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zwedexx · 2 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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zwedexx · 2 months

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"No ets una càrrega"

Barca Femeni x Teen Reader

Summary: request

TW: none

WC: 899

A/N: None of it is proof read and im am really sick rn so there will probably be alot of mistakes. Also I took some creative liberties ig with the request. I'm sorry if you don't like it. I can always rewrite later on.

You are draped in the familiar stripes of your Barca jersey. It was everything you wanted, everything you work so hard for and you were blowing it. You kept missing passes or being a second too late on your runs. You could hear the collective sighs of the crowd after each mistake you made.

It all came to a head when you execute what should’ve been a routine pass. The pass was short and was intercepted by an alert opposing player. In a sloppy attempt to halt the opposition, you kick the back of her legs, sending her tumbling. The ref immediately blowed her whistle and showed you yellow.

“Are you fucking serious. That’s not a yellow! She fucking dove. You can’t be- ” You spat at the ref before being pulled back by a pair of strong arms.

“Calmat! No val la pena.” Mapi’s words were strong but weren’t enough to bring you out of your rage.

(Calm down! It's not worth it)

“Let go of me Mapi. I’m not a fucking child. This ref is blind as shit and needs to fucking hear it.”

The ref without hesitation reach into her pocket. Alexia and Irene had run in at this point, pleading with the ref to reconsider. You knew you had fucked up when you say the second yellow then red. Not only had you harmed your team with your horrid performance but you’d just burdened them to finish a game a player down.

After being escorted off the field, the weight of disappointment settled on your shoulders, and as the door closed behind you, a wave of frustration and tears overwhelmed you. You couldn’t believe how stupid and useless you were. Nothing seemed to make sense, you had trained so hard but it wasn’t enough. You weren’t good enough. You needed to be better.

You found yourself in gym, it was the only thing that made sense. If you trained harder, you’d be better. It was straightforward, clear cut.

Unbeknownst to you, Alexia, Mapi, and Ingrid observe from a distance, concern etched on their faces. After the match they went looking for you, worried because you were no longer in the locker room. In a way you were lucky they were there. You had been sprinting on the treadmill as fast as you could. After a couple of minutes you felt dizzy, your legs were starting to give in but you kept going. And you kept going.

‘Keep going, keep going.” You muttered to yourself

As the treadmill relentlessly propels you forward, your breaths become ragged, and your legs wobble beneath you. In a sudden, unexpected moment, your knees buckle, and the world tilts. Just as the gym floor rushes up to meet you, someones arms wrap around you, preventing a painful collision.

Ingrid's firm grip supports your weight, preventing a full collapse, while Mapi and Alexia rush to your side. Concern etched on their faces deepens into genuine worry. Ingrid, with her characteristic calm, reassures you, “Relax elskling, I’ve got you.”

It must have been a few moments when you woke up again. You were no longer in the gym, you were lying on a couch with your head laying on Mapi’s lap.

“Oh Pequena, you are okay.” Alexia says in her best English

You sat up. You didn’t know what to say.

“Què està passant? Per què et vas empènyer així?” Alexia asks gently, reverting back to her native Catalan

(What's going on. Why did you push yourself like that.)

You avoided their eyes, unable to say respond, your words choked by shame and frustration.

“You don’t have to carry this alone. We’re here for you, no matter what elskling.” Ingrid adds, while grabbing your hand.

With a shaky breath, you finally open up, your voice tinged with frustration and vulnerability. “I just.. I want this so badly. And tonight, I felt like ai was letting everyone down. I felt useless, and I thought if I train harder, push myself, I could make up for it and get better.”

“Entenc-“

(I understand-)

“But you don’t understand Alexia. You’re la Reina, you are the best and you deserve to be here. I don’t, im a liability out there. Every misplaced pass, every late run, it felt like I was letting the entire team down.”

“You deserve to be here too. Jonatan picked you for a reason.” Ingrid adds

“You don’t get it! No matter how hard I try, it’s never enough. I’m sick of feeling like a burden. Sick of failing when it matters.”

“No ets una càrrega. Estem aquí perquè creiem en tu i en el que ets capaç.” Mapi chimes in while wrapping her arm around your shoulders, her touch grounding.

(You're not a burden. We're here because we believe in you and what you are capable of.)

“I just… I don’t know how to fix this.”

“No cal que arregleu això sol. Estem aquí per a tu.” Alexia calmly tells you.

(You don’t need to fix this alone. We are here for you.)

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