#autodestructive

[torturouspath]

in the studio the night before install; 168 hours after exhibition opening

[visuallifes]

[room217prayer]

Writing Tamlin and Eris being two "detectives" in Prythian, trying to uncover all it's mysteries and secrets and hidden truths is so, so much fun.

I don't know when or IF I will actually post this fic or how much I'm writing will remain and not get axed buuuuut...

Eh. It's fun.

Especially since Tamlin is getting to know his new reality and Eris is developing FEELINGS.

Of what kind? Guess fdsfsd

[youngpeachenthusiast]

me trying to explain to my body that it is not absolutely necessary to make me feel like dying every single day and i could use a break:

my body: okay but have you considered that we could do this forever?

[torturouspath]

One last dance, time for us, 2025. Two distinct varieties of flowers, concentrated hydrogen peroxide, canning jar. Variable dimensions.

Score for One last dance, time for us, 2025. Typewritten document on cotton rag paper. Edition of 3 + 1 AP. 11 inch by 14 inch by ½ inch framed.

[monotona-existencia]

Mi maldición es no tener sueños que luchar, pasión de sentir, vivir, algo y eso es una carga que no puedo aguantar.

[daifukuch4n]

Like when you get to the point where you enjoy people bullying and insulting you because it's the only way they give you attention or are even minimally notice of your existence.

[croc-odette]

picard and riker deciding to wait 20 minutes before they blow up the enterprise when an alien threatens to kill half of everyone onboard and then picard just goes to his room and listens to music... walking down the hallway is like 10 minutes alone

[souvenirmp3]

with all my love for her music im glad i didnt really listen to much of juliens stuff last summer cos idk if i would have made it out of there

[leonardo-juarez]

Aveces me quedo mirándolo, viendo sus expresiones... Y me digo esta personita tan maravillosa hace que mi mundo se llene de luz y alegría solo con su sonrisa y realmente es hay donde quiero permanecer, con el.

[torturouspath]

My Favorite Memory. Canning jar, red roses, and concentrated hydrogen peroxide solution.

&

Score for My Favorite Memory. Typewriting on paper.

[monotona-existencia]

No hay peor cosa que creer que a terminado todo que ya pasó y volver justo a dónde comenzaste

[just-another-product-of-today]

Huhhh

Something is forcing them to keep someone awake at all times and since Time got the all night mask, he basically volunteers for it a lot. Boom, sure to get eventually tired and especially grumpy/easybto annoy. They still try for everyone to participate in the staying awake at first but after one accident where someone fell asleep and got hurt/others hurt, they had to up their vigilance and after several days, maybe week, of doing this, even if there are nine of them, they're not getting enough sleep and it's starting to show because they all get too easily riled up and one night, sky and time (because they had to do it 2 by 2 to reduce the chances of falling asleep and letting whatever was out there harm them) are staying awake together and at this point, time uses the all night mask probably more than it's healthy to do and a discussion about staying awake go downhill as what would usually be a benign joke about sky's ease to fall asleep gets taken much more seriously, so he snaps back about his use of the mask, and eventually, one comment about either of those things summon a surprise punch from the other and then it's all out, probably waking up the others in the process which make them think there's a fight until they realize what is really going on and they eventually get separated but y'know. Tension.

My friends.

I beseech you for your help.

If Sky and Time were to brawl, like legit get upset and fight, why would it happen??

Asking for no particular reason....👀👀👀

[sugarlywhispers]

b.katsuki x reader (fem) | quirkless!reader, prohero!dynamight, arranged marriage au.

a.n; remember when i said that this serie will not have a specific chronology? okay, this is it. i actually imagined this part being a bit further into their relationship. they are not fully in love -or at least haven't admitted their feelings for each other yet lol-, but they are getting close. remember that😉 SOMEONE SAID ANGST????? YAAAAS, HERE IT IS. MWUAH😘

Fuckin' Marry Me Series | First Part | Second Part | Third Part |

It’s chaos.

All your co-workers are loudly directing each of their assigned heroes as best as they can, but the amount of destruction around complicates each possible view all of you as Quirk & Training Specialists could have.

You run towards your desk, where your computer and monitors are already turned on. You put on the earbuds, connecting yourself to the system. Because of your expertise, you are allowed to hear everyone’s communications, so you use that to understand what is going on around there.

“...Red Riot, watch out from your left. The villain has a second weapon…”

“...Ingenium, if you change your direction to your right, you’ll find-…”

“...Uravity, try lifting them towards the building in front, the ground looks better…”

“...DEKU, YOUR RIGHT IS CLEAR!…”

“...SHOTO, WATCH FOR THE CEILING!!...”

“...DYNAMIGHT, TO YOUR RIGHT!...”

Bingo.

