Who: Declan Rice
Prompt: "You're never this quiet."
Requested by: anonymous
Notes with request: x Reader please
Word count: 300
Warnings: none
Writing masterlist | Request an imagine
A summer barbecue with all relatives attending was the big happening in your family each year. Every member of the family, no matter how distant, all came together for an afternoon of fun, joined by their partners and children.
Of course, you and Declan attended, too, this year.
It was a bright, sunny June day, so everything was perfect for a family gathering and barbecue.
You mingled quickly, chatting and catching up with relatives you didn't see often. You got separated from Declan, but after years of being together he knew your family knew well and would easily enjoy himself.
After about an hour, you noticed Declan sitting quietly by himself, a little to the side.
You frowned. This wasn't like Declan. He usually chatted happily with everyone, played football with some of the kids, or helped firing up the barbecue.
"Are you okay?" You quietly approached and knelt down in front of him, resting your hand on his knee. "You're never this quiet."
"Don't worry." Declan smiled and it looked genuine. "I'm fine."
"Then why are you sitting here?" You asked. "All by yourself."
"Because..." Declan covered your hand with his. "Because I'm quietly observing how lucky I am."
You needed a moment to let the full meaning of those words sink in, before the warm feeling of love spread through you.
"I have the most amazing and beautiful wife, with a great family." Declan spoke before you could say anything. His blue eyes twinkled in the sunlight. "And sitting here, in the sunshine, I realized more than ever that I'm a lucky man to have all that."
"You know what?" You smiled warmly. "I am an equally lucky woman to have a man like you."
Declan leaned forward to give you a kiss, smiling against your lips. "Perfect."
oml your smuts are so good could you write something with thigh riding please love your work stay safe and take care love ya 🤍
Omgggg you don’t even know how much this means to me like all the feedback I’ve received means a lot to me and I will try to write more thank you for your sweet message and request. Enjoy 💕🧚🏼♂️
Gavi x reader smut
Warning: smut
I’m sorry that this one is a bit short
Pablo was playing fifa with pedri who else 🙄and I was so horny but he wouldn’t let me do anything so I’m just laying on the bad and trying to causes some friction trough my thighs.
Then Pablo looked back at me and smiled and then he noticed what I was doing with my legs and smirked at me and made a come here motion with his fingers and I get up and I walked over to him and he pulls me on his thigh “here hermosa this will make it better,, He smiles and kisses my head and tells me to take off my underwear and I do so, then I sit back on hit thigh “pablito what do I do now,,
“Bonita do the same thing that you do with my dick just on my leg and not my dick,, He starts the game again and wraps his arms around my waist and kisses my head and I start rubbing myself on his thigh and it surprisingly feels pretty great “fuck,,
“shh Bonita I'm on mic,, I put my head in the crook of his neck and I moan into it but I guess pedri and the boys could still here me “homie what are you doing,, asks pedri “y/n is masturbating and she's being loud He puts his mic up “stop being loud hermosa,,
,,I'm so― omg baby I'm gonna”
“ok hurry up and cum bonita,, I go faster and I cum and then I get up and go take a shower and then I feel arms behind me, so now we are getting out after being in there for an hour ifykyk 1
A/N: Definitely not a comeback, so don’t get your hopes up (sorry!) - just had a thought about a footballer I can’t actually write about so I used my imagination a little. Also, thank you for over 1200 followers; I can't believe so many of you follow this barely-updating blog! Enjoy x
Pairing: Anyone you like x Fem!Reader
Warning: unprotected sex, teasing
Words: 683
- - -
You slip on your favourite pair of heels, twisting and turning in front of your full-length mirror to get a glimpse of the complete outfit. It was rare that you wore them, as wearing heels put you a few centimetres over your boyfriend. Luckily, he loved the height difference when it came to special occasions like tonight and you never felt like you had to compromise or shrink yourself in his presence.
The sound of his voice saying your name alerts you to his presence and you turn, a smile instantly forming on your face as you catch sight of him standing in the doorway. His suit is tailored specially for him and you know he’s spent just as much time in front of the mirror as you have to perfect his look - after all, the star player can’t attend the awards dinner not looking his best.
