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shoot-the-oneshot · 1 year ago

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BEST OF MOTOGP

Marc Marquez x reader x Carlos Sainz love triangle.

Read Part 1 here

3 years ago

With every step towards the garage your heart beat faster and faster, you have been working with the brand for what felt like forever and you finally got it. Redbull social media specifically focused on MotoGP you honesty would’ve been happy with any type of racing but you were ecstatic with your placement.

You don't know why you were nervous everyone has told you again and again how kind Marc was but you’ve had some unsavory experiences with other athletes coming up that didn’t understand or appreciate the new way of technology and in turn you.

You tried to keep your head up walking into the Repsol garage being amazed by the fast past everything was moving at. Being so caught up you jumped when a hand landed on your arm.

“I’m sorry, I’m Marc didn't mean to scare you.” He spoke holding a hand out for you, happily taking it. “Hi I'm Y/n, a part of the media team, its so nice to meet you”

Marcs eyes widened. “A new member of the family! please allow me to show you around.” He lead you all around the paddock introducing you to everyone you passed. Ending back at the Repsol garage he left you to a meeting with your boss wishing you good luck before he sped off to practice.

“He’s really nice right?” You spun to the right at the new voice seeing a slightly older than you blonde woman, who nodded to where you were watching Marc leave.

“Out of all the people I’ve worked with this team is by far the best and most welcoming, I'm Susan by the way while I'm technically in charge as long as you do the job and don't cause havoc we won’t have an issue.” She winked making you drop your shoulders and let out a breath you didn't know you were holding, making her laugh.

“Come on, I’ll show you the best spots for content during the race.”

1 year later (2 years ago)

“I’m really glad you let me come.” Marc spoke almost shyly with a red dusting across his cheeks as he followed your lead down the streets of your hometown. “How could i not, you practically begged.” You teased, smiling as you looked up at him as you stopped walking now there was only a few inches between you both.

“I’d beg just to learn your favorite color if that’s what it took.” He whispered, his fingertips grazing your cheek as he moved a strand of hair out of your face. Marc wishes he remembered the moment he fell for you, when he stopped seeing only the color of your eyes and started seeing his everything in them. But it's times like this he almost doesn’t care when, just that it’s there now.

“It’s red.” You answered breathlessly almost speechless from the was he was gazing at you. Your heart started racing as you noticed how close he’d gotten, his breath fanning across your face. “Tell me to stop.”

“I don't want you to.” Clutching his shirt in your hands to keep him close. Marc laughed lowly brushing his noes against yours, “Then tell me to kiss you.” He had to hear it, he had to know you wanted it as bad as he did before he did anything that couldn't be taken back.

Tired of waiting you pulled on his shirt crashing his lips against yours, Marc got over the shock instantly, pulling you tighter against him, so close you couldn’t tell where you ended and he began . Pulling away only when the need to breathe became overwhelming, even then he didn’t move away far.

“I really wish you would’ve done that sooner.” He smiled against your lips, and reluctantly stepped back remembering you were in public. Not before taking your hand in his. “Where’s that cafe you wanted to show me?” At his words you lit up practically dragging him in your excitement “Oh it’s right around the corner come on!”

During the season you shared many moments like the one shared then, getting closer and closer to each other and after the season you and Marc found yourselves back in your hometown it was just small enough that no one bombarded him plus he had never seen you so relaxed than when you were there. So his pushed to come back during the break.

“Come on champ i thought you were an athlete!” You shouted behind you where Marc was, you wanted to show him one of your favorite hikes it was rough but the view up top was worth it.

“I’m just making sure you don’t fall behind amore.” Marcs words dragged making you look back seeing his eyes locked on your butt, he only smiled being caught making you laugh.

Reaching the top, you shouted in excitement spinning around “we made it! Marc quickly wrapped you in his arms spinning you around kissing all over your face. “Marcy!” You giggled meeting his lips as he set you down.

“Come on we need a picture to remember this great feat.” You cozied up to Marc as you held out your phone being sure to get the view behind you, and capturing Marcs wide grin.

“One last photo together hm?” He said, looking everywhere but at you, sighing you rubbed his arm “It’s hardly the last time we will see each other, I’ll only be gone one season.”

“Practically forever.”

Present

Out of all the things you expected to see once you turned the corner was to see Marc and Carlos in some stand off their respective teams separating the two men. “What’s going on?”

Carlos who was just shaking out of Charles hold looked like a deer caught in headlights. “Nothing”

You looked to Marc knowing he would tell you the truth. But he just walked past you pausing once your shoulders met staring at the wall ahead. “I take it back, don’t pick him.”

Spinning around you grabbed his arm not at all finished with the conversation.

“You always tell me what to do first, not to fall for you now, don't fall for him what do you want!” You exclaimed not able to handle the mixed signals it nearly broke your heart when Marc told you nothing could happen between you two all those years ago because you worked together.

Flashback 1 year and a half ago

You and Marc layed by the pool soaking in the sun, legs tangled together. Smiling as you felt him press small kisses leading to your neck from your shoulder. “Stop” you laughed softly. Pushing him away just making him tighten his hold even more ensuring you couldnt escape. Caressing his face when he pulled away from your neck running your thumb over his cheek bone as he gazed at you.

“What color tie are you going to wear to the gala this year.” You asked out of the blue making his brows furrow and pull away further, making your hand drop. “Probably black why?”

“I wanted to make sure my dress matched.” Being a part of Redbull socials you were invited anyway and thought it would be cute to tie together. But seeing the look he got on his face you were starting to second guess yourself.

“You know no one can know we’re doing this right?” Your world screeched to a stop like a scratched record at his words. “What?” You breathed out. Marc sat up pulling away from you and sighed. “I don't want it to look bad on you if it got out, i care about you and don't want you to get all the hate you’d get for being with me. But we can still dance at the gala.” He spoke cuddling back into you, which you were gad for so he couldn't see your eyes glassing over. “Yeah” your voice cracked “yeah we can.”

(Flahback over)

Marc sighed. “We both knew being just friends would never work.” He grabbed the back of your neck pressing his lips against your forehead. “I’m so sorry for what i said before but i was always yours and i hope you’ll be mine one day.”

With those as his parting words you found yourself alone, needing time for your thought you decided to walk through the paddock to clear your head. Your heart eached seeing Ferrari red everywhere. After Marc shut down any chance of being serious, you begged for a change of scenery landing a place in F1 more specifically Toro Rosso whatever pain you felt Carlos helped you overcome and then you went back to MotoGP and everything got complicated.

“Y/N! Y/n wait!” Your body froze before you could think Carlos stood in front of you the next moment his eyes begging you to hear him out.

“I’m sorry you had to see that, you weren’t supposed to.” He breathed out, hands twitching like he fighting the urge to reach out. “Didnt apologize for doing it” he everted his gaze at your words before straighting up taking a deep breath.

“I know you have feelings for both of us, and i know i can’t do anything about it. But i just want you to remember who broke your heart and who picked up the pieces.” Carlos squeezed your hand that you didn't know he grabbed before turning to walk away,

You sighed falling onto your bed at the hotel, you knew it wouldn’t be smooth sailing with Marc showing up at Carlos race but you didn't expect this much trouble. Carlos was right he did pick up the pieces of your heart after Marc broke it, but part of you wondered what would’ve happened if you didn't run to F1 after that conversation.

During that season Marc didn’t disappear he made his presence known despite the unopened text from him in your phone he still sent flowers to every race and invited you back to Spain for the summer, perhaps he was right. Being just friends would never work

Your inner monologue being cut short by your phone going off, leaning over with a groan your brows furrowed at the text.

Carlos: check your email.

Ignoring the message you open your emails seeing a brand new one from Ferraris head of marketing personal email.

“Hello Y/n, it has come to our attention you were looking at other options outside of your current employer, you have come highly recommended from some of our employees during your time in F1 a few years ago and we would love to add you to our team. Given your close relationship to one of our drivers we think you would make a wonderful addition.

We have reviewed your current contract with Redbull and would like to offer to buy it out and add a 20% raise to your salary plus benefits. No need to interview please get back to us at your soonest convenience.

Scuderia Ferrari, Social media, Marketing team

Practically throwing your phone across the room your breathing picked up. While it was a fantastic offer and one that would definitely keep you and Carlos together it wasn’t what you wanted, wasn’t who you wanted.

Rushing from your bed you pulled open the door to your room and ran through the hallway stopping abruptly as you nearly bumped into Marc a few feet away.

“What’s wrong?” What are you doing out here.” You both spoke simultaneously.

“Ferrari offered to buy me out of my contract.” You rushed out making Marc roll his eyes and chuckle humorlessly. “So that’s what he meant.”

“You, you knew?” You stammered over your words. “That’s what he told me earlier” you’ve never seen Marc so withheld before, at least not with you.

“And you didn't tell me!” You exclaimed, Marc sighed running his hand over his face. “If it’s what you wanted i didn’t want to stop you. Would it kill me, yes, but all i want is for you to be happy even without me.”

“How good is the contract?” He asked before you could say anything, keeping a good few feet between you.

“Really good.” His face hardened at your words nodding his head he made a move to turn away before you stopped him.

“But not good enough to leave you.”

Marc spun back around so fast though thought he would’ve broken something making you giggle. “Really?” He asked needing to be sure it wanted to his imagination. “Ever since that kiss you’re all i wanted.” You whispered being afraid any louder tone would break the spell.

Marc quickly erased the distance between you and wrapped you in his arms nuzzling his nose against yours.

“Tell me you’re mine.” He smiled against your lips reminding you of the first time.

“I’m yours, i pick you.”

That next break you found yourself back sun bathing with Marc at your home in Spain, the sun shining off his wedding ring from its place on your thigh. Your husband sending daggers at stitch who was lounging in your arms.

“I never thought id be jealous of a dog.” He grumbled laying his head back down on your chest when you giggled. “Aw poor baby.” Rubbing your hand through his hair, feeling him smile against your skin. While it was a rollercoaster getting there you wouldn’t change the life you had for anything.

Woah what a ride i hope you guys liked it let me know in the comments Carlos’s part will be out soon check out part one and Carlos part here

Best of both worlds prt1

Best of MotoGP Marcs ending

Best of F1 Carlos ending coming soon

check out my master list for more

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#formula 1 imagine #f1 imagine #f1 x reader #carlos sainz imagine #carlos sainz x reader #marc marquez imagine #marc marquez x reader x carlos sainz #marc marquez x reader #motogp imagine #motogp x reader

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481mclarg · 1 month ago

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Hello! You're the first MotoGP writer that I've seen so I'm super excited to be requesting this.