It does not surprise you at all that those three are at the center of it all, fighting the main, strongest villains, but it still makes you take a deep, relieved breath when you hear Bakugou swear very loudly, “you piece of shit villain!”.

He’s okay.

You then focus on finding the connection to your assigned hero.

“Earphone Jack, I’m with you today,” you say immediately as Jirou connects back to you.

“Oh, Y/N, thank God!” She exclaims, “This is a fucking nightmare! I need a way towards–…”

Jirou explains quickly what is happening to you. Apparently, a group of villains had created some sort of machine that was creating havoc, and the sole intention was to damage the infrastructure within a 10 km radius. No apparent deeper reason behind it, which is very suspicious in your opinion. Every villain has a reason behind their actions. But that’s a matter for another moment. You focus now on helping her all the way into the building, hiding and evading every possible encounter with villains, where the main thing is happening.

You feel your shoulders tensing each moment you tell Jirou to hide due to some possible threat coming her way. This kind of job is definitely not for the weak hearts. For some reason you are extremely good at it, quick thinking and fast to react at anything, that’s why in situations like this one you are assigned to any hero who was considered key to finally win. Jirou apparently is the one today. The Big Three are currently distracting all the heavy and strong villains, opening a way for her to disable the machine, and Jirou with her hacking knowledge is perfect for the job.

You can feel some of your co-workers paying attention to you and Earphone Jack at times, adding a bit of pressure on your shoulders. You and her work wonderfully together, and she is always open to your suggestions –sometimes even putting to test some moves you advise and create personally for her and her quirk, even though that is not really part of your job. But you love it completely when one of those actually works and end up being the best move.

“Alright, I’m in,” Jirou whispers and everyone around is listening and watching you cheer loudly. You release a deep and long breath that you didn’t realize you were holding back this entire time.

It takes three minutes for Jirou to turn off the machine and send it into autodestruction.

But in three stupid minutes, a lot happens.

Another building collapses, creating more chaos around. The sound of the explosion is so strong you can even feel the building of the company tremble a bit. Two new big villains appear, making Hero Shoto shout, “SEND RED RIOT AND TENTACOLE, NOW!”

You watch through the system the cameras close to where the Big Three are fighting, and you see it happen.

Deku and Dynamight are fighting strongly, but it’s quite evident how tired and drowned they already are. They are pushing through, hanging in there as much as they can, but it takes one wrong move, one wrong direction.

“...DYNAMIGHT, USE YOUR LEFT CANON…”

One of your co-workers says, and even though you’re not connected in their communication, you can’t avoid yelling, “NO!”, and standing up, looking in a first-row seat how the villain predicts Bakugou’s move, grabbing him by the arm and stabbing him with a big dagger on his stomach that brings Pro Hero Dynamight down.

You saw it happening before everyone else. It had been a wrong directive, a bad decision from your co-worker who was not paying attention to the other side of the monitor, where you could clearly see the villain getting ready, expecting Dynamight’s move.

You watch in what feels like slow motion the contorting body of Bakugou Katsuki, your husband, fall to the floor. Blood spilling down faster than you have ever seen.

“DYNAMIGHT IS DOWN!”

“DYNAMIGHT IS DOWN, SEND BACKUP, NOW!”

“DYNAMIGHT IS DOWN!”

“KACCHAN!”

“DYNAMIGHT IS DOWN!”

“DYNAMIGHT IS…!”

“DYNAMIGHT…”

Everyone has to repeat the message. It’s a directive that everyone follows to help your area adjust and react as fast as you can. Yet hearing the message repeated several times only increases the tight pressure in your chest.

No… NO!

Your whole body is trembling, and for some reason, you can’t feel your hands. You can’t focus on anything else than the image your eyes are seeing through the monitor: Bakugou Katsuki, Pro Hero Dynamight, your husband, lying on the ground over a pool of his own blood.

For being one of the best at your job, for being considered one of the few who always reacts fast and come up with solutions even quicker, for the first time, you don’t know what to do. Your whole body is petrified watching now how Deku picks Dynamight up over a shoulder and jumps away so fast they are barely visible.

Slowly, the ability to hear around you comes back, and you hear two voices. One is Jirou’s, calling your name and trying to make you react, but she’s not in danger. The other one is Izuku.

“Y/N, can you hear me? Answer me. He’s alright! He’s alive. I just left him in the ambulance, they are taking him to the hospital.”

“Y/N, GO.” Jirou’s voice says again, and you do not hesitate anymore.

You know this decision you’re about to make will get you in lots of trouble with your boss. It is imperative for everyone on your floor that you never leave mid-mission. It’s your area's responsibility to foresee that each hero you’re assigned for the day comes back to the company as safe and sound as possible.

Yet the only thing on your mind at the moment is Bakugou. 

