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lucy90712 · 2 years ago

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Valentine’s day headcannon

Fabio Quartararo

- Valentine's Day is usually a busy day for the both of you has he has training and you have work so generally you don't get to spend too much time together

- despite that Fabio still likes to do things to make you smile so when he wakes up he makes heart shaped pancakes for you which took him quite a while as you don't have any heart shaped cookie cutters that he could use

- all the effort is worth it to him as soon as you send him a text thanking him along with a picture of you smiling with the pancakes because he just wanted to make you smile

- during the day he stops his training so that he can text you during your lunch break as otherwise you wouldn't hear from each other until the evening and he can't wait that long on any normal day but especially on Valentine's Day as if he could he'd spend all day with you

- he gets home first and has to wait until you eventually get home but the second you do he is at the door giving you kisses all over your face and refusing to let go even for a few seconds to let you take your coat off

- eventually he does let go and he tells you to get changed as he made dinner reservations at your favourite restaurant so you drag him upstairs with you to help choose your outfit as he really likes to do it

- once you are dressed he stands in the bathroom with you with his hands around your waist as you do your hair and makeup and he even helps by curling the back of your hair that is harder for you to see

- when you get there the restaurant is very busy like expected but once you are sat down together it is like no one else is in the room as all you are focused on is each other and enjoying the moment

- the dinner was lovely and you both enjoyed getting to go on a date as those aren't always a regular occurrence but when you got home and collapsed on the sofa together that was when the celebrations truly began as you can relax together

- for the rest of the evening you just lay together talking about anything and everything which is one of your favourite past times as when given the chance Fabio can come out with the most random things and the best stories which is always fun

- only when it's really late do you guys go to bed and fall asleep cuddling like always

Marc Marquez

- Marc doesn't like the traditions that come with Valentine's Day because he thinks that it doesn't hold as much meaning if you just go along with the traditions so the two of you have your own traditions which he much prefers

- something he really loves about you is that you aren't bothered about going out for Valentine's Day and in fact would much rather stay in and spend quality time with him which is exactly what he likes to do as he always thinks it's just so busy that you don't enjoy yourself

- one of the things he likes to do is get your favourite things instead of getting roses and chocolates he will get you your favourite flowers or a little plant for the house and your favourite snacks just purely for you so you don't have to share with him

- after you get home from work he will have everything set out in the kitchen for you along with a little note which as you read he will come up behind you and wrap his arms around your waist

- as much as Valentine's Day is about the two of you as a couple Marc likes to make the day about you because he says that you make enough sacrifices for him with racing and everything that he wants to use the day to treat you

- instead of going out for dinner he will make sure he has all the ingredients to make your favourite meal which over time he has perfected with some help from your mum as she gave him her recipe which is the one you love

- while he cooks you sit with him in the kitchen because even if he doesn't let you help you like to be there to talk with him and when he has things in the oven you can dance in the kitchen together the the music Marc put on

- neither of you can dance very well but that made it more fun as you both swayed it the music and tried to avoid stepping on each other's feet or falling over which went well until the timer for dinner went off making you both jump and step on each other's feet

- dinner was lovely but Marc then surprises you again with desert which he made when he got back form training which was incredibly delicious so you had to make him promise to make it again some time or give you the recipe

- after washing up the dishes the both of you lay down on on the sofa to watch movies together which is where you both fall asleep as you were too tired to go up to bed

Alex Marquez

- quite often you don't celebrate Valentine's Day on the 14th as either the both of you are busy or one of you is so usually you just choose a day around that time when you are both free to celebrate properly

- for this reason you often keep things quite relaxed as the both of you are quite chill in general so Valentine's Day celebrations are just whatever you want them to be whether thats laying on the sofa and having a lazy day or actually going out somewhere together

- on actual Valentine's Day you still do something to at least acknowledge the traditions even if you aren’t celebrating that day

- Alex will leave later for training in the morning so that you two can spend some of the morning together and he can make breakfast for you before you have to leave for work

- during the day it's like any other day but when you both get home you are a little more clingy with each other and give each other extra affection as that's all you really need to know that you both truly love each other

- instead of getting on with more work during the evening you put your laptop away and just spend the whole night with Alex which makes a change as usually at one of you gets caught up in work for most of the night so you make a promise to not think about work all evening

- for dinner you don't do anything special but you do make it together which allowed you to spend more quality time together which is what you always try to make Valentine's Day about and luckily this time you avoided any disagreements over stupid things which can happen quite often when you are in a certain mood

- after eating you move to the sofa where you put a movie on which inevitably neither of you will pay attention to but that's all part of the fun of half celebrating Valentine's Day

- while sat down you do exchange gifts as that's something you like to do on the 14th but unlike some couples you never really get each other expensive things you alway set a budget and usually buy gag gifts for each other as that's just the way you are together plus it always makes you both laugh

- for the rest of the night you usually play games together before going to bed like normal but the only difference is that Alex usually holds you just a little bit closer as you begin to fall asleep

Pecco Bagnaia

- he always takes the day off training and you take the day off work so that you can spend the whole day together just the two of you as it's not often that you get to be together all day so Valentine's Day is the day you always try to make that happen

- the two of you sleep in and then stay in bed for a bit longer cuddling which always involves him playing with your hair as he loves to run his hands through it and do different hairstyles on you

- eventually he gets up but he doesn't let you get up because after a few minutes he comes back with breakfast for you to eat in bed but not just a normal breakfast he brings in some pastries which you can tell he must have ordered from a local bakery

- when you finally get up you just move to laying on the sofa together instead which is when Pecco put the tv on and turned on some cheesy romance movies which he usually hates but on Valentine's Day he will watch them with you

- you two have a very lazy day just laying on the sofa but that was exactly what you both wanted the plan was to relax and spend the day together before the season gets underway and you get very busy yet again

- for dinner neither of you really want to cook so you order a takeaway which is a very rare occurrence as during the season Pecco tries to eat healthy and then he usually does the same over off season to stay in shape

- the two of you eat more than you probably should which is why you decided to go out for a walk to burn some calories and to get out the house which you try to do every day if you can

- when you go out it is really nice out and the sun is just starting to set so the two of you decide to walk to a local park to properly watch the sunset together and use the opportunity to take some nice pictures together

- you spend quite a while sat in the park watching the sun set and then looking at the stars as they were just mesmerising to look at as there was so many visible in the sky but eventually it gets cold and you both walk back home

- once back home you end up back in bed ending the day like it started by cuddling

Jorge Martin

- Jorge likes to make Valentine's Day all about you so he always asks what you want to do before planning anything as he wants to make sure you enjoy the day and don't just pretend to have fun for him

- the two of you always use the day to do something fun together so it's not often that you just go out to dinner because you can do that any other day so you always plan something else to do together instead

- over time Jorge has taken you to do many fun things like going to water parks, riding quad bikes and other things but your favourite days are the ones where you get to relax a little bit as well as your life is usually pretty crazy

- when testing sort of clashes with Valentine's Day he brings you with him and seeing as he has nothing to do on the day the two of you decide to go to the beach nearby which you have been dying to visit as it looks so inviting

- while at the beach you get to relax and read a book for a while and go swimming with Jorge or more like swim for a while before getting into a water fight with each other which Jorge very much won

- in the afternoon Jorge surprises you with a trip out on a boat to go snorkelling which was the best experience there was so many colourful fish and to be so close to them was just amazing and the whole trip back you couldn't stop thanking Jorge for organising it

- once back on land you go back to the hotel and spend a bit of quality time together which involves a lot of cuddles and constant kisses from Jorge on your cheek, neck or lips depending on where he could reach

- in the evening Jorge makes you get changed to go for dinner because as much as it's not something you always do on Valentine's Day seeing as he dragged you out to testing with him he wanted to make the day extra special

- the restaurant was right on the beach and has a brilliant view out to the water as the sun was setting and the night sky taking over and not only was the view amazing the food was too so the both of you made the most out of the trip and ate far too much but it was with it

- once back from the restaurant you stay up until the early hours of the morning talking about fun memories you have together and how you can't wait to make more memories in the future