“Hey,” you whisper, teeth sinking into your bottom lip as you drink him in. He’s doing the same to you, the colour of his eyes darkening with desire that you’re sure is mirrored in yours. “You look good.”
“So do you.” The nickname he has for you in his native language falls from his lips and your stomach dips at the word. “I see you’re wearing my favourite shoes.”
“Special occasion,” you hum, giving yourself one last look in the mirror. “I know how much you enjoy the end of the night.”
He steps behind you, wrapping his arms around your waist and pressing a kiss to your cheek. “You know that’s my favourite part of these things.”
***
Teasing him has always been your specialty, and tonight is no exception. Both of you are always touching each other in ways that look innocent enough to anyone on the outside looking in, but by the time the dinner is over, you’re practically jumping out of your skin.
It’s a ritual for you at this point: the moment the two of you are inside, he takes a seat on the sofa, spreading his legs as he watches you closely. You stand in front of him, slowly unzipping your dress.Your gaze is locked with his as the dress falls to the floor, leaving you standing in the matching lingerie set you’d put on just for this moment.
You saunter over to him, standing in-between his legs. “Fuck, you’re beautiful,” he murmurs, swallowing hard as his hands slide behind the backs of your knees and up your thighs. He squeezes your ass and you let out a moan, your eyes fluttering closed. You let his hands explore your body until you can’t take it anymore, resting a hand on his shoulder to brace yourself so you can straddle him. He lets out a grunt that you feel vibrate throughout your body, taking the opportunity to brush your pantie-clad pussy over the growing bulge outline on his fancy trousers. His grip around your hips tightens as he groans your name, tilting his head back to give you access to his neck. You take it, pressing kisses to the exposed area, making sure to mark him in the spot you like. His hands unclasp your bra and you pull back to slide the straps off and expose your tits to him.
Your body responds to him like it always does, the feel of his mouth on your pert nipples going straight to your pussy. He groans your nickname again as he switches to the other nipple, the scrape of his scruff across your skin sending shivers down your spine.
You’re still wearing the heels when he finally fucks you, his shirt unbuttoned and open, his pants unbuckled and around his ankles as you sink down on his cock repeatedly until you’ve reached your orgasm at the same time he does. You fix your panties that had been pushed to the side, the feel of his cum dripping out of you turning you on again.
“Meet me in the bedroom,” you whisper in his ear, climbing off him and making your way to the bedroom to get ready for the next round.
This is piece for the Chat Me Up challenge that @footballffbarbiex is having
Prompt 8: Are you religious? Because you’re the answer to all my prayers
You and Christian have been dating for seven months. You guys were still in the honeymoon phase of the relationship, and for Christian that meant always using pick up lines to make you blush or to cheer you up.
You and Christian had just gone to the grocery store to buy food to cook for dinner for the movie night you guys were having at your place. Christian thought it was a good idea to do an Instagram live, and do a q&a with his fans. You were chopping the onions, and started tearing up because of it. Christian was answering questions, he looked up and saw your eyes get watery. He immediately got worried until he saw you were chopping onions, he opened his arms for you to go over and so that he could cuddle you.
All his fans were aweing at the cute interactions, and started asking questions about your relationship. Christian was happy to answer, then one of the fans asked ‘what’s an adorable thing Y/N does?’ Christian immediately shot up after reading the question, he looks at you and winks “Hey babe, Are you religious? Because you’re the answer to all my prayers” you looked at him and immediately started blushing uncontrollably. Chris started pinching your cheeks, looks at the camera “This right here, everytime I tell her a pick up line she starts blushing and gets all giggly. Well thank you guys for joining, i had fun doing this live! See you guys soon!” As he killed the live, you slapped his chest “OW Y/N what was that for?!” You start laughing, “Cause you think your pick up lines are cute”
Chris started laughing, “Well if they aren’t...then why are you all giggly and blushing after I say them?” You roll your eyes and keep cooking “That’s what I thought Y/N” he kisses your cheek. You guys served dinner and started watching a movie, in the living room.