The rest can go to hell.

You drop the earbuds over your desk and run.

Everything feels numb and looks like in a blur. You don’t exactly know how you got to the hospital, but you did.

When you arrive there, it’s chaos too. Every doctor and nurse is running everywhere, helping to heal civilians and heroes. You approach a very stressed receptionist and ask for Pro Hero Dynamight and if he’s okay. Your hands are trembling. She says he arrived a couple of minutes before you, but she apologizes saying that she still doesn’t have any more information. You’ll have to wait. And she asks you to go to the waiting room if you’re not injured.

You take a deep breath, hands clasped together tightly, trying to control the trembling in them and follow the woman’s orders. There’s really not much else you can do, causing a scene won’t help you or her.

Your walk towards the waiting room feels like floating, and it’s not a good kind of floating. It feels like your mind is not entirely in you; like you’re moving out of habit. Out of thinking. Not really feeling the soft material of the chair you just sat in. Or the coldness of the table you just rested your forearms over. Your eyes aren’t even focusing on anything, but you do perceive the amount of people there. Some are crying, others are walking from one side of the room to the other anxiously, and others are like you. Quiet, unresponsive to anything. Waiting. Hoping. All they probably care about is receiving some, any kind of news about their loved ones…

Loved ones.

Loved.

Love.

Do you love Bakugou?

Another pang in your chest makes you close your eyes for a moment, holding back the painful feeling. Fuck. It’s too much.

You don’t know how much time you wait there, sitting in that chair, in that exact same position. You just know you’re not moving from there until someone comes.

You just wish it hadn’t been her.

Bakugou Mitsuki enters the waiting room with a storming sound alongside her as she does everywhere she goes. It doesn’t surprise you the theatrical trail of tears painted black thanks to her mascara running down her cheeks, yet her eyes are dry. When she sees you, she walks directly at you.

“Where is he?! Nobody could tell me shit!”

You truly wish she wasn’t there.

“H-He is…” You clear your throat, your voice sounding so broken it even surprised you. “Doctors are tending to him. We have to wait.”

“Fucking stupid brat. He’s alive yet, then?”

You see red. So much red, you’re afraid that the image of you cutting Mitsuki’s throat with your own bare nails isn’t just a mere product of your imagination. But when you hear her heel tapping continuously on the floor annoyingly, waiting for your response, and you see her standing in front of you, you blink relieved it hadn’t been real.

“...Be smarter than her…”

Izuku, you are so good you even became part of my conscience.

You take a long deep breath, before deciding what to answer back. If she is going to act like a bitch at this very moment, then you can too, right?

“Oh, I bet you wish he wasn’t…”

“What the fuck does that mean, you moron?”

“Tell me, Mitsuki,” you know she hates it when you call her by her given name, so you do it with a smirk, “Are you here because of the wellness of your son, or because of his heritage?”

This is the very first time you call out her bullshit, that you even indulge yourself in actually saying what you actually think of her. The expression of pure rage and offense on her face is all worth it.

“You fucking little–...”

“Ms. Bakugou?”

“Yes?”

“Yes?”

Mitsuki answers at the same time you do, and it makes you roll your eyes. This woman really is a pain in the ass.

The doctor looks confused between you two, so he looks again at the chart and clarifies, “Ms. Bakugou Y/N.”

Mitsuki tchs, annoyed and crossing her arms over her chest. You immediately stand up and walk towards the doctor. “That’s me.”

“You are Mr. Bakugou Katsuki’s wife, correct?”

“Yes, I am,” you confirm as the doctor nods and asks you to follow him. You do it, hands still clasped together like dear life.

“He’s okay. He’s still under anesthesia, but he should wake in a couple of minutes. I’ve been informed his body processes and washes it quickly.”

You nod in agreement, following close behind in silence. Watching the many rooms pass by, but only caring about the one you know Bakugou would surely be in.

“He lost a lot of blood, we had to transfuse him. The dagger reached his right lung, but nothing too serious,” you are holding your breath with each statement the doctor is informing you of. “After maybe a month, Mr. Bakugou should be more than recovered. But for now, he’ll need to take it easy.”

Right when he finishes the sentence, his hand grabs the knob of the door that you know will lead you to where your husband is. You simply nod in response before the doctor opens the door. “Ms. Bakugou, you’re allowed to come and go as you please. I’ll tell a nurse to bring you your all-pass card.”

You don’t actually pay much attention to what he says, your eyes are locked over where the man that your heart beats so strongly and loudly for right now is lying over a bed, surrounded by machines and cables that constantly monitor his vital signs.

You don’t even hear when the doctor closes the door and leaves you alone with him.

Your vision blurs, and you’re afraid of moving closer, or touching something that will cause Bakugou any pain. But you’re more afraid that if you don’t get closer, don’t at least hold his warm hand, your heart will beat its way out of your chest towards him.