Joan Mir

- Joan is very sweet in general but on Valentine's Day he is on a whole other level he is constantly complimenting you and making you blush but that doesn't stop him as he wants you to feel glad about yourself

- he always gets up extra early and sneaks out of bed to go and make a nice breakfast which he wakes you up with so that you will still have enough time to get ready and not be late for work

- he also leaves late for training so that he can spend the morning with you which you tell him not to do as you don't want him to change his training for you but he stays anyway and joins you in your morning routine

- while on your lunch break at work Joan will come and visit you and bring you some flowers and some lunch for the both of you so that you can eat together during your break

- Joan stays for the entirety of your break so that you can eat together and then you can show him the things you have been working on as you always talk about it but he can never see exactly what you are doing

- for the rest of the day all your coworkers are coming over and asking where you got the flowers and then telling you how lucky you are to have Joan which leaves you with a big smile on your face throughout the rest of the day which continues when you tell Joan about it back at home

- once back home you and Joan get changed into comfy clothes and then head to the kitchen to make dinner together which you and agreed to do the week before so got all the ingredients in preparation

- you did everything together which involved a lot of Joan standing behind you with his arms next to you waist as you mix ingredients together or he puts his hands over yours to make it seem like he's helping even though he just wants to be close to you

- while you are plating up what you made Joan disappears and only when you bring the plates to the dining table do you realise that he has set up candles and put a bunch of roses on the table to make a really romantic atmosphere

- after dinner Joan ran a bath for you and again lit candles and put some rose petals in the water with a bath bomb which made it extra relaxing but you just wanted to get out and cuddle with Joan in bed which is exactly what you did

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kingofthecotas · 2 months ago

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find tomorrow with you

5 times valentino suggests they get married and 1 time marc does | 2.4k words

5+1 is a fun and whimsical format that we should use more often

–––

It’s not the first time Marc has been to Tavullia since Valentino decided his life was infinitely better when they spoke—and, indeed, fucked—but today is the first time he truly seems comfortable.

Pecco being here is helping, helping soothe the agitation that is all Bez’s, helping to be a friendly face—and Luca, if he weren’t finding it all so funny, would be helping as well. Marc is smiling, talking, laughing—and he isn’t dragging his feet as they all get ready to ride. That’s the crux of it, the load-bearing pillar that crumbled their first time around.

Not this time. They won’t let it.

(Not ever again, Valentino won’t let that happen ever again. He won’t do that to Marc ever again.)

It’s never polite when they race at the ranch. It’s animalistic, all friendship abandoned at the archway that marks the start of the track, screeching under helmets as they tear around corners and dive into the side of opponents. No quarter. No prisoners.

Naturally, Marc, now he’s comfortable, is perfectly suited to this kind of all-out warfare.

(He’s terrifying. Valentino is entranced. He loves him.)

It happens after about an hour, all of them hot and tired but no one willing to throw a white flag. Marc goes for the lead, throws it up the inside of Bez, and outbrakes himself. He skids to the edge of the track, where his front tyre finally surrenders, and he’s sliding through dirt, one leg dragged with the bike.

Even over the growl of two-stroke engines, Valentino can hear Bez’s, “Oh shit.”

He pulls to the side of the track, kicks the peg-stand down with a practiced ease that covers his panic, because Marc is staggering away from under his bike, is collapsing on his back, shoulders shaking, and what if he’s hurt—?

“Marc?”

Marc is cackling like a maniac, leathers dusted white, one hand over the part of his helmet where his forehead would be—even Bez can’t stop himself laughing in return.

Valentino kneels beside him, pushes his visor up. Then he pushes Marc’s open, too.

“You idiot,” he says, slow and deliberate, yet without sting.

Marc laughs harder. “That was fun!”

Valentino leans down, helmets almost touching. “I am going to divorce you.”

Bez chokes on his giggle.

Marc doesn’t miss a beat, eyes still smiling at Vale through his visor. “You have to marry me to do that.”

“I will marry you,” Valentino agrees, “and then I will divorce you.”

Marc laughs again.

——

ii.

Valentino’s phone alarm goes off at 5:45, fifteen minutes to spare before lights out, and he stifles a groan, rolls away from Marc. Marc does not appreciate being woken up before seven on a Sunday.

(He knows that. He loves that he knows that.)

Qualifying had been hairy, drizzling but not completely wet. It should be a dry race, though, and he settles himself on the sofa downstairs just in time for the broadcast to start scrolling through the starting grid. Kimi had done well, and he smiles.

There’s a noise in the doorway: Marc, a hoodie thrown over his bare chest, eyes heavy.

“Good morning,” Valentino says, raspy. “Did I wake you up?”

“Who has a race at this time?” Marc grumbles.

“They are in Japan,” Valentino says, and lets Marc crawl into the space next to him, tired and clumsy with it. “Now you know what it is like when I am watching you in Japan, or Malaysia, or Australia.”

Marc groans in the back of his throat.

“You could go back to bed.”

“You’re not there.” Unfocused eyes peering over the top of his hoodie, Marc glares at the screen, seemingly unaware that he’s just curled something warm and tender around Valentino’s ribs. “Who are we cheering for?”

“Ah, your friend Carlos managed only twelfth. It is Piastri and Verstappen at the front—Kimi is there in fourth, you see? And the Ferraris in fifth and sixth—always we want them to do well. Lando had a penalty, so he is seventh, but the McLaren should be fast here.”

They’re pulling away for the formation lap, weaving to warm their tyres. Marc watches, focused as ever, until he yawns. Valentino shushes him.

“They are not even racing,”

“They are explaining the strategy.”

Lights out. Clean start. Marc is watching more intently now, undivided attention, check pressed against Valentino’s arm.

Ten laps in, Gasly dives down the inside of Ocon, and they’re both spinning off into grass and gravel; embarrassing but harmless, enough to bring out the safety car. Valentino pulls himself free and goes to make coffee.

Marc is barely visible beneath the throw when he returns, dark eyes glaring balefully at the television like it’s offended him personally, but he softens when Valentino hands him a mug.

“You are the best,” he mumbles, then, “At making coffee.”

Valentino laughs—once, he might have bristled at the harmless joke—and slides back into his spot between Marc and the sofa arm. Marc thumps his head down, somehow burying himself even deeper in his swaddling of blanket and hoodie and Valentino.

It’s—it’s something they never would have imagined, even two years ago. It’s gentle, early Sunday mornings wrapped around each other; the kind of softness that shouldn’t be possible after years of tearing each other apart, digging in fingers and pulling until they drew blood.

Valentino doesn’t ever want to go there again. He doesn’t ever want to lose this.

Marc is breathing softly against his arm, still, quiet, perfect.

“I want to marry you,” he murmurs.

Silence. His stomach drops.

Marc’s inhale catches in the back of his throat, halfway to a snore, and Valentino laughs, gentle so he doesn’t wake him. He plucks the coffee cup, dangling precariously, from slack fingers, and places it on the side table.

——

iii.

They’ve created a routine over the past few months.

(Valentino’s stomach jumps every time he thinks about it, thinks about how they’re falling into habits, into familiarity. Every time, he smiles.)

It’s their last day together for a while: Marc is leaving later, and Valentino flies early in the morning to get to his GT race. But the routine doesn’t change. He’s making lunch for them. Marc is upstairs—his phone had rung, insistent, and he’d groaned but pulled away, leaving Valentino to chop the rest of their salad.

Marc emerges after nearly twenty-five minutes, eyebrows pinched together, but accepts the plate Valentino slides towards him with a distracted smile.

“Everything okay?” Valentino asks.

“Ah, my accountant.” Marc scowls. “Apparently I am spending too much time in Italy.”

Valentino can’t help the laugh that bubbles out of his chest.

“It’s not funny,” Marc says, almost whines. “It’s a tax thing. Between all the time I spend here, and time at the factory—not enough in Spain, apparently.”

Shrugging, Valentino taps one finger on the table. “We could get married.”

Marc snorts. “Would that help?”

“I don’t know. I am very bad to ask about tax advice, remember?”

