#antione griezman fanfic

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You - Teaser

Summary:  Your brother and a girl with whom you’ve become friends with by sharing a home, are your flatmates. But since there was a room left, another person had joined in, and not just anyone, but the very Antoine Griezmann himself, who has decided to go back to university and check out the life he had missed while having a career. I intend to develop your relationship rather slowly (but not too slowly, don't be scared). I intend to have at least one little teasing per chapter, how many chapters there will be, I don't know, depends on your demand and how it develops on its own :)

I'll be posting one chapter at least every two weeks. Make sure you check out my Patreon, where you'll have access to more much sooner. I’m dedicating this to @xratedffbarbiex, who inspired that sudden urge to write, so please make sure to check out her Antoine-series as well.

English isn't my first language, so please have mercy with me.

Besides, I'm always happy about propositions or inspiration, so don't hesitate to contact me.

Cheers, guys, to the great community, we've got here!

Warnings: not yet

Part: 1/ ? Part 2 follows next week on my Patreon

Word count: 1756

One

Your brother and a girl with whom you’ve become friends with by sharing a home, were your flatmates. But since there was a room left, another person had joined in, and not just anyone, but the very Antoine Griezmann himself. Footballplayer since he was little, he had to give up his career due to an injury on his left knee. Since he had no family to look after, he had decided to go back to university, doing a little catching up on the life he had missed, as he had been a professional since a very young age.

You had been away when he was to have the “flat interview”, so you didn’t have any saying in the decision, it was anyway a two against one vote, since the others were absolutely enthusiastic about him. Of what you gathered from their statements, it was merely because it was, well, him. But they said he was nice, too. You rolled your eyes at that sentence. It was obvious the two had been taken by either his charm or his indeed very inviting physical features. Nevertheless the three of you made a pact to make every effort you could to make his life in (name of town) as normal as it could be and to trying to include him in as many common student activities there were. 

You often had friends over. Cynthia and you already knew a bunch of people since it was your third semester, and (name of your brother) also quickly took part in that circle of friends. 

It had been weeks since he moved in and yet it seemed he didn’t settle in easily. In videos you had seen of him, he seemed so playfully and easy to get along. But here he behaved rather shyly. He kept mostly to himself during the daytime, locking himself in his room. You only saw him once in a while in the kitchen and in the living room, where he watched football or basketball on a big flat screen he had bought to share with his flatmates, which made a big impression to the other two, but not so much on you. You weren’t to be bought so simply, especially not by someone who wasn’t paying much attention to other stuff you cared more about - for example looking someone in the eyes.

Of course, you had made a big deal out of that fact. You kept saying to Cynthia, what a prick you thought he was and how cocky he behaved. She just rolled her eyes and sayd you should give him some time.

In fact, your pride was a little tiny part of it. You couldn’t bare the thought he didn’t notice you, didn’t show interest in you. But you never in a thousand years would admit it. So you eagerly researched. You researched everthing about him. Where he was brought up, in which clubs he had played, you even watched interviews with him. He was Frances’ darling. Grizou, as they called him. A symbol, an idol for the country, who didn’t even trust in him when he had started his career. No club had wanted him, so he had to move to Spain when he was 14 years old. You couldn’t believe it. It sounded like he had a whole life behind him, now being only 29, he had experienced more than any other normal person at this age, And yet he hadn’t, as he was willing to go back to university to learn, what he had missed when he was out in this cruel world, that loves you at one moment and rejects you at the other. You watched some interviews with him. In most, in fact, he didn’t look the interviewer in the eyes. Most of them were filmed after a match, so you supposed, you couldn’t demand much of a player that just had run for one and a half hours. You certainly wouldn’t be able anymore to utter anything. In fact, you most certainly would be dead. But no, in other situations it was just the same. Also what he was saying didn’t have any profoundness or depth. Angrily you let go, coming to the conclusion there was nothing interesting in this guy, and particulary nothing interesting for you.