You fell asleep on Christian’s shoulder, he noticed then picked you up and tucked you into bed. He kissed your forehead, and told you goodnight then went back downstairs to finish watching tv until he eventually came upstairs to go to sleep
Summary: In a world where you don’t physically age past 25 unless you meet your soulmate, at 39, divorced and trying his hand at coaching after retiring from football, Antoine really isn’t looking for love; especially not with his daughter’s friend who is about to stop her own aging process. With his moral judgement compromised and fate trying to intervene, Antoine quickly learns that meeting a soulmate doesn’t mean that happiness comes easily.
Warnings (if you don’t like these, do not read the fic. You’re responsible for what you consume): age gap (39-25), voyeurism, angst, oral sex (male and female), squirting/multiple orgasms, cream pie, secret dating, sexting, exchanging of pics, dirty talk, mutual masturbation, mutual pining. (More may be added later)
Warnings for the chapter: None. We start off light.
Chapter words: 1,382
You sit in the car, fingers drumming against the steering wheel along with the music as the air con blasts through the car. Charlotte was due to finish fifteen minutes ago but a text earlier had notified you who she was on shift with and oh boy, you knew you could be sitting here for some time; especially as they had a team meeting just before the end of the shift. You had considered going home first, collecting a few things from there and then coming back for Charlotte but knowing your luck, she’d be out early.
Charlotte had truly been a saving grace since moving here. Her large welcoming smile, dimples popping, dirty blonde hair and beautiful blue eyes had drawn you in.
“I’m Lottie,” she’d said, “if you call me Charlotte I’ll assume you’re pissed at me. Char and Charlie work too. But for the most part, I’m Lottie.” She’d grinned at you and that had been it. She’d taken on the role of your best friend, hooked her arm through yours and showed you the ropes.
Almost four years younger than you, she had an air of maturity about her that was lost on a lot of your peers her age, something she puts down to her parents divorcing when she was younger.
“It’s fine,” she’d waved her hand to dismiss your concerns to change the subject. “I’m over it. I think they are too.” It’s not something you’d pressed her for more about. Divorce was tricky and it wasn’t something you could casually bring up, nor would you want to - especially so early in a friendship. You’d been to her mom’s house a handful of times, mostly when she was out because you hadn’t yet met her. The two of you spent time either at your apartment or out, somewhere she could study casually while the two of you talked.
The doors open and a flurry of bodies exit, followed by her stretching her arms out above her head before allowing them to drop slightly, tugging the tie from her hair. She looks as drained as you feel. Tonight would definitely be a wine and takeout night. She stands with her hands on her hips, surveying the parking lot until her eyes fall on yours, a smile breaking out over her face and you can almost hear the happy sound that would naturally follow.
“I need wine,” she states the moment the car door is open. “Sitting through her meetings sober should be illegal. We need a wine version of a water cooler in that room.” She huffs, sitting herself down, dropping her bag into the footwell and resting against the headrest. She runs a hand over her face and lets out a long sigh.
“I was thinking wine anyway,” you tell her, nodding towards her seatbelt and wait for her to put it on before you start the car up.
“Ok, mom,” she rolls her eyes and clicks it into place. “But I also want something from that little Italian place again.” You both make the same appreciation noise at the same time, her hand rubbing her belly and her tongue swipes over her lips in a childlike manner. “Have you decided where you want me tonight? Staying at yours or my dads?”
You pull an expression showing your awkwardness, “I don’t know...I’ve never even stepped foot in his house before or met him and I’d be sleeping over? It’s a little weird.”
“Hey,” she laughs, “that house is just as much mine as it is his. I grew up there and I probably lived in it more than he did for years. I can have friends there. Aaaand,” she says in a sing-song tone, “you have the choice of where. You can either stay with me in my room or you could stay in the guest house.”
“Oh, you have a guest house.” You hope it doesn’t come out mockingly but the laugh that follows tells you she hasn’t taken it in such a way. “And here I am, lucky to be paying my rent on time for one place let alone a buy-one-get-one-free property.”
“You get the free house when you stay over, I’ve now decided. Because you’re cheap like that.”