“Me too.” Marc stabs a piece of his salad—viciously, in Valentino’s opinion.

“Don’t frown. It will be okay.”

“I can hide here. It is difficult for you to be in Madrid.”

“It will be okay,” Valentino repeats. “And remember, we can always get married.”

He thinks he deserves it when Marc throws a slice of bread at him.

——

iv.

Clouds hang heavy on the mountains in Spielberg, threatening rain but holding off for now. Valentino leaves Luca with a last pat on the shoulder, weaving his way up the grid towards Franky’s starting spot.

It’s slow going, stopped every few steps, shaking hands with people he recognises, people he doesn’t.

“Valentino—Valentino!”

It’s Laverty, and Valentino doesn’t mind that because he doesn’t tend to ask stupid questions. He indulges the interview, long past acceptance of the fact that he built his own mythos and will never be left alone for the rest of his life. Yes, he’s doing well, thank you. Yes, it’s nice to be on the grid. Yes, he’s proud of his boys. Yes, he’s still enjoying racing with BMW.

“And a final question,” Michael says. “You seem like you and Marc Márquez have finally buried the hatchet. Is everything put to bed? How did you manage it?”

Maybe Michael Laverty does ask stupid questions.

Perhaps he should have been expecting it, because clasping hands before a race, sharing a smile under the podium—people notice. Especially when the norm used to be nothing at all, or worse.

“Ah, you know.” He has plenty of shields for the media, and it’s no problem to pull out an old favourite. “We talked. Dinner with candles. It is all going very well. Maybe soon we get married.”

Michael laughs, loud and boisterous, like Vale hasn’t just wrapped up the truth in a pretty package and presented it as a joke. He smiles, camera-easy, and returns Michael’s ciao.

It’s only when he turns around that he realises Álex and Bez, lined up side-by-side on the grid, are staring at him.

——

Misano is hot, sweltering August-end heat. Valentino is sweating under his cap and sunglasses, pressed in a red throng of Ducati engineers. One-two. Red on red.

It’s Marc who’d won, victorious in the battle of weaving-turning-diving along long straights and through heavy-brake corners. Pecco had given him a good fight, an Italian classic of a race; he’s smiling at Marc, learning to enjoy the scrappy thrill of battle as well as the ease of a flawless win.

Marc’s shining, beaming at his team, smiling down the cameras, alive under the sun. Valentino swallows down the urge to kiss him, if only because their comms officers would kill them both.

The podium has never seemed so long. Media obligations have never seemed so long. It’s an age before they’re alone, motorhome door locked, and Valentino has Marc, to himself, finally.

He used to think Marc was too much for him, in danger of eclipsing him, their implosion inevitable as two brilliant stars orbited closer, closer, too close. Too much light for the world to handle.

If he met that version of himself now, Valentino thinks he would shake him.

Marc glows, yes, but there’s a brightness that only Valentino gets to see, one that erupts out in starbursts of ecstasy when they’re together, when Valentino is pushing inside him, when Marc is staring up at him like there’s nothing else in the world.

Valentino stops, earning a petulant glare; even that’s breathtaking. How—how—he can’t find the words.

“I think,” Valentino forces out, elbows taking his weight, “I want to marry you.”

Marc blinks, face suddenly cutting, incredulous. “You are telling me this now?” He’s a livewire, crackling with sparks, hot with triumph, shooting static through Valentino’s skin. He’s beautiful. Valentino wants to see this for the rest of his life, so yeah, he’s saying it now.

He tilts his hips, and the disbelief is gone, washed away as Marc gasps. It’s something like reverence now—but not how it used to be. Nothing that Valentino could shatter this time, even though he still wants to hold it close.

Contrary as always, Marc winds fingers through his hair, pulls him down for a breathless kiss—and Valentino smiles into it, because he can do this, he can have this effect on Marc, still. Still.

“Vale—”

He’s helpless when it’s Marc. Still. Always.

When they’re finished, when they’re lying curled into each other, Valentino breathing heavy into Marc’s hair, Marc looks up, eyes narrowed.

“You did well today,” Valentino tells him softly, and the hard expression is gone once again, replaced with a different kind of wonder.

“Did you mean it?”

He knows what Marc means. “Yes.”

Marc nods. “Ask me again. Another time.”

It’s—Valentino smiles again. “That was not a no.”

——

It’s not a bad crash—it’s not, not by the metrics of this sport, not compared to what it could have been, what it has been in the past.

It’s not bad, but it could have been: Marc, bumped wide by Acosta, unable to save it, sliding helplessly through the corner apex—and Bez, unsighted, trying to avoid the recovering KTM, sailing past his braking point towards Marc, and almost—almost.

It’s not bad, but it was close, and when Marc is back in the paddock, when he’s speaking to cameras, when he’s with his engineers, there’s something wild about him, something faraway sitting behind his eyes, and Valentino knows. He knows.

(He still dreams, sometimes, of Austria; not of the crash, but the feeling of it, the prickle at the back of his skull, the cold finger-brush of something not right. The almost that he didn’t see coming.)

So he waits. Marc is settled enough, trusts him enough, to reach for him when he needs him. Valentino trusts Marc enough to let him.

The knock on his motorhome door comes long after the chequered flag has fallen. Valentino doesn’t get up, knows Marc will let himself in.

“Sorry. Pedro wanted to talk—I am not angry, but good he apologised.”

“That’s okay,” Valentino says, gentle.

Marc drifts, loose, unmoored, towards the sofa, folds his legs underneath him, presses into Valentino’s space. Valentino lets him, waits for him to speak.

Marc is shaking. Not a lot, just enough for Valentino to notice when he takes his hand.

“Okay?”

He’s not, of course he’s not, but it’s a door nudged ajar, an opening if Marc wants to take it.

“That was—close.”

“Yeah.”

“I was—watching the bike.” Marc swallows. “Just—that was all I could do. Watch it coming towards me.”

Valentino pulls their joined hands up, presses a kiss to the back of Marc’s.

Marc’s next exhale trembles in the space between them.

“You’re okay.”

“If Bez didn’t turn—”

If. Almost. “You’re okay,” Valentino says again, because he needs to hear it himself. Marc’s fingers clench in his. “Okay? Look, you are holding my hand. You’re okay.”

It won’t be long before Marc is through this, before he’s smiling, before he’s raring to climb on his bike again. Not yet, though. Valentino knows—he knows.

“We should get married,” Marc says abruptly.

“I have been saying—”

“Seriously.”

Valentino takes him in: pinched eyebrows; hair flattened from his Ducati cap; pursed lips. “I think I am offended, that you only ask me after today.”

Marc pulls his hand away, the laugh jolting out of him. “Valentino—”

“And you are asking me in a motorhome—really, I would have taken my hoodie off at least—”

“Vale,” Marc groans, but he’s there, he’s smiling, he’s back.

He can’t stop a smile twitching the corners of his lips in return. “Yes?”

“That was not a no.”

Valentino takes his hand again.

#quite possibly the most self indulgent thing i've ever written #offering it up to you like the lion king baby #domestic fluff! they think they're funny!#motogp rpf #rosquez #marc marquez #valentino rossi #academy boys as background characters #cara.fic #motogp fic #ftwy

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fall0utmind · 22 days ago

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MEDICAL LEAK AU pt2

Part 1 here

Chapter 2 is up on ao3

🤍🤍

Please be advised of content warning for suicide - no descriptions but some cruel words - see ao3 for sections to skip and message me if you need to.

Feedback is always appreciated

Would you still love me if I told you my darkest secrets?

Ch 2-

~3k

They stumble through the doorway to the motorhome, Marc instantly collapsing onto the worn couch tucked into the corner. Alex has procured a blanket from somewhere and is busily tucking it around him, refusing to let Marc out of his sight. He bustles around the small kitchenette, busying himself with making some coffee.

