Woso imagines

The house was silent except for the faint clatter of the knife on the cutting board as you prepared dinner. You weren’t expecting Leah home until tomorrow, so you’d taken your time with things—still in your comfy jumper and leggings, hair thrown up haphazardly, with music playing softly from your phone. It was one of those rare nights free from the chaos of traveling schedules, game updates, and Leah’s constant pestering about whatever ridiculous thought had popped into her head.

You were slicing a pepper when you heard it—the faint creak of the living room floorboards. Your hand froze mid-slice, the knife hovering in midair as your ears strained to catch the sound again. There it was—a soft rustle, almost imperceptible but undeniable. Your heart rate spiked. Leah wasn’t supposed to be back, and no one else had keys to your house.

Swallowing hard, you quietly set the knife down, then immediately thought better of it and picked it back up. You’d watched enough true crime documentaries to know you had to be prepared. The sound came again, this time louder, like something—or someone—shifting against the door.

Your chest tightened as you padded toward the living room, your grip on the knife sweaty but firm. The door was slightly ajar, shadows shifting behind it as if someone was moving around inside. You took a deep breath, steeling yourself, and with a sudden burst of adrenaline, you shoved the door open as hard as you could.

The door slammed into something solid, followed by a loud cry of pain.

“Bloody hell!”

The voice was familiar, but it wasn’t until you heard the groan that it clicked. Your eyes widened, the knife slipping from your grip and clattering to the floor. “Leah?!”

The door swung open fully, revealing Leah standing behind it, bent over slightly with her hand pressed to her face. Blood was already seeping through her fingers, a bright and horrifying red that made your stomach twist. Her duffel bag lay abandoned at her feet, her coat half unzipped, as if she’d just walked through the door when you attacked her.

“Oh my God, baby,” you gasped, rushing toward her, your hands hovering uselessly as you tried to assess the damage. “What—what are you doing here? You weren’t supposed to be home yet!”

Leah straightened slightly, her other hand bracing herself on the doorframe as she groaned. “Wanted to surprise you,” she mumbled, her voice muffled by the hand still clutching her face. “Didn’t think I’d get smacked in the face for it.”

You winced, guilt pooling in your chest as you reached for her hand. “Let me see.”

“I’m fine,” she muttered, but she didn’t stop you as you gently pulled her hand away. Blood dripped freely from her nose, staining her pale skin and the collar of her hoodie. Her nose looked crooked, slightly swollen already, and the sight of it made your stomach churn.

“You’re not fine,” you said, your voice high-pitched with panic. “You’re bleeding everywhere! Oh my God, I think I broke your nose. Leah, I’m so sorry.”

Leah gave you a weak smile, though it was more of a grimace. “Relax, love. I’ve had worse on the pitch. It’s just a bit of blood.”

“A bit?” you repeated, incredulous, as you grabbed her arm and steered her toward the kitchen. “Leah, your face is leaking.”

She snorted at that, then immediately winced, groaning as she pinched the bridge of her nose again. “Okay, yeah. Not my best idea.”

You guided her to the sink, grabbing a clean towel and wetting it under the tap. She leaned over the basin, letting the blood drip freely for a moment before you pressed the towel gently to her face. She hissed at the contact, but didn’t pull away, her blue eyes meeting yours with a mixture of amusement and apology.

“Seriously, love, it’s fine,” she said softly, her voice nasally from the swelling. “I probably deserved it for sneaking up on you.”

“You didn’t sneak up on me!” you said, dabbing at her nose as carefully as you could. “I thought someone broke in. I was ready to fight for my life, and instead, I’ve just— Oh my God, I’ve broken your beautiful face.”

Leah chuckled, though it turned into a groan as you pressed the towel a little harder than necessary. “It’s not broken,” she insisted. “Just a little bent. Adds character, don’t you think?”

You glared at her, though the tears welling in your eyes probably ruined the effect. “This isn’t funny, Leah.”

Her face softened, and she reached up to cover your hand with hers. “Hey, I’m okay. Really. It’s not the end of the world.”

You weren’t convinced, but you nodded anyway, focusing on cleaning up the blood rather than arguing with her. After a few minutes, the bleeding slowed to a trickle, and Leah rinsed her mouth out in the sink, spitting pink-tinged water down the drain. She grabbed a tissue and stuffed it gently into one nostril, wincing slightly as she adjusted it.

“There,” she said, turning to you with a lopsided grin. “Good as new.”

You crossed your arms, still feeling the weight of guilt pressing down on you. “You’re going to have to wear one of those ridiculous masks now, aren’t you? Like a football-playing Batman.”

Leah raised an eyebrow, her grin widening. “Would that turn you on?”

“Leah,” you said, exasperated, though the hint of a smile tugged at your lips.

She laughed, then winced again, clutching her nose. “Okay, maybe no more jokes for now.”

You sighed, stepping closer and wrapping your arms around her waist. She pulled you in without hesitation, resting her chin on top of your head. “I’m sorry,” you murmured against her chest. “I didn’t mean to hurt you.”

“I know,” she said softly, her fingers tracing soothing circles on your back. “You were scared. It’s okay.”

You stayed like that for a while, her steady heartbeat calming your racing thoughts. But when you pulled back to look at her face, the sight of her swollen nose and the dried blood on her upper lip made your stomach twist again.

“I’m a terrible girlfriend,” you muttered, reaching up to touch her cheek gently. “I’ve broken your face, and now you’re going to have to wear that stupid mask, and everyone’s going to laugh at you.”

Leah smiled, leaning into your touch. “First of all, you didn’t break my face. It’s just a little bruised. And second, if anyone laughs at me, I’ll just tell them my girlfriend was so excited to see me, she couldn’t help herself.”

You couldn’t help but laugh at that, shaking your head. “You’re impossible.”

“And you love me for it,” she said, her grin cheeky despite the tissue sticking out of her nose.

You rolled your eyes, but your smile gave you away. “Yeah, I do.”