So you move closer, as carefully as you can. His eyes are closed, his expression so relaxed and serene, you think he looks like he hasn’t just gone through a life-and-death situation. If he hadn’t been all full of cables and as pale as he looks, it would have been the same expression he has when he sleeps at night, next to you. His chest raises slowly with each intake of breath. He is breathing. Your hands unclasp, the trembling is still there, yet you direct one towards where one of his is lying motionlessly on his side. His hand is warm. He is alive.

You feel the tears sliding down your face when Bakugou’s hand suddenly moves. It turns around and holds yours, a bit weak but firmly. Your eyes snap up towards his face. His eyes are slightly open, enough to let you know he is awake. His other hand, the one he can move better, raises and moves towards your face. The thumb cleans the trail your tears created and catches one that just escaped your eye.

“I… told you… n-not to cry… for m-me…” 

A sob finally leaves your mouth as you immediately grab his hand, holding it against your cheek. It’s big enough to almost enclose more than half of your face, your nose caressing his palm as if you were a damn cat, your other hand flies to his forearm and also caresses it. The warmth feels so comforting, so relieving, it makes you cry more.

You hear him snort affectionately, “Crybaby.”

He is okay.

[magics-neptunes-things]

Cheetah

Hello everyone!

So for once this isn't a request, but more something who was walking in my head rent free and I just had to write it.

I don't know a lot about motorcycle to be honest but i made some research, so if there is some incoherence, I'm sorry!

Also I start to translate the English in Spanish before stopping, because in the end almost everyone is supposed to talk in Spanish and I'm really bad at it (I only can command something to eat and drink).

Please let me know what you think about it and enjoy ♥

TW : Moto accident, Angst, Injuries and a little bit of autodestruction maybe.

“Come on Cheetah, everyone’s waiting for you!”

You sigh softly, putting the picture you were looking at in your bag. It’s a picture of your ex-girlfriend and yourself, during your happy days. It’s been three months since the breakup and you are still mourning the end of your relationship like it was the first hours. You still feel numb and like someone is constantly crushing your heart in their iron grip. It’s not getting better, and it probably never will. Ona was, is, the love of your life and it’s just impossible for you to recover from it.

Falling for Ona was easy. You met her when you were both 20, even if you come from Palma de Mallorca and not Barcelona. You are an athlete too, so it wasn’t hard to cross her path at one of the Spanish awards. Patri Guijarro was there too and like you she comes from Mallorca, so she introduced you both and the rest is history.

When Ona moved to Manchester, you followed her. You find a team to train your motorcycle and your skills there. You were still young but promising on the circuit and you didn’t have trouble finding someone to help you get better. And better you get. Just like Ona in Manchester United, you easily improved your skills and became one of the best in the world. Sure, you were sometimes away from home and Ona for your competitions, but everything was perfect.

When Ona came back to Barcelona, you flow back with her too. Some of your team came with you, some others didn’t but you can’t hold it against them. You find people to replace them and continue to race on the top of the leader boards.

The breakup didn’t come from nowhere, you can’t say that. You knew how much Ona was worried when you raced, scared that you hurt yourself. You never had a big injury until now. But just after Christmas, you were involved in an accident and Ona had trouble concentrating on something else than that since that day.

It wasn’t your fault honestly; you just weren’t able to avoid the motorcycles already lying on the road. So, you made a gliding flight and had a concussion and a dislocated shoulder, nothing too serious. But Ona was in Barcelona while you were in Qatar, and it took almost two hours for you to be able to call her, even if you make everything possible to have your phone back.

That’s what pushed Ona to break up with you.

“I can’t keep focusing on your future death while I’m in training or supposed to be concentrated on something important, Y/N/N. I’m so sorry.” was what she told you.

Can you blame her? No. Did she told you it was because she doesn’t love you anymore? No. Did you try everything to make her change her mind? Yes. You even told her that you will stop your sport. But she’s not with you anymore and it hurts like hell.

“Hi Cheetah!” make one of your opponents when you arrive in the garage, where the motorcycles are stored.

“Hola” you mumble back.

Cheetah is your nickname, because of your speed and the feline way you stand on your bike. But it’s especially Ona’s favorite animal. You wonder if she’s still looking at your race sometimes. Probably not. You never asked Patri who became your friend with the years, the girl never talked about your breakup either. You like it that way.

One hour after, you are on your bike, ready to start your race. Your helmet is a notch off from what security recommends, but you prefer to wear it like that. Ona had forbidden you to do so and you had accepted her request without flinching. But Ona isn’t here anymore, and you have no one to care about this.

Well, maybe your brother who is on your team. And probably your parents, but even if you love them, they aren’t Ona.

