Demi Imagines 2.0

Cookies

You're at home icing cookies with your girlfriend, Demi...

"Is that a dick?"
"Bitch shut up," Demi mutters as she tries to fix the design on her cookie.
"I swear that's a dick."
"What did I tell you?" she asks, but you can tell she's trying not to laugh.
"What's it supposed to be, then?"
"It's supposed to be you," she retorts, and you gasp in mock-shock.
"How dare you?"
"See?" she lifts the cookie, which is now a complete mess. "You."
"I was prepared to counter with something witty, but honestly, me," you reply, making her laugh.
"I'm shit at this," she groans, putting the cookie aside and grabbing a new one.
"In the end, it doesn't matter," you tell her, and she lets out a breath.
"Because it'll all end up in our stomachs?"
"Well yeah."
"But don't we want some pictures to prove to everyone that we have our lives together?" she asks, making you snort.
"I mean," you say, lifting your cookie. "I think we do have our lives together," you tell her, looking to your cookie which basically looks like you threw it against the wall.
"Can't argue with that, Picasso," she replies as she goes back to her own cookie.
After a while, she says, "Look at this masterpiece," she says, showing you what appears to be a Christmas tree, only it looks like it's on drugs.
"How lit," you comment, and she makes a face.
"Shut up. Like you did any better," she responds, smiling slightly.
"Oh, I sure did," you tell her, showing her your reindeer that looks like it was in a car accident.
"Do we need to arrest Santa for drunk driving?" she questions, making you burst into laughter.
"We probably do. And your tree has been doing drugs," you reply.
"Only a little," she assures you.
"What about this?" you ask, showing her your wreath that isn't even round.
"What a beauty."
"I know, right? I should become an artist," you say, trying not to laugh.
"Can we just eat them?" she asks.
"Assuming that they taste better than they look," you reply.
"But let's take a picture of our best ones," she says, standing up and coming over to you. She places her tree on drugs and the mess cookie as well as a few others beside your cookies.
"Talent," you comment, and she nods.
"Michaelangelo who?" Demi responds, making you laugh.
You get out your phone and take a few pictures of your disasters.
"Bootiful," Demi says as she takes some pictures.
"So bootiful," you agree. You finish taking some photos, and you look at your cookies. They are a mess. A complete mess. But something about them is nice.
"Please tell me I'm not the one who actually likes these," Demi says, and you glance to her.
"You're not."
"Good," she says before grabbing one and cramming it in her mouth.
"Demi!"
"What?" she asks with her mouth full. You roll your eyes, but you can't stop the smile that forms on your face.
Only with Demi would something like this be enjoyable. I mean, your cookies look like children who only a mother could love. And that's pushing it.
"You're so fucking annoying, but I love you," you tell her, and she makes a face.
"Look who's talking," she replies, turning to you and putting her hands on your hips. She pulls you closer, and you smile as she leans in. "But I love you, too." Your lips meet, and you smile against her.
She tastes of cookies, which is understandable. She smiles as she tangles her hands in your hair. Pulling you closer, she bites your bottom lip gently. With her right now, you're in pure bliss.
Somehow, every time you kiss her, it feels like the first time. And you love it.

A/N
I'm feeling very festive this year!!