Neither of their parents were able to attend the race this weekend. Marc doesn’t know if he is grateful for that, or not. They both knew, of course. It had been a testing time for the family, the fallout with Valentino, along with the public backlash, and Marc’s declining mental health had left him heartbroken and hopeless. After his first attempt, Marc returned to his room stripped bare. All signs of Valentino Rossi expunged whilst he was in a hospital bed; the only reminder was his broken heart. It had just made Marc cry harder at the time, Roser wrapped around him in his childhood bedroom. It had taken him many years to pick up the pieces after that, with several other falls along the way. But he takes comfort in the fact he is still here, life has beaten him down over and over; he has been kicked (literally), beaten, and spat out by both Vale and the media, but he always kept going. His family has made it out, they are safe, and he is safe. And really, that is all he can ask for.

Alex observes Marc with increasing concern. He has been on the sofa, swaddled in blankets, for 45 minutes with no signs of movement. His coffee mug is forgotten in his hands, as he stares blankly at the wall, no doubt revisiting the years that haunted them both. As much as Marc likes to pretend that he is unaffected, Alex knows that those years did lasting damage to his psyche; he has noticed in the way he acts around others, how he no longer trusts so easily, and how he seems to be acting around almost everyone except a select few people. He knows that his older brother harbours a lot of guilt for the past, thinking that he had done Alex some kind of disservice. Alex is just glad he still has an older brother.

At some point a Gresini representative knocks on the motorhome door, speaking to Alex in hushed tones. After they leave, Marc numbly listens to his brother relaying the extent of the damage. The media has found out about Marc’s suicide attempts in 2015, but no one knows the details, and it is hoped that it will stay that way. So far, no other records have been accessed, or at least not published. Legal is already working tirelessly to understand what has gone wrong, but for now there is nothing Marc can do. News has spread fast, and Marc does not doubt that by tomorrow the entire grid will know about how fucking pitiful he is. The thought makes his head hurt and his eyes water.

“You should try to get some sleep. The team are putting out a statement about respecting your privacy but for now there is nothing more we can do”.

Marc nods slowly, feeling adrift amongst all that has happened today. He rises unsteadily to his feet and shuffles to the bathroom. He flicks the switch and blinks heavily at the harsh lights which blind him. He almost doesn’t recognise the person in the reflection, with a pale face and hollow eyes. He shudders, it reminds him of a time when every mirror would render the same hideous portrait of despair every day. Marc pointedly avoids looking at his reflection again. He knows Alex won’t leave him alone tonight, fearful of the unhealed wounds the past has left which have once again been reopened. Instead, with a resigned sigh, Marc finishes in the bathroom and hauls himself into bed, Alex curling up on the other side. The position is so reminiscent of their younger years, filling him with a hollow kind of sadness. A heavy blanket of exhaustion weighs upon him, and that, alongside his brother's soothing presence, lulls him into a deep sleep.

Marc awakes to an empty bed and the sound of knocking on their motorhome door. He takes a moment to recentre himself. It must be around 8 am, given the way the light spills in from the window. It is Saturday morning in Misano and yesterday the entire MotoGP world discovered arguably his biggest secret. Marc isn’t sure good morning is appropriate.

The hushed whispers of two familiar voices filter in from the living area, clearly speaking softly to let Marc rest. He groans and blindly feels around for his phone, before remembering that Alex had taken it off him at some point yesterday. It was probably for the best that he didn’t know what the media were saying right now. Bastards.

He rolls out of bed, grabs a pair of sweats and the first t-shirt he sees (it is definitely Alex’s, given that it’s way too long for him) and stumbles into the kitchen, where a cup of coffee is already waiting on the counter. He has never been more grateful for his little brother and his worldly knowledge that 8 is too early for Marc. He’s a little shocked to see Aleix Espargaro sitting next to his brother on the sofa, both watching him with matching worried expressions. He would laugh at the sight of the two men mirroring each other in such a dad-coded way, if not for the current circumstances. Instead, he frowns back at them. Aleix rises to his feet, approaching Marc cautiously, giving him a chance to move away, before drawing him into a tight hug.

“I’m so sorry. I had no idea.”

The older man holds him for some time, Marc’s head tucked into his neck. As he pulls away, Aleix’s hands come to the side of his face, holding him gently.

“Promise me you will tell me if it happens again, I do not like the thought of you in so much pain. But now I see that you have already been through it. You should never have had to do it alone, Cariño.”

His eyes are anguished but sincere throughout his speech, observing Marc with undisguised worry and affection. Marc can’t stand it and looks away once Aleix has released him, worrying his lower lip. The older man takes this as his cue, thanking Alex for his coffee, and quietly making his way over to the door, not before shooting him a concerned glance.

“You will let me know if anyone gives you shit today, I will keep an eye out for you. Look after yourself, Marc.”

And with that, he’s gone, the quiet snick of the door behind him. Marc raises an eyebrow at Alex.

“What was that?”

Alex sighs, “He is concerned about you, hermano, he has always had a soft spot for you. He is annoyed at himself for not noticing sooner.”

“I hide it well”

“I know”

The rest of the morning is relatively normal. The people he interacts with are evidently unsure of the acceptable conduct for this situation; Marc finds it terribly amusing, in a dark kind of way. He has decided the best course of action is to pretend nothing has happened in the twisted hope that if he ignores it, everyone else will too. He’s sure his old therapist would be delighted. The security presence in the paddock appears to have suspiciously doubled overnight. People are staring, he can feel it in the way the back of his neck prickles, but no one approaches him. He doesn’t care if they must bring in the goddamn military if that’s what it takes to prevent another PR disaster.

He makes it to the pitlane in record time, dodging all signs of human life, taking the back alleys wherever possible. He enters the rear entrance of the Gresini garage, finding his crew to check in before qualifying. He is pleased with the bike set-up from yesterday, feeling confident in the pace this weekend. On the bad days, Marc thinks he will never know the feeling of winning again, that he will never experience a champagne shower from the top step of the podium, the world chanting his name. That he will fade into irrelevance, a has-been of the sport, once Valentino Rossi’s great rival, now just another name. But this year is the closest he has come in 3 years, and he is not willing to let go without a fight, because Marc Marquez is synonymous with winning, it is his purpose and his destiny. If he is not riding, if he is not winning, he does not know who he truly is.

He watches the junior categories warm up, reminiscing on those days of his career, before the pressure and before Valentino. He is glad to see David achieving so much this season. He sees a younger version of himself in the boy and it scares him, terrified that the young Columbian will get burnt in the same way that Marc did. He vows to do everything in his power to protect him but let him grow into the world champion he is destined to be. They already training together, and Marc can see the way he is rubbing off on the teenager, he just hopes that does not become a curse.

The second free practice of the weekend occurs without a hitch, landing both Alex and Marc into Q2, much to the chagrin of the Italian fans (and really, could people not let it go by now?). Marc is determined not to let the recent events hinder his performance. Despite this, he is increasingly aware of his rising anxiety about facing the others on the grid. His mind is consumed by thoughts of judgement and disgust, creating pictures of his colleagues deserting him, refusing to be seen with him as in 2015. No matter how hard he tries, even after his talk with Aleix this morning, he is frantic with worry, unable to sit still.

“You will wear a hole in the floor if you do not stop soon.”

Alex appears from around the corner, watching him pace.

“We need to get ready. Are you feeling okay?”

Marc can’t face the idea of putting the younger through even more pain because of him, so he simply nods in agreement, refusing to meet the unconvinced look Alex is no doubt giving him.

He already has his leathers on, so he grabs the rest of his kit, and starts towards his crew, Alex heading in the opposite direction. He shoves down his fear and greets the people waiting for him with a plethora of fist bumps and hugs. He is grateful that his team are treating him as usual, seemingly recovered from yesterday’s shock. Some had wrapped him in a hug earlier this morning, others laying comforting hands on his shoulders, unabashedly showing their support and filling him with warmth. He holds onto that feeling as he prepares to ride, knowing a few more people are fighting in his corner.

Marc feels alive. The bike is singing underneath him, so responsive to him. Every move is calculated to perfection, cornering on the edge of impossible - he’s probably giving the guys in the garage a heart attack every lap. But he feels like he’s flying, whipping around the track on a bike that loves him as much as he loves it. He knows he’s putting in good times, his pace almost matching the newer Ducati, something which is the talk of the paddock at the moment. The move to a different constructor has brought a new lease of life to his career, quieting the doubts and prompting the whispers: “Marc Marquez is back”.