Weeks passed. He had invited your brother to play FIFA on his XBOX in his room, but never talked to you or Cynthia more than necessary. You hadn’t exchanged 10 sentences by the end of one month, and after a while you gave it up. He had a few pals from his classes that came over once in a while, and he even came home very late twice, so you guessed he took part in student social life by his own, being to partys and stuff, probably having made other interesting acquintances. You hadn’t made any effort to get him to notice you in any way, but you just stopped caring.

That’s why you missed that he indeed looked at you one or two times in the kitchen. That he started to look at you when you talked to Cynthia or your brother or other friends you had invited over. In fact, there were many movie nights you hosted since you had this big flat TV and other students couldn’t even afford a proper fridge. Antoine started to laugh at your jokes or when you were doing something silly to amuse the people. He, indeed, started watching you intensely. More intensely than the others.

You only came to notice his stare in exactly that moment you were telling a story a group of people in the kitchen at a movie night. You were preparing popcorn in the microwave and you just made a joke about how you had thought as a kid that popcorn didn’t have anything to do with actual corn and that you had made the discovery only recently, and it had been as if you had entered a whole new dimension in the matrix. You noticed his stare, Antoine was casually leaning at the kitchen counter, one hand in his sweatpants, the other on the beer bottle. Your  face instantly turned red, at least that was what you felt - your cheeks caught fire and there was nothing you could do about it. You tried to finish your point and rushed down the story, leaving the rest of the group a little confused by that abrupt ending.

While the others moved to the living room with the popcorn, you poured yourself a large glass of wine and took a deep sip. You had almost made a fool of yourself, just because this handsome and cocky footballplayer had watched you. You had to be more careful with your thoughts. Didn’t you use to say you had standarts? But did your guts have standarts? You knew, your mind wanted someone smart and classy and interesting. So why did your stomach drop like several floors down at the sight of his stare?

“So we’re here drinking on our own, are we?”

You shrinked at the smooth voice behind you and quickly turned, just to see that it belonged to the guy you were thinking of a second ago. As if he knew he had caught you thinking of him, you blushed again.

“Just making sure the wine’s okay”, you managed to answer and, in a manner you thought to be both ironic and casual, you took another sip from your glass.

“Hmm, may I?”, Griezmann said and reached out for your glass. He took a sip, pointed his lips in an hilarious way and swallowed. “Oh, not bad. Not bad at all. I presume it is dated by the time of Louis XIV himself, for it makes the sun shine on your face.”

You snorted with laughter. “Is this a quote from Shakespeare or something or did you just come up with that yourself?”

With a smirk on his perfect face, he handed you back your glass. “Which possibility would make you think higher of me? Probably the quote, as you’re constantly reading. And what’s your subject again? Philosophy?”

“It is”, you admitted. “But I embrace far more an original new thought, because it’s proof of creativity and independance of thought.”

“Really? I thought you dind’t like new things?”

You blinked. “How come you think that lowly of me?”, you asked and took another nervous sip out of your glass, while you intended it to look casually. He couldn’t be implying your aversion against the new TV or even himself? He couldn’t be that observing, could he? Or was it you that were so blind?

He grinned and watched you thoroughly. “I’m sorry. Maybe I drew the wrong conclusion.”

Now you were angry. Stupid boy, thought he could mock you, while in fact he was the ridicule.

“Maybe I’m just taking my time to judge”, you snapped. “And allowing myself to exclude new things from my life, if I regard them as being intrusive and un...conductive.” Without looking at him you walked past him into the living room, where the movie was already on. You squeezed yourself on the sofa next to Cynthia and tried to look at Orson Welles in “The third man”.

So it hadn’t just been you thinking low of Griezmann. It was him thinking low of you. And if he was thinking low of you, and you thinking low of him, that in fact made you a lot lower than him. A correct philosophical conclusion. 100 percent on that test, you congratulated yourself. But logic wasn’t helpful in that moment.

You looked at the entrance to the kitchen, where Griezmann stood leaning against the door frame, his eyes on the screen.