How do you feel about Marc Marquez x fellow championship winner!male!reader who's also Rossi's protégé? The two have near polar opposite approaches to just about everything, Marc being, well, Marc: aggressive on track, playful, energetic etc.; and reader being such a clean and precise pilot that it genuinely throws people off, quieter, more prickly and avoids the press like it's the plague (and when the press do get ahold of him, he acts like he has said plague). Everyone was shocked when the two got together due to a variety of factors but they don't let that stop them.

Thank you very much and congrats on 100 followers!

✶ Idiota, I do care about u

┈ The best love story is when you fall in love with the most unexpected person at the most unexpected time.

★ Marc Marquez × VR46 Academy Male Rider – MotoGP Championship Winner.

☆ "Rivals" to Friends to Lovers. || WC: 965

Warning: Not really rivals, but yk VR46 - Marquez rivalry. Cursing as love lenguaje? (idk, I do that a lot tbh). And mention of Marc's injuries and surgery.

« K » Im excited too !! I thought no one was going to ask for anything about MotoGP, because there is very little that is not about two riders.

'k, this is pretty long too. But I really love the idea, so maybe I'm writing something similar in the future (plus the The Devils × El Diablo smau & the Chef × YT22).

Sorry Joan Mir, I steal ur Championship... maybe the 2022 from Pecco too. I tried to do it a little unclear so you can imagine other result if u want .

Hope yall enjoy it!

2020 was a crazy year, but it was YOUR crazy year.

You just win your first MotoGP championship!

But you really wanted to fight with Marc for it, so you were disappointed that he couldn't race all year.

Then, Portuguese GP 2021, and he's back.

"Hope to see you on track again, Marc" "You're gonna see my back the whole race" "You wish."

Actually, you were pretty surprised when you saw him walking with his brother through the paddock. Internet was already flooded with articles talking about his come back— but you never read the news. Not even from the official MotoGP Instagram.

You don't have all that time to waste,

... and even if you did, you wouldn't waste it reading junk news.

Since Marc has a completely different style than yours, you get more excited about racing against him. You want to defend your title with the best riders on track too, and no one can deny that he is making history in the sport.

You're not afraid to say it, even if you're at the VR46 Academy.

Obviously, you're also excited to race alongside Valentino before his retirement & to have been able to celebrate your championship with him. Being part of his academy is an honor. But that doesn't blind you. You always try to treat all the riders with the same respect.

Valentino's fights aren't yours, and Marc never gave you a reason to hold on to that resentment.

Although, you can't deny that Valentino was right when he said that Marc is annoying as fuck (on the track, at least).

Aggressive; he's never afraid to take risks, even if the odds of coming out well are low. He never stands still. He can't accept a place within the points, and he rides only thinking about winning.

You, on the other hand, can sacrifice an on-track fight for a better place if it ensures you a consistent number of points in each race.

If you're not sure you're going to succeed, you don't even bother trying. You think it's a waste of time and effort. You prefer to wait for the right moment or create it more passively, without running over others and risking crashing with them.

That's led you two some good battles in past races, and you really hope you can continue competing against him.

And you were doing it. The audience couldn't complain about the season they were watching.

You, Marc, Enea, Fabio, Pecco... You really enjoyed the season.

Although you enjoyed more a new closeness between you and Marc.

Maybe you can call it a friendship? You two now talk when you see each other on the paddock, actually stopping to talk a little more, or even walking together. You two are always together when meet at press conferences, even if you are with other Academy riders.

During the 2022 season, that friendship gets... closer? Like, really close.

You meet his house, befriended with Alex too and their dogs... You love them. At this point, the Marquez brothers think you only go to their house for Shira and Stitch.

Can anybody blame you? They are the cutest.

At some point... maybe you started to think that Marc was also very cute. And maybe Marc started to think the same about you.

But all that determination you had in the races seemed to stay on the track.

It wasn't until Marc was injured (again) that your feelings were confessed.

"Idiota, don't scared me like that ever again" "What did I do??" "Get injured? And you make me think that you're about to retire, you asshole"

He laughed. He knows that you actually care for the other rider's health, but doesn't understand why it seemed to affect you that much.

Then, you asked for a moment without his documental's cameras.

Deep breath and...

"I'm worried because I care about you" "Yeah, I–" "I like you... It's that kind of care" "Oh"

You thought you were about to be rejected in the most stupidly tender way. Only Marc would care enough to reject you, taking care not to completely destroy your feelings. You were about to apologize, starting to mumble some "Forget it" or "I'm sorry."

But you never apologized.

A pair of lips made sure you shut up.

"Oh" "Sí, oh."

He was laughing again when you two kissed a second time.

"Never scared me like that, I need to figure out how to ask you to date before" "I'll be more careful in the future"

You never left a day without texting him or Alex to ask about his recovery. And when you were free from the MotoGP calendar, you went to his house to see him and help with whatever he needed.

Alex was really happy that his brother had someone else to care about him too.

Back to racing, you always had an eye on him, looking for him from your garage or walking around his. At this point, the whole academy was suspecting something. You didn't deny it; even talked to Valentino about your feelings. He didn't like it, but there was nothing he could do but wish you the best. Maybe take the opportunity to threaten him a little in case he hurt or betrayed you.

So, after winning the Australian GP with Marc in second place, you two make it official. Not public yet, but you two are happy being discreet enough.

The press didn't need to know about your relationship, only the people you both care about.

You are happy like this, in your little bubble, which is sometimes questioned by the press for how "strange" it seems that a pupil of the VR46 Academy is so close to Marc Marquez, but you're together, which is the only that matters.

100 FOLLOWERS EVENT 481MCLARG | 28 . 03 . 2025 | CORREGIDO

#k★100 followers event!#motogp smau #motogp rpf #marc marquez #male reader #marc marquez x male reader #motogp x reader #motogp imagine #motogp fanfic #motogp x male reader #mm93

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alexmarquezmotogpracewinner · 2 years ago

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Here's some things to know for F1 fans who wanna get into Motogp:

We love Dani. If you don't, get out

We also have an iconic 40-something. It's 46 and his name is Valentino Rossi, arguably the greatest of all times

Funfact, Vale could have gone into F1 in 2009

Motogp is kinda like the rom-com edition of F1. Better, gayer and more emotional

Half of those riders have got nothing in their brains other than racing

We have a lot of special boys, in the most different ways special, that are for a whole other day cause I can't put them all in here, some examples tho: Fabio Quartararo, Jorge Lorenzo, Joan Mir, the Espargaro bros, Maverick Viñales (yes like topgun), etc

We love a good brother duo, there's currently 2

You either love Jorge Lorenzo or you despise him, there's no way you have neutral feelings about him

We have some of the funniest fucking names, exp: Casey Stoner or Marc Marquez

Yes Valentino Rossi and Luca Marini are brothers. Yes they competed under different surnames

Vale has a ton of kids (real not fake)

Young Vale has so much gender, if you're trans or questioning, he will give you envy

About 70% of italian motogp riders have an emotional support left earring

The one rider I know that nobody likes is Johann Zarco. Weird old guy who was involved in one of the biggest crashes of the past decade (it was his fault)

Big Balls Binder.

#motogp #I stand by the 12th one btw

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twiceeshy · 3 months ago

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3% [Chapter 1/?]

Read and view tags on ao3.

Summary: Three percent was the chance that suppressants would fail to protect from pregnancy, if a fertile Omega had sex with an Alpha during heat. It was non-negligible, but low.

E, rosquez, 6.7k words.

Marc held a baby in his arms. Nurses bustled around to make sure everything was alright, but he knew he didn't have to worry. She was tiny and pink. He loved her, he realised, stunned.

He was, perhaps, blessed that a pandemic had befallen them so he could have her safely. His abnominal muscles hid the bump for months. In another world he might have trained and crashed multiple times out of complete ignorance and lost her. Would he be happier that way? It wasn't worth thinking about, and nobody would ever hear about these doubts except his brother.

Still, he had considered the prospect of not keeping her seriously before making a choice, knowing what a commitment it would be.

Deep his heart, as much as he fretted and feared and did not actually want to do this at all, he couldn't bring himself to lift a finger to do anything else. Not when the child would be a combination of himself and someone he once loved. He would never have this chance again.

When a surreal health crisis laid their season's schedule to waste, he was vindicated. All the stars aligned for him to commit to this tough choice instead of the other.

"I think she'll look like you," Alex said cheerfully, as though he hadn't been awake through the night. Labour lasted thirteen hours.

Marc thought that Alex made good company in lieu of a husband. In fact, Marc was fairly certain he would have kept his brother and kicked the actual father of his child out of the room about five minutes into delivery, if he happened to be around. He couldn't stand the thought of anyone else watching through this specific vulnerability, which was why he made his parents stay at home. He was filled with a complicated mixture of love and loathing that would be horribly unpalatable to anyone else.

Marc had squeezed his brother's hand to bits and tried not to make noise even though it hurt. Alex made no complaint either. Marc probably played too heavy a hand in raising him, but Alex turned out perfect so it was hard to feel guilty.

He was going to be the best uncle in the world. And Marc was determined to be a good mother.

He held her out to Alex, who took her carefully. She was tiny. If she was anything like him, she would be tiny for a long time. He wondered if he could make her take more after him out of sheer willpower.

"Do you think she looks like a Laia?" Marc asked. Laia Marquez Alenta. He'd drawn the name from a list of popular Catalan baby names, and still thought it fit. He enjoyed having the most common name for decades running, and there was an edge of rebellion in naming her as Catalan as possible. Her name carried ties to home, and the freedom to shape her own destiny.

Alex smiled at her with the warm fondness. "She looks like whatever you want."

Marc held his brother's arm appreciatively. For the millionth time since he found out about his pregnancy, he was unspeakably grateful for his brother. His family's love was a panacea to his unquantifiable amount of despair, as his body stretched and his toes disappeared from view. He used to easily bend down and touch the floor with the palms of his hands. He would get back there. He would get back on a bike too - soon, maybe even tomorrow - and he would return to winning again.

A few short moments later, a nurse took Laia away to measure her height. Something animal and new surged within him. He wanted her back, he didn't want her to smell like someone else. He controlled himself.

Alex dabbed stray tears from Marc's eyes with his sleeve. He hadn't realised he had been crying. His head was a mess.

"Congratulations," Alex said.

Marc gave him a wobbly smile. He felt unfit and horrible, and he regretted taking a break from his career from every fibre of his being now that the deed was done. But he'd done it, he was a mother now.

A thousand or so kilometres away, the paddock was just over a week away from their second race in Jerez.

Marc could pin down the day of Laia's conception to precision: 17 November 2019, when he had capped off a year of glory with a win.

He had been on the verge of a heat. It didn't matter - he'd raced through them before. When riders had their heads covered by helmets, scents were scarcely a distraction to everyone else. The only inconvenience was for himself, because his body temperature felt hotter and his stomach was prone to cramping, so he needed to ensure he had a different balance of water and electrolytes to keep the averse effects at bay.