By the time the checkered flag falls, Marc is on top of the world. His mind wiped clear of the media, Valentino, and 2015. He doesn’t know where he placed, and it isn’t until he looks up at the timing board and sees his 93 at the top of the list, that he allows himself to grin.

Marc rides back to the garage, tailed by Alex, still grinning under his helmet. He is greeted and is greeted with a warm reception from the team, cheering as he and his brother come to a halt. He is rained in congratulations from his team, hands slapping his back and wide smiles directed at him. It is then that he spots Dovi. His old friend is standing to the side, a proud smile face. Marc has no idea what he is doing here, but he isn’t about to complain, having missed the older man in recent years. Dovi was one of the few people who had his back all those years ago, for which he is endlessly grateful. He jumps off his bike and almost straight into Dovi’s arms, uncaring of the cameras trained on the pair.

“What are you doing here?”

“Ah, can I not come and see my friend outperform everyone in the sport that we both love?”

Marc huffs a laugh in response, a faint blush colouring his cheeks. He knows why Dovi is truly here, despite his friend’s bullshit, but he cannot bring himself to be annoyed about his obvious weakness. It is nice to have a friend who is not Alex around. He knows affection is rolling off him in waves but simply does not care -pleased at the ease that is quick to settle between them, despite the years.

“I will be with you in a few minutes, go annoy someone else whilst we debrief”

Dovi laughs at that, making Marc grin, all teeth, in return.

Debrief is a quick affair, the team are delighted with p1, and simply want to talk about the race set-up, as well the minute areas for improvement on track. They release Marc after 20 minutes, giving him proud smiles and comforting touches as he leaves. He is once again overwhelmed by his love for the team which has re-awoken his passion for the sport which has taken but also given him so much.

A quick scan of the garage tells him Dovi has found one Alex Marquez to annoy, much to Marc’s amusement. He grabs his phone off the table (he had regained possession of it from Alex earlier) and turns it on for the first time in 12 hours, desperate to check his messages since he has 5 minutes to himself. He scrolls through his notifications.

His manager and parents have messaged, the latter asking him to call them when he has a chance, although he’s sure they have probably spoken to Alex, explaining the lack of urgency. He has a message from Casey Stoner, telling him to keep his head up and to ignore the media, although his choice of words is a little stronger. Marc lets out a startled laugh, warmed by the unexpected gesture from the older man. The next text makes him stop in his tracks, confusion bubbling inside him. It’s from an unknown number, and simply reads “Stop playing games.” A sense of unease fills Marc as he deletes the message, unwilling to entertain whoever thinks they can hide behind a screen and say what they want, he should just forget about it. The final and most recent text is from Dani. It simply reads “Tell Dovi he’s a dick for stealing my thunder. Unfair advantage, he was already in the country. We’ll be there in a few hours.”

A hand lands on his shoulder from behind, and Dovi’s head follows. Nosy fucker. He lets out a cackle at the text, pulling away to laugh even harder. Marc very much feels like he’s missed a joke, and he has no clue who “we” refers to. He simply replies to the chat with a thumbs up and accepts his fate of being coddled by the older riders for the rest of the weekend.

The pole position high doesn’t last very long. Marc and Dovi are walking back towards the motorhomes when he comes crashing back down to earth. Saturdays are always a bit chaotic at the track. But today, it feels worse than usual, with people staring and murmuring as they pass. Some of the comments are less than pleasant. Marc tries not to let it affect him, portraying a persona of indifference, no matter how much the words sting. Dovi talks lowly as they walk, his presence reassuring amidst the harsh whispers washing over them, swelling in a crescendo of cruelty.

“-he should have taken more pills”

“-can’t believe he actually did it”

“How selfish-”

“Have you seen the articles? I read that-”

From the limited information he has been given, or overheard, Marc gathers that the public reaction to the news has been mixed, to say the least. Some people are outraged by the leak and the subsequent media frenzy, destroying any sense of privacy left in Marc’s life. Others have been senselessly cruel, spewing hatred online about his mental health or even going as far as suggesting that he deserves it. Marc swallows the bile in the back of his throat, unwilling to break now. He knows he can’t let the public see his defences crumble, it will only give them more opportunity to kick him when he’s down. He’s so wrapped up in his thoughts that he doesn’t notice who they’re walking towards, until it’s too late.

Marc hears Valentino before he sees him, talking to Pecco in hushed tones. His rapid-fire Italian is so familiar, yet also a distant memory. He feels the way his companion stiffens as they approach the pair and senses their eyes burning into him in return. No doubt Pecco has already told the older all about Marc’s breakdown yesterday. The reminder that Valentino is once more witnessing his life falling apart is nauseating. Marc steadfastly ignores them as Dovi steers them in the right direction. A confrontation is not what he needs right now.

He doesn’t register anything is off until someone careens straight into their path, sending Marc stumbling backwards in shock. He flinches at the look of pure hatred on the fan’s face.

“You should have done it properly; you couldn’t even kill yourself correctly. The world would be a better place without you.”

Marc chokes on his breath, his eyes burning, rapidly blinking as he tries to parse the scathing words. Dovi is frozen in shock, horrified that anyone would utter such a thing. Time freezes as the people close enough to have overheard all turn to look in their direction, willing a response from Marc. Ironically, it’s Pecco who breaks the moment, face like thunder as he storms over. Marc watches in a haze as Pecco reaches them, breathing heavily and shooting a look at Dovi, prompting him to drag the Spaniard to safety. Marc distantly registers Valentino frowning over at them, a flash of unreadable emotion in his eyes as he watches Dovi tugging him away.

Marc doesn’t look back, mind too preoccupied with the stewing self-loathing in his gut and the cloud of dark thoughts in his head. As such, he doesn’t see Pecco looming over the man who spat such vicious words at him, gesturing at security for him to be removed and permanently banned. He doesn’t see the older Italian glaring at Marc and Dovi’s retreating forms, a mixture of resentment and jealousy staining his features. He does, however, hear Valentino whispering that it’s not worth it, leading a distraught Pecco away, cracking Marc’s heart clean in two, once again.

#rosquez #motogp #marc marquez #motogp rpf #my fics #marcs medical records getting leaked #medical leak au #bit of a heartbreaking one sorry #but also DOVI #anddddd we get dovquez fluff next time :)

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scrollonso · 2 months ago

Text

Part Of The Family — Bearnelli

Vale and his sons had always been a tight-knit family, bound not only by blood but by the bond on track at the ranch. The academy wasn’t just a place to train — it was a sanctuary, a home where riders, blood or not, became family. Whether you were an old friend or a new face, you were welcomed with open arms, but that didn’t mean you were free from scrutiny. Trust was earned, and everyone who stepped onto the ranch knew that you had to prove yourself, not just as a rider but as someone who understood the unique bond shared by Vale and his boys.

When Ollie first started hanging around Kimi, it wasn’t long before the academy boys began to notice how seamlessly the two fit into each other’s lives. It wasn’t just that they spent a lot of time together; it was the ease with which they did it. The way Kimi would light up when Ollie was around, the comfortable silences they shared, the subtle, unspoken understanding between them — it was obvious to everyone. From the outside, it seemed like Ollie had slipped into Kimi’s life as if he’d always been there.

It didn’t take long before the academy boys began to exchange knowing glances. To them, it was clear as day. Kimi and Ollie weren’t just friends — they were something more. Maybe they hadn’t realized it themselves yet, but to the rest of the group, the signs were all there. Kimi’s laugh was just a little louder when Ollie cracked a joke, and Ollie’s gaze lingered just a little longer when Kimi walked by. The way they worked together during training, almost in sync, seemed too natural to be purely platonic.

Still, in typical academy fashion, no one said anything outright. They just watched, waiting for the inevitable moment when the two would finally admit what everyone else had already figured out. The scrutiny was subtle at first, but as the days passed, the protective nature of the academy boys kicked in, and Ollie found himself on the receiving end of a series of increasingly pointed comments and warnings.