The qualifying rounds put you in fourth place at the start, but after a daring overtaking you manage to gain the third place. The weather is great honestly, a little bit sunny maybe but it’s better than the rain. You are in Italy after all.

The fight for the second place is hard, your opponent always manages to stand in your way to keep you from reaching it. It starts to frustrate you, even if your team keeps telling you in the helmet to take no risks. You don’t listen to them, still being careful not to make faults though, you don’t want to have any penalty against you.

“Lenta, hermanita por favor!” (Slower, my little sister please!)

You hear your brother’s voice but don’t listen to him either. He will probably kill you for it after the race , but if you manage to get the second place, it’s worth it right? Winning is the only thing that you have left. The only thing that makes you feel a little alive.

That’s why you don’t hesitate to take other risks to be second. Plot twist, you shouldn’t have.

It’s the first time since you’re a teenager that you've lost control of your motorcycle, but it’s a strange feeling. You feel yourself flying and the helmet getting ripped off your head during the crash. After that it’s all black, you just have little moments of consciousness from time to time.

“No no no no no! ¡ Y/N No me hagas esto! Respira por favor!” (Don’t do that! Breath please!”)

That’s your brother's voice. You don’t know where you are, you hear people screaming and probably running next to you. But you are too tired. Falling asleep now probably will help you feel better, right?

“Sigue luchando. Piensa en Ona." (Keep fighting. Think about Ona.)

Ona? You think about her every single second of the day. You are surprised by this statement, but it has the advantage of waking you up a little. Your brother usually never mentions your ex-girlfriend, knowing how much the breakup is destroying you.

“Alright we take her to the ambulance, now!”

If you were able, you probably would have rolled your eyes because of the strength that this man screamed with. You are not even able to open your eyes though, and you hate the way you feel your body not responding to what you want. But your head hurts and soon you are asleep again.

The next time you are awake, it was way more quiet. You hear your parents and your brother, but you have to make a big effort to understand what they are saying.

“She called her name several times in the ambulance, but she’s asleep since”

Well, that’s embarrassing. It’s useless to wonder which name you called, there is only one woman in your head after all.

“Did you call her?”

Your mother.

“No. Y/N would have probably hated me if I did.”

Is he right? Maybe. You’ll think about it later.

“She has the right to know how Y/N is.”

Point for your father.

“I’ll call Patri instead.”

Well, it’s probably better that way. Patri is one of your best friends and if Ona wants to have news of you, she will ask Patri. But once again, she probably has no interest in your health anymore.

You fall back asleep again soon after that.

Patri’s face is white when she reaches the gym of FC Barcelona Femeni. It’s not Ona who realized it first, your ex-girlfriend is focused on her exercises next to Mariona.

“Patri you alright?” Pina asks, looking at her friend with worry.

Everyone raises their gaze on the girl, but she’s only looking at Ona. And Ona knows, right there. She gulps and stands up, her hand shaking.

“What happened?” Ona asks quietly.

But Patri takes her by the hand to take her out. She doesn’t want to explain to Ona what happened in front of the others. She doesn’t know how the younger one will react at the news, and she’s scared of her reaction to be honest. Every single person in the team knows how much Ona is sad about your breakup, even if she’s the one who chose to have it that way.

“Y/N had an accident during the race” Patri starts, looking at Ona with attention. “I don’t know what her injuries are or anything else. But she had that awful crash, and they came with the ambulance and those kinds of white curtains.”

Ona knows what the curtains are for. It’s to protect the dignity of the runner in the case of a serious injury… or worse. Very worse. Her face passes from white to green.

“Is there a video from the crash?”

“I don’t think it’s a good idea to…”

But Ona doesn’t listen. Like you, she’s stubborn. She wants to know. She needs to know. She doesn’t know when the accident happened, but the video of it is easy to find on social media. She doesn’t react at all for several seconds and Patri wonders if Ona’s mind crashed, too.

“She loosened her helmet” Ona whispers at first.

“What?” Patri frowned.

“She loosened her helmet! She loosened her helmet and now she’s probably dead!”

Ona’s shouting and Patri prefer that, but it’s surprising. Ona isn’t the kind of girl who usually shouts. She puts a comforting hand on Ona’s arm before talking.

“We don’t know that for now” she tries, with a comforting voice.

“Haven’t you seen the crash? Haven’t you seen how hard her head hit the ground? She didn’t move after that! At all!”

Patri doesn’t know what to answer at that. Ona’s right and she regrets to have informed her so soon, without having news of you. Or your brother, who had kind of a crush for Patri before realizing that she’s as gay as you are. You still tease him about it years later.

“I’ll try to call her brother, ok? But for now, let’s get out of here.”

