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copper-16 · 2 months ago

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been thinking about your platonic andrea + lola fic especially since andrea missed the last penalty that took atletico out of the CL. would you ever write a fic about that?

idk andrea feeling really guilty and pulling away from the team and lola reminding her that she’s more than just her bad moments on the pitch?

The way this ask made me GASP...I posted this fic OVER a year ago and someone still remembers it? I cannot explain my excitement, especially because it's such a little niche/rarepair fic. It makes my YEAR when people still remember those silly little fics I made. If rarepair or platonic stuff was more popular I would probably have a million fics to write, honestly.

I wasn't ever planning to write about them again - but I pumped something out solely because I was so excited by you mentioning it 😭 It's not a full fic necessarily which is why I'm just posting it on here.

I Try, I Try

Andrea misses the penalty, crushing Atlético Madrid's dream of playing in the Champions League. Crushing Lola's dream of playing in the Champions League. The defender struggles to cope before she receives an important reminder.

If there was one thing that would have motivated Lola to save every single one of those penalties, it would be the sight of Andrea on the pitch after missing her own. It was burned into her brain it felt like, the image of the younger girl right next to the celebrating Rosenborg team, her head in her hands.

Lola was absolutely disappointed after the loss. But she had been lucky to have a long career, to have won a Champions League trophy, to have experienced so many losses and victories. But the defender was still young, and it was a different kind of pressure and expectation to be the one to take the final penalty in a shootout. Especially one where the result determined if they had a shot at playing on the international stage.

And Andrea hadn’t even flinched when she had been selected, insisting that she was ready. She was putting on a brave face, Lola could tell.

But it was that kind of strength and the right attitude that made good players great ones. The keeper was proud of her for being a team player and fighting till the end, even if it wasn’t their day. Even if she wanted to cry, the blonde made her way around to her other teammates, patting them on the back and holding back her clear upset.

Lola simply wished it didn’t have to end this way. The younger girl had been nearly catatonic in the changing room, on the bus ride, on the plane.

It had been Carmen who had taken Andrea home, given that the two of them lived in the same apartment building. Lola had pulled the older defender aside, asking her quietly to keep an eye on their younger teammate.

When the keeper asked Andrea if she wanted to come over to her and Christina’s apartment, she only received a muted head shake in response. The younger girl could barely even look her in the eyes as she brushed the keeper off, though not unkindly.

It had taken less than two hours for Carmen to call Lola to come over, her voice filled with worry.

The older woman rode a strange line sometimes, wanting to respect Andrea’s boundaries while also understanding that sometimes people didn’t always exactly say what they wanted. She did feel a certain responsibility to protect the defender from the harsh realities of the world, but she couldn’t solve everything.

Personally, she hated the fact, even if she knew that she held no control over it.

She makes it to Andrea and Carmen’s apartment building in record time, meeting her former partner by the door to the younger girlfriend’s apartment.

“I could hear her crying in her room when I was making her some food and I…I don’t know. She hates being alone, it feels more like she’s trying to punish herself than process,” Carmen said with exasperation, but underneath her tone is thinly veiled worry.

“You probably aren’t far off,” Lola acquiesced, turning her head briefly to look at the door. “I’ve got her, you can go back up to your place. Don’t forget to ice your knee,” the keeper said with as much captainly authority as she could muster. Carmen rolled her eyes good-naturedly, saluting her teammate somewhat mockingly before she turned to head back up to her own place.

Lola lets herself into Andrea’s apartment, and despite the fact that the defender’s door is closed, she can hear the muted sounds of crying that ring through the space. She doesn’t even hesitate, striding over to the younger girl’s room before she opens the door gently, poking her head in.

The soft crying noises shut off abruptly, the entire room entering into a precarious stillness. Lola felt her heart sink at the evidence of the girl’s sadness, even if she knew it was there.

The older woman doesn’t even bother with asking for an invitation, she simply moves into the room, climbing into Andrea’s bed with her.

This bed held a million memories, at least for the keeper. Late-night conversations and confessions, the loudest of laughs, a safe space for tears. The mattress greets her warmly, sinking under her as she moves her body closer to Andrea’s, placing her hand gently on the defender’s back.

“Lola, go away,” Andrea insists, attempting to sound more firm than she felt. Her words come out sounding more like they are from a tearful child, not that Lola cares.

“It is okay to be upset Andrea, it is okay to cry,” Lola tries, but the blonde still shifts away from her, and the sound of a stuttering breath punctuates the silence around them.

There is a pause before the younger girl speaks again, her words dripping with rage.

Not for the team, but rather for herself.

“It is my fault that we lost. I shouldn’t be crying over something that I had control over.”

Lola sits up slightly after hearing her words, placing her head in her hand, her elbow pressing into the mattress. When she speaks, her voice is firm, with little room for argument.

