Head First
Barcelona fèmini x teen!reader
Warning: Injury, concussion, blood
Word: 2.5k
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The rain had stopped barely twenty minutes before training started, leaving the grass slick and shining under the cloudy afternoon sky. Y/N hated rainy sessions. Not because of the weather. Because rainy sessions usually meant chaos. And chaos at FC Barcelona Femení training was dangerous.
Especially when the coaches decided to make everything “competitive.”
“Four versus four,” one of the assistants announced while tossing bibs onto the grass.
“Small pitch. Two-touch limit. Losing team cleans up equipment.” Groans erupted immediately.
“That is psychological warfare,” Clàudia Pina complained dramatically.
“You cleaned cones wrong last time,” Patri Guijarro replied.
“I cleaned them artistically.”
“You stacked them upside down.”
Nearby, Aitana Bonmatí stretched calmly like she existed above mortal problems while Vicky López attempted to juggle a ball on one foot and nearly slipped on the wet grass.
Y/N laughed quietly to herself while adjusting the sleeves of her training top.
Seventeen years old. Youngest player in the club. And currently trying very hard not to embarrass herself in front of literally the best players in the world.
“Y/N.” She looked up immediately.
Alexia Putellas tossed her a blue bib.
“You’re with us.”
Us apparently included Alexia, Aitana, and Ona.
Great. No pressure at all. Y/N caught the bib awkwardly.
“Thanks.”
Alexia tilted her head slightly. “You look nervous.”
“I wonder why.”
“You’ll survive.”
“That’s what everyone says before something horrible happens.” Aitana snorted softly beside them.
Coach clapped loudly from midfield. “Vamos! Quick teams!”
The tiny training pitch was brutal immediately. Small space. Fast touches. Constant pressing. No time to think. Exactly the kind of football Barça loved.
Exactly the kind of football that made Y/N feel like her lungs were collapsing.
“MOVE!” Ona shouted while overlapping down the wing.
“I AM MOVING!”
“FASTER!”
“THAT SEEMS EXCESSIVE!” Alexia burst out laughing as she intercepted a pass and flicked the ball between Y/N’s feet.
“Focus, pequeña.” Y/N groaned.
“Stop nutmegging me!”
“No.”
The games became increasingly competitive as the session continued. Rainwater sprayed everywhere whenever someone changed direction too sharply. Players slid across the grass. The coaches yelled constantly. Vicky celebrated every goal like she’d won the Champions League.
And unfortunately for everyone involved, Cata Coll had decided today was a good day to become terrifying.
“HOW DID SHE SAVE THAT?” Clàudia yelled after another impossible stop.
Cata grinned from goal. “Skill issue.”
“She’s evil,” Vicky informed Y/N solemnly.
“Correct,” Y/N agreed.
The final game started after nearly forty minutes. First team to three goals wins. Losers clean everything. Which meant suddenly everyone cared way too much.
Y/N’s team: Alexia, Ona, and Vicky.
Against: Aitana, Clàudia, Patri, and Cata in goal.
“Easy win,” Vicky announced confidently.
“Your confidence is embarrassing,” Patri replied.
Coach blew the whistle. Chaos. Immediate chaos. The ball zipped across the tiny pitch at ridiculous speed. Every touch mattered. Every mistake got punished instantly.
Y/N loved it. This kind of football made her forget she was seventeen. Forget the pressure. Forget the cameras sometimes watching training. Forget the comments online debating whether she was “ready” for professional football.
Out here, she just played.
“Y/N!” Alexia called.
The pass came hard and fast. Y/N controlled it instinctively, turning sharply away from Clàudia before slipping between two defenders.
“GO!” Vicky screamed.
Y/N accelerated toward goal. Cata rushed forward instantly. Everything happened too quickly after that.
One second Y/N saw the opening.
The next—Her boot caught awkwardly on the wet grass.
She slipped. Cata dove at the exact same moment. And suddenly there was nothing but impact.