___
The decision to stay at yours was made quickly, though you promised to stay at hers as soon as introductions had been made and you felt comfortable enough. She directs you through the streets until reaching the large gated property. Lottie unclips her seatbelt and climbs onto the seat, leaning across where you sit and extends her arm out of the window to press in the code, green lights flashing as the code is accepted, creating a clicking noise as the gates begin to open up to grant access.
“This is….” you find yourself leaning forward, chest pressing to the steering wheel as you try to take in as much as possible.
“Home.” Lottie finishes, amusement causes the corners of her lips to twitch, threatening to pull them into a full smile. It was always the same with people who hadn’t seen the other half of her life. Her mom’s house was humble, bigger than a standard home but nothing like this. She was glad he never went through with the idea of selling it, it may be large but it offered what he deserved: a second chance.
She points out where you should park, forcing your eyes away from the building and to the space that she’s offering. “You’re in luck.” She tells you. “Dad isn’t home yet.”
Something about that helps to settle you. At least it’ll just be the two of you for a little while and you don’t have to try to be on best behaviour immediately. The last thing you want is to be in awe of the house next to the owner. Once out of the car, you follow her up to the front door, listening about something that happened in one of the other departments today as she unlocks and pushes open the door, guiding you into the lobby and closes the door behind you as you take in everything that greets you.
“He lives here alone?” you ask, surprised.
“Well, whenever I’m not around, sure.” She shrugs, dropping her keys onto the sideboard and kicks off her shoes. “I’ll give you the tour once I’ve got my things. Care to join me in my bedroom?” She wiggles her eyebrows and speaks in a sultry tone.
You’re about to answer, your feet trying to remove your own shoes pause at the sound of gravel crunching beneath tyres. She turns, standing on her tiptoes to see who is coming up the driveway and smiles. “Never mind, he’s home. He’s going to love you.”
“You seem so sure.” You reply, suddenly feeling more like a teenager by the second. Meeting parents even as an adult always fills you with dread, just like passing the police; something about being near them made you worry you’ve suddenly done something even though you know you haven’t.
“I am.” She nods.
“You are what?” His voice sounds as the door opens, catching the back end of the conversation. He’s dressed in dark blue, hair short but with enough length that you could run your fingers through them and tug gently on them. He has the same piercing shade of blue eyes that Lottie has, framed by beautiful lashes and heavy brows above. His top lip curved in a perfect Cupid’s bow is complimented by a slightly fuller bottom lip. His daughter looks like him but there’s certainly a look of her mother, you assume, about her too. Something not genetically him.
His eyes move from Lottie to you. Your eyes are fixed on his face, noting the way his eyes flicker over you, taking in each detail that he can within a matter of seconds before his eyes are locked with yours once more. He holds your stare, his expression neutral but the confidence in the way he holds it means something; almost as though he’s waiting for something to happen. When nothing does, he looks back to Lottie.
“Certain the two of you will get along.” She answers him. His eyes are on you again.
Hey guys this is a more serious post actually lately I’ve been receiving a lot of hate about my content and it made me kind of sad I only started writing because people on here like it and tumbler is very well known for smut and stuff like that also I’m not the only one writing smut on this app.
But still i want to apologize because my writing doesn’t have any bad intentions and I’m sorry if any one feels offended by my content. People also started to report my stuff and told me to kill my self and that I don’t belong on this app and the sad part about it is that the people were adults. That’s why I think I will stop writing on here
Please let me know if I should continue to write and thank you for all the support till now
Summary: In a world where you don’t physically age past 25 unless you meet your soulmate, at 39, divorced and trying his hand at coaching after retiring from football, Antoine really isn’t looking for love; especially not with his daughter’s friend who is about to stop her own aging process. With his moral judgement compromised and fate trying to intervene, Antoine quickly learns that meeting a soulmate doesn’t mean that happiness comes easily.
Warnings (if you don’t like these, do not read the fic. You’re responsible for what you consume): age gap (39-25), voyeurism, angst, oral sex (male and female), squirting/multiple orgasms, cream pie, secret dating, sexting, exchanging of pics, dirty talk, mutual masturbation, mutual pining. (More may be added later)
Warnings for the chapter: drinking, swearing, lustful stares. We're still setting the scene baby, we go slow.
