Comforting the spanish nt after the nations league final
Pairings: Lamine Yamal x Reader, Pedri x Reader, Gavi x Reader, Pau Cubarsi x Reader, Fermin Lopez x Reader, Dean Huijsen x Reader, Nico Williams x Reader
Warnings: Slight swearing on Gavi's part, other than that it's just fluff/comfort, reader is implied to be spanish in some parts, not proof read (english isn't my first language)
A/N: lolololol I actually couldn't care any less about them losing and Morata basically just got karma for the whole "¿Donde esta Musiala?" thing last year. Where he is? Where's your penalty goal? Anyway, I do kinda feel bad for them because I was lowkey rooting for Spain. No hate to any of the players tho, this is just a sport that no one should take that seriously. Enjoy!
Lamine Yamal
Your mood after Ronaldo's equalizer in the 61' minute was basically already ruined. To see your boyfriend fight so hard for a win and still get fouled left and right, booed by the portuguese fans and very obviously not feeling confident with his own skills was heartbreaking to say the least.
You wanted your nation to win. To feel that euphoria again, like after the EURO's. But most importantly, you wanted to see Lamine win.
The loss hit hard and everyone around you seemed inconsolable. With the rest of Lamine's family, you waited for him at the end of the tunnel, feeling really annoyed with the sound of the Portugal National Team celebrating outside.
Wordlessly, Lamine approached you and hugged you right after his mom and dad. Carefully, you threaded your hands through his — patchily bleached — hair, smiling to yourself when you felt him squeeze you even tighter. He is your starboy, the best player in the word (to you, at least) and seeing him so discouraged and agitated made your heart ache for him.
"You okay?" You asked after a minute or two of just standing there in each others arms. Lamine just shook his head in a more hesitant way — He hated admitting to stuff like this. Whenever he lost, or the team lost, he felt weak and he thought he could've done more. You had to keep reminding him that this was a group effort.
"You did your best," You pulled away from his slowly to face him, "and I'm proud of you. It'll be better next time, I promise you." Your boyfriend gave you a little smile and kissed your forehead.
"I love you."
"I love you too."
Pedri
"I'm sorry I couldn't win it for you. Jesus what is wrong with me? I probably missed the open net like.... twenty times!" Pedri whined next to you in the car back to the hotel the team was staying in. He had been complaining ever since he found you in the crowd of relatives, friends and partners of the other players.
And he wasn't complaining because of a selfish reason or anything, no, he was complaining because he disappointed you. Pedri would've loved seeing you with the trophy, or his gold medal around your neck. And after all of that, playing like god was watching, all he had was a second place prize. It simply wasn't good enough.
"Hey, don't be so hard on yourself." You responded and took his hand into yours. Pedri was the most talented player on the team, you were sure of it. And you loved him no less when he lost or when he didn't play his best — That would be ridiculous!
"I have to be hard on myself! I just.. I could've.." Hearing him sound so defeated almost made you cry. You didn't care that your nation didn't win, you only cared about your boyfriend and the fact that this seemed to really bother him. You reached for Pedris face and turned him towards you, pressing a kiss on his lips.
"There is always a next time. You were great out there. And, I mean, there's many more trophies for you to win! Who actually cares about the nations league anyway?" The footballer smiled against your lips and kissed you back, because it seemed like that was the only thing that would make the pain go away.
Gavi
When Gavi loses, he's angry. Irritated. Frustrated. And it's even worse when he doesn't get a chance to help out his team. You came to Germany in hopes of seeing your boyfriend play his best and win this goddamn trophy. He loves playing for Spain like nothing else, it fills him with the greatest pride on the planet. De la Fuente not giving him any minutes made your blood boil.
Gavi stared into nothingness while you were getting ready for bed. He had his arms crossed over his chest, like the whole night actually, still fuming about the outcome of the game.
When you were finally done, you let yourself fall into the softness of the bed, immediately crawling under the blanket for some warmth. The whole room was filled with a cold atmosphere because of your boyfriend, even though he didn't even want it to. Gavi loved you like nothing else, but he'd always go non-verbal after a bitter loss.
"Gavi?"
No reaction.
"Gaaavi?"
Still no reaction.
"Pablo?"
When hearing his first name, his head snapped to you and his gaze finally softened from his constant frowning. "I'm sorry," He eventually huffed out, "This shit just fucking sucks." You understood him perfectly, even though you don't play any sport comparable to football.
You also had great pride in your country and sometimes it was like Gavi loved Spain more than himself. After a minute of silence, you wrapped your arms around his neck and buried your face between him and the pillow behind him. "I know you would've scored." You mumbled to him. Gavi's hands came to rest on your hips as he reciprocated the warm hug that he really needed right now.