A sickening crack. Then darkness exploded across Y/N’s vision. The collision threw both of them sideways violently.
Gasps erupted around the pitch. Y/N hit the ground hard enough to feel her skull bounce against the turf.
For a second, everything sounded underwater. Far away. Muted. She blinked slowly. The sky above her spun strangely. Rain clouds blurred together. Why was everyone yelling?
“Y/N!” Someone grabbed her shoulder gently.
Or maybe aggressively. It was hard to tell.
“Don’t move.” That voice sounded panicked.Alexia?Y/N tried sitting up immediately. Huge mistake. Pain slammed through her head so violently she nearly threw up.
“Oh—”
“Easy,” Irene Paredes said sharply as she appeared beside her.
“Stay down.”
Something warm dripped over Y/N’s mouth. She touched her face automatically. Her hand came away covered in blood. A lot of blood.
“Oh my god.” The words came out weak and confused.
Blood poured steadily from her nose onto the grass beneath her. Not normal bleeding. Not a little blood. A terrifying amount.
“Oh, that’s bad,” Vicky whispered nearby.
“Medic!” someone shouted immediately.
Cata was already sitting up a few feet away looking horrified.
“I didn’t—she slipped—I—”
“It’s okay,” Alexia said quickly, though her own face looked pale now too.
Y/N blinked repeatedly. Why did everyone look blurry? The world tilted strangely when she tried focusing. Her stomach rolled unpleasantly.
“I feel weird,” she mumbled.
That made several players exchange looks instantly. The medical staff sprinted onto the field.
“Y/N, look at me,” the physio said while kneeling beside her.
“Can you tell me your name?"
”Seriously? I know my name.”
“That’s good,” the physio replied calmly.
“Do you know where you are?”
“…Training?”
“What day is it?” Y/N frowned hard.
Why was that difficult?
“…Tuesday?”
“It’s Thursday.”
“Oh.” That sounded concerning now that she thought about it.
The physio’s expression tightened immediately. “Okay. Don’t try standing yet.”
Y/N wanted to argue but another wave of dizziness crashed into her before she could. Alexia crouched beside her, visibly stressed now.
“You scared us.”
Y/N attempted a joke automatically. “Good. Character building.”
Nobody laughed. Not even a little. That was how she knew this was serious. The blood still hadn’t stopped. It soaked through the towel the physio pressed against her nose.
“Jesus,” Ona muttered quietly nearby.
Cata looked genuinely sick with guilt. “I’m so sorry.”
Y/N turned her head slightly toward her. Instant regret. Everything spun again.
“You didn’t do anything,” Y/N mumbled weakly. “I slipped.”
Still, Cata looked awful. The physio carefully checked the back of Y/N’s head.
“Any neck pain?”
“No.”
“Nausea?”
“…Yeah.”
“Headache?”
“Really bad one.”
Alexia swore quietly in Spanish under her breath. The physio nodded once toward the medical cart approaching the pitch.
“Concussion protocol.”
Y/N closed her eyes briefly. Fantastic. Absolutely fantastic.
______________________________________________
The locker room afterward felt strangely quiet. Too quiet for Barça. Usually there was music blasting, Vicky yelling about something ridiculous, Clàudia arguing with Patri over nonsense.
Now everyone spoke softly. Y/N sat on one of the benches with an ice pack against her face while the team doctor shined lights into her eyes every few minutes.
The bleeding had finally stopped. Mostly. But her nose was swollen badly, and dried blood still stained the front of her white training top.
Honestly? She looked horrific.
“Proud of you,” Clàudia said while sitting beside her.
Y/N blinked slowly. “For what?”
“You managed to traumatize the entire team.”
“Multitalented.” Clàudia smiled slightly in relief.
Good. That meant joking was allowed again. Across the room, Cata still looked miserable. Y/N sighed quietly.
“Cata.” The goalkeeper looked up immediately.