It should have been a handicap for everyone else, and yet, he won with some margin. He simultaneously felt invincible and mortal, battered by the chronic weight of past and present injuries magnified by his heat. It was a terrible, foreboding mixture.

He was on top of the world. He was boiling alive in his own sweat and leathers.

He dragged himself to the afterparty anyway. His head was killing him. No matter how much water he drank, he couldn't shake off the dehydration. Once the adrenaline of the race had worn off, his dislocated shoulder throbbed painfully. He needed surgery soon to fix that again, as his arm felt to be one tough whack away from falling off.

After an hour, he bowed out. There were tests to be done in two days. It was early still, but there wasn't any reason to torture himself when his heat was surely already setting in. He only hoped he'd be able to get over the worst of it the next day and be fit for the tests. He couldn't imagine being off suppressants and having to suffer through three-day, full blown heats. This was bad enough.

He made it to his motorhome somehow. While trudging there, he caught a whiff of something forbidden through an open window. Despite his exhaustion, he ran.

During his two and a half years with Valentino, their heats and ruts had never coincided. Although couples' cycles tended to sync up with greater proximity, they hadn't been together long or frequently enough. And well, "couple" was a generous term to describe what they were.

He'd only been through two of Valentino's ruts before. Marc shared only one heat with him. Scheduling didn't permit anything else. They'd both been out of their minds for all three of those occasions.

Marc wasn't usually stupid in heat when he was alone. Impulsive and slow perhaps, but nothing like the mewling, horny mess he'd been reduced to during that one heat after his home race. He and Vale had been one-two on the podium in Montmelo, and he felt top of the world, untouchable. Hours later he was knocking on Valentino's door with his brain fried. There had been an embarrassing amount of whining involved while Valentino teased him. The memory was precious. He had been trusting and vulnerable then, but floating from his winning streak (how many in a row had it been by that time? Six or seven? He wasn't even done yet), and Valentino had taken care of him kindly. He couldn't believe his hero would take the time to do this for him. It had been so good, beyond a dream.

In contrast, ruts were bordered on violent. Valentino was brutal. He'd barely been able to speak before the knot formed, and when he was that way, it was impossible to reach him. Marc silently let him, let him, let him, because he was used to pain and he could cope with it, could be the perfect Omega if he needed, so what if it was too intense?

He was bruised by the end of it all, his limbs and his back and surely his insides, not wet or stretched enough to comfortably grip a knot in absence of a heat. These were the only times Valenino had ever offered him apologies, but he didn't need them. He had been kissed gently in compensation when Valentino came down, once the knot was in place, and he'd felt loved. Beautiful, brave, he remembered, and a soft kiss to his sweat-damp eyelid. Kisses all over his face until his cheeks were warm. He kept the compliments close to his chest.

This time, his body would be able to take it. Years ago, the thought of a cycle that finally synced up would have excited him. Now he hid and shut the door behind him. He wished again that Alex was around to stop the inevitable from happening. He hoped that Valentino was as desperate for self-control as he was, because this couldn't happen.

But even while he thought that, he knew it was not to be. He was on a knife's edge himself, and Omegas in sport were accustomed to containing their baser tendencies, both with their minds and medical interference. Alphas meanwhile, were encouraged to let it out, to be possessive and aggressive and greedy. It was good for the competitive spirit.

If Valentino smelled him at all, he'd be there soon. The rare sight of him at his best and his worst, fully unrestrained. Marc feared and yearned, and knew it was not to be denied.

Then came a knock on the door. Marc watched the knob twist from his vantage point in his own sitting area, unmoving. He could smell it through the gaps around the door - his Alpha, however long ago it may have been, and the other half of a mating bond that was broken before it could take hold.

He's should have thought to lock himself in. But he had gone stupid, and subconsciously he didn't want to spend another heat alone. He got to his feet to rush over and twist the lock shut. It was too late.

Valentino let himself in. The full brunt of his scent in rut punched Marc up the nose. It was pungent and human, mixed in with sweat. He shouldn't have been searching for it, inhaling it like he needed it. If he had clarity of mind, he would find that the scent was not pleasant, and he wouldn't want it all over him like a perfume. This wasn't the protective, sweet mating scent it once was.

But it was Valentino, and his body reacted. His hole clenched around nothing. He was wet already, and so hot it was frightening.

His eyes traced over the other man, tall and older and thin. Marc could take him in a strength fight, he knew, but there was no fight to be had. The heat wanted to be sated.

He refused to beg for it. Self-control was a deep well he could draw from even when surrender was nigh.

"Maybe you should go," he suggested quietly, the last barrier he was able to erect between them. It was flimsy, so Valentino acted as though he never heard it. It hurt Marc as much to voice it out as much as it stung to be ignored.

Valentino came to him (he was so fast - how was he so fast? How was it fair that ruts did this and heats made Marc dull), held his face, gripped his jaw, kissed him. Marc let it happen, fists clenched by his sides, teeth biting into the flesh of his own lower lip to keep the silence. The heat was unbearable. His palms were sweaty and searing in his own grip. Even the soles of his feet were burning.

He could tell that his lack of reaction frustrated Valentino, who made a noise of annoyance and maneuvered them onto the small sofa. His weight sank above Marc's, hot and heavy. He had sweat gathering on his temples and his nose.

In heat induced haze, Marc could still appreciate him. His lovely curls, lines on his face that showed his good humour, and his intense, light eyes. Marc swallowed a whine as Valentino clawed at the fastenings of his jeans, and felt his eyes flutter shut.

He knew he was wet. When Valentino tugged his jeans and his briefs down, he couldn't open his eyes out of shame. He had never felt shame over what was natural before, but his scent was overpowering, and unlike Valetino's it was still sweet. This was an admission he didn't want to give. The saving grace was that Valentino was too far gone to notice, lost in rut and years of anger.

Valentino didn't take the time to undress Marc or himself fully. Marc had his shirt and shoes still on (Alex would laugh so much about having shoes on during sex, he realised hysterically), and the jeans that pooled around his feet were too tight for him to move comfortably. Kicking in the air, he shucked them off - shoes, jeans, socks that caught on the rest - as Valentino worked on his own clothes.

It was easy for him. He was in an tracksuit with yellow stripes. Wildly, Marc wondered why he wanted him so much. But he did.

The thought crossed his mind that he really should have found some way to fuck Vale when he won in Misano back in September, so he wouldn't be in this situation. He had made it halfway to Vale's box in his unzipped leathers and his heat dildo in a bag before he caught himself acting like a prowling animal and turned back. He had been driven by the taste of victory on Vale's soil.

It would have made everything between them irrevocably worse. He should have done it anyway to gain a mental edge over this. Marc had the most unbearable urge to top that day and he was crystal clear that he would have succeeded, novice or not.

He would torture Vale one day. When he wasn't weak and pathetic in heat, he'd show Vale what it felt like to be held out on. He'd ruin him, he'd never let him come. He'd show him why it was so good, why Marc still waited and waited for him, and why Vale would never have this with anybody else. Anger and want mingled in a primitive corner of his brain.

Then Valentino freed his cock, and he crowded himself on Marc, and the complicated regrets flatlined temporarily. The heat demanded submission.

It was already happening. He should just enjoy it, given in to nature.

He couldn't.

He was supple, but even he found that the cramped sofa was less comfortable than the bed he was accustomed to. He didn't suggest to move.

Valentino pushed him down, so Marc's spine was curved awkwardly in the crook between the seat and backrest. He pulled Marc's legs apart and folded them back such that his knees were against his shoulders. Marc was flexible so it didn't hurt, but he didn't like it.

He was so wet, almost dripping before Valentino' eyes. There was no way he could sit back and allow this to happen. To do so would be pathetic, and Marc had never been pathetic.

He needed control. It was always certain that the person who kept their wits better had control if they played it right. It would be marginal victory in a war of attrition, but he was good at holding on to the winning edge in those.

Valentino held his cock and it looked like a fucking weapon. The lust of a rut was something to behold. His cock was swelling, not yet a knot, but red and painful.

Marc wanted it.

He didn't want it at all.

He twisted around to lie down across both seats. If there was a damn cushion somewhere so he could rest his head, he would be better off. It didn't matter - there was no position he couldn't fold himself into as needed.

With one swift movement, he kicked his legs up and bent wound his thighs around Valentino's shoulders, them forced him down with his strength. The Marc of 2014 would never have done this, but he was no longer so willing to roll over. Valentino was on his knees, head in proximity of Marc's weeping hole. It was a completely novel position to both of them. A smirk tugged the corner of Marc's lip. Surely Valentino would come to his senses soon and he would fight back, but by then he would realise that he had lost himself to his rut far more completely than Marc had allowed his heat to control him.

He still wanted Valentino to fuck him, knot him, have them fused at the front for hours, show them off to every other Omega who had stolen Valentino's ruts from him, scratch his fucking name bloody into Valentino's back so that Vale could feel how much he cared.

Time slowed down to molasses, which was a strange contrast to the acrid desperation in the air. Marc felt that he had a brief moment of time in control. It was like being on a bike, lining up a clever overtake while slowing down from 350 kilometres an hour. There was nobody better than him at this.

Marc quicky pushed himself up on his elbows so he could lean forward and watch. He swiped two fingers through his slick and touched them to the tip of his tongue, just to make sure that it was the same saccharine taste, sweet with affection, that Valentino used to go crazy for.

It was. Marc had always known that deep inside, he did not change easily.

Then he shoved his fingers into Valentino's mouth to remind him of the taste, and laid back to reap the benefits as Valentino attacked his hole with carnal hunger. His nose brushed against the hairless expanse of Marc's skin, his warm breath lit up every one of Marc's nerve endings. He pinched Marc's swollen, traitorous clit. Marc panted, his eyes fluttered shut, on the tenuous edge of control as Valentino stretched him out with his tongue, greedy for slick. Good, stay there, do it properly. Marc wouldn't hurt more, not today.

Marc moved a hand to the back of Valentino's head to hold him there, but it was slapped away with an impatient sound. He fisted his hands into his own shirt, grasping for purchase.

"Va-le," the name snuck itself out of his mouth without his permission.

His voice brought Valentino back to brief lucidity.

"You're the fucking devil," he said hoarsely, and it might have been true, but the words cut like a physical weapon. His lips were coated in a shiny sheen, and his hair was messy and sweat-damp. He looked throughly debauched. He would never have wanted this.

Marc should have defended himself. He could only whine and bring his thighs closer so Valentino would shut up with his horrible words and continue to stretch him out.