When you wake up next time, you have enough strength to be able to open your eyes. You don’t know what time it is, but the sun is shining behind almost closed blinds. There is someone on a chair next to you, but you are disappointed to realize that it’s only your brother. Not Ona.

“Hola” he whispers when he realizes that you're awake.

You only answer with a grunt, unable to talk for now. You feel sleepy again, but you want to talk with him a little bit.

“We are at the hospital. Do you remember what happened?”

You close your eyes briefly to make him understand that you remember. Your throat feels too scratchy to talk for now. You’ll learn later that they have to intubate you to keep you alive.

“You’re lucky you’re alive, I’ll kill you a second time if you weren’t. They want to get you back in Barcelona tonight, are you okay with that?”

You don’t answer right away. Why can’t they keep you here?

“The team thought it would be easier to be somewhere where they speak Spanish. And we will be closer to Mama and Papi.”

Your brother seems to understand your questions. It’s a great thing that you are both so close. You close your eyes again now and he nods before taking your hand in his. You don’t really care where you are taking care of after all.

“You can sleep now. You need to rest to get better, ok?”

You squeeze his finger softly before closing your eyes for good now, falling asleep again. You are still asleep during the transfer to Barcelona and when you wake up again you are in the Spanish’s city hospital.

Once again, it’s your brother who is here when you open your eyes. He changed his clothes but he’s still here, reading a newspaper with his feet on your bed.

“Don’t you have a house?” you groan.

He rolls his eyes after having looked at you for two seconds. Maybe to realize that he wasn’t dreaming. He threw the journal next to you without putting his feet down, but everything is still blurred.

“I can’t read it” you whisper.

“The Spanish’ motorcycle prodigy almost died in an awful crash yesterday. Her condition remains alarming” your brother read for you.

He’s angry. You don’t answer anything, what should you say anyway? You know that it’s your fault, if you were a little more careful nothing of that would have happened. You know too that you aren’t on the point to die, your brother wouldn’t have scolded you if that was the case.

“What are my injuries?” you ask without looking at him.

He sighs loudly before answering.

“You have broken ribs, a broken tibia, your cheekbone too, your elbow is in pieces, your shoulder has been dislocated again and you have a massive concussion. They thought that you have something broken in your spine, but it’s just a massive bruise. Oh, and you have other bruises on almost every part of your body, when it’s not burned because of the asphalt. They had to put stitches somewhere on your head and your brow bone too.”

You stay silent for several seconds, completely stunned. These are massive injuries, you know it. It will probably need a lot of time to heal all of them and that means that you will miss the end of the championship. You were in the top 3, and it’s an awful disillusionment for you. You were already picturing yourself on the podium at the end of the season.

“How many times am I supposed to stay in bed? Before starting my rehab?”

He frowns softly, not expecting this question.

“They don’t know for now if you elbow will be well enough to start racing again”

“Of course it will be” you snort.

“No” your brother answers. “It’s serious, Y/N. You maybe won’t be able to drive a motorcycle again. On a circuit at least.”

“You don’t understand. I don’t have the choice. This is all I have left now.”

Your breakup was awful for you, but it was for your family too. You weren’t always careful with you, but Ona pushed you to be reasonable and stayed on the track. Now you don’t have anyone to hold you back. Ona was the only one you were listening to. You don’t listen to anyone now. Only your Abuela when she emotionally blackmails you. But your loved ones try not to use that card too much to not burn it.

“You have to stop that. You still have people who care for you. The Oldies do, I do, your friends do. I know that the breakup sucks, but you can’t play with your life like you do.”

“Piss off” is all you mumble back.

Because you know he’s right, but what are you supposed to do now that he’s here with you and you would give ten years of your life to swap him with Ona? He doesn’t answer anything, knowing that you’re out of arguments and that you know he’s right.

“Did she… Did she call you?”

“She didn’t have to” he answers after a moment of hesitation. “I called Patri as soon as we were in your hospital room in Italy.”

This hurt a little more, to be honest. You are not aware that Ona was with Patri every time she received a call or a message from your brother. You sight softly before closing your eyes. Your head starts to hurt like hell, which is probably normal for a concussion.

You wake up several hours later and you already know that it’s the night. There isn’t any noise coming from outside your room and no light from outside. But there is someone sitting on the chair next to you.

“Ona?”

It seems almost impossible, but it’s definitively Ona. You are able to recognize her silhouette in the dark after all these years passed with her. Even if you haven’t seen her in the last three months.

“It’s worse than anything” she mumbles, looking somewhere near your broken leg.

“What?”

“Not knowing how you are. I thought that breaking up with you will help me to stop worrying about your races, but it’s worse every time. I almost called you or messaged you before every race just to hear your voice, but I just couldn’t. And then I learned about your accident, and I have to live with the thought that you were dead for several hours.”

