Football Smut Collection

F*ck You Lucy part 1 - Antoine Griezmann

Antoine was feeling sick in his stomach. The walls closed in on around him and he was having trouble breathing. He wasn't certain which one was worse, his heart shattering or the rage that made his cheeks flame up, most likely the two combined. The ultimate betrayal... They've warned him repeatedly not to start with her, that she's using people, that she's going to dump him once there was no benefits left for her. However, he'd never believed them, even when the calls have become less and less frequent, even when the texts have disappeared deliberately, he still hadn't believed them.

"Idiot," he mumbled under his breath.

He wished he could just stand up and walk out. He wished he could make a grand scene. He wished he could do either or both without making a fool out of himself but he couldn't. Instead, he could sit in the front row, clap for her and do his best so that no one would see how much it hurt that he's been degraded to "everyone else".

The worst thing was in spite of their sudden change of relationship he was genuinely happy for her success. She deserved every compliment, every praise for the album she'd dropped three months ago because it was one of her best works. Her music was raw, haunting and it had so much to say, and so much to give. Antoine prided himself for being part of the writing process, that he could help her when she got stuck, even more so that one of her favourite line was his idea. Or at least that'd been what he'd thought right until in her acceptance speech when she'd said that it'd been born thanks to her new boyfriend and Antoine himself had been downgraded to everyone else.

"I owe a special thanks to my love, if not for him, my favourite line would have never been written... Thanks for everyone else who made it possible for me to stand here tonight."

Her words were like a bucket of freezing water was poured over him. Her boyfriend could only give his input for three songs out of the twelve, considering they've only been together for three months.

The entire situation had become awkward when he'd just kept messaging and trying to call her. For over three years, since her career had been troubled, they'd been talking to each other 24/7. This was no exaggeration. Texts, phone calls, Facetime, whatever there was to use, they'd used it. The two of them attended award shows together. She'd been on his every match that she could spare time for and he'd been there for every concert if he'd had the chance. Whilst media and both her and his fans often asked questions if there was more between them, the answer always remained the same, no.

They've never crossed the line, there was no sex, not even a kiss shared between them. Maybe that was his mistake, Antoine wondered. Maybe he should have made a move. But it'd never been a good time, it'd always been something messed up shit she'd had to deal with and he wouldn't have wanted to use her vulnerable state for his own advantage. Although, quite possibly it was for the best that he hasn't done anything about it, especially considering his current state just because his friend dumped him. He could imagine how he'd feel if they'd had more between them.

The rest of the evening blurred into one giant thanks speech with background music for him. He couldn't pay attention to what was happening and to be honest, he didn't even try. He just wanted to go home, lay down and maybe get drunk. Though, admittedly, he was already getting there with the drunk part after his sixth champagne.

His eyes were set on her as she giggled and gave coy looks to her boyfriend, small, artificial touches. He was going to throw up in his own mouth. She was playing, there was nothing real in any of her gestures or expressions and yet, people were eating it up. Had he been the same? Had she been this fake with him too?

No, no he knew she hadn't been. He'd seen the real her, the one without the make up, the one without the fake loose locks in her bun, the one with the honest smile and the one with the honest tears.

Was his real version of her better than the fake one though? Was there such a big difference between the two? Could she even set them apart anymore? Did she know what was just front and what was her?

Questions he's been asking of himself in the last three months since out of the blue she'd dropped him. First, it'd been the calls that disappeared, soon after followed by the texts and he'd been left with nothing but a message every week or every other week. There's been no explanation either and so for a long time he'd wondered if he'd done something wrong, if he'd said something that hurt her but he'd come up empty handed. He was replaced by her new boyfriend and she didn't need him anymore, simple as that.

This realization has sent him into a downway spiral. He's lose his appetite and over the summer a significant amount of weight as well. His friends have started calling him wolfie because of his hair and facial hair as well. He could have and should have cared but he's been devastated. For three years his life had been revolving around her and then out of the blue it's all been gone. No more good night calls, no more good morning texts, no more silly videos through the day, no more nothing. He was hurting but he couldn't be ready for this evening because all his feelings seemed like childish games compared to how he felt after her speech.

The show was over. The room started emptying out but he remained at his seat. He didn't want to mingle with anyone and the most he could force himself to do was nod to them.

"Anto, hey baby, how are you?" She beamed as they passed by him. She didn't even stop, it was more like a mandatory etiquette greeting.

"Wow... You really are shedding people off like a snake does with its skin," he slurred, raising his glass to his lips. He didn't even look at her, knew the expression of the fake outrage she likely wore. He's seen it all.

"Excuse me?" Her voice shook and he raised his gaze to her.

"Look at you," he snorted, his eyes moving to her hand on her boyfriend's arm. "They were all right about you. Use'em and live'em. I thought that was just an act but apparently, it is not."

"Antoine, you are drunk..."

"And so finally, I see you for who you are." He stood up, stepping to her. He wasn't going to let her have the upper hand. He was drunk, yes but she was a heartless bitch who made him miserable and nothing, not even soberness would change that. "Did you know I was ready to take it to the next level, now that everything is good for you finally?" He knew she was the one, no one could even come close to her. In spite of the fact there was no physicality between them, he knew it. They'd almost crossed the line last time when they'd met and it'd been him stopping her. He'd wanted their first to be special, he'd had a plan for summer to visit all the places she couldn't before. What a giant freaking fool he'd been.

"I..." That was when it hit him. Seeing her reaction, how she couldn't even look him in the eyes...

"You did..." He laughed without humour. "Wow... You know what, I changed my mind..." He grabbed her by the jaw. "You are even worse than they say," Antoine hissed.

"Let go of her, man," her boyfriend growled but Antoine tuned him out as he stared at her for a moment.

"Keep the tears for someone who still believes you," he huffed when the tears welled up in her eyes and let go of her, started out from the room. "I need to cut my hair and shave," he grumbled, pushing people out of his way. He wasn't going to cry, he wouldn't give her the satisfaction. Maybe in the car, maybe there he was going to let it out. Maybe he needed to because the pain was spreading over his body unstoppably and it was going to paralyse him.

"Take me home," he called to the chauffeur once in the car, grateful he had a lift home, certain he'd not be able to get home by himself, not only because he was intoxicated but because of the tears that blurred his vision. It was over. It was over for real and he wouldn't be able to tell whether he was relieved that he got a closure or devastated. His phone buzzed in his pocket and he didn't have to look to know it was her.

"Get your hair cut and shave," he repeated to himself. He couldn't let her pull him back in, to keep him on a shelf in case she'd need him down the line. He needed to move on. He's already let her consume his life for too long. It was time for him to take his life back.