Chapter words: 2,620
CHAPTER ONE.
____
You remain quiet until you reach her room, following her as she leads you throughout the home. She’s at ease as much as you expected her to be, her voice carrying through the hallways with the small talk she makes until she pushes open the door and leads you into a clean coloured, bright room. There’s enough furniture and personal touches to not look like a showroom, but it’s tidy enough to make you think it is usually this put together and not just because of potential visitors.
“I think he was expecting you to fangirl,” Lottie says, kicking the door shut behind you, giving the two of you some privacy. The image of her father in your mind is fixed firmly there still, burning into you in a way that you hadn’t felt for a long time. Those eyes scanning over you had made your blood come alive. Nothing about the way he’d looked at you was sexual, it hadn’t turned you on in a normal sense. Heat had stirred within your belly but it had felt more intense than that in a way that you hadn’t anticipated.
“Was I supposed to?” You frown. He looked familiar, but you couldn’t place it. Had you just looked at Lottie for too long? Caught a glimpse of him in her photos maybe? You weren’t sure, but to fangirl? That was new.
Lottie pauses her hands as she goes through her drawers, the bag she needs is open beside her, a shirt was carelessly thrown into it and part hangs out. “You really don’t recognise the Griezmann name, do you?” Her expression changes to amusement as yours remains confused. “That’s good. I like that.”
“Why?”
“Because I get a clean slate with you,” she says, sighing and giving a small nod as she comes to this conclusion. “Everyone around me knows him. Antoine Griezmann, famous footballer. World Champion. And now football coach.”
“I try not to make a point to fawn over my friend’s parents.” You grin and she returns it.
“You wouldn’t be the first if you did. As I said, it was his first time meeting you, it’s probably what he was expecting. I think he was relieved you didn’t though. It’s probably why he wanted to check you were the same friend I talk about a lot.”
“I can understand that.” You nod and take a seat, sitting carefully and poised rather than relaxed. “Anyone who comes into your life, if he’s as famous as you say, he must have it at the back of his mind that anyone getting close to you could be for the name, rather than your friendship.”
“He’s cautious of that. We both are. It makes dating hard. For us two at least. It’s easier for mom. The link isn’t as tempting it seems. Dating Griezmann’s ex-wife or date his daughter? I think you can imagine which is more appealing.”
“I can’t imagine having to second guess motives.”
“It’s...an experience. But it’s all I’ve known so it’s second nature now.” Lottie shrugs. “Now, what to take to yours?”
_____
Her words had played on your mind and certain things had slowly clicked into place. How others acted around her, especially if they’ve just been introduced, the way she’d been cautious with you to begin with. You weren’t oblivious, you’d heard they were well known but beyond that, anything else was new. Part of you wanted to protect her, wrap your arms around her and shield her kindness from those who would take advantage of her.
Since the first visit to hers, you began to visit a little more often; though it was mostly when he wasn’t home and overnight stays remained at yours. Until tonight.
“Pleeeeeaaaaaaase?” Lottie had pleaded, hands clasped together beneath her chin and her most innocent expression gracing her face. “Dad always gets the best hangover food in, that huge fridge is fully stocked with good stuff and he’s a wine snob. We can raid his wine cellar collection. He won’t even know because they’re playing away. By the time he’s home, I’ll have tidied up and you’ll be out of there.”
You couldn’t say no and she’d all but skipped back to her desk before using the work messaging system to plot out the evening.
The two of you had pre-drinks at hers whilst getting ready with several other friends, music had been playing and the promised bottle of wine had been opened. The wine cellar was bigger than your kitchen diner, maybe even including your bedroom too. Bottles upon bottles of wine, gin and vodka lay on specially crafted shelves. A large clear fronted fridge shows the bottles of beer chilled to perfection. It was a beautiful sight.
She’d walked along the rows, each in their own section - red, white, rose and subsections such as fruity or dry. She trailed her finger along the bottles until she found the one she wanted.