She raises her eyes on you, and you have trouble supporting her gaze, even if you are in the dark.

“I’m sorry” you finally say.

“Really?”

She seems unconvinced and she has every right to be. She knows you, better than anyone.

“Well, I’m sorry that you were worried because of me. But as you see, I’m alive.”

She rolls her eyes and lets her back go against the chair she is sitting on. You still feel strange, without knowing if it’s because of the drugs or because you are dreaming. You don’t really have anything to lose, so you ask.

“Is it real life?”

Ona looked at you with an obvious surprise on her beautiful face. God you missed her so damn much.

“What do you mean?”

“Is it real or am I dreaming?”

“Are you making the move where you ask me if I am an angel?”

You stupidly laugh before regretting it, your ribs protesting hard. Ona seems alarmed when you groan in pain, putting your non-injured hand on it.

“I’m ok” you whisper, taking several small breaths, the big one would have been too hurtful.

“You are not” Ona mumbles.

She’s right.

“It’s less painful than the thought that I lost you.”

She sighs once again and looks at her fingers before shaking her head softly. You wanted to grab her hand, but she’s on your bad side and your arm is in that awful cast.

“Tell me what I have to do to have a second chance, Oni. I’ll do every single thing you’ll ask me. I swear. Please” you beg when she stays silent for several seconds.

“What if I ask you to stop your stupid moto?”

There is a challenge in her voice, and you know why. One time, she told you that she’s not even sure that if she asks you to choose between her and your sport, you’ll choose her. At that time, you didn’t know that she was serious, you thought that it was something she wasn’t thinking and said due to the fight. How wrong you were.

“I’ll do it” you answer without any doubt.

She seems surprised, looking at you with two big eyes. You have always loved Ona’s eyes, some people said that brown eyes are the most common and expressionless. They never have crossed Ona’s gaze.

“I saw what a life without you is, Ona and I don’t want that life. I want you and if I have to stop my sport, I’ll do it if you still want me.”

She sighs and rubs her eyes. She seems tired to be honest, but maybe because it’s the middle of the night and that she’s supposed to be asleep right now.

“I didn’t break up with you because I don’t love you anymore. I still do and I think I will for all my life. I need you to be a part of my life too.”

Her words are melody in your ears, but you feel like there still is something else. Like if something was restraining her.

“But…?” you mumble, looking for her eyes.

“But I can’t continue like this. I thought you were dead.”

She’s crying now and your heart hurts like if someone just punched it. You move in the bed, trying desperately to touch her or anything to try to comfort her. Your ribs and your legs burn awfully, and you ignore your elbow hurting in protest.

“Ona I’m so sorry, I swear” you say, managing to take her hand in yours.

The position is awful, and you wonder briefly if you can throw up even if you haven’t eaten anything for almost two days.

“I didn’t think it would hurt you that way. Please don’t cry” you continue.

She shakes her head softly, kind of laughing between her tears.

“Why would you think that?”

“Because you left me. And you blocked me everywhere.”

That point hurts, too. You weren’t even able to look at her social media to have news of her, you were reduced to following a fan's account of her.

“I just couldn’t live with you popping randomly on my timelines. It hurts too much every time.”

You nod and that gesture makes your position too hurtful. You roll on your back, trying to hold your whine of pain. But Ona sees it anyway and frowns almost instantly.

“Do you want me to call them to have more painkillers?”

“Are they ok with you being here? I don’t want them to make you leave” you admit with a small voice.

There is a beam of silence.

“I won’t leave your side” she says in a comforting voice.

You want to believe that she means it for like all your life. But having her tonight is what you have best for now. So, you nod, closing your eyes when she rings the nurses. The door is open only a minute after and you open your eyes again when you hear Ona’s voice.

“I think she’s ready for more painkillers” the brunette says.

“I will give some to you” the nurse says to you before adding something in your intravenous. “What hurts?”

“Everything” you admit softly.

She nods and gives you a smile in sympathy. You look at her doing her things, missing Ona’s small winces at your admission. The nurse starts to talk again when she’s at the door, ready to leave.

“You will feel better like this. After that it will be great if you try to eat something. You will be sleepy for now though.”

Your eyes fly to Ona who is already looking at you. She said that she will stay by your side, but does she mean while you sleep too? She probably has training or somewhere to go. A match to play? You don’t know which day it is anymore, the painkillers are starting to kick in already, making you confused.

“Ona” you manage to say.

“Sleep, Hermosa. I’ll be here when you wake up, ok?”

Two weeks later, you are finally leaving the hospital. You still have to leave in a wheelchair, much to your disappointment. But with almost half of your body injured, there is no way that you are able to walk with crutches.