Pecco was the first to pull Ollie aside. It was during one of their post-training sessions, when the rest of the academy was scattered around the ranch, cooling down from the day’s work. Ollie was wiping the sweat from his brow when Pecco, who had been watching him for a while, walked up with a determined look on his face. Crossing his arms, Pecco stared at him, his eyes narrowing in a way that made Ollie feel like he was about to be grilled.

“Don’t hurt Andrea,” Pecco said, his tone firm, almost like a protective older brother issuing an ultimatum.

Ollie blinked, completely taken aback. His mind raced, trying to figure out what Pecco meant by that. Why would he hurt Kimi? Where was this even coming from? He opened his mouth to respond, but the words came out in a stammer. “Why would I—?”

Pecco didn’t let him finish. “Just don’t,” he cut in, his voice final, leaving no room for argument. The warning hung in the air, and Ollie was left speechless. Pecco gave him one last pointed look before walking off, leaving Ollie standing there, utterly baffled.

For a while, Ollie convinced himself that maybe Pecco was just being overprotective, maybe even a little paranoid. But then, a few days later, Franky caught him alone. It was during one of their routine training drills, and Ollie was focused on his bike when Franky appeared, his expression unreadable. He didn’t waste time on small talk. Instead, he got straight to the point, his voice low and serious.

“You better treat Kimi right,” Franky said, his tone carrying the weight of someone who wasn’t just offering advice — he was delivering a warning.

Ollie, once again, found himself at a loss for words. His brain scrambled for a response, but he could only manage a nervous stammer. “I— I don’t know what you’re—”

Franky’s expression didn’t soften. He simply gave a nod, as if to say the conversation was over, and walked off, leaving Ollie more confused than ever. What was going on? Why were they acting like this?

It seemed like everyone had some unspoken knowledge that Ollie was completely in the dark about. Each warning felt heavier than the last, and Ollie couldn’t shake the feeling that something big was happening right under his nose — something he hadn’t figured out yet.

Before long, it felt like Ollie couldn’t go anywhere without running into one of the academy boys, and every encounter seemed to end with some form of cryptic warning or veiled threat. Bez, usually the most laid-back of the group, caught him during a rare quiet moment by the garage. With a grin, he slapped Ollie on the back, but his words were anything but casual. “Andrea's important to us, man. Don’t screw it up.”

Ollie blinked, caught off guard by the comment. “Screw what up?” he asked, but Bez just walked away with a knowing smirk, leaving Ollie even more confused than before.

The next day, Cele found Ollie grabbing a drink by the track and leaned in conspiratorially, his tone more serious than usual. “We’re all watching you, just so you know. Kimi’s family. You better not mess with him.”

Ollie stared at him, dumbfounded. “I’m not messing with anyone!” he protested, but Cele had already given him a pat on the shoulder and walked off, his message delivered.

By the time Mig cornered him during one of the cool-down sessions, Ollie was already on edge, bracing himself for whatever strange advice or threat was coming next. Mig, ever the quiet one, didn’t say much — just gave Ollie a long, appraising look before muttering, “You know how much Kimi means to us, right? Just… don’t do anything stupid.”

At this point, Ollie was utterly baffled and increasingly paranoid. It felt like everyone had some sort of hidden agenda, and he was the only one out of the loop. Every interaction left him more confused than the last, and by the end of the week, he was at his breaking point.

“I don’t even know what’s happening!” Ollie finally burst out, throwing his hands in the air in frustration while he and Luca were walking back to the house after training. “Every time I turn around, someone’s telling me not to hurt Kimi or warning me to treat him right. What the hell is going on?”

Luca, who had been quietly observing the whole situation for ages, smirked knowingly. “They think you’re dating,” he said, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. "They did the same thing when I first brought Lance."

Ollie almost choked on his own breath. “What?!” he sputtered, stopping in his tracks. “No! Kimi’s like a brother to me! Why would they even think that?”

Luca raised an eyebrow, shrugging as if it all made perfect sense. “Well,” he started, “you two are always together. I mean, you spend practically every second at the ranch with Kimi. And he’s… different around you. More comfortable, you know? Plus, you fit right in with the rest of us. It looks pretty obvious from the outside.”

Ollie shook his head, still in disbelief. “We’re not dating,” he insisted, rubbing his face in exasperation. “How do I get them to stop thinking that?”

Luca shrugged again, a casual smile tugging at his lips. “You could try telling them,” he offered, his tone playful. “But I’m not sure they’ll believe you.”

Ollie and Kimi decided it was finally time to sit everyone down and clear up the ongoing confusion. They'd been hearing whispers and side comments for a while now, and it was starting to get out of hand. So, they gathered the entire group in the dining room, preparing themselves for what they knew would be an awkward conversation.

With everyone seated around them, Ollie nervously cleared his throat and began. "So, uh, we’ve heard some things," he started, his voice faltering slightly.

Kimi, who was sitting beside him, rolled his eyes at Ollie’s hesitance and decided to cut straight to the point. "Everyone apparently thinks we’re dating."

Ollie quickly nodded in agreement, glancing around at their friends. "Yeah, but we’re not," he clarified, hoping that would put an end to the rumors.

But before they could say more, the entire group burst into laughter. The teasing smiles on the others' faces made Kimi and Ollie even more defensive, shifting uncomfortably in their seats.

"What!" Kimi blurted out, his voice a mix of exasperation and disbelief. "He’s like another brother to me. What are you guys even talking about?"

Ollie was quick to chime in, nodding vigorously to reinforce Kimi’s point. "Seriously, we’re just friends."

But the laughter didn’t stop. Bez, leaning back in his chair, let out a chuckle and shook his head, clearly amused by their flustered reactions, he was the same when Vale confronted him about him and Marc. "Whatever you say," he said, his tone light and teasing.

The rest of the group groaned, half-joking and half-exasperated. It was obvious they weren’t entirely convinced, but after a few more jokes, they let the subject drop — for now, at least. The tension in the room faded as they moved on to other topics, but Kimi and Ollie exchanged a look, knowing that this probably wasn’t the last time they’d have to deal with this particular misunderstanding.

About a week later, during a particularly large family meeting at the ranch, Kimi found himself standing up in front of everyone, his face flushed and his hands nervously clasped together. Clearing his throat awkwardly, he tried to muster up the courage to speak. "So, um… I’ve been thinking… And I may-or-may-not-be-in-love-with-Ollie."

The room fell into an expectant silence. It was as if time had paused for a moment. But instead of the shock or surprise Kimi might have anticipated, the reaction was quite different. Pecco let out a long, exasperated groan that was quickly echoed by the rest of the boys, who seemed almost exasperated by the whole situation.

"We know!" Cele muttered under his breath, shaking his head with a mix of annoyance and amusement.

"Seriously, it took you this long to figure it out?" Luca chimed in, rolling his eyes as he gathered his things to leave. The other boys followed suit, their steps echoing with a casual familiarity.

Kimi stood there, frozen in place, his face a mask of disbelief and confusion. He turned to look at Ollie, who was blinking in stunned realization. "Wait, so… everyone knew except us?"

"Obviously," Bez called over his shoulder, a smirk playing on his lips as he walked out of the room. The rest of the group followed, their laughter and chatter fading as they left Kimi and Ollie standing in the middle of the room, completely dumbfounded and caught off guard.

As the last of the footsteps receded, Kimi and Ollie exchanged a bewildered glance, their minds racing to process what had just happened. The realization that they had been the last to know about something so significant left them both speechless, adding a new layer of awkwardness to their already complicated situation.

Kimi and Ollie remained in the center of the room, the weight of the situation settling heavily between them. Kimi stared at the empty doorway where the others had just exited, trying to process the wave of information that had just crashed over him.

"How… how did everyone know?" Kimi finally managed to ask, his voice tinged with bewilderment.

Ollie, still grappling with his own shock, shook his head. "I have no idea. I thought we were being subtle."

Kimi let out a disbelieving laugh, his eyes scanning the now-empty room as if expecting an explanation to materialize out of thin air. "Subtle? Everyone knew we were dancing around something, and you didn’t think anyone would notice?"