“It wasn’t your fault.”
“I smashed into your face.”
“You’re a goalkeeper. That’s kinda your thing.”
Cata still looked unconvinced. Alexia crossed the room then, handing Y/N a water bottle.
“Drink.”
“Yes, captain.”
“I’m serious.”
“I know.” Y/N took the bottle carefully. Even sitting upright hurt now. Every movement made her head pound. The lights overhead felt painfully bright too.
"How bad is it?” Vicky asked from nearby.
The doctor answered instead.
“Mild concussion, probably broken nose. We’ll do scans to be safe.”
Y/N groaned softly. “No football?”
“Definitely no football.”
“Thats so not cool”
“No training for at least several days,” the doctor continued.
“Cruel.”
“Y/N.”
“Okay, okay.” Still. The idea of missing sessions made her chest ache immediately.
At seventeen, every training mattered. Every minute mattered. Especially here. Especially at Barça. As if reading her thoughts, Aitana sat down across from her quietly.
“You know resting now means coming back faster, right?”
Y/N sighed dramatically. “You sound wise. I don’t like it.”
“I am wise.”
“She absolutely believes that too,” Ona added.
Aitana nodded once. “Correct.”
That finally earned a laugh from the room. Small. But normal. The tension eased slightly after that. Until Y/N stood up too quickly. The world lurched violently sideways.
Her knees buckled instantly.
“Whoa—” Strong hands caught her before she hit the floor. Alexia. “Easy,” the captain said sharply.
Y/N grabbed her arm automatically as nausea slammed through her again. Everything blurred unpleasantly.
“Oh, I hate this.”
Alexia’s expression softened immediately. “Sit back down.”
“I’m fine.”
“You nearly collapsed.”
“Dramatic behavior.”
“You’re concussed.”
“Allegedly.”
Alexia stared at her. “…You literally forgot what day it was.”
Y/N considered this. “Okay fair.”
The room laughed again. Even Cata smiled weakly this time. Good. That mattered more than Y/N expected. Because the worst part about injuries wasn’t pain. It was watching teammates blame themselves. And Cata looked seconds away from crying.
Y/N leaned back carefully against the lockers. Her head still pounded. The room still tilted slightly. But at least everyone had stopped looking terrified. Mostly.
Then the door opened. Coach walked in. Everyone straightened instinctively. He looked directly at Y/N first.
“How are you feeling?”
“Like I got hit by a truck.”
“That means you’re honest at least.”Y/N smiled weakly.
Coach crouched slightly in front of her.
“You scared everyone today.”
“Sorry.”
“Don’t apologize for accidents.”
That sounded suspiciously directed toward Cata too. The keeper looked down immediately. Coach continued calmly.
“Medical staff already talked to me. You rest. No arguments.”
Y/N opened her mouth. Coach pointed immediately. “No arguments."
“…Rude.”
“I mean it.”
She knew he did. Still sucked though. Coach stood again before glancing around the room.
“Session’s done. Go home.”
Nobody moved immediately. Typical Barça. Half football team. Half emotionally attached family. Eventually, bags started zipping shut and players slowly filtered toward the exit.
Most stopped beside Y/N first.
“Feel better.”
“Text us later.”
"Don’t die.”
“That one was from Vicky,” Patri clarified.
“Helpful,” Y/N muttered.
Finally only a few people remained. Alexia. Cata. Aitana. And the doctor finishing paperwork nearby. Cata stepped closer slowly.
“Can I see?” Y/N frowned. “See what?”
“Your nose.”
“That sounds threatening.” Cata rolled her eyes slightly before crouching in front of her. Y/N carefully lowered the ice pack.
Cata winced immediately. “…Okay wow.”
“Yeah, apparently my face lost the fight.”
“It’s definitely broken.”
“Fantastic.”
“You still look pretty though,” Vicky yelled from outside the locker room.
Everyone burst out laughing.