Valentino pulled himself free, scissored Marc's hole roughly with two fingers, and - too quickly for Marc's heat-weakened self to resist, he hauled himself up and sank his growing knot into Marc's swollen heat.

Marc felt tears well in his eyes and hated himself for it. It wasn't the pain, he knew pain like an old friend. It was the intensity of being fucked and being hated.

Under the heat of Valentino's sweaty, heavy body, Marc refused to buckle. He met every movement, grind for grind. He refused to look away. He stared without blinking. Let Valentino see him suffer. Let Valentino see him detach himself from this. Maybe Valentino would understand him better if Marc could haunt him in return for all of their past years.

He controlled his expression into something stoic and defiant. It was all wrong, so let it be obvious. Let him maintain his dignity when all other control was stripped from him. Let him come out on top.

The knot, heavy between his legs, pushed obtrusively into his slick cunt. There was no point in fighting it, as it would only hurt more. This was like crashing - if you tensed yourself defensively, you would die. If you accepted it and let the momentum take you, you might live.

He felt his slick change in consistency, turning grippy. He hated the body chemistry of an Omega in heat. Hated that when the knotting was supposed to take place, his body acted against him. This was new to him, with the heat and rut cycles syncing up.

Valentino continued to fuck him clumsily, his thickening knot going through the resistance of Marc's body, piercing back inside over and over again, until Marc locked him in for good, gripping the knot in a vice, the intrusion almost the size of a fist. They came in tandem, and while light behind his eyelids stole Marc's consciousness for a moment.

He was aware again shortly, and all of a sudden, the sound of their breathing was too loud. Their faces were too close.

The magnitude of how awkward the situation was revealed itself. They couldn't even run, locked into each other as they were. His cunt ached dully. His clit was oversensitive and wanted for attention it wouldn't receive. His scenting gland throbbed, but he was unmated. Marc felt cold, despite the heat they shared. He didn't feel beautiful or brave today, and his body felt worn.

His shoulder was crying for mercy, trapped between Valentino's weight and a sofa that didn't provide enough support. He wanted Valentino to flip them over, but he refused to ask. Could Valentino not smell that he was distressed? Was he distressed? Or was it that he had been distressed from the start, so Valentino couldn't tell the difference? Normally, he was at least sensitive to Marc's pain. It was only Marc's head that he wanted to mess around with.

What had they done? Valentino didn't even want him anymore. Marc didn't have to stop him from making the mating bite this time, as he had every time prior. The desire had evaporated.

Valentino spoke first. "We didn't use a condom," he said.

The world fell away beneath Marc. He gathered himself in an instance, anxiously. "I'm on suppressants. Three percent," he said, repeating an oft-mentioned statistic. Three percent was the chance that suppressants would fail to protect from pregnancy, if a fertile Omega had sex with an Alpha during a heat. It was non-negligable, but low.

Valentino accepted this with a nod. He looked tired, each of the fourteen years between them highlighted vividly. So unhappy was the occasion, so spent was his body, that Marc almost felt as though he was guilty of something. But of course, he was not.

They didn't attempt to converse. Marc remembered when Vale used to talk, and make Marc laugh through the tears.

The moment Valentino's knot had decreased enough in size, he wrenched himself out and put on his ugly trackpants. Marc gasped and clenched over nothing, but all he saw was the sight of Valentino's tense back as he took brisk strides away. Valentino let the door shut with a violent slam. Marc didn't call out for him.

Valentino was still in rut, despite the lull. Alphas in sports didn't take suppressants. Marc's heat had broken but where was Valentino going? Who was he going to? Marc couldn't help but wonder, thoughts spiralling into useless directions.

He tried so hard, but he didn't think he won this round.

Empty and hopeless, Marc dressed himself. He ignored the mess of fluids collecting inside his briefs. As a distraction, he made himself clean the sofa. The smell of antiseptic drove his heightened senses crazy.

It didn't matter. Alex and his father knew the moment they returned home. An incompatible mating scent was impossible to hide.

Marc hadn't even considered the possibility of pregnancy for more than a second. He cleaned himself out throughly with his fingers in the shower, unable to tolerate the thought of the remnants of Valentino in him. It was easy, he was sore but he was was still loose. That should have been the end of it.

The cruel irony was that Marc had highly specific plans for becoming a parent before any of this happened. He always assumed that he would become one in the future because he liked children and they liked him, and he was willing to temporarily give up his athletic body for that pursuit. However, the assumption also caveated that it would be a post-retirement affair.

He intended to collect all the accolades humanly possible first, then he would retire as late as he could. He wanted to be racing deep into his thirties, maybe even his forties. It was the most passionate love of his life, which he would cling to with bloodied fingertips until he couldn't. He gave his childhood and his life to it, so it needed to give back to him. He wanted to keep having fun and winning.

Somewhere in the middle of this illustrious career, maybe when he was in his early thirties, he would have enough wisdom to pick a good person and fall slowly in love. He knew, after years without Valentino, that it would not be him. A part of Marc would always feel affection for the Alpha that first laid claim to him, but he trusted that his heart was big enough to love again. He just needed more time to get over the hurt. Besides, Valentino would be far too old to become a new parent by the time Marc was ready.

Ideally Marc would find a gentle person who was proud of his accomplishments, and patient enough to wait for him to finish earning them. Marc wouldn't date a competitor - their ego would protest, and he understood completely. He couldn't stomach dating someone who made a habit of beating him either, when he eventually grew too old to be competitive. He would rather retire than face that reality, and maybe one day when he started to decline, he'd consider his fertility when he made his decision to leave. He would finally get to experience a three-day heat and carry a baby for the nice person he was going to find. Maybe he would be with a nice girl, for a change, and his mother would enjoy her company. His worry used to be whether he could catch this window in time.

He wanted someone good for him, who he could be good to in return. He'd always been capable of being generous and tender when he loved. It was just on track that he couldn't, which was why it was inadvisable to start a family with a rival. As a younger person, he lacked this foresight.

He knew that there had to be someone else out there for him who was perfect, and would want to be out in the open with him, cheering him on and waiting patiently for Marc's career to run its course. When he was done, they could be married, and his partner would follow Marc back to Cervera to have a good life together.

In the meantime, Marc hadn't been in a hurry. He was too young for any of this.

Two days after Laia's birth, Alex drove them home.

He wasn't in the most talkative mood. They both were tired, having squeezed onto Marc's bed to sleep while he was warded. Marc didn't care about the rules, he paid for a private room and his brother wasn't going to sleep in a chair while putting aside his life and his career to babysit him.

They then faced the conundrum of trying not to wake a newborn who only knew how to communicate by crying. The easiest ceasefire seemed to be staying silent.

Marc was free from holding her because she had to go into an infant carrier at the back, but he was fidgety. If he had to deal with awkwardness from the only person he had never been awkward with because of the baby, he was going to do something unpleasant.

Thankfully, Alex always knew what to do. "Open the glove compartment," he said, apropos of nothing.

Marc turned to him, puzzled. "Why?"

"Just open it," Alex said, so Marc did.

He found a folded paper bag, and pulled it out. It contained something soft. He emptied the contents onto his lap.

There was a soft onesie that looked like a bee, and a red ant plushie that was cuter than any insect had a right to be.

"I thought you wouldn't want her to be an ant, but she can hold you," Alex explained.

Marc looked down at the items wordlessly. He hadn't thought so far about what a baby girl would like. He was busy thinking about what she would need, and placing an insane number of online orders for baby things, thanks to the fucking pandemic. He had twenty milk bottles nozzles stockpiled now.

Alex smiled softly. "She'll be a bee if she's like you. Noisy."

"Of course she'll be like me," Marc said without really thinking. He fidgeted with one of the ant's fluffy red legs. It was soft, and felt more expensive than any of the toys they used to share. Or maybe this was what new toys felt like.

"She's very quiet now," Marc remarked, registering what Alex said.

"I think she likes the engine sound," Alex said.

Marc did too. A quiet hum. It had nothing on a bike of course, but it was calming. A balm of steady sound to keep the thoughts from crowding his mind.

He felt a longing that he blamed on hormones. An Omega on his lonesome, left to raise a child on his own, could only feel small and tragic. His chemistry wanted him to cower at the altar of his Alpha and lure him back so his baby would be well cared for. His mind tempted him with the echoes of strong hands against his thigh, fingertips pressing confidently under his briefs, whispers of reassuring warmth against his body that he no longer had access to, and no longer truly wanted.

Funny how it used to feel as though they had so much, when they always had so little. Stolen moments between commitments and no plans for their future.

It was sacrilegious to yearn for any of that in the vicinity of Alex, given that Alex hated Valentino with a cold fury. He harboured all the difficult feelings that Marc couldn't convince himself to sustain. All of that emotional labour, for Marc's sake. He was much more important to Marc than Valentino could ever hope to be, even if Valentino came to his senses and delivered himself with his metaphorical tail between his legs. And he wouldn't, so.

He centred himself on the sound of the engine humming. It was like what he was taught to do when his heats overwhelmed: focus on the other senses. What did he see? What did he smell? The soft brush of his fuzzy shirt against his bare skin. A plush ant in his hand. Sunlight in his eyes. The clean scent of their air freshener. Instrumental music in the background for the baby's sake, mingling harmously with the engine. Steady. He grounded himself.

Maybe he was being childish, but he placed the ant on Alex's hand that was holding the gear shift, then made it do a few hops to crawl up his arm. He just liked the contact. The ant was soft.

Alex laughed softly. "What is this, Marc?"

"We have a baby, you have to get used to it," Marc said loftily.

"She can't be worse than you," Alex said.

Marc turned his head to watch his daughter for several moments. She was too special to be worse than anyone. The blood of seventeen combined championships ran in her veins - which wasn't worth everything obviously, but it was worth something. And she carried a bit of the the other people he loved too; shared the encoding of his parents and his brother and his grandparents before them.

He wondered what Valentino would think of her. Marc was going to be the one who would take care of her all her life - clearly - but he wondered if Valentino could find it within himself to love her, even though she was Marc's. He wanted a family once, with a long-time girlfriend even before Marc came into the picture. Then with Marc, they never had a serious conversation about it. It was obvious that it was impossible, until it wasn't.

Laia was Valentino's family too, and Marc supposed that Valentino could love her.

He would love this girl. Marc just needed to work harder to make it happen. Valentino was constants and variables in an unpredictable fashion, except when it came to the people he called his. He didn't let them go.

"Are you thinking about him?" Alex asked plainly.

"Thinking about how to tell him," Marc lied, leaving out his doubts. It wasn't a complete lie. He now was thinking about how to tell Valentino. "I don't know what to say. I think I'll just send him a picture."

He decided to do just that during the car ride. The message was a simple photo of their daughter without a caption, reviving a chat that had been dead for two months. He picked the best photo, where she was sound asleep, dressed in baby blue and sweet little mittens.

