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#Barca femeni icons
pernillecfcw · 1 year
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Mapi Leon icons
Like/Rt if saved
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alexiaputellasera · 11 days
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Daddy?
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wosostuffs · 2 months
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like if u save.
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ptllsdelmon · 3 days
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oh we’re gonna get fed soon 🤭🤭
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onabatlle-2 · 6 months
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i love her boots, via fcb femeni’s ig, 4/11/23
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pr-ay-the-gay-away · 6 months
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Is no one going to gif Ona absolutely eating that grass?
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zwedexx · 3 months
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Hi I’m the anon that asked for the Barca x injured teen reader. Maybe you could do one where she is at a game and she breaks her wrist but no one else notices it so she keeps playing and after the game she leaves quickly and no one really thinks anything of it. So when she comes to practice the next day after she had taped her wrist they see her take medicine for the pain and they all ask why she took it but the coach calls them to the field before they can get it out of her. And then during practice she avoiding gõing shoulder to shoulder with anyone and anything related to her wrist. And when she tries to leave alexia grabs her wrist tõ stop her and then that obviously is painful for her and then she tries to say it’s just a bruised but they make her take the tape off and it’s clearly broken. So then they all scõld her and then take care of her.
Sorry if any wõrds are misspelled English isn’t my first language Portuguese is:)
Barcelona Femeni x Injured Teen Reader
Summary: request
TW: injury, pain medication
WC: 1,535
A/N: All the Catalan is google translated so sorry if its all wrong.
As you stepped onto the hallowed pitch of Camp Not, the atmosphere was electric with the anticipation of El Clásico. The sun had set behind the iconic stadium, casting a warm embrace on the sea of passionate fans draped in the famous Blaugrana. The buzz of excitement echoed through the air as you felt the weight of the historic rivalry pulsating through your veins. 
In the 56’ minute, a breakaway opportunity unfolded before you. The crowd’s roars intensified as you sprinted past defenders. The rhythmic pounding of your heart echoes in your ears. The goal was within reach and there was no defender left. 
BANG.
It took you and the crowd that had gone quiet a hot second to grasp what had just happened. Just as you prepared to unleash your shot, Misa had lunged forward with a desperate tackle. The impact was fierce, sending a shockwave through your body as you hit the ground, left arm first. You knew you had done something to your wrist, you could feel an odd sensation but the adrenaline hadn’t allowed the pain to kick in yet.
As you began to rise, a familiar and reassuring hand touched your shoulder. It was Alexia. She had a concern etched on her face. Alexia had taken you under her wing since the moment you joined Barca. 
“Estàs bé?" she asked, her voice filled with worry. 
(Are you alright)
You nodded yes not wanting to worry her. 
“Estàs segura, necessites tractament?” she asked once more, clearly not convinced.
(Are you sure, do you need treatment?)
“I’m fine Alexia, prometo.” 
(promise)
Alexia, though still not fully convinced, helped you up from the ground. 
While you were down, Misa was sent off with a red card, and Barca was granted a penalty. Although you had anticipated Alexia would be the one to take the shot, she placed the ball on the spot and walked over to you.
“Llança el penal, et mereixes el gol." Alexia whispered to you.
(Take the penalty, you deserve the goal.)
You stepped up to the spot, the taste of adrenaline lingering on your tongue, as the weight of the moment settled on your shoulders. The stadium had seemed to hold its breath, and the intensity of this rivalry hung in its air. The replacement goalkeeper eyed you with a mix of anticipation and defiance as you took your stance. 
Time seemed to stretch, and then, with a powerful strike, you sent the ball soaring into the back of the net. The roar of the crowd erupted and your teammates rushed in to celebrate. A surge of endorphins flooded your body, allowing you to completely forget about the painful feeling of your left wrist.
The deafening cheers echoed for a final time around Camp Nou as the the final whistle blew. The elation of the win washed over you, the exhilaration of success mingling with the exhaustion of the 90+ minutes. 
However, as the adrenaline began to subside, the sharp pain in your leg wrist amplified. The celebration continued around you, teammates hugging and supporter chanting but the physical toll of the game lingered. Even the throbbing discomfort in your wrist, you soldiered on, smiling through the festivities, each handshake and hug causing you to wince. The pain continued to become more pronounced until you couldn’t take it anymore. You had completely ignored everyone during the group huddle, your only wish was to escape and find something to soothe your pain. 
As your teammates continued their celebration, you quietly excused yourself, slipping away from them. The adrenaline that once fuelled your every sprint and kick now transformed into a quiet determination to reach the sanctuary of the changing room. 
Sitting in your cubby, you cradled your wrist, wincing ever so slightly as you attempted to examine it. There was already a numbness in your fingers and a dark purple bruise forming around. 
You didn’t want to tell the girls, you justified it as you not wanting to rain on their parades, so to speak but you were afraid of their reactions, and how’d they blow it all out of proportion. 
With a deep breath, you carefully peeled off your jersey, feeling the residual warmth of the game against your skin. Even as you gingerly worked your way out of the uniform, the pain hadn’t subsided. 
The next morning, the broken wrist made its presence known as you got ready for practice. The bruising had gotten worse and you had practically no sensation in your fingers. 
