Woso imagines

Alexia < cold hands. (Request)

The trip to Whistler had been in the works for months, planned out with all the precision of one of your team's training sessions. The goal was simple: a cozy Christmas in the mountains, skiing by day and unwinding together by night. Alexia had been elated about it from the start. But as soon as the two of you stepped off the plane, her excitement collided with the reality of the freezing Canadian winter, and her enthusiasm took a slight hit. The two of you hadn't even gotten to the cabin yet, and she was already tugging her scarf tighter around her neck, teeth chattering and eyebrows furrowed as she tried to bury her face in her coat.

It was late when you arrived at the cabin, so after unpacking the essentials, you put together a quick dinner, each of you too tired to do more than eat quietly by the fire, savoring the warmth. Afterward, you both moved to the bathroom, Alexia looking comically miserable as she peeled off her layers of cold-weather clothing. She muttered something under her breath, half in Spanish and half in English, that was likely a complaint about the chill as you guided her into the warm spray of the shower. The exhaustion from the trip hit as soon as you got out, and the two of you collapsed into bed, Alexia curling up close as you held her, excitement for the next day's plans lingering between you even as sleep took over.

The next morning, you woke to find Alexia still fast asleep, barely stirring when you leaned down to kiss her cheek and whisper that it was time to get ready. She mumbled something unintelligible, eyes remaining stubbornly shut until you nudged her again, teasing her gently about her reluctance. Finally, she cracked an eye open, groaning as she dragged herself up to sit on the edge of the bed, her hair tousled and her face etched with sleepy reluctance.

"Here, baby." You hand her the coffee you'd made, and she takes it with a sleepy smile, bringing it to her lips with for a cautious sip. As she sat sipping her coffee, you started pulling layers out of her suitcase. One by one, you helped her bundle up: a thermal layer, a thick sweater, a puffy jacket, woolly socks, gloves. Even a woolly hat.

By the time you were done, she looked more like a marshmallow than the world-class footballer she was, bundled in layers of thermals, fleece, and down.

Alexia blinked, tugging at her gloves and shooting you an unamused look.

You grinned as you tugged Alexia's woolly hat down over her ears, admiring how cute she looked bundled up like this. Her cheeks were pink from the cold, and her lips formed an adorable pout.

"I look... silly," she grumbled, glancing down at herself and tugging awkwardly at the sleeves of her oversized coat.

You laughed, stepping closer to adjust her scarf. "No, you look adorable."

Alexia's pout deepened, and she raised an eyebrow, clearly unimpressed. "Like... marshmallow. Fat marshmallow," she muttered, her accent thick, and a little frustration creeping into her voice.

"An adorable marshmallow," you insisted, leaning in to press a kiss to her nose. She huffed, her lips twitching as if fighting a smile, but she couldn't hide the slight blush that crept over her cheeks.

"Ridículo," she mumbled, shaking her head as she playfully nudged you. "You enjoy this too much."

"Maybe," you admitted, grinning as you pulled your own gloves on. "Alright, ready to go, my cute little marshmallow?"

She shot you a look, though her eyes sparkled with a mix of exasperation and affection. "I am not a marshmallow," she muttered under her breath as she followed you out into the snow, pulling her hat down a little lower.

The two of you started trudging through the snow toward the rental shop, but it quickly became clear that Alexia was struggling. She slipped slightly with each step, gripping onto your arm like her life depended on it, muttering to herself in Spanish.