Woso imagines

Alexia < snack stealer

It was a rare evening off, and you were sprawled out on the couch, enjoying the peaceful comfort of home. The TV was on, tuned to a match you'd been eager to watch all week. A bag of crisps rested on your lap, your hand occasionally reaching in for another bite. It was your favorite flavor, and after a long day, the simple pleasure of good snacks and football was pure bliss.

Alexia sat beside you, her legs tucked beneath her. Her attention flicked between her phone and the TV, though she seemed far more interested in you than the game. Every now and then, you caught her glancing at the bag of crisps in your lap, her brown eyes narrowing slightly, her expression one of calculated determination.

You pretended not to notice, knowing exactly what she was up to. Alexia had a habit of stealing your snacks, despite having no shortage of her own. It had become a game between the two of you—a game you usually lost, because Alexia was nothing if not persistent.

The first move came just as a corner kick was being taken. You were glued to the screen, anticipating the shot, when Alexia shifted closer. Her hand darted out, fingers brushing against the edge of the bag.

Without looking away from the TV, you tilted the bag out of her reach. "Don't even think about it," you warned, your tone light but firm.

Alexia's lips curved into a playful smirk, her accent thick as she responded. "I am not thinking. I am... what is it? Doing."

Her hand shot out again, this time a little bolder. You blocked her with your arm, finally turning to give her a mock glare. "Get your own," you said, holding the bag protectively.

"I don't want my own," she said, leaning into you with a pout. "Yours taste better."

"They're the same crisps we bought together at the shop," you replied, laughing. "You literally picked them out."

"Doesn't matter," she said stubbornly, her Spanish accent making the words sound far cuter than they had any right to. "Yours are better. Always better."

You rolled your eyes, but your heart melted a little at her antics. Alexia was the picture of focus and discipline on the pitch, a leader through and through. Off the pitch, though? She was your biggest menace.

As the match continued, so did her attempts to steal your snacks. She tried sneaking her hand into the bag during a particularly tense moment on the field, but you swatted her away. She tried distracting you by pointing at the screen and exclaiming, "Goal! Look!" even though there was no goal. When you didn't fall for that, she resorted to whining, her head dropping dramatically onto your shoulder.

"Why do you not share with me?" she asked, her voice laced with exaggerated sorrow. "You are so mean."

"Mean?" you repeated, arching an eyebrow. "You're the one trying to steal from me. That's mean."

Alexia sat up straight, crossing her arms. "It's not stealing if we share everything. We are girlfriends."

"Oh, is that how it works?" you teased, grinning at her. "Then why didn't you share your churros with me last week, huh?"

Her cheeks flushed, and she avoided your gaze. "That was different."

"Sure it was," you said, laughing as you took another crisp.

For a moment, she looked defeated, slumping back against the couch with a huff. You thought you'd won. But Alexia was nothing if not determined.

Her next move was more elaborate. She grabbed the throw pillow beside her and tossed it onto the floor. When you bent down to pick it up, muttering about her being messy, she seized the opportunity to grab the bag. By the time you sat up again, the crisps were in her hands, and she was grinning triumphantly.

"Hey!" you protested, reaching for the bag.

Alexia held it out of reach, her long arms giving her an unfair advantage. "Too slow!" she sang, giggling as you tried to wrestle it back.

You lunged for her, and the two of you ended up in a full-on tug-of-war. She was laughing so hard she could barely hold onto the bag, but she refused to let go. "I win!" she declared, though her words were muffled by laughter.

"Like hell you do," you shot back, climbing onto her lap in a last-ditch effort to reclaim your snack.

The two of you toppled over, landing in a heap on the couch. The bag of crisps fell to the floor, spilling its contents everywhere. For a moment, you both froze, staring at the mess. Then Alexia burst into laughter, her face buried against your shoulder as she shook with amusement.

"You're impossible," you said, but you couldn't help laughing too.

She pulled back just enough to look at you, her brown eyes sparkling with mischief. "And you love me."

"Unfortunately," you said, but the smile on your face betrayed your words.

Alexia leaned in, pressing a quick, playful kiss to your lips. "You are lucky I love you more," she said, her voice soft but teasing.

The match on TV was long forgotten by now, the crisps scattered across the floor a minor inconvenience compared to the warmth of Alexia's laughter and the way her arms tightened around you. In that moment, as the two of you lay tangled on the couch, it didn't matter who won or lost your silly little game. All that mattered was her smile, her laughter, and the undeniable fact that she was your favorite kind of chaos.