Woso imagines

The sound of a dramatic yelp cut through the quiet of the house, making you look up from your book with an amused shake of your head. Mapi. What on earth had she done now? Setting the book aside, you stood and made your way to the back door, sliding it open just in time to hear a stream of rapid Spanish complaints from your girlfriend.

When you stepped out, there she was, hopping on one foot in the middle of the garden, her free hand clutching the opposite foot. Her hair was tied back in a messy bun, little strands sticking out at odd angles. She wore an oversized Barça t-shirt and a pair of shorts, no shoes, of course. Despite your constant reminders, she always insisted on walking barefoot. Now, it seemed, she was paying the price.

The moment she spotted you, Mapi froze mid-hop, lowering her injured foot as her face morphed into an expression of innocence. Her brown eyes went wide, and a guilty smile spread across her face, her nose scrunching up in the way that always made your heart squeeze.

“What did you do now?” you asked, crossing your arms and raising an eyebrow.

“¿Yo? Nada,” she said, her voice rising in pitch as she tried to look nonchalant. Her tone was far too cheerful to be believable, especially given the fact that she was still wincing.

“María Pilar,” you said, deliberately using her full name as you took a slow step forward.

She sighed dramatically, hobbling towards you on one foot, the pout forming on her lips entirely too theatrical. “¡Ay, mi amor! Estoy herida,” she groaned, wrapping her arms around your neck as she leaned heavily against you.

“Oh no, not hurt,” you replied, your voice dripping with mock concern. “What ever will we do?”

“Don’t laugh,” she muttered, switching to English and stumbling slightly over the words. “It hurts.”

You bit back a smile, sliding an arm around her waist to steady her. “What happened?”

“Splinter,” she said, holding up the offending foot. “Tiny… thing, but mucho dolor.”

“Much pain,” you repeat with a snort. “Of course it does.”

She clung to you dramatically, draping herself against your taller frame with all the weight of a woman who thought she was dying. When her injured foot started to touch the ground again, she quickly wrapped her leg around your waist, effectively anchoring herself to you.

You sighed, amused despite yourself, and hooked your arm under her, grabbing the back of her other thigh as you lifted her into your arms. “You’re ridiculous, you know that?”

Her arms tightened around your neck, and she buried her face into your shoulder with a loud, exaggerated sniffle. “But you love me.”

“Somehow,” you teased, carrying her back into the house.

“¡Ay! Qué cruel,” she mumbled, though you caught the faint smile tugging at her lips.

Once inside, you set her on the kitchen counter, stepping back as she swung her legs slightly, still pouting. “Stay,” you instructed, pointing at her as if she were Bagheera.

She rolled her eyes but didn’t argue, resting her hands on the counter as you rummaged through the first aid kit for a pair of tweezers and some disinfectant. When you turned back around, you found her examining her foot with a dramatic frown.

“Alright, let me see,” you said, gently taking her foot in your hand.

“It’s bad,” she said seriously, switching back to Spanish. “Muy mal.”

“Uh-huh,” you replied, already spotting the tiny splinter lodged in the bottom of her foot. “It’s tiny, María.”

“¡Pequeño, pero peligroso!” she argued, waving her hands for emphasis.

You couldn’t help but laugh, shaking your head as you carefully worked the tweezers into place. “Okay, hold still.”

The second the tweezers touched her skin, she yelped and jerked her foot away, nearly knocking your hand in the process.

“Mapi,” you scolded, fixing her with a stern look.

“It hurt!” she whined, crossing her arms with a pout.

“It’s going to hurt more if you keep moving,” you said, grabbing her foot again. “Now stay still.”

She muttered something under her breath—likely an insult you didn’t quite catch—but she begrudgingly stayed put as you worked the splinter free.

“There,” you said triumphantly, holding up the offending splinter. “All gone.”

Mapi peered at it suspiciously before letting out a loud sigh of relief, her head falling back dramatically. “Gracias a Dios.”

“Oh, we’re not done,” you said, grabbing the disinfectant.

“¿Qué? No!” she protested, trying to pull her foot away again.

“María Pilar León Cebrián, you sit still right now,” you warned, fixing her with a look.

She froze, her eyes wide as she stared at you. “Okay, okay,” she muttered, pouting again as she reluctantly held her foot out.

You bit back a smile as you cleaned the tiny wound, doing your best to be gentle despite her over-the-top reactions. She yelped and wriggled far more than necessary, each sound pulling an amused laugh from you.

“Mapi, you’re worse than the animals at work,” you teased, pressing a bandaid over the cut.

“¡Mentira!” she exclaimed, pointing an accusing finger at you. “I am brave.”

“Brave,” you echoed. “Sure, we’ll go with that. Anyway, trouble, you’re all done.”

She looked down at her foot, wiggling her toes experimentally before looking up at you with a begrudging smile. “Gracias, doctora.”

“Don’t thank me yet,” you said, packing away the first aid kit before turning back to her. “You’re still in trouble for not listening to me about wearing shoes.”

“Lo siento,” she said, though her grin gave her away. She reached out, grabbing your hands to pull you closer until you were standing between her parted legs.

“You’re not sorry,” you said, shaking your head but smiling despite yourself.

“Maybe not,” she admitted, her voice softening as she circled her tattooed arms around your neck. Her fingers traced idle patterns against your skin at the back of your neck as she looked down at you, her eyes glimmering with warmth. “But you still love me, no?”

You let out a soft laugh, your hands finding her thighs as you squeezed gently. “Unfortunately for me, yes.”

“¡Oye!” she exclaimed, swatting at your shoulder lightly before leaning in to nuzzle her nose against yours.

You grinned, sliding your hands up her thighs and beneath the hem of her shirt to rest against her warm skin. “You know I love you,” you murmured, your voice softening as you held her close.

She smiled down at you, the kind of smile that made your heart skip a beat every time. Her nose scrunched up adorably, and she leaned down to press a quick, playful kiss to your lips.

“Te quiero,” she whispered, her voice low and earnest.

“I love you too,” you replied, pulling her closer as you tilted your head to deepen the kiss.