that anon was so rude, don't listen to them, your imagines are the best <3 also there was that other anon who said they'd like more jealous grizi but i'd actually love it if you could make an imagine/smut where you're the one being jealous! ofc i know you're really busy but if you have some time to do it i'd be really grateful, thanks!
u are so nice, thank u so much!!!
and i loved that idea, but hope u like the imagine more than i do. it seems a bit rushed i think??? i’m not good with writing jealousy tbh, i suck so much at it…
i think i will re-write this imagine later today lol.
(it’s one of those i haven’t had the time to work on as much, but i wanted to post something, and i will edit it asap)
(also i haven’t made it a smut one bc i have so many smut requests rn, but if u want me to, i can add a smut scene to this imagine later on) 😌💓
For what feels like the thousandth time today, you hear Antoine snicker on the couch next to you, his phone in his hands and his feet propped up on the coffee table. It’s relatively dark in your living room as it is past eleven already, the only sources of light being the TV flickering in the corner of the room and Antoine’s phone screen, which illuminates his face and leaves no doubt that he is, in fact, laughing again.
With a quiet — hopefully almost inaudible — sigh, you roll your eyes ceiling-ward. Not that Antoine would have noticed anyway; he’s way too engrossed in that oh so funny conversation that he has on his phone.
Of course his laugh doesn’t usually bother you at all. As a matter of fact, it is one of your favorite sounds in the world. There is nothing better than knowing that the person you love the most is happy. However, you know who he’s talking to, and that’s what gets on your nerves. Or rather, who. Whatever.
“Y/N,” Antoine chuckles, leaning over to you and shoving his phone in your face. Even the fact that he has the screen’s brightness turned up so high pisses you off. And then you’re even more pissed off because of your own huffiness. “Check this out.”
It’s a meme. A fucking meme. A pretty funny one, too, but you can’t bring yourself to laugh because there really isn’t any humor to be found in the current situation.
“Hm,” is all you say. Another message pops up on the screen and Antoine is quick to retrieve his phone so that he can read it. If possible, you’re even more annoyed now.
It’s Charlotte he’s talking to. One of his childhood friends from France, who comes to almost every match, flies over to Madrid to visit him more than just a few times every year, and always brings a nice bikini and a Griezmann jersey. Even if there aren’t any games scheduled.
That doesn’t sound that bad. You’d thought so, too. At least until you learned that she’s not only his childhood friend, but his childhood girlfriend. The first one he’s ever had. And you hadn’t even found out from Antoine — no, it was Charlotte herself who had told you. Nice.
Quietly, Antoine laughs again.
“Would you shut up, please? I’m trying to watch this movie,” you hiss. Out of the corner of your eye, you see Antoine’s head turn to face you, his eyebrows raised and his blue eyes glistening with surprise.
“I’m … sorry?” he mumbles slowly, like he doesn’t really know what to say. Like he doesn’t know what your problem is. You want to laugh. Or maybe hit him. “Didn’t seem like you were watching it.”
“I don’t know. You were staring at the TV but … never reacted to any scene. Sorry.” He shrugs.
You snort. “How would you know?”
Again, Antoine’s eyebrows perk up. “What do you mean?”
“You’re only paying attention to your phone, aren’t you? So how would you know?”
At that, Antoine’s eyes study you intently, his body doesn’t move at all. He’s biting the inside of his cheek, making his cheekbones all the more prominent. It’s something he always does when he’s deep in thought.
“Are you mad at me?” he asks after a while. His voice sounds careful and a little rougher than usual.
Even though you are looking at the TV again (not really watching the movie, obviously), you can feel Antoine looking you up and down ruminatively.
“It’s just Charlotte.”
You draw a deep breath. “It is never ‘just Charlotte’.”
“Okay,” Antoine says, stretching the ‘a’ as he turns around to face you completely. He even has the good grace to put his phone down on the table. “I don’t think I’m with you.”
“Forget it, Antoine.”
He groans. “Just tell me. I don’t want you to be mad.”
“I’m not mad.” The eye roll that follows your sentence probably tells a different story, though. Antoine seems to think so, too, because he slouches his shoulders in exasperation. “I’m just not as much of a Charlotte fan as you are, apparently.”
“What?” he laughs, but it sounds confused. “I thought you liked her?”
“I did like her. Until she told me that she’s your ex and … I don’t know. You just … you talk a lot, don’t you? And she knows you really well. And— she’s pretty, too.”
You have never felt this dumb before. Of course you’re still annoyed but Antoine is looking at you like he still can’t completely see what your point is, and there’s still a small, confused smile playing at the corners of his lips.
Also, admitting that you may or may not be jealous of Charlotte is kind of hard, especially since you know that Antoine probably won’t understand your point of view and definitely won’t change anything about his relationship with Charlotte. And it makes you feel like an asshole, in a way. You should be happy that he has people from his past who are still in his present, who support him and remind him of where he’s from, of who he used to be.
It still sort of sucks, though.
Antoine blinks twice before he answers.
“Yes, we do. But I also talk a lot to my physiotherapist. And my coach. And Koke. And my car workshop owner. But I’m not dating any of these people.”
“That’s not funny, Antoine. I’m serious.”
Antoine shrugs. “So am I. You’re my girlfriend and Charlotte is my ex who I happen to still get along well with. Who cares? I don’t have any feelings left for her. She’s not the one I want to wake up next to, or who I want to see every day, or who I want to kiss whenever I feel like it. That’s you, and you know that.”
You look at him, digging your teeth into your bottom lip. Antoine is smiling now. Like, really smiling. Full mega-watt smiling.
“You don’t really think I’d ever try to replace you?” With one swift movement, he’s got his arm wrapped around your shoulders and pulls you close to his firm body. Then, he presses a soft kiss to the top of your head. “I love you, Y/N.”
“I know. I’m sorry,” you sigh, resting your hand against his chest. “I didn’t mean to be such a bitch to you.”
“It really wasn’t that bad,” he says. “Oh, and for the record; you look way better in my jersey.”
He doesn’t touch his phone for the rest of the night.