Ollie’s face turned a shade of pink, a mix of embarrassment and frustration evident in his expression. "I didn’t think it was that obvious. I thought we were doing okay."

"Well, it wasn’t exactly a secret," Kimi said, trying to force a sense of humor into the situation to ease the tension. "I guess we just didn’t see it."

Ollie sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. "So, what now? Do we just… go with it?"

Kimi took a deep breath, his gaze meeting Ollie’s. The awkwardness of the situation seemed to dissolve as they stood there, confronting the reality of their feelings. “Maybe it’s not about just going with it,” Kimi said softly. “Maybe it’s about acknowledging what’s been there all along, eh?”

Ollie’s eyes searched Kimi’s, looking for any sign of hesitation or doubt. “Yeah, I guess we should actually talk about this,” he said, his voice steady but filled with a mix of nervousness and anticipation.

Kimi nodded, feeling a surge of courage. “Agreed. But before we dive into all of that, maybe we should just—” He hesitated for a moment, then took a step closer to Ollie. The distance between them felt charged, and he could sense Ollie’s own nervous energy.

Ollie’s eyes widened slightly as Kimi got on the tips of his toes and gently cupped his face with both hands. The touch was tender, and for a moment, everything else faded away. Kimi leaned in slowly, giving Ollie ample time to pull back if he wanted to.

Ollie’s breath hitched as their faces drew closer, and before he could second-guess himself, he closed the gap between them. Their lips met in a soft, hesitant kiss that gradually deepened as they both gave in to the moment. The kiss was a mixture of relief, affection, and unspoken understanding — a confirmation of the feelings they had both been trying to navigate.

When they finally pulled away, both Kimi and Ollie were breathless, their eyes locked in a gaze filled with newfound clarity.

“I guess that’s one way to handle it,” Ollie said with a small smile, his hand still resting gently on Kimi’s cheek.

Kimi chuckled softly, his heart still racing. “Yeah, I think it’s a good start.”

As Kimi and Ollie stood in the middle of the room, still processing their kiss, the door creaked open. Kimi’s brothers, who had been lingering just outside, peeked in with a mix of curiosity and amusement.

Luca, with a smirk on his face, was the first to speak. “Well, this is a surprise,” he said, raising an eyebrow as he took in the scene before him.

Pecco, with a more puzzled expression, stepped into the room, glancing between Kimi and Ollie. “We didn’t mean to interrupt,” he said, though his tone suggested otherwise.

Ollie and Kimi quickly pulled apart, their faces flushing with embarrassment as they realized they had been caught in the middle of their little intimate moment. Kimi looked at his brothers, his cheeks red with a mix of shame and frustration. “Guys, seriously? You couldn’t knock?”

Luca chuckled, clearly enjoying the moment. “We were just coming to see if you two were okay. And, well, it looks like you are.”

Marco nodded, a knowing smile on his face. “Seems like you two had a lot to talk about.”

Ollie rubbed the back of his neck, trying to regain his composure. “Yeah, we did. But now we’re, uh, a little thrown off.”

Kimi’s face softened as he glanced at Ollie, then back at his brothers. “Well, now that you’re here, I guess you’ve figured out what’s been going on.”

Luca shrugged, his smirk widening. “Yeah, we figured it out a while ago. But it’s nice to see you two finally acknowledging it.”

Franky stepped forward, offering a supportive smile. “If you guys need any advice or just want to talk, you know we’re here for you.”

Kimi and Ollie exchanged relieved glances, their tension easing slightly at their brothers' acceptance. Kimi gave a small nod, appreciating the support. “Thanks. We’ll definitely take you up on that.”

As Kimi’s brothers left the room, still chuckling and exchanging knowing looks, Kimi turned back to Ollie, taking a deep breath. “Well... at least it’s out in the open now.”

Ollie smiled, squeezing Kimi’s hand. “Yeah, it is.”

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ray935sworld · 3 months ago

Note

10 with Rosquez? :)

Hi! I am not sure if I completely fullfiled the promp "a kiss to get them to talk" but here is my version if it!

I really hope you like it and let me know what you think :)

"Your quite worries me" - Rosquez 1.7k words

The first thing Rossi noticed was that Marc had been quite. A characteristic that he normally didn’t associate with the younger one. But he had barely said a word since he had picked him up from the airport. Not to mention one of his bone shattering laughs that the Italian had grown to love.

Vale decided to blame the long trip the Spaniard had, after visiting his parents and now returning home to him. But as the minutes passed in complete silence, Marc not even reaching for the radio to fill in for the missing talk, the retired rider knew that he was fucked. Something happened. It must have been so bad that Marc didn’t even talked to him about it. He didn’t even try to.

So something really, really bad had happened. After all, since their reconciliation, they had promised each other to always talk things through. That his favourite person in the entire universe now did the exact opposite, worried him.

Normally the first hours after they had been separated, Marc talked for minutes. Sometimes it was so fast that Vale wondered if he was still breathing. Or how he was getting the air to talk as much as he did. He normally told him everything that happened. From day one to their last day. From Alex stupid jokes to the meaning conversations with his mother when helping her prepare dinner. He told him everything even if he had already mentioned it in one of his messages or during their phone calls.

But now? Nothing.

“How is Alex doing? His relationship is now public, right?” Vale tried. It was a safe topic, right? The older Marquez loved to talk about his baby brother. “He’s fine… Gabriela is nice.” “Fans are nice to her?”

The words left his mouths before he could think about them properly. Fans and their behaviour towards someone might not be as safe of a topic as he had hoped it to be. “I guess” Okay he was fucked. In his mind he tried to find something he did. He must have done something stupid. Again. He often did.

He tried to recall their last interactions. Marc was normal when he left. He had jokingly asked him to just come with him. He had looked up with him with big puppy eyes, smiling at him and whispering “And what if I really, really need you to come with me? What if I’m lonely?” He had known it wasn’t possible. Vale had testing for WEC and Marc would do some family with just his parents and his brother good. That’s why they had arranged it after all.

They had texted and called over the week. He had sent Marc plenty of pictures, knowing it gave the younger one reassurance. He had told him how much he loved him plenty of times. He had even gave him flowers when he had climbed in the car.

But instead of being hugged tightly and showered in kissed, he had simply given him a short kiss and a fake smile. He had thanked him but his voice held something that made Vale’s concern grow with every mile he drove. The more he thought about it, the more he wanted to fix things.

“Marc?” “Vale.” His voice was small. “You seem off… Are you okay? Did something happen?” “No. I’m okay” he insisted. “N-No worries.” “But I do worry. I always worry about you” he said softly. He hoped that his voice portrayed the love and care he had for the young man.

“No need.” “What? Marc, you’re barely talking to me. The last time we were like that-“ Was before we broke up. He luckily wasn’t able to finish his sentence. “I’m just tired, okay?!”

Marc turned away to look outside the window. He watched as the dark trees and bushes passed them. Vale looked at him. He wanted to say something. He wanted to tell him that no, he wasn’t just tired. He knew a tired Marc. A tired Marc would lean towards him, not away from him. He would ask him to tell him how his week has been, what the boys had told him and how everything else was going.

He decided not to ask again. Right now he was driving and couldn’t focus. He let the last 20 minutes of the ride pass in silence while Marc had rested his head against the glass. He had his eyes closed, faking being asleep but Vale had spent so many hours – probably days or weeks if counted together – admiring the younger one in his sleep. He knew he wasn’t.

When he pulled in the drive way, Marc was awake again. They stood up without a word. Marc grabbed his backpack and the flowers and Vale took his suitcase. Quietly, they entered their house. “I’m just gonna go to bed” Marc muttered and went upstairs towards their shared bedroom before Vale could say anything. He just nodded.

He quickly placed the suitcase in the washing room. The cloths would be dirty tomorrow or next week as well. No need to rush it when he had more important things to deal with. And right now was an emergency.

