hii could you do something with reader who comforts lamine after barca vs inter match??
𝐒𝐭𝐢𝐥𝐥 𝐏𝐫𝐨𝐮𝐝 𝐨𝐟 𝐘𝐨𝐮 - Lamine Yamal
Summary: After a rough loss against Inter, Lamine comes home drained. You know better than to try to fix it with words, so you show up in the way he needs most. Pairing: Lamine Yamal x Reader Warning/s: comfort, hurt/comfort, fluff YAPPS: I LOVE REQUESTS KEEP GIVING EM
The apartment was quiet when he walked in.
You’d left the hallway light on for him, something soft and warm, not too bright. He didn’t say anything as he closed the door behind him, didn’t call out your name like he usually did. Just dropped his duffel by the wall and stood there for a second, head low, still in his jacket.
You watched him from the kitchen, hands wiping slowly at the counter though there wasn’t much to clean. His silence was answer enough.
Barca lost. And it wasn’t just any lose, it was Inter. A match that had built-up pressure for weeks. And it showed on his face.
You didn’t say much when he finally came into the kitchen. Just opened the fridge, like you hadn’t been waiting all evening.
“Hey,” you said gently. “I made you something.”
He blinked at you, eyebrows pulled together. “You didn’t have to—”
“Did anyway,” you interrupted. “Your favourite.”
His gaze dropped to the stove. Sure enough, the dish was still warm. You saw the exact moment he recognized it—his shoulders dropped a little. Like the weight pressing down on him had loosened just an inch.
“You made… that?” His voice cracked a little you nodded..
The table was already set. The lights were warm and low. His plate was covered to keep it hot.
“You really cooked?” he asked as he sank into the chair. “After that match?”
You leaned against the counter and crossed your arms. “Especially after that match.”
He looked down at his plate like it might save him. Then quietly picked up the spoon and started eating. Not ravenous, but steady. Bite after bite. You didn’t push conversation. Just poured him a glass of water, sat beside him, and rested your head against his shoulder once he’d eaten a little more.
“You know,” you said quietly, “I watched. I saw you fight for every ball. Every sprint. Every pass.”
His jaw clenched. “Didn’t matter. We still lost. I didn’t do enough.”
“You did,” you said without hesitation. “You did everything you could. One match doesn’t define you.”
He turned to look at you then, eyes tired but soft. “It’s just… so much pressure. And when it doesn’t go right, it feels like I let everyone down.”
“You didn’t let me down,” you whispered, sliding your fingers through his. “And I’m not just saying that because I love you. I say it because I know you. You gave it everything.”
A silence stretched between you, heavy but not uncomfortable.
“Come to bed,” you finally whispered. “You need rest. Not headlines.”
He let you lead him there, let you unzip his jacket, peel off the layers, and pull him into your warmth.
You kissed his shoulder through his shirt and nudged him to lie down.
“Was it that bad?” you asked to which he just nodded slightly.
“Then let me make it better.”
You crawled into bed beside him, pulling the blanket up and slipping your legs around his. He exhaled through his nose, like the air was finally coming out of his lungs properly. His hand found yours beneath the covers and gripped it like an anchor.
“I just… I keep thinking if I’d taken that shot instead of passing,” he said quietly. “Like maybe we’d have won. Everyone’s gonna talk about it. I know it’s stupid but—”
“It’s not stupid,” you interrupted, voice low, honest.
“It’s human. You care. And that’s why you’re good at this.” He was quiet again, fingers lightly playing with yours.
“You didn’t fail anyone, Lamine. You played your heart out. Sometimes that’s all you can do.” His face buried into your neck, voice so soft you almost missed it. “You always know what to say.”
You stroked his hair gently, letting the silence wrap around you both like a blanket. “I just love you,” you whispered.
“Even when you lose. Especially then.” It wasn’t a magical fix. Tomorrow, the press would still talk.
“Youre tooo good for me, mi amore” He whispered and tug you even closer to himself.
People would still have opinions. But right now, wrapped in your arms, full of his favourite food, and finally warm after a long cold day, he felt something close to okay.
Maybe not good.
Not yet. But okay.
And for tonight, that was enough.