“I’ve had my eye on this one for a while.”
“What if he’s saving that one for a special occasion?”
“You’re staying over for the first time. That is a special occasion.” She’d laughed and gone on her first quest of the evening to locate the corkscrew.
___
Your feet ache from all the dancing, your heels are swinging from your fingertips as your other hand wraps around Charlotte’s waist. The two of you are staggering and she’s singing into her phone, using it as a microphone as she sings a medley of songs that had played tonight. You can’t keep up. She sings lyrics from one song to a completely different tune of another song before shifting to another two. The bag hangs from her inner elbow swings rapidly with every grand gesture when she hits a certain line that requires a big flourish.
“Aaaaand I’m gonna need your heeeeeeeelp,” she wails, “to find the keeeeeeeys to my door.”
You’re more sober than she is, after all, someone had to be the one to look after everyone else, but you’d undoubtedly be refused entry to another bar for being too drunk if you tried. From here though, you notice a figure up ahead as the two of you stumble up the driveway. No amount of squinting can make out the person.
“Lottie.” you pull your arm from her waist and shake hers, “Lottie, there’s someone there.”
“No, it’s just us.” She slurs, looking up at you with glassy eyes. “No-one can get in through the gates but…” she squints, her eyes darting from where the figure stands, to across the yard. “Dad.” she whispers, “shit. I didn’t tidy. I’m sure Mel’s bra is still on the landing.” Her words still slur but the realisation that he’s home early is sobering her a little quicker than expected.
By the time the two of you reach the doorway, he’s tapping his foot, arms crossed over his chest and an expression that makes you think that even though he’s not your daddy, he could still punish and ground you.
“Good morning ladies.”
“Fries?” You ask, holding up the takeaway bag - an action that makes him laugh and defuses any annoyance he may have for having to deal with two drunken women.
“Get in, get changed and you,” he points a finger at his daughter, “try not to vomit. Again.”
The two of you are ushered inside with Lottie unable to resist humming one of the many tunes she has in her mind. She drops her heels to the floor with a loud click and Antoine’s sharp intake of breath does not go unnoticed by you as she sways down the hallway, the takeaway bag now in her hand.
“Sorry Mr Griezmann,” you whisper and offer him a smile. “I tried to take care of her.”
“She’s home safe, making more sense than she usually does and has both of her shoes. You did well. Now go change.” He grins.
You’re about to say something else when a bang sounds overhead, followed by a low wail. “I better..” you click your tongue, jerk your thumb over your shoulder and quickly make your way to where you know her room to be. Lottie is half undressed, one leg still on the bed while the rest of her sprawls out on the floor, a fry in her hand and three in her mouth.
“I had an accident,” she says in a sad quiet voice.
It takes you longer to put her into the bed and keep her there than it does to strip her, remove her makeup, and rummage through the fresh laundry basket for something for her to wear. You’d recognised one of the loose-fitting shirts that she’s worn before and pull it over her head before trying to wrestle with her arms through the holes. Bathing a cat would be easier, you decide as you sober more with each passing moment.
It’s not until you check your own bag that you realise you’ve packed everything but a nightshirt. Had Antoine not been here, you would have happily risked sleeping in just your panties but that’s now not an option. Stretching your arms above your head, you yawn as you look through the basket for something you can wear for the night.
A soft aged white shirt with faded A and a heart as the symbol meets your fingertips. Picking it up fully, you can’t help but bring the material to your face. It’s soft on your skin, far more so than it looks, and the scent of the fabric softener makes you want to bury your face into it even more. It falls softly over your body; falling to the underside of your butt cheek and grazes the tops of your thighs.
The tightness in your throat and burning sensation as you feel parched begins to occupy your thoughts. With a glance back at the bed and seeing her sleeping soundly with a light snore, you tiptoe to the door and listen for any sounds. Pausing a little longer, you try to make sure he’s not about before you slip out of the room and down to the kitchen.
You’re thankful that your much, much, much sober version of yourself earlier had left out a glass where you could find it and make quick work in drinking the first glass immediately. With another two mouthfuls of a refill, you close your eyes and hum to yourself that your thirst may be quenched.