Before that, there were only short exchanges. "Are you healthy?" from Valentino, who thought of him at two in the morning.

"Yes, don't worry," from Marc, who never knew what to say anymore, and always hated texting anyway.

Months before that-

"I'm pregnant and I'm keeping it. You don't have to do anything. You can't stop me." Followed by five missed calls, and a voice recording that Marc downloaded and replayed over and over again when he could bear to.

Every message mattered so much, and this one the most of all. Marc watched the file upload, and a single tick appeared in the corner. A second tick didn't show up. Maybe Valentino was busy.

When Alex pulled into their driveway, Marc finally locked his screen.

Marc's mother, Roser, cried when he came home. They were happy tears, she said.

She hugged him gently, the baby in his arms between them.

"I'm so lucky," she said, stepping away to wipe her eyes with a tissue. "I lived to be a grandmother."

"Of course you were going to be a grandmother," Alex said from behind Marc, carrying both their overnight bags. "Unless you thought none of us were going to have kids? I understand thinking that about Marc, but I always wanted a family."

"And where are your kids?" Marc scoffed. "All talk and no results."

Roser laughed wetly. "Boys, not everything is a competition."

Alex sighed with an air of long-suffering. "You tell him that."

"We know how Marc is," Roser said peaceably. She held out her hands towards the baby, who had alarmingly started to whine. Marc didn't know what he would do if she started full-on crying. This was why they had nurses at the hospital, even though he started freaking out inside whenever they took her away from him.

"She's beautiful. Let me see her," Roser said, and Marc was only too happy to comply. Laia was wailing before she left his arms.

Marc watched intently as his mother rocked his daughter gently from back and forth to calm her. He had so much to learn.

"She might just be hungry, darling," Roser said. "I made a nest for you on your bed. Why don't we take her there?"

She carried Laia for him, until Marc got into bed and she tucked the covers around him with one hand. It might have been approaching the height of summer but he didn't mind. Having parental care was nice.

They were her covers, he realised, and sank deeper into the scent of them. Her covers, and Alex's bolster, and his father's pillowcases that she must have driven over to retrieve for him. His parents had separated, but they made it as painless for their kids as they could, and Marc was always appreciative of it. His bed was a clutter of soft possessions of the people he loved.

He was surrounded by family. Family plus one more, who was experiencing the familiar walls of his bedroom for the first time. She would grow up around these scents, as he did. They had always been a comfort to him. What was familiar to him would become familiar to her, and she would feel the love of a Marquez Alenta through and through. It was a profound realisation.

Roser kissed his forehead and passed him his fussing daughter. "Shall I leave you two to it then?" she asked softly.

Marc nodded. He took his shirt off when his mother left, and held his daughter to his chest. She sucked on a puffy nipple, and he just-

He found it unsettling to be a food source. His body was made for different things; stalking his prey and hauling around a bucking beast of a bike more than twice his weight. He was horrifically far from his fighting physique. He didn't want to know how many kilograms of muscle he had to rebuild.

It hadn't fully sunk in yet that being a parent was a permanent state of affairs, that he would never not be a parent again. He kept realising the same thing, bit by bit.

He itched to check for Valentino's response, but he wasn't prepared to hear from him yet. He wasn't being a coward, so much as he didn't have the energy to spare.

It would have been nice for Valentino to like him enough to be here with him, maybe hold their child for him so Marc's wretched shoulder could take a break. Too much unnecessary risk to be under general anesthesia for non-emergency surgery, the doctors said. He'd pushed back his recovery by nine months. He would take even longer to be strong again.

He let the physicality of his exhaustion wash over him. He had known pain, but he had never been so tired before. The birth sapped his muscles and drained marrow from his bones. His insides felt out of place. His chest was sore. He wanted to go back to normal.

He closed his eyes and pretended to be twenty again, with these sensations. He would be happy, disbelieving, and in love, with the rest of his life ahead of him. And maybe he had a child who was an accident, maybe he felt too young to know what he was doing, but it was a happy accident. Back then, he would be young enough to be confused and cry about it, and seek refuge in his Alpha's loving arms. Vale would not let him think of himself as dairy cattle, he used to be able to say so many nice things.

Marc would have kept her even at twenty, he was certain of it. And maybe everything would have been different; maybe Vale would have kept him.

Since it made him feel better, in private, he gave in to this moment of weakness. He imagined that everything was perfect - that he had an Alpha who was out winning important races, but he would come home to be a family man. An Alpha who would never sleep with anyone else ever again, now that he was Marc's.

His daughter's small weight rested against his chest, swaddled in soft fabric. He exhaled slowly as she fed, trying to keep calm for her. He still felt like a cow - or no, perhaps a lion - caged and restrained in a place far too small for him. He still thought of the races and felt deep envy because there was no way for him to do what he was meant to do.

But this had to be worth it. If there was one seed of truth in to be harvested from his illusion, it was that his daughter had been made with his love.

#shu's fics #motogp rpf #rosquez #toxic omegaverse heats and hatred of pregnancy yay

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ray935sworld · 2 months ago

Text

Take care (deaged Pedrenzo)

Chapter 1: Don't fuck up

All chapters

"JORGE! JORGE! OPEN THE DOOR!"

He groaned. All he wanted was to smash Marquezs head against the wall to make him shut up. He was way too active after a whole day of riding.

Jorge was tired, exhausted. His whole body hurt after crashing. All he wanted was to finish making dinner, expecting Dani to return by then so they could eat, cuddle and sleep.

But that fucking knocking wouldn't stop. He was about to consider just putting on headphones until Marc thought the motorhome was empty. But then he said the few words that stopped his heart.

"JORGE! FUCKING HELL! IT'S - Please open the door! It's about Dani"

Dani.

His heart stopped for a long moment. Without hesitation, he crossed the short distance and ripped the door open. "What happened?" he asked urgently, trying not to let his brain spiral down the path of worst ideas. "Is he okay?" "He is" Marc hurried to say. "He's alive, happy and not injured."

"OH thank you" he breathed out in relief "Then - I swear if you lied-" "No!" he added quickly. "I didn't! I swear. I just - Okay, I swear that sounds more than crazy but-" "Spit it out or I'll kick your ass, Marquez. Where is my boyfriend?" "He's with Puig, but... He... I'm just gonna say it - Jorge, Dani got turned into his kidself."

Jorge was sure he had misheard that. "He what now?" "Dani is around 2 years old at the moment. Physically and mentally. He is - He is in Puigs office. He asked for his parents and we informed them but I thought it might be good if you could look after him? I mean... He seems to be okay with Puig but I don't know. You two are close so..."

He nodded, numb from hearing what had happened. He grabbed his shoes from the side of the door. He saw another pair of Dani's. Dani. What the hell was going on? He slightly closed his eyes as he put his on, trying to make himself that this might just be a stupid prank from Marc.

Maybe it was a prank to make Jorge walk in a meeting between Dani and Puig. But it didn't felt like a prank. And at the end, there was only one way to know. They make their way to the Honda hospitality. It was late enough to slip in without being notice by the media or anyone that wasn't supposed to know.

The Honda mechanics didn't even bat an eye, considering Jorge and Dani had been sneaking around for 3 years already. Dani had even told him that he once overheard one of the mechanics telling a new engineer that if he saw Jorge outside of the racing hours he was as much part of the team as Dani and he was allowed in. Jorge wasn't fucking with their bike. Just with their rider.

Clinging to the memory, he found himself standing infront of an office door. He was about to say something but Marc had already knocked before opening the door.

There was a silent laughter coming from inside. It was high pitched, unlike an adult voice. It sounded - yes, it sounded like a kids laugh. Jorge felt his mind running, searching for a solution that wasn't what Marc had mentioned earlier.

"Marc, you're back. Did you get your super solution?" Puig asked, voice dripping with sarcasm. "Ma-ak!" another voice said. It was the same higher - almost childish one. "Yes, that's right. That's Marc" Puig replied, his tone kind. "I did!" Marc replied as he dragged Jorge inside the room. "Here he is?!" "

Lorenzo" the older man replied, his voice as cold neutral as always when they had to interact. That was the exact reason why Dani kept them away from each other as much as possible. They couldn't stand the other.

Jorge wanted to answer as condescending as possible. But he couldn't speak. The words were stuck in his throat. They wouldn't come out. Not when there was a little kid sitting on Puigs lap.

The older Spaniard was still holding a childrens book. But Jorge couldn't keep his eyes of the child. He had seen the boy before. He had seen him in pictures at Dani's parents place. They were glued in old albums, the edges already turning color.

He had dark brown hair and big eyes. He had a wide face, baby cheeks that he would still shine through even years - decades later. Despite being only - 2 or 3 - years old, he already had the facial lines that would define him. The ones that Jorge knew so well, so very well.

Jorge stared at them, knowing there was no denial. That kid was Dani. Dani. His Dani. The man that was - would be - his boyfriend.

He stared at the child, unable to react, unable to form words. He looked at the brown eyes that he loved so much. He had seen them laugh and cry. He had seen this child - this baby - this innocent, sweet soul who still lived in a world of wonders and miracles, cry, curse and hate.

He blinked, feeling a wave of protectivness wash over him. He wanted to protect that child from all the bad things, every comment anyone, including himself, every made about his weight, height and abilities. He wanted to hold him tight, protect him against the world.

But right now he could only blink. He blinked, trying to make the picture infront of him change.

It didn't.

Dani just tilted his little head. For a moment Jorge thought his head was too heavy for his shoulders and he would just fall to the side. But he didn't. He way leaning dangerously much to the side but he kept being seated. His mouth was hanging open as if to say something but he didn't.

"I thought we should get the boyfriend involved." Marc explained with a smile. "So he can take care of-" "No. You're not needed." Puig responsed coldly. "You can leave. We have everything sorted. Dani is gonna remain with me until his parents arrive."

"Fuck off" Jorge shot back. "I don't care what you think of me but I won't let you take care of him." "His parents signed a contract when Dani was a minor that I-" "You can stick your legalities up your ass. He is my boyfriend." "And my rider"

"Okay stop it. Both of you" Marc intervened quickly. "We should let Dani decide" "Dani is 2!" "Da-ani!" the boy interrupted with a giggle. He clearly didn't had a care in the world as he smiled at Jorge. He couldn't help but return the smile.

He nodded and made a step toward him. He kneeled down infront of him. "That's right. You're Dani" he said and the kid nodded too. He put his little hand on his chest and repeated "Dani!"

"Hello Dani" he replied with a soft voice. "I'm very happy to meet you. My name is Jorge" He offered him a hand. Dani stared at him. He looked at his hand then reached for it. He put his hand above his fingers, squeezing them lightly. "Hosche" he babbled, clearly trying his best while staring right at Jorge.

