn shouts from the bathroom, his voice muffled due to the closed door. He pauses, then shouts again, "babe!"
"What??" you suppress a groan.
"We're out of toilet paper!"
You softly chuckle and sit forward, pushing your laptop off of your knees and setting it down on the disheveled duvet cover.
You exit your bedroom and start down the hall to where your husband waits, twisting the doorknob and swinging it open, revealing Shawn, squatting on the toilet with his chin in the palm of his hands, shorts and underwear in a wad at his ankles. He heaves a sigh.
"This reminds me of our honeymoon," you acknowledge, recalling the hotel suite where you stayed a year ago, that instead of a closed bathroom, included an open-walled toilet and sink a few feet away from the bed. You had awakened that morning to Shawn pooping, smiling and waving at you like an idiot while he greeted, "morning, honey!"
"Your man sure knows how the ladies like it," Shawn winks.
You roll your eyes and open up the cabinet beneath the sink, tossing him a pristine toilet paper roll while pinching your nose with your fingers to avoid intaking the horrid reek.
"Thanks snugglebunch," he hums as you hurriedly dart towards the door, slamming it behind you and taking a huge whiff of fresh air.
You stand outside for a while, leaning against the door as you absentmindedly begin to braid your hair over your shoulder. You hear him flush the toilet, and seconds later he turns on the faucet to wash his hands.
"Hey, Shawn?" you clear your throat, spinning around and staring at the door as if it was the figure you were speaking to.
"Yes, dear?" he responds from the other side.
You take a deep breath. "I have a confession to make."
The door swings open, disclosing Shawn, who arches his eyebrow and mumbles, "oh god, are you gay?"
"I'm gonna need you to stop saying that," you groan.
"Sorry, sorry. But seriously what?"
You close your eyes, biting your lip as you quietly whisper, "um, I kind of bought some fireworks."
Shawn's round eyes widen, and you suddenly begin defending yourself before he could even prosper an argument.
"I know, I know you're against them and everything, but it was just a couple of sparklers and--"
"Y/N, seriously, no. No fireworks. We can watch them, but setting them off is really dangerous. You know that."
"I know, but sparklers are totally safe, and it'll be fun.. "
"Look, Y/N," he sighs, stepping out into the hall and closing the door behind him, "I don't mean to sound controlling or uptight, but I just don't like the idea of fireworks. I just don't want me, and more importantly, you to get hurt."
"Shawn.. " you avert your eyes from the floor to lock on his, cupping his chin with your fingers and forcing him to keep his gaze trained on you. "Please.. I want our first Fourth of July as husband and wife to be incredible. I mean, come on, dude. You're Canadian. You have no idea how much fun this holiday actually is."
"Objection," Shawn rolls his eyes, cracking a grin so cutely you felt like melting into a puddle. "Watching firework shows has been a highlight of the year."
"We can still go to a show," you shrug your shoulders. "This'll just be something we do for a few minutes, just for fun."
You wait a beat, then speak again. "Come on, Shawnyboo... please?"
Then, you bring out the puppy eyes. You knew Shawn couldn't say no, by the way he squeezed his eyes shut, refusing to fall into temptation.
"Pwetty pwease... with sugar on top?"
"Stahhp," Shawn whines, bringing his palm to his face. "Don't do that."
"I'll... I'll do whatever you want," you bite your lip again, pointing to the bedroom door, "in there."
Shawn peaks an eye through his fingers. After a few seconds of considering, he squeaks, "wait for real?"
"M-hmm," you nod matter-of-factly.
He smirks, bringing his hand down and slowly nodding. "Okay, fine. Okay. Totally holding you to that by the way."
***
"Ow ow ow ow," you clench your teeth together, biting back a scream as Shawn shimmies down the narrow hallway, one arm looped beneath your legs and the other steadying your head, carrying you all through the house until he reaches the bathroom door.
"Shh, it's okay, it's okay," Shawn whispers, struggling to jiggle open the door. You grip his linen t-shirt in your hand, wadding into a ball between your fist. Your foot had gone numb, the only pain lingering coming from the sharp buzzes shooting up your leg.
Shawn finally opens the door, waddling over to the toilet and slowly lowering you onto the closed lid. You lean back on your elbows, scrunching your eyebrows and pressing your lips together.
"Where's the first aid kit?" he asks, surprisingly calm and not as heavily frantic as you assumed he might be.
"Cabinet," you point directly above you. "God, it still stinks in here."
Shawn stands up, snickering as he moves at a quick pace while you squeezed the hem of his shirt tightly, trying to bring yourself to a sense of relief.
He crouches down on the rug with the small, white plastic box on his lap, opening it up and digging around for a moment. Finally, he pulls out a small, brown bottle, giving you a brief glance before unscrewing the cap.
"Okay, this is going to sting," he warns. "A lot."
You place your hand on his thigh, taking a deep breath, "okay, just get it over with."
He nods slowly and pours the substance onto a cotton ball, propping your foot up onto his knee and gently squeezing it over the burn.
You flinch and pull your hand back, but he hushes you and stresses it back towards his thigh. "It's okay," he assures you. "Feel better?"
You nod slightly. "Yeah, a little."
He squeezes some neosporin onto his finger and rubs it tenderly over the injury. Then, he tears open a large bandage and places it carefully over your foot, raising your leg and planting a kiss over the bandage.
"There," he smiles. "All better."
"Thank you," you heave a sigh.
"I hope you have learned your lesson," he shakes his head. "When the sparkler sparks, you can't freak out and drop it. And you should never set off fireworks while barefoot?"
"I haven't done them in a long time," you groan.
He smiles, leaning closer to you and rubbing small circles over the crease of your thumb with his own.
"Oh my," he chuckles. "I love my stupid, childish little baby. Happy America Day, darling. Lesson learned."
***
so that honeymoon thing abt shawn saying "morning honey!" while pooping is actually inspired by my PARENT'S honeymoon in hawaii, literally my fav story ever oh my
qotd: what's your fav album to listen to currently? (need some new music to tide me over before sePTEMBER 23 TURN TF UPPPPP!!1!1!2!3???-/::$)