"I'll do it next time. For you."
Pau Cubarsi
Pau isn't one to cry or sulk over a loss. Losing against Portugal and a big player like Ronaldo surely had it's impact on him, though. He didn't play — He didn't get the chance to play. And on one level, he understood the decision: This wasn't just a game with no importance, this was the final and it was obvious his coach would rely on more experienced players.
"I swear I'm not mad. Just a little disappointed, that's all." Your boyfriend said as he examined the silver medal hung around his neck. It felt like you were more upset about the loss than him, but that's kinda what you liked about Pau. He's a sweetheart and wouldn't lose his cool, ever. You wish to be like him more often than not.
And while all this commotion was going around you, Pau only had eyes for you. Sure, he was just as sad as some of his other team mates, but seeing you made it all better.
"Well, I still want you to know that I'm proud of you." Gratefully, you accepted him hugging you as a response to your words. Pau's hugs were warm, comforting and always helped you in the times you needed it most.
You were originally planning on comforting him, but it seems like it was the other way around now. And you didn't complain.
"We'll win it next time. The world cup I mean. And I'll do my best, for you if course."
"You'd win it just for me?"
"Obviously. You need something to brag about to your friends, right? For example, a super great boyfriend who's the champion of the world."
Fermin Lopez
Benched. He was benched both games. Why would you waste his time like this? Oh, he got a free trip to Germany just to lose, how great. Yes, it seemed like you were more frustrated about Fermin not getting a chance to play than the actual loss of Spain itself.
"Like.. what was he thinking? Seriously, with you on the pitch, I'm sure y'all would've won. Like, this is ridiculous. Like, so ridiculous! Like.."
"How often do you wanna say 'like' in a row?" Fermin laughed at your temper.
"I don't know. How come you're so calm about this?"
Your boyfriend shrugged and looked on ahead on the road, the lights on the side of the street mirroring in his oh so beautiful eyes. "It's football. We'll win it next time, my love." Fermin's voice soothed your mood.
"It's not just football, though. It's... well, it's your life, isn't it? Your job, your hobby.." Fermin laughed again, looking at you with a 'are-you-serious-right-now' kind of expression. You couldn't quite read him or what he was thinking right now and maybe that frustrated you a little more.
"There's so much more to my life than football. For example: You. Who cares about some trophy when I have you by my side." Now you had to smile at his cheesy words.
"Oh, I love you, Fermin."
"Oh, I love you too."
Dean Huijsen
The last few weeks have been a huge deal to Dean. The move to Real Madrid, his boyhood club, the nations league final coming closer and closer... he was so excited and kept telling you about it. All that, just to lose. He was beside himself.
Your poor boyfriend was completely shattered after losing in the penalty shootout, immediately trying to find you and his family after the winner's ceremony. With how tall he was, you were able to spot him quite fast and make a beeline to him. You knew Dean, and usually he'd be fine with a loss, but this? This was a different number.
"Ohh, I'm so so sorry, my love." You whispered in his ear while holding him close. The death grip Dean had on you told you everything you needed to know. His whole body hurt from all that running around — Running around and defending for his life, which still didn't win him the trophy he deserved.
"I just... I really wanted to win this time." Dead had burried his face in the crook of your neck, mumbling strings of words you didn't quite make out with all the noise around you.
Eventually, he pulled back and kissed you as a form of gratitude for you being here. It might've not been the trophy today, but he sure as hell won in life by having you with him. He was sure you were the best thing that happened to him in his life.
Nico Williams
Nervously, Nico was tugging at his shorts while waiting on the sidelines for his family, and for you. The silver medal around his neck hung heavy — Heavy with defeat and the tears of the people he disappointed. He surely put his all into this one match, creating chances left and right, but ultimately it wasn't enough.
"Nico?" He heard your voice peep out from behind him. "Nico! Baby, I'm so sorry." Without another word, you had wrapped your arms around his neck and yanked him towards you, obviously thinking that he needed some serious comforting.
His large hands wrapped around your torso, relishing in the warmth your body gave him. "It's okay," Nico started, voice just as confident as before the match. "We gave it our best. It's whatever now."
You pulled back slightly, just to be able to press a kiss to his forehead and gaze into his eyes. "It's not whatever. I swear, that referee was paid, I'm sure of it!" Your boyfriend laughed at your conspiracy theory and just shook his head.
There wasn't much comforting needed when yiu were there — So effortlessly funny and sweet. Sometimes he felt like he didn't deserve you. "I love you, mi amor."