"Jorge" "Jhocheee" "Ah. close enough." he decided. "Hi Dani. Are you okay?" "Good." he replied and sat up straighter.

Puig immediately went to grab him but he had already started to shuffle and move in his hold. "No" he muttered and grabbed the older Spaniards hands from his sides. "Want cuddles. Want Kocheee" "I think he just decided whose gonna take care of him." Jorge replied with a triumphant smile as he reached for the boy.

"You have no idea what you're doing" the other argued back. "You can't deal with a kid." "Maybe, but it's Dani. I'm gonna learn. And I'd rather have him live with me in chaos than have him spend even a minute more with you." he spit back before picking Dani up.

He lifted him up, so that Puig didn't even had a chance to argue back. Now that he was holding him in his arm, he realized that - yes, he really had no idea what he's doing. He stared at the boy and tried to remember what his sister had said.

Secure hold. Right.

That makes the most sense. He positioned the toddler on his side, an arm tightly wrapped around him to ensure his safety. He was just trying to make sure he didn't looked completly incompetent to Puig. He was about to bit out another comment towards the Dani's former manager when the boy laughed.

His little hands clumsily grabbed Jorge's face. He felt his small fingers against his cheek. He lifted them and put them back again. It felt like soft slaps.

Jorge laughed. It reminded him a little bit of his Dani, cupping his face and adding different level of pressure while he tried to make a point.

"You..." the boy said, unsure where he was was going with this so he just started laughing as Jorge stick out his tongue. "If you excuse us" Jorge said with a smile. He didn't wait for an answer, turned around and left.

He had just left the room when he suddenly wondered what he had just done. He looked at the toodler - Dani - who was now completly depending on him. HIM. He was responsible for this little kid that barely knew the difference between his hand and a piece if bread if the way he was suddenly biting his fingers was anything to go by.

"No, Dani, no" he quickly said, taking his wrist and carefully pulling it back. "We don't bite our own skin. No biting" "But... Tasty." Jorge blinked in confusion. He didn't know what to reply to that so he just repeated "Okay. I respected that but - still. No biting yourself. Please."

He almost begged but got a frustrated frown in return. "But... Wanna..." "No." he stated again. He wondered how many arguments like that would follow. And he wondered how he would handle them.

It wasn't like he had some good examples. He wasn't sure what to do and when and how. All he knew was what it was like to be yelled at as a child. And hit. And kicked.

He swallowed at the memories. That was all he knew. He didn't know how to take care a kid and love a kid. He knew how to hurt one, first hand experience.

No. He wouldn't do that to Dani. So... Maybe.

Maybe Puig was right. Maybe he wasn't the right one to look after Dani. Maybe he should just return, give Dani back and disappear until Dani was himself again.

He shouldn't be left alone with a kid. What if he lashed out? What if he really was like his father? He knew they had similar reactions in other situations, no matter how much Jorge had tried not to be like his father. So what if children where just another point of the lost of scary similarities?

It had been a deep rooted fear of Jorge and he couldn't let Dani be the one that had to check if it was true or not. He felt cold sweat running down his back as he looked for a solution, an out, any way that would keep Dani safe - even from him.

The solution came in form of Marc who just came up behind him. He was about to leave the Honda hospitality as well, probably heading to his own motorhome. "Marc" he hissed when he spotted him. "Fuck. Get back here!"

"Mak!" Dani repeated and waved at the other man. "Mm? What?" the younger man asked as he returned the gesture to the boy. "Here. You need to take him and - you know... Take care of him" "What? No! I thought you-" "I-Yes but... I really can't. I mean - I have no Idea how and I'm going to fuck him up" he tried to explain.

"Fuck him up? As in... Annoy him? I'm pretty sure a 2 year old will be doing a way better job at this." "As in - I didn't had the best childhood so what if I'm gonna hurt him?" he asked. He shifted slightly. Marc gave him a look that said everything and nothing but above all disapproval.

"Jorge, look at me" Marc said with a serious voice. "I know Dani. If he would think that you could hurt him - adult or child - he would not be dating you. I'm pretty sure he wants kids one day, so look me in the eyes and tell me he'd be dating you if he'd think you could actually fuck up a kid." "That's different. That's-" "Okay, then-"

Without hesitation, Marc took little Dani from Jorge. Jorge watched the child shake his head. "No!" he mumbled leaning back towards Jorge, reaching for him with his tiny arms. He blinked at him, staring at him as best as his big little brown eyes allowed it. "Hosche. Want back."

"Look at baby Dani" Marc said and he did. "And tell me you can actually look at him and think you're capable to fuck him up. If you say you actually - and I'm talking like 100% sure there is a slight chance, not the fear, not anxiety, not trauma response, you are actually sure that you - think you could hurt him, physically or mentally, then I'm gonna take him to my motorhome. My dad, Alex and I are gonna take care of him until he turns back or his parents arrive. But I will make sure you won't be seeing him, if that's the case. And by God, I'm gonna tell adult Dani that you actually thought you could hurt hin"

"No" he answered quickly. He wasn't sure if it was the look in Dani's eyes or the thought of not being able to see and take care of him. Both felt wrong.

"I - I wouldn't hurt him. I..." He started at Dani, he looked him directly in his brown eyes while he was busy clapping and babbling something, trying to get his or Marc's attention.

He was so small, so innocent. He was vulnerable and there was no way he was going to do anything but protect him. He just wanted to pick him up again, hold him close and protect him against the world, making sure no crash and no comment would ever hurt him again.

"I would never hurt him. Never. I can't okay? But I - I have no idea how to deal with kids. And what if something goes wrong and I accidentally hurt him?" He wanted to add that he might lose his temper but then he knew he wouldn't yell at him. He just wouldn't.

"Breaking news, Jorge. Toddlers always get hurt on accidents." Marc replied, his voice kinder. "They're toddlers. And most new parents don't know what to do. It's learning by doing, you know? But I think the way you want to protect him, is definitely a good start. So..." he said as he handed back the fuzzy toodler.

Dani immediately grabbed Jorge's shirt and pulled himself tighter to him. His fist deep in the material, refusing to let go.

"Good luck, mate. The bar is pretty low. Just make sure he doesn't get hurt, okay?" "Not helping." "I know. But look at him. He's gonna be happy with some cuddles and food."

Food? Right. "What do kids even eat?" he asked. "Everything. So make sure he doesn't try to eat something not eatable" "What?" "Alex tried to eat glass when he was like 2. I remember I had to stop him very often from eating not food. Glass. Paper. A hankerchief. Stuff like that."

"Okay..." he mumbled, unsure but determined. He looked at Dani who was still clinging to him as if he feared Jorge would give him away again.

He felt a pang of guilt that he had made him think that, so he leaned down and kissed his forhead. "Don't worry. I'll take care of you" he said. Knowing, that this could be Intresting.

#motogp #marc marquez #jorge lorenzo #dani pedrosa #pedrenzo #motogp rpf #ray's writing #🐢

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burirammin · 9 months ago

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Watched sepang 2011 moto2 fp1 followed by qualification and now I am absolutely devastated. screaming crying throwing up etc. etc. (the following write-up aka. me ever so slightly losing my mind over how Marc Marquez's 2011 season ends)

That weekend was so cursed it's unbelievable. Not even two minutes into the fp1 session the camera cut to the turn 10 gravel trap and then there was two riders occupying the place. The first one was Jules Cluzel, who was thankfully already up and was not hurt. Marc was the second one and oh boy, was he NOT fine. He laid there on his back for what felt like minutes, camera focusing on him almost THE WHOLE TIME. I. am. sick. to my stomach!!!

Not a moment later another bike (or two actually, but one of them was off camera) came crashing in, Marc was still on the ground, just out of the hit range. It was Yonny Hernandez (who looks to be fine. he raced the next day but was black-flagged) and Bradley Smith, who ended up with a broken collarbone + bruised ribs and was forced to be out of the race altogether. His injuries were caused by him getting thrown directly into Marc's bike. How unlucky was that??? The cause of all these crashes? A WET. FUCKING. PATCH. I reeallly meant it when I say that weekend was fucking cursed (and on sunday. we all know what happened on sunday...)

I was already regretting my choice to watch it at this point but just like watching a trainwreck, I couldn't stop.

And then I saw the team's reaction (full on regret. hits like a brick)

The icing on the cake? the whole session did not have any commentary. Just pure ambient noises, bike engines, staff radios, people rushing around the track. The whole scene was so eerie, I could not imagine watching this live.

The way they were running out from the pit, almost entirely abandoning it to (presumably) check on Marc at the medical center? gut punched.

The famous shot of Marc after medical check-up. Already a pro at slutty suffering at the tender age of eighteen. (I was about to throw up, so thank you I guess? how he was just out there, looking beautiful in this state was beyond my comprehension)

Marc missed all the sessions following fp1 (3 in total) but he did joined in for qualification session the next day. There was commentating for this and they mentioned that he was still a little dizzy this morning, his neck and left shoulder was not doing great either. Of course Marc being Marc he still wants to at least try to qualify and maybe, race. For context, he was just 3 points off the lead and not participating in this race means he will lose the championship, which in the end, he did.

It didn't last long. Marc was back in the box after just one qualifying lap.

Back in the box, Santi and Emilio was immediately all over him. The commentators DID pick up that there was something seriously wrong as normally only Santi (crew chief) would be present to talk about technical stuff that needs to be done and such, and not Emilio (manager). They discussed, things did not look good. With the gift of hindsight we can see that Marc was clearly informing them about his eye problem (which we know was diplopia later on) not to mention his other injuries to neck and left shoulder that was probably bothering him.

He has to leave the box shortly after. The commentators said they were hoping that he will be feeling better in the morning of race day, and also that Marc losing the championship was “inconceivable” before the fp1 crash*. There’s no such luck, unfortunately.

*mind you, he already have another big (very reckless and very much his own fault) crash from prior week with Ratthapark Wilairot in phillip island resulting in his blackeye but that was not enough to hindered his performance.

Marc watching the sunday race from the sidelines, no longer able to participate in this and following race.

And just to add even more (like anyone needed it, jesus christ) to the cursed factor of this weekend, Axel Pons suffered a massive crash during the race, resulting in a red flag. He also, was not fit for the next race.

God. That's it. That's the end of his 2011 season. From a crash that was in no way, shape or form, his fault. The circuit was later fined for not displaying yellow flag to warn riders of a wet patch on the track.

He could've won. HE COULD HAVE WON. HE COULD HAVE BEEN A MOTO2 WORLD CHAMPION IN HIS ROOKIE YEAR!!!!! I must repeat that at the time he was 3 POINTS AWAY FROM THE LEAD and has more or less been DOMINATING the whole season. He was on the podium for every races that he has finished and was on a streak. I am convinced he could have easily done it if not for the unfortunate accident.