You knew you couldn’t skip practice but you weren’t sure how you’d be able to hide your injury and practice with it. You had at least made the right decision to tape it, wrapping the across the palm, and snaking up your forearm. You’d also chosen to take a couple of paracetamols to mask the pain. 
As you stepped into the locker room, the intricate tape job on your broken wrist didn’t escape the notice of your teammates. Their eyes flickered towards the your heavily wrapped-up wrist as you rummaged through your bag for medication as the dose you’d taken earlier began to wear off. 
A curious silence fell over the room, broken by Mapi’s concerned voice.
“Una mica dur ahir a la nit, eh?” Mapi’s eyes focused on the tape, her expression a mix of worry and curiosity. Irene, Marta and Ingrid exchange glances realizing something wasn’t quite right.
(Bit rough last night huh?)
You dismissed it with a nonchalant shrug, hoping to not bring anymore attention. “Oh, just a knick, nothing major.”
The raised eyebrows and exchanged glances continued as your teammates weren’t convinced. Lucy leaned in, her voice both playful but concerned. “That’s some serious tape artistry. You’re practically a mummy.”
Attempting to defect, you chuckled, “Yeah, just want to be safe. No big deal.”
“Potser hauries de fer que el fisio t'ho revisi, només per estar-ne segur". Irene chimed in.
(Maybe you should have the physio check it out, just to be sure)
"Ignoring injuries doesn't help anyone elskling. We need you in top form for the next match." Ingrid added.
Alexia, who had been quietly observing, narrowed her eyes. She didn’t press the matter but her gaze lingered on your taped wrist.
Jonas saved you from further interrogation. His voice echoed through the locker room, calling everyone to the field. You seized the opportunity to divert attention and escaped. 
During practice, you found yourself instinctively avoiding any situation that could potentially jeopardize your wrist. When Lucy threw ball at you, heading for your left side, you skillfully used your other hand to intercept it, earning a few puzzled glances from your teammates, especially Alexia.
In a passing drill, you subtly adjusted your positioning, ensuring that your injured wrist wouldn't bear the brunt of any unexpected tackles or collisions. The awareness of your own vulnerability cast a shadow over the otherwise routine exercises, and Alexia's concerned gaze intensified as she observed your every move.
Later, during a scrimmage, a teammate passed the ball to you with a bit too much force. You managed to control it with your good hand, but the wince didn't escape Alexia's watchful eyes. The unease among your teammates grew, their suspicions fueled by your efforts to shield the injured wrist.
As practice wrapped up, you made a discreet attempt to slip away hoping to avoid any direct confrontation about your wrist. Alexia, not done with questioning you, reached out and gently grabbed your injured wrist to stop you from leaving. The sharp intake of breath, small shout of pain and the involuntary flinch betrayed you.
"Què està passant? Has estat evitant el teu canell durant tota la pràctica. Deixa'm fer-li una ullada" Alexia asks with a strong authority.
(What happened? You've been avoiding your wrist the entire practice. Let me take a look at it.)
Still desperately trying to downplay the severity, you attempt a reassuring smile, “it’s just a bruise, really. Like I said, no big deal. Prometo.”
(Promise)
But Alexia was less than unconvinced. 
“Deixa de mentir-me. Treu la cinta i ensenya'm el teu canell.” she demanded
(Stop lying to me. Take off the tape and show me your wrist.)
Reluctantly, not seeing a way out of it now, you began unwrapping the carefully layered tape. As the layers peeled away, it became ever more glaringly evident that it was far more than just a cruise. The visible swelling, discolouration and the cautious way you handled your wrist spoke volumes. Alexia’s expression softened immediately. 
“Està trencada.” She stated with a gentle but stern certainty, her hand resting on your now exposed wrist. Alexia’s initial concern transformed into a mixture of disappointment and frustration as the reality of your broken wrist became undeniable.
(It's broken.)
“Per què no m'ho vas dir?” She questioned, her tone carrying a mix of hurt and anger. The weight of her disappointment was palpable, and it hit you harder than you’d expected.
(Why didn't you tell me?)
Caught in the crossfire of emotions, you couldn’t find the words to explain. The attempt to protect you teammates from worry had backfired, leaving you exposed and vulnerable. As Alexia’s frustration lingered, you gelt a torrent of emotions overwhelming you. The facade you had maintained crumbled, and you broke down. 
Alexia, not intending to hurt you with her words immediately softened. She pulled you into a tight embrace, making sure you wrist was in a safe place. 
"Anem a arreglar-te el canell. D'acord?” She guided you to the medical staff, her presence a silent reassurance amid your mental turmoil. The anger was replaced by a quiet understanding and her arms wrapped around your shoulders, offering comfort.
(Let's get your wrist fixed. Ok?)
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alexiaputellasera · 2 months
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She’s wearing this suit because my funeral will be soon if she keeps dressing like that
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alexiaputellasera · 2 months
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I love this photo. I love them
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alexiaputellasera · 5 days
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So apparently Alexia used to dance 👀
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alexiaputellasera · 2 months
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The eyebrow and the smirk. God I’m so down
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alexiaputellasera · 2 months
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Careful… 😈
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alexiaputellasera · 2 months
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I’m so thirsty right now 😓
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alexiaputellasera · 1 month
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Mami?
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alexiaputellasera · 2 months
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End me
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alexiaputellasera · 1 month
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