The only positive thing is that the person who is pushing the wheelchair is Ona and that she managed to make it funny, sliding on it in the hospital’s floor. Your brother is following with your suitcases, smiling softly while watching both of you.

After learning that you will be alright, you parents went home in Mallorca two days before you were authorized to go home. They proposed to you to come back to Mallorca with them and you have to admit that you miss your island, but there is no way that you are somewhere Ona isn’t.

When you felt better, you had a very intense and long discussion about your relationship, both of your feelings, what you both expect from that said relationship and where you want it to go.

Ona is the one who will look after you on a daily basis, but sometimes your brother will need to take you to your appointment when Ona is away or training. The end of the season is soon here, but there still is the Olympics this Summer so she has to prepare herself intensively.

Your girlfriend’s here, one month after, when you are in the doctor’s office for the worst moment of your professional life. Sitting next to you, she’s holding your hand when the doctor looks at you with an awful sorry face.

“I don’t know where to start” he begins, playing with the sheets on his desk.

“Just go straight into it, Doc” you sigh softly.

You know already that you will hate what is going to be said. Ona’s fingers stroking your hand help, but your heart is still beating faster than ever.

“You are making good progress, I saw that they removed your cast on your feet, but we are really concerned about your elbow. We don’t think it will be fit enough for you to be able to start motorcycle in a professional way anymore.”

You were waiting for it, but it still hurt to hear that. Motorcycle is the only thing you knew since you were a teenager, you never thought about doing anything else in your life. You swallow softly before passing a hand on your face. You did everything you can to be able to start again, followed every advice your team gave you. But it’s not enough.  

“I don’t know what to say” you finally mumble, looking at an imaginary point somewhere on the desk. “That's all I know; I don't know how to do anything else.”

“I can pick you up for an appointment with our psychotherapist if you want to. It can help.”

“Can we leave? I’ll tell you if I want one”

For now, you just want to get out of this office and be able to breathe some fresh air. Ona helps you to get up even if you don’t need help anymore. You suppose it’s a way to comfort you. You are glad for her. She doesn’t say anything while you are getting out of the building, but she doesn’t let your hand go when you lean against the railing once outside.

“What am I going to do, Ona?” you whisper softly.

She let go of your hand now, but it’s only to pass her arm around your waist and hold you close.

“Whatever you want mi Amor. It’s ok not to know now, but you still have a bunch of possibilities. We will figure it out together, yeah?”

She kisses your cheek, and you close your eyes, letting yourself being cuddle a little more. It’s not the same feeling as the one when you lost Ona. You know there are different exit doors, you just have to find the good one. Ona will be your light in the dark.

Several weeks later, you are in France. Not for a race, but for playing the WAG for your girlfriend who is playing the final today. She introduces you to others girlfriends/wife of her teammates and you get along great with everyone. You watched every single game in the stadium, and you were able to see Ona several times in between. You missed her and she was worried sick to let you alone at home, but you are pretty fine.

You are famous in the world of sport so it’s not a surprise that you are not able to skip some interviews while going to the stand to attend the finale.

“Y/N” said one journalist when he puts her microphone under your mouth, with an awful French accent. “You announced your retirement sooner this month because of your massive injuries. How are you feeling?”

“I’m still sad about it, of course. It wasn’t my choice and I think it makes it harder but I didn’t have the choice. I’m sad not to be able to finish the championship this year, I was really well ranked, but you know…”

You shrug, thinking that’s between his accent and yours, people on social media will have a great fun.

“Do you think you will come back to the motorcycle world one day?”

“Not as a racer obviously, but why not. I still need to figure out what to do with my life, but first I have to heal correctly.”

“Thanks for your answers” he smiles. “Do you have a favorite for today?”

“Spain, obviously” you smile back.

“Do you have a favorite player?”

You almost roll your eyes at that. Your relationship with Ona is common knowledge for everyone, you are not hiding yourself. You both weren’t as famous before and you were posting without really thinking about it.

“Oh, I don’t know… Number two is pretty great” you smirk, looking at the jersey you are wearing.

You hear someone giggle in the background, and you are pretty sure to recognize Irene’s wife waiting for you with Mateo. You soon say goodbye to the journalist to find your place in the stand. You are sitting next to Ona’s family obviously and your family made the trip too. They are sitting next to other Majorcans people, Cata’s family and Mariona’s brother and mother aren’t far away either.

When Ona smiles at you during the national anthem after looking around to find you, you smile back and say “T’estimo” to her. You know that she can’t hear you, but she can easily read it on your lips.

You don’t know what the results of this game will be, like you don’t know what you will do in several months. But you know you will be fine, because you will be with her.

Ona is your forever and you don’t want another.

[timid-owl]

Me when the narrative is offering a dynamic between a trauma-induced cynicism bordering with madness and a seemingly naive somewhat autodestructive altruism