But all he got out of it was second place in the championship (which we all know he won't accept in his mind. at least back then) and a diplopia problem that would still haunts him more than ten years later...

#goodbye goodbye you were bigger than the whole sky (the potential 2011 world championship)#inconsolable over something that has happened more than ten years ago? likely place for me to be 😔#probably a bunch of typos in here but ehh. good enough. please enjoy?#k.moto.yap #marc marquez #moto2 #motogp #sepang 2011

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moonshynecybin · 1 year ago

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if you have the time or inclination, can i ask what the deal with motogp/those boys is about? i don’t mean that in a mean way btw, im just curious and i love drama

i will try to be brief (1/4358)

SO! valentino rossi (born 16 February 1979, aquarius. italian.) is one of the most iconic people in motorsport, CERTAINLY in motogp. he's a 9 time world champion, your favorite driver's favorite driver, and is generally credited with revolutionizing the popularity of the sport by: a. being insanely good at motorcycle racing, and b. in general having a lot of fun about it. lethally charming and charismatic. all time active listening face. just a fun and funny dude that everyone pretty much likes and MANY younger riders idolize. VERY good at handling the media and his legions of cult-like fans. sometimes treated more like a god than a person. i was in the store yesterday and saw one of his themed monster energy drinks despite him retiring two years ago. his fun retirement activity is racing BMWs and running his own motogp team/training facility/cult for young italian racers. (this is where cele and bezz and basically every italian rider not named enea bastianini come from!)

so in 2011ish valentino had won 9 titles, and he decided to leave his current manufacturer and move to italian manufacturer ducati where he generally had a stone-cold terrible time. EXTENDED flop era for a couple years. any time ive watched content that covers this period everyone is so sad. so sad. anyways he GOES BACK to his old manufacturer in 2013 and is much more competitive. kind of just happy to be winning sometimes and be on the podium. 2013 is also where marc comes in. what could go wrong.

marc marquez! (born 17 february 1993, almost exactly 14 years after vale which i'm sure means nothing. also an aquarius. spanish.) childhood sports idols include: dani pedrosa, VALENTINO ROSSI.

marc carved his way up through the feeder championships until casey stoner unexpectedly retired at the end of the 2012 season leaving a seat empty on a VERY good bike for his rookie season. rocked up and was immediately VERY good at winning and very good at being a crazyinsane person on track that made people mad at him lol. hilarious habit of pissing people off via on-track crimes that i really enjoy. motogp riders are already crazy (they do death sport) but marc is famous for taking risks no one else will. basically if he's not winning, he's crashed out or he's maybe crashed YOU out. he wins the championship as a rookie (insane) and the next year's championship as well. heir apparent to the throne. sweet and goofy but is now known as one of the more reserved riders with the press. probably because of all this drama tbh. undisputed GOAT of acting like a slut on camera

throughout 2013-2014, marc and valentino had a good relationship! marc very clearly idolizes him and is like. bowled over completely with delight every time valentino looks his way. vale likes him! theyre buds! truly an endless well of pictures of vale explaining something with his hands and marc babygirling at him. highly recommend checking out @pgaslys every rosquez podium tag for contextual brain damage. insane times.

(IT SHOULD BE NOTED: before the 2015 season marc visits valentino at his practice track in italy, where they compete to break the track record and almost kill each other bc they are so pathologically competitive. APPARENTLY, marc showed up with some official mechanics and valentino was a little pissed off because it was supposed to be a like. fun thing. and to marc winning is the most fun! if you dont come to win why come at all! anyways marc breaks the track record and credits that to cooling their relationship a bit. good post about it here.) here they are that day:

so what could go wrong, right? WELL. valentino has a chance to win his tenth title in 2015. marc is on a flop bike and crashed a bunch so he's not in the championship conversation but vale is leading the standings from the jump, with his main opponent being jorge lorenzo. i think he really wanted that tenth, and dedicated himself to the season in a way he hadnt really ever before (he was a very effortless competitor when he was young. gym-adverse. king).

marc and him start to get into some scraps along the way, notably in argentina (where they made contact and marc crashed out), assen (where they made contact AGAIN and vale won the race), and phillip island (marc won. GREAT race available here for free). phillip island sees vale finishing P4 and jorge lorenzo finishing ahead of him in P3, reducing his championship lead by quite a bit. no real indication of any tension during these races, and they are asked about it!

this is where valentino's delulu era begins! basically, ahead of the next race (🔥🔥SEPANG 2015🔥🔥) in the pre-race press conference, he goes after marc, saying he was deliberately sabotaging valentino in phillip island because marc wanted jorge to win. in valentino's mind. marc wants jorge to win because a. they are both spanish (??) and b. it would mean marc has to win less titles to equal valentino's total. record scratch. freeze frame.

everyone (including marc!) thinks valentino is joking at first bc that is bananascrazyinsane. he was not joking. (it should be noted valentino STILL thinks this lol.) anyways marc is completely blindsided. he thought they were good! yeah they've been chippy on track but that's racing!! truly like. 22 years old and your friend (AND CHILDHOOD IDOL.) is calling you a snake in front of your face with NO prior warning to the entire motogp establishment writ large including your coworkers and REPORTERS. valentino wont even look at him the entire time. the press conference is available here on vimeo. excruciating gifsets of marc's very stiff bewildered PR smile found here.

anyways so. the race. marc is uh. pissed off. he's stuck to valentino like GLUE the entire time and they trade places a bunch of times. now marc is kind of famous for being a little asshole on track anyways, but its not like he's gonna get out of valentino's way and just let him pass after what he said in that press conference so. hand in unlovable hand <3. truly very fun to watch imo even with the sword of damocles hanging over them. marc is fucking on one the entire race and basically refuses to give valentino an inch until vale gets so fed up with his antics that um. well. it certainly looks like he kicked him. vale says he didnt, and that his leg accidently made contact with marc's bike. marcs says. he fucking kicked me. judge for yourself here!

so valentino gets hauled in front of race direction and penalized for the next race (the deciding race for the championship). he has to start from the back of the grid and it kills his chance at a tenth title stone dead. vale places the blame squarely on marc's shoulders and his legions of fans decide marc is public enemy number 1. him and jorge have to get security at the next race because of death threats, someone tries to break into marc's childhood home back in spain, marc's mom throws away all of marc's valentino merchandise from when he was a kid. vale says nothing.

but the thing about marc. is that he loves very hard and chooses his people pretty carefully. didnt really move out of his tiny hometown until he turned 30 and also made his baby brother move in with him kind of guy. so all this is not really enough for him to let go of vale entirely! 2016 is where the pain lives! bc marc is still reaching out and vale himself stays pretty cold for a couple years. they seem to faintly reconcile for a bit but its not anywhere like it was before sepang.

the real nail in the coffin is argentina 2018. another insane race where marc has to start from the back and goes on a rampage through the field and crashes out like three people. i cant remember. this race is also available on youtube for free its very entertaining. every five minutes marc does something insane. vale is one of the people marc crashes out and afterwardshe goes on a big rant about how marc is destroying the sport and is actively dangerous. marc goes to valentino's garage immediately after the race to apologize and vale doesnt even look at him. he gets turned away at the door after vale's best friend/assistant/henchman yells in his face1!!! and thats kind off all she wrote in terms of reconciliation

anyways that's where we are! they are both very much not over it. vale goes on podcasts and is like. in 30 years i will still be mad, im literally never going to get over it it was such a big and unfair thing and i think about it all the time like it was yesterday. and marc (lying) says as time goes by i dont even think about it :) and i care about valentino less and less :))) but yes he hurt me deeply lol. CANNOT stress enough how much this entire thing is now inextricably liked to both of their legacies. the two arguable GOATs of a sport had an epic fleetwood mac-style beatles breakup divorce and everyone wants to talk about it allllll day long including me :)

additional context! really recommend checking out marc's little docuseries he put out this year about his recent struggles with injury. he is so not right in the head and it goes over the valentino drama in ep3. theres also hitting the apex (2015) which goes over the 2013 season (marc's rookie season) and is a really good introduction to all the major players at the time. its like less than 2 hrs long so its not too much of a commitment

also recommend following scholars @babynflames, @its-always-silly-season, @baking-soda, and @f1vegas as well as many others im forgetting rn bc its 2am!

#truly. i am new here. so grain of salt etc #motogp #callie speaks #asks #long post #rosquez #primer

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batsplat · 11 months ago

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Hi! I saw you mention how Honda tried to kill Marc and Joan in your latest Marc post and I was wondering if you could elaborate on that? I am fairly new to MotoGP and I keep seeing and hearing fans and experts speak of Marc’s last years at Honda in this way, implying the bike was absolutely terrible, but I cannot seem to find any explanation as to how bad exactly and why everyone keeps using the specific “It tried to kill them!” expression… 😭 If you have the time and/or interest to only, of course! It does interest me considering Marc had been riding his Hondas for so long at that point and also with how well he is adapting to the Ducati now, it just seems incredible to me that he would have any such problems with a bike!

(x) haha yeah of course. I feel like this is one of those motogp stories that I know so well by now I could recite it in my sleep, so it's no real bother to quickly type it out

honda has traditionally been one of the Big Names in the sport, and got a... decent-ish haul of titles this century even before marc joined the premier class (2001-3; 2006; 2011) (could've been better hehe). the pedrosa/stoner partnership helped develop a very good bike in the form of the RC213V, introduced at the start of the 2012 season for the new regulations (aka the 1000cc era, which we're still in). when marc joined honda, this was on balance (if by a fairly slim margin) the best bike on the grid. over the next couple of years, honda would go from initially establishing a more sizeable bike advantage over yamaha to running into trouble in the 2015 season - and for a while it looked like those troubles would continue into 2016. that year brought on a massive change to the championship in the switch back to michelin tyres and how all bikes would be forced to run on 'spec electronics'... basically it represented a big shake-up in the competitive order, and it took a while to see how well each manufacturer had managed to respond. but 2016 turned out better than expected for honda while its long-time rival yamaha increasingly struggled - and was soon replaced by ducati as honda's primary challenger. the ducati project generally seemed more on the cutting edge of the bike development than honda was, especially given how much attention they seemed to be paying to improving the aerodynamics of the bike... but, well, marc won a bunch of titles during that time, so whatever. 2013-14 and 2016-19 champ, honda was on paper the dominant force in the sport, all was well