“GO HOME!” Alexia shouted back.
“LOVE YOU TOO!” Silence settled again after the laughter faded.
Then quietly, Cata spoke. “I really am sorry.”
Y/N looked at her properly this time. Not guilty. Not defensive. Just genuinely upset. And honestly? That made Y/N feel worse than the injury itself.
She nudged Cata’s knee lightly with her shoe.
“If you keep apologizing, I’m gonna headbutt you again.” Cata looked horrified. Alexia snorted loudly. Aitana actually laughed.
Success. Finally, finally, Cata smiled too.
“There she is,” Y/N said softly.
“What?”
“You stopped looking like you murdered me.”
“Well… you were bleeding everywhere.”
“Adds personality.”
“You’re insane.”
“Probably concussed.”
“That’s not how concussions work,” Aitana informed her immediately.
Y/N pointed weakly. “Nerd.”
Aitana looked offended. “I actually graduated school unlike someone”
“Exactly and also damn that's harsh"
The doctor interrupted before the argument could continue.
“Hospital now.” Y/N groaned dramatically.
Alexia grabbed her bag before she could complain further.
“Come on.” Standing hurt less this time. Still dizzy though. Alexia stayed close beside her automatically as they walked down the hallway toward the parking lot.
“You don’t have to babysit me,” Y/N muttered.
"I know.”
“But you are anyway.”
“Yes.” Fair enough. Outside, the air felt colder now. Fresh rain smell lingered around the training grounds while evening settled slowly over Barcelona.
Y/N paused near the car suddenly. The world tilted again. Alexia steadied her immediately with a hand on her shoulder.
“You okay?”
“Mhm.”
“That pause says otherwise.”
Y/N sighed quietly. “…Everything’s spinning a little.”
Alexia’s face tightened again. For someone usually so composed on the pitch, she got visibly stressed when teammates were hurt. Especially younger ones.
“You’re not playing for a while,” Alexia said carefully while opening the passenger door for her.
Y/N grimaced. “I know.”
“You’ll recover.”
“I know.”
“But?”
Y/N looked down at her hands. “…What if people forget about me?”
The words slipped out before she could stop them. Alexia froze slightly. And suddenly Y/N regretted saying anything.
Because it sounded stupid. Insecure. Young. But she was young. Seventeen. Playing among Ballon d’Or winners and Champions League stars. Missing even one week felt terrifying.
Alexia leaned against the car door quietly. “Nobody’s forgetting you.”
Easy for her to say. She was Alexia Putellas. People would remember her forever.
Y/N looked away. “You don’t know that.”
Alexia’s voice softened immediately. “I do.”
Silence settled between them.
Then Alexia continued: “You know what your problem is?”
“That question feels dangerous.”
“You think being here means proving yourself every second.”
Y/N frowned slightly. “…Doesn’t it?”
“No.” Alexia shook her head once. “You already proved yourself when you got here.”
That hit harder than expected. Alexia crossed her arms lightly.
“One injury doesn’t change the player you are.”
Y/N swallowed hard. The pounding in her head suddenly felt distant compared to the tight feeling in her chest.
“You really believe that?”
Alexia looked almost offended. “Obviously.”
Something emotional twisted painfully in Y/N’s chest then. Because football at this level was brutal. Mistakes got criticized instantly. Weakness got exposed instantly.
But Barça—this team—sometimes felt softer underneath all the pressure. Like family pretending not to be family. Alexia finally pointed toward the car.
“Now sit down before you pass out dramatically in the parking lot.”
“That would build team chemistry.”
“That would give me a heart attack.” Y/N smiled weakly and climbed carefully into the passenger seat.
Her head still hurt horribly. Her nose definitely looked awful. And she already hated the idea of recovery.
But as Alexia walked around to the driver’s side while teammates shouted goodbye from across the parking lot, Y/N realized something important.
She wasn’t alone in this. Not even close.