“Sorry, I uhm…” he coughs and clears his throat as he offers you an apologetic smile. His sentence startles you a little, causing some of the drink to drip down your chin, the material of the shirt catching the droplets which fall.
“Sorry, I was just...I needed a...I’m gonna-yeah. Hi.” Your words come out far more flustered than you’d wanted and if the heat in your cheeks wasn’t causing them to colour as much as they feel like they’re burning, it’ll be a miracle.
He steps towards you, his aftershave fills your nose and under his watchful stare, your body reacts. You can feel the tightening at your chest, your nipples puckering into hard buds and the heat you’d felt previously in your belly when you’d first met him, this version is different. You know the alcohol you’ve consumed has no doubt heightened every sense you have and every emotion but you hadn’t anticipated your body betraying you in such an obvious way. Though you don’t know him too well, you can see the telltale signs that he’s trying his hardest not to glance down. You don’t need to look down to know that your nipples are visible to him, you can already feel the way your core pulses as the shirt moves, sending tingles throughout your system until it reaches between your legs.
You watch, almost in slow motion, as his hand lifts and extends towards you. Your instinct to push your chest out to him, to feel his fingers against your breast is the alcohol talking but when his hand continues to lift, you’re surprised by the taste of disappointment. His thumb swipes over your chin, the tip of it brushing over your lip, pulling it with his digit and he catches the wetness there from your drink.
“I should be going to bed.” You hear yourself say, amazing even yourself that you can think logically right now.
“Yeah, you should,” Antoine replies, pulling his thumb from your skin and licking at the corner of his mouth. “Sweet dreams.”
______
Your head pounds and your throat feels like you’ve swallowed tonnes of sand. Your fingers tap your phone screen, showing it’s a disgustingly sensible time and you groan as a result of being awake. You try to move slowly as you turn over, careful not to disturb Lottie in case she’s still asleep but you find her side of the bed empty though the cotton is still slightly warm to the touch so she can’t have been gone long.
In the bathroom, you pee and force yourself to brush your teeth even though you feel like gagging. After pulling on a pair of shorts, because strangely enough you could remember to pack those but not the shirt, you follow the smell of breakfast cooking and find yourself in the kitchen.
Lottie sits at the kitchen table with her head on her folded arms. The coffee cup that remains at the side of her has steam coming from the frothy topped liquid while he stands in front of the hob, spatula in hand as something cooks in the pan. Whether or not he can cook is another matter, but he occasionally prods the contents.
“Coffee? Tea? Mat-” he begins to offer drinks before he rests his eyes on you. “Maté” he finishes his own sentence which draws attention from Lottie who raises her head to look up at you.
“Nice shirt. You know that’s dad’s right?” her eyebrow raises and there’s a small smirk on her lips as she watches your cheeks heat and darken in colour. “You didn’t. This is very awkward.”
“It’s fine.” He replies, dismissing her comment with a wave of his spatula. “It suits you.” He gives you a smile similar to the one he’d given you last night when he caught sight of you in less. Judging from the look on his face, he remembers this too. “If you’re going to stay over, then you’re more than welcome to use it.”
“It’ll be hoodies next.” She comments.
“Not in this heat.” You reply.
“I’ll wait until winter then to notice more of my clothing going missing.” He flashes you a grin that has enough of an effect to make you press a hand to your head as a throb begins in more than one place, but you can’t place a hand for the other. You catch the look he gives her, a scathing warning to shut up but she doesn’t meet his eye, she’s too busy dropping her head back into her arms again. “But coffee and orange juice sound good to me.” You answer his original question and try to ignore the humiliating fact that you’d picked up your friend’s dad’s shirt.
He busies himself putting together a mug of coffee and pouring a glass of orange, doing anything that means he’s not looking at you right now before he extends his hand and offers you the orange first. “Seriously,” he whispers, “don’t worry about it. It probably looks better on you than it does on me anyway. And it’ll be one less thing you need to bring over if you stay again.”
“Can you two stop whispering like gossiping school girls?” Char groans, “I need breakfast. Urgently.”
