An Antoine Griezmann imagine
Based on this request:
Spending your time with anto at the pitch while he's supposed to be training time but everyone is spending their time with fam and he's play fighting with the reader about the ball and like throwing her on the floor but still being careful not to hurt her and she's like showing him what she's got lol I love your imagines
Enjoy!
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It was another rather long day for both you and Antoine. You both have been up since around 6 AM, because Simeone had decided to get his team back in its strengths as soon and efficiently as possible, which had resulted in an agonising whole-day training on a Saturday. To say you were grumpy was to say the least, however watching Antoine play on the pitch and seeing the smile on his face definitely brought your spirits up, not to mention that you had finally gotten food and a nice cup of coffee, which had lessened your need to whine the crap out you.
It was around 2 PM, when you had noticed the guys starting to fool around, not really listening to the strict orders of their coach, which at had already gotten him to the point that he didn’t even try to go and stop them. Simeone had seen their efforts and that was enough for him. At least for today. Antoine was laying on the freshly cut grass, his stomach was rapidly raising and falling from chasing Costa around the pitch just now. For some reason seeing him like this made your stomach flutter at how truly handsome he was. Not to mention athletic, which was not exactly the trait you could say you possessed, even though since being with Antoine you had secretly tried to learn as many tricks to try and hopefully impress him.
As you approached, he took his arm off of his eyes and squinted at you, a little smirk was playing on his lips as he said:
“Enjoying the view, love?”
“I beg your pardon, I was looking at Gameiro, he is looking rather fine today,” you smirked back, but as soon as that smirk had appeared, as soon it was wiped off when Antoine got up and started chasing you around the field.
Terrified. You were terrified of him catching you, because you knew his tricks and that him getting a hold of you would mean the death of you. Literally. He knew that your weakness was tickling, and you couldn’t handle it even to save your own life. However, we are talking about a footballer here, and in the meantime of the first 20 seconds he had you in his arms and on the ground, his fingers already finding the soft skin of your ribcage.
“Please, I beg you, I was just joking,” you tried to get it out, but the air leaving your lungs along your laughter made it seem like you were dying.
“Just joking, right? And what would you do if I were to say that I am only jokingly tickling you, huh, love?” he said back, the smug look on his face only intensified as your voice grew louder.
“P-please, let me go! I will play the ball with you, just stop touching me!”
“That is not a phrase I hear often, love,” he smirked once again, receiving a slap on his arm for such a perverted reference, “but alright, I will let you live this time, but only if you score at least three out of five goals and somehow manage to steal the ball from me.”
“You have got to be joking, Antoine,” you said seriously, but even that didn’t budge the cocky look on his face, “you know what? Fine. It’s not like I’m playing against Ronaldo or anything,” and with that you got up, took the ball and prayed to god that he was only joking, but the look on his face after that Cristiano reference told you otherwise.
Though dribbling was something even you considered to be easy, having Antoine as an opponent soon enough made you rethink your life choices, because the boy didn’t look to have come to play games. At first he had gone a lot tougher on you, but now he was just messing around, because he had seen your dedication and the concentrated look on your face. Though he made sure to go easy on you and to not accidentally hurt you, he still had a hint of worry in his face every time your small frame collided with his, to which you only responded with an ugly wheeze as you sprinted past him and scored another goal against him, to which he responded with a:
“You know that I let you do that, right? It’s not like you are good or anything,” he fake-scoffed and playfully rolled his eyes, but in his mind he couldn’t help but smile at how much you were enjoying this and his profession, how much you liked to spend time with him and fool around.
“Oh please, just admit it! I am better than you! Jesus, now I agree with Simeone for making you lazy arses come here for the day, you guys suck!” you laughed as you approached him and put your arms around his neck. His eyes were smiling, though his face was stone cold serious.
“It’s not funny, (Y/N), we don’t suck, but if sucking is something you have in mind, we could go home earlier and arrange that,” and the smirk was once again on his face, but you couldn’t wipe it off even if you tried.
“You are horrible, you know that, right?” you said with a disgusted look on your face and laughed.
“Well, if being sooo disgusting let me get a girl as beautiful as you, then I don’t mind, you know,” he smiled, and lightly pecked your lips.
“If only it was that easy, I’m actually only with you, because I knew I could get Gameiro’s number,” and with that you were off laughing, while Antoine called after you:
“I will sure want to see you trying to walk properly tomorrow, if you won’t stop right now!”
“Make me!” you called back, already not being able to wait 'til the two of you will get home.