except... except there was already trouble looming on the horizon. 2019 was the first year in which marc was the only honda rider to win a race. it might have been a close to flawless season from him, but this was clearly a bike that was increasingly suited to one rider and one alone - a bloke who happened to have the kind of freakish natural abilities to ride around the glaring issues of an increasingly temperamental bike. (it should be noted that marc too was crashing far more than was advisable in order to find the bike's limits, as he does have a tendency of doing - he just managed to not do it in the races. see here on the question of marc and 'lucky' crashers.) though it wasn't just a question of marc being able to harness a naturally tricky package... the bike was specifically developed around him and his unique riding style, which meant that honda was inevitably increasingly reliant solely on marc marquez. honda didn't sign up dani in a test rider role upon his retirement at the end of 2018, letting ktm snatch him up instead... and they missed out on what could have been valuable feedback from jorge, who never adapted properly to the bike and was struggling with injury throughout that 2019 season. now, okay, this isn't ideal for a manufacturer, but also you can't complain too much when your number one rider is so good he's singlehandedly winning the team's and constructor's championships for you. honda and marc reaffirmed their mutual devotion with a staggering four year deal at the very start of 2020 for 2021-24, so it was essentially a half decade long commitment to each other... felt pretty insane, even at the time. both sides decided their fates were to be inextricably tied, and put pen on paper to confirm as much

and then marc got injured. within the span of a week in 2020, honda was essentially banished to competitive wilderness, perhaps not helped by their controversial decision to replace the outgoing three time premier class champion with marc's younger brother to complete their factory line-up. 2020 was basically a write-off as soon as it started - and not only did that mean honda wasn't winning in the short-term, but they were bereft of their lead rider who had been responsible for determining the development direction. the crisis was compounded by the impact of the pandemic, which hit all of the japanese manufacturers particularly hard - as well as exacerbating existing issues within the honda project, which at times approached development too conservatively and were not proactive enough in poaching rival engineers to provide new insight as needed. as a result, when marc returned in 2021, he was provided with a bike that was already in a pretty sorry state... but also one which, given how his arm was still causing him considerable problems, he could not ride to its fullest potential. marc still comfortably outperformed the other honda riders and was able to bag a pair of heroic wins at his specialist circuits of sachsenring and cota (tracks that honda was still well-suited to and also mitigated marc's right shoulder struggles as a result of the anti-clockwise layout), as well as an extra win at his strongest clockwise circuit of the calendar, misano (though he was helped by the two factory ducatis ahead of him binning it lol). right after that, he suffered a recurrence of his past problems with diplopia as a result of a training crash and was ruled out of the rest of the season... but you could still say there was a little bit of hope for better things to come

but things just kept going from bad to worse, to the point where you eventually lost track of the number of times you heard the descriptor 'worst weekend in honda's history'. initially, it looked like 2022 pre-season testing might be quite promising, and the honda did have a grand total of one decent-ish race (where marc wasn't actually the highest honda finisher, very very rare in the post-dani days). so there was initially some optimism around the radically redesigned bike, with a completely reworked chassis and new aero and new swingarms and so on. the bike was supposed to be more powerful as well as more rideable, but this ended up being far from the reality. at the very next race in indonesia, marc suffered a vicious highside that brought with it a worrying return of the diplopia, so soon after the last occurrence, and meant he was again sidelined. the other honda riders weren't doing much better, either scrapping for lower points positions or crashing themselves. after struggling on for a while, marc made the decision to get another surgery for his arm, postponing his season indefinitely. once again, honda was directionless, and it was hard to see any clear improvements or even where any improvements were supposed to come from

the situation was so obviously catastrophic that marc actually returned to the paddock before being fit to ride again to essentially inspect honda's progress and to have meetings with key honda personnel. in austria, he held a special press conference to discuss his visit - and then said press conference had to be cut short by a storm threatening to rip honda hospitality apart. which feels a little on the nose, but anyways. marc made his return after his successful surgery, and even he could only work so much magic with that bike... his strongest race was at phillip island, where he bagged his one podium of the year and was still in victory contention on the last lap. honda had also managed to secure two high profile rider signings for the following year - the two suzuki lads who had been left in the lurch by the manufacturer deciding very suddenly to leave the sport. 2020 world champ joan mir went to the repsol honda team, and alex rins, who was really too good and too highly rated for this gig under normal circumstances, ended up with the satellite lcr squad. the hope was that at least now they might have a better chance at having more than one competitive rider, who should also be able to provide development feedback and serve as a benchmark for marc post-arm injury

and then came 2023. honda's 2020 was horrible. its 2021 was embarrassing. its 2022 was disastrous. its 2023... well, that was just apocalyptic. this time there were no pre-season false dawns. honda's most dramatic problem wasn't that they had built a bike that was too slow (although it was also that), or that they were so obviously behind the development curve in several different areas (which they very much were) - it's that they'd built a bike that was so unreliable and prone to errors that by this point it was horrendously easy to crash. a lot of this is about grip and the way the tyres interact with the surface: if you're not getting enough feedback from this interaction, then you will not be able to get enough feeling to know when you have to make a correction to prevent the bike from throwing you off... even if you are marc marquez. the rear wheel issues and the lack of edge grip are particularly nasty, because they make highsides a lot more likely - you know, the crashes that throw you in the air and are particularly likely to seriously injure riders. so you have a bike that is not only extremely likely to throw off its riders, but is also likely to do so in a particularly painful, dangerous way. plus it was exhausting to ride, and, it has to be stressed, really really was not fast enough

the season does actually start with a slight glimmer of hope, with marc's pole at portimao (courtesy of a bastianini-provided tow) and a sprint podium... and then he crashed out in portimao, taking the home hero with him and fracturing his hand. as a result, marc was again out with injury for a few races - including at his beloved cota, where rinsy ended up securing honda's first and only win since end of 2021 (admittedly pecco did help the cause by crashing out of the lead). this did lead to some debate about how maybe the bike wasn't all that bad after all... but, well. obviously it was

from then on, it's all just misery. after the first race, joan doesn't manage to finish a sunday race in the next nine grand prix weekends - but he also only makes the start in five of those, partly courtesy of a finger fracture he picks up at mugello. alex rins breaks his leg at mugello, an injury he is still limping as a result of, and only managed to start two more races that season. marc shows up to his best track on the whole calendar, sachsenring, the one it should be impossible to beat him at... and he crashes five times that weekend before eventually withdrawing from the race. he's out for two races with rib and finger fractures

this is the breaking point. if marc can't win at the sachsenring and is hurting himself this badly while even bothering to try, the situation just feels increasingly untenable. this wasn't good for either marc or honda - what they needed by this point wasn't a star rider impatiently and miserably watching his remaining competitive years tick by, they needed to rethink everything they were doing and essentially start from scratch. for a long time, an idea of a split between honda and marc felt unthinkable, partly because of marc's deep loyalty towards that team, and also partly due to the more practical matter of his contract running until the end of 2024. but, well, the unthinkable became ever more thinkable as the season progressed. by necessity, marc had to change his approach after the sachsenring debacle, dialling back his competitive instincts and riding the bike at a slower pace in the ignominy of the lower points positions in order to not continuously injure himself. at times, it felt like he was riding slow out of protest - a very pointed 'well either I crash or I'm uncompetitive' - as honda continued to falter. a post-race test in misano prompted a further moment of crisis... marc was so deeply unimpressed by the 2024 prototype he had tested that this inevitably will have helped push him out the door and to gresini ducati. it's hard to exaggerate how bonkers this was... one of the greatest riders in history breaking their contract with their factory - and not just any factory, with honda - to instead go ride year-old satellite machinery. the move was obviously a good idea and the right thing to do, but that didn't make it feel any less crazy that it had actually come so far. how the mighty had fallen etc etc

y'know, joan has a good line about honda this year that he's trotted out quite a few times, where he says nobody leaves honda in a better state than they join it. the bike this season is somehow even slower, though *taps on wood* at least its homicidal tendencies haven't caused any serious injuries thus far. it's been a pretty miserable decline... it's not just the bodies that are getting hurt - it's also demoralising for the riders, and it becomes very easy to lose confidence in your own ability, to be unable to trust your feel for the bike, to become scared of when it will next throw you off. it becomes increasingly hard to motivate yourself, to keep coming back for more... great riders can get a lot out of poor bikes... but there is a limit. even for marc, that honda was a bridge too far

and of course marc's adaptation to the ducati is impressive... but it is a very very good bike! not just in the sense that it's fast - it's also good in that riders with very different riding styles are able to get a lot from that package. what marc is attempting to do right now is to extract performance from a package that is fundamentally there to be extracted: in spite of the increasingly obvious disparity with the gp24's, he is still riding a bike that won the championship last year and as a result doesn't have to ride wildly beyond its limit to make it go fast. he's done an excellent job of adapting his riding style to the demands of the ducati after such a long time on the honda, but fundamentally what he's trying to do here is study all the other ducati riders, see how they go fast, and put his own spin on it. once he's completely finished with the adaptation process (and yes, I'm aware he says he already has), he'll continue doing stuff with that bike that nobody else could... but from a better baseline of performance. I mean, look at where the other gp23's are this year - it's not great, but it's not honda levels bad. both in terms of their pace and in terms of whether you feel like the bike has been infested by a malicious spirit

a useful way of framing it is that you can measure how good a bike is by several different metrics. let's keep it simple and say two of those metrics are whether the bike is fast and whether it is rideable... whether it is user-friendly, if you will. the honda bike of the late 2010's was both fast and not particularly rideable - and you can say something similar of the ducati in times past. so for instance in 2007, at the start of the 800cc era, ducati does a great job in building a very quick bike... but they still had to have the stroke of good fortune to sign the perfect guy to take advantage of that speed, casey stoner. again, undoubtedly that was a very fast bike, but it's also extremely capricious - and even pretty highly rated riders couldn't get anywhere close to pulling off the kinds of performances casey did. but then, over the next few years, ducati fucked it and the bike gradually became worse pace-wise compared to its competitors while still being a nightmare to ride. which is why you have even casey in 2010 struggling to get much out of the bike, cf how he ended up finishing fourth in the championship standings behind a guy who had broken his leg during the season. and then ducati spends several years completely out at sea until 2015-ish. even the most adaptable rider who is able to push bikes beyond the limits of what should be possible cannot completely overcome a dramatic pace deficit. at some point, it just becomes too big an ask - and the honda's decline has been even more dramatic than what post-casey ducati suffered. there's a limit, even for marc... who could be fast last year, who did still manage to do exciting things with that bike. but more often than not, when he pushed, he crashed. now at last, marc can go back to simply attempting the improbable, not the impossible

#i was gonna say it's always exciting to see how long it'll take for my hand to slip and type out the words 'casey stoner'#but i suppose he does get mentioned in the first paragraph so. well #motogp #//#brr brr #batsplat responds #there we go. like a press release of sorts #also feel free to ask a follow up if any of that wasn't clear!#stuff like this is very fast and easy to write up lol no research just discourse #//currt

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