Demi Imagines

Long Day

You come home from a long day at work...

"Demi!" you call as soon as you walk through the door.
"Is that my baby girl?" she responds, emerging from the kitchen.
"Mhmm," you respond, dropping your bags and opening your arms. She comes over to you, wrapping her arms around your waist as you hug her. "I'm so tired," you mumble into her hair.
"Let me take care of you," she says, pulling away before taking your hands in hers. "I made dinner. Come on," she says, and you grin. You always love when she makes you dinner.
"You're amazing," you say, following her into the kitchen. You see the pizza in the middle of the table and raise an eyebrow. "You made that?"
"I had time," she admits with a laugh. "Come come," she says like a proud chef showing her most amazing dish.
"This looks incredible," you say, breathing in the delicious smell.
"There also may be a pie in the oven, but we will determine if it's edible in..." She looks toward the over to check the timer. "Twenty-three minutes and fifteen seconds."
"I'm sure it'll be great," you reply, going over to the sink to wash your hands. "You're too good to me," you say, and her face lights up.
"I love you too much," she admits, her cheeks slightly pink.
"I love you, too," you reply as you dry off your hands. "Shall we eat?"
So you both sit down to eat. She did an amazing job with the pizza, and the pie was indeed edible—and delicious. Suddenly, you don't feel as tired anymore.
"You don't know how amazing you are, Demi," you say as you dry off the last of the dishes.
"I could say the same thing about you," she responds, turning off the water and trying to wipe her hands on you.
"Hey! No! Use a towel," you tell her, smacking her wet hands away.
"You're more convenient," she giggles, taking the towel from you and drying her hands.
"No, I am not," you laugh, going over to the table with a clean towel and wiping it clean.
"Yes you are," she says, patting your back like a drum.
"No thank you," you laugh, turning around and grabbing her wrists, dropping the towel to the floor.
She feigns disappointment and sticks out her bottom lip.
"How old are you? Five?" you tease, and she gasps.
"I am not such a youngun!" she responds. "I am fifty-six! How dare you?"
"Fifty-six," you say, bursting into laughter. "Sounds about right."
"Damn straight," she replies, trying not to laugh.
"You're a piece of work," you tell her, and she sticks her tongue out at you.
"Of course I am," she jokes, leaning in to press her forehead to yours.
"Mhmm," you hum, gently pressing your lips against hers. She smiles against you, and you slide your tongue along her lips.
"Youngun," she suddenly says, making you burst into laughter and almost slam her head with yours.
"Youngun," you reply before kissing her again.
Nobody can make you feel as happy as she can—even with her strange sense of humor.

A/N
This one time I was talking to my brother about acronyms and the word "youngun" came up and I've loved it ever since
I think I even used it in a school assignment lmaooo