“No, it is not.”

The sheer force of her words is enough to make Andrea pause and relent in turning over slightly to peer at the dark-haired woman.

She expects Lola to be looking at her with anger, with frustration.

First, she lost them an important game, all because she couldn’t shoot a ball into the net properly. Like it wasn’t her only job to do exactly that.

And now, she was acting like a child, hiding in her bed when all she wanted was a hug and a reminder that she wasn’t the worst footballer in the world.

She was older now, and she needed to grow up and be realistic. There wasn’t time for all of her big, unnecessary emotions.

But Lola isn’t looking at her with anger or frustration. She looks more apprehensive and concerned than anything else, and Andrea turns over more fully to face her.

“I’m so sorry Lola,” she whispers, crushed by the thought that she was the one who ended not only her dreams, the dreams of the team, but Lola’s dream.

The keeper shakes her head instantly, her expression filling with sympathy.

“Andrea, it is not your fault. There were 120 minutes, and four other penalties besides your own. This doesn’t rest on all you, I promise,” Lola points out, but Andrea cuts her off with a humorless laugh.

“Yes, but if I had just made my penalty, my one job, we wouldn’t be here,” she counters, averting her eyes from the older woman.

“And if I had saved more of the penalties, or the goals, we wouldn’t be here either,” Lola comments, but it doesn’t seem to do anything other than upset the defender more.

“That is different, and you know it. Nobody expects a keeper to save a penalty, but it is the job of the players to score,” Andrea’s voice is forceful, as though she’s trying to convince herself of the words.

“By the time we made it to penalties, we had already failed our job. All of us, the whole team, not just you. Just because you are the one who went last, doesn’t mean that our failures for the whole game lay completely on your shoulders,” Lola argues, and when the blonde doesn’t say anything in response, she continues.

“This is not your fault. We all miss penalties or make mistakes on the job. I can’t even begin to count how many mistakes I have made in my career Andrea, truly. As much as I hate it, it’s a part of the game. And it doesn’t matter how many times it happens, or how old you are, you are allowed to be upset over it. It doesn’t make you immature or weak to cry or feel upset,” the keeper emphasizes, and when she sees the younger girl’s lip begin to wobble, she knows that she’s hit the root of the problem.

“I’m twenty years old, I shouldn’t be acting this way over a penalty,” she sputters, and Lola settles herself back on the mattress, pulling the younger girl into her.

“I don’t care how old or mature you are, you are allowed to be upset about things. I am twenty-nine years old and–” Lola starts, though the defender is quick to interject despite her sadness.

“Aren’t you thirty-on–” Andrea is cut off with a hand that quickly covers her mouth, smothering the rest of her sentence.

“Shush, I am in my twenties and I haven't finished speaking. As I was saying, I am older than you and I still cry about things all the time, when I feel the need to. It is natural and it is normal, just like it is to talk to other people around you. There is no rule book that says you must go through this alone because you feel that you are the one at fault for the situation. All you are doing is punishing yourself when I promise, you don’t have to,” Lola reassures, Andrea now tucked into her side, her head laying on Lola’s chest.

There is a pause as silent tears slip down the blonde’s cheeks, as the words of the older woman wash over her.

“I am so sorry Lola,” she emphasizes, and it’s the repetition of the word that causes the keeper to look down in confusion.

“Why are you saying sorry to me?” She asks, a little lost on why Andrea needed to apologize to her specifically.

“You are further along in your career, these chances aren’t always easy to come by, and I screwed it up. I blew your chance this year, and who knows if we’ll have this opportunity again,” Andrea’s voice is small, emotion caught in her throat.

“I’m so, so sorry. Please don’t…”

The blonde’s words trail off, but the unspoken part of her sentence is heard loud and clear.

Please don’t hate me.

“I could never, I promise you that. You are my teammate, but more importantly, you are my friend. I am proud of you each time you step out onto the pitch, and I consider myself so lucky to be your teammate. We win together, and we lose together. I love you far too much to ever let something like football come between us, even if it is an important match. It’s just a game, and you are…tan especial para mí,” Lola vows, feeling the younger girl curl further into her side, a sigh of relief leaving her exhausted body.

And it was true. The defender meant so much more to her than anything that football might bring or take away, and she would much rather prioritize that than over something she knew could slip out from under her at any moment.

“Te amo pequeña,” the older woman murmurs, leaning down to press a kiss to the crown of Andrea’s head.

The younger girl snuggles into her further, tear tracks down her face finally beginning to dry as she settles into the taller woman.

“Thank you Mama Lola. Te amo,” she whispers as she drifts off, disappointment now accompanied by the knowledge that she would overcome this.

And by the fact that she didn’t have to do it alone.

#lola gallardo #andrea medina #atletico madrid #carmen menayo #woso

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