5 minutes later, he caught Marc leaving the bathroom. He was already wearing a lose pair of shirt and an oversized shirt. Actually it was only oversized when he wore it, as it was an old shirt from Vale. The Italian couldn’t help but smile as he saw that. Maybe he hadn’t catastrophically fucked this up.

Before Marc could make an other step, he was wrapped up in a tight hug. Vale buried his head in his shoulder. Their heads leaning against each other. Marc could feel the curly hair against his cheek. He heard his lover breath. He felt his chest rise and fall against his back. He was so close he could smell him. Vale smelled of dirt and sun and lemons. He smelled like the perfect summer evening. He smelled calm and used and old and comfortable.

After a few seconds when he had started to relax in his hug, Vale began to hum a song. Marc knew it was an old Italian love song but he couldn’t remember the name. But Vale sometimes made them dance to it.

Half a minute passed when he finally answered to his touch. His hands softly touched the older ones arms and hugged his face.

After two minutes, Vale carefully turned him around. Without saying a word, he puts his hands around Marc face. He looked at him with all the love he has for him in his heart, soul and his entire body. He smiled and leaned down to softly kiss him.

It was almost like their first kiss, more than a decade ago. Careful and without any kind of rush. He kissed him just to kiss him. He kissed him to taste his lips on his own. He kissed him to feel his breath on his chin as he pulled away. He kissed him to get him to talk cause he knew that his Marc would always answer him once he was sure he was loved and safe.

“Marc… I love you. I love you so incredible much and I don’t even want to spent another day not being allowed to love you. I just can’t. So please… Please, what ever is going on – whatever happened… Whatever I’ve done, just know that I love you and even if I’m an idiot, I won’t let you go to bed while you are so sad.”

Tears were forming in Marc’s eyes as he let his head fall against his lovers chest. “I- love you too” He choked up between sobs. His body was shacking as he pressed himself closer to Vale.

Without a second thought, Vale lifted his boyfriend and brought them to the bedroom. There he laid down first so that Marc could still rest on his chest. The younger one was still crying so he started caressing his hair and softly massaging his sculp.

Eventually his crying died out, until he was just lying there, listening to the Italian heartbeat. “I don’t like seeing you cry” he whispered which made the Gresini rider look up. He kissed him again. “Come on. Please, Marc. Tell me what happened – if you want to of course. What can I do to fix this?” “I… I’m just being stupid. I’m – I’m sorry, it’s actually not worth-“

He quickly silenced him with a kiss that left no room for discussion. The kiss left the Spaniard in a grinning. He felt warm and safe. Like he could say anything without losing the feeling. “Mi amore, if you’re crying over it, it’s definitely important.” He nodded, like a kid being scolded before he answered. “I… I read a few… not very nice articles about me on my flight home… They were from… some… journalists loyal to you and it… It felt like it used to be and… It scared me”

Valentino froze when he heard that. There was so much wrong with that statement and he hated everything about it. He hated the way Marc had felt. He had gone to bed – or more cried himself to sleep according to a very angry Alex – with that feeling to many times.

He hated that he had somehow caused that. He hated that he couldn’t control it. He hated himself for letting things go on for too long. He could have solved this years ago but he had been to blind and arrogant and Marc had to pay for it. Even now. He hated that he felt closer to angry. So he closed his eyes and took a deep breath.

The last thing Marc now needed was an angry Rossi. So he just smiled at him and said “Even if the whole world would hate you, you’d always be safe with me. I promise you, I will never leave you. I was an idiot and I will spent the rest of my life making sure that you know how much I love you”

He kissed his forehead before he continued. “I will do whatever I can to make you feel as loved as possible because for me, you’re the best human in the entire universe and I would trade you for nothing…”

His hands, that had been resting around his waist grabbed him a little bit tighter, just to have him even closer against his body. “And if you’re ever deciding that enough is enough and you want to pack your stuff and move to an abandoned cabin in the middle of nowhere – then be sure that I will be there, holding your hand, happy to follow you to the end of the world”

“Really?” Marc asked with a shy smile. “Really.” “And the ranch?” “Eh… I think Luca is old enough to manage that” he joked and kissed his one and only love again.

“Oh god… You have no idea how much I love you”

#valentino rossi #marc marquez #rosquez #rays writing #I am not completly sure if its count but that was my best idea to that promp #I actually kind of like how that turned out #YES FLUFF VALE #Let that old man be soft #He is a SOFTIE #He knew he fucked up and now he is trying to make up for it #fluff #emotional hurt/comfort #yes this is inspired by vale shit talking Marc AGAIN

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marquez-junky8920 · 1 year ago

Text

Okaaaaay SO I've been totally neglecting this blog lately. Life has been super chaotic recently and I'm finally settling down after almost a year of absolute chaos and stress. Your girl is done with this bullshit.🥲

ANYWHO - I come back here to this wonderful app today and see that I have 300 followers!? Last I left it, I had around 230 and I've not been active on here in forever. Thank y'all for all the support even though I've been on this unofficial hiatus. It means the world to see that y'all still read my fics and support my work! 🥹❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

All this to say... In honor is 300 followers, should I write another fic? I still have 8 requests left in my inbox. Let me know... 👀😏

#motogp #i may or may not be back #can neither confirm nor deny #👀👀👀#marc marquez #fabio quartararo #jorge martin #alex marquez #taka nakagami #motogp smut #motogp fluff #motogp imagines

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parkerloves · 7 months ago

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AND MY GOOD LUCK KISS? | MM93 x Fem!Reader

MASTERLIST

paring: marc marquez x alex bestfriend!fem! reader

trope: bestfriend's bother + smau

summary: yn seems to be more around the paddock than before to support her best friend what leads to her spending a lot more time with his brother too

fc; chiara oliver + pinterest girls (but picture her as you like)

warnings: none, just a lot of fluff, a bit of spanish and a bit of jealousy and bullying (joking ofc)

alexmarquez73 has posted!

liked by yourusername, marcmarquez93 and 14,846 others

alexmarquez73 : Race week is back but someone is here to bother me (again)

tagged: yourusername

yourusername: You were literally begging me to come, like??????

user324: WE MISSED YOU AROUND THE PADDOCK yourusername: I MISSED BEING AROUND THE PADDOCK TOO (he's hiding me or smth)

marcmarquez93: skipping me over now?

yourusername: ... I'm blaming your bother, bye alexmarquez73: why having enemies when i already have her? yourusername: because you don't love your enemies, you love me xx. user658: i don't know how they even put out with eachother yourusername: it's not voluntary

yourusername has posted!

liked by alexmarquez73, marcmarquez93 and 746 others

yourusername: LOOK AT MY FAVOURITE PEOPLE oh yeah, and marc and alex are also there ig

tagged: alexmarquez73, marcmarquez93

alexmarquez73: if you hate us so much then stop coming over

yourusername: and leave Shira and Stich without their best friend? I couldn't be that cruel

user324: be honest, do you even like them?

yourusername: mmm... no alexmarquez73: YN yourusername: alright alright, maybe a bit marcmarquez93: gracias?? *thank you*

marcmarquez93 has posted!

liked by yourusername, alexmarquez73, and 19,694 others

marcmarquez93: she picks up my phone more than I do.

tagged: yourusername

yourusername: and i fill you gallery with my beatiful face

marcmarquez93: I can't complain about that one user324: are they flirting or am I just so lost? user992: I mean, Alex would be her brother after all... in law, but brother alexmarquez73: 🤨🤨

alexmarquez73: SO YOU LEFT ME FOR MY BROTHER?

yourusername: i was hungry, he offered food, i came over user157: she's just a girl guys yourusername: you know the deal darling

alexmarquez73 has posted!

liked by yourusername, marcmarquez93 and 14,846 others

alexmarquez73: great FP1 and FP2 with my personal paparazzi and for some reason Marc decided to join in

tagged: yourusername, marcmarquez93

yourusername: says the man that posted TWO pictures of me

user654: she's more in his profile than himself

yourusername: they can't get over me

user343: Am I the only one wondering if it's Marc or Alex in the last slide?

user194: Is definitely Alex trying to set them up together

yourusername: nah he doesn't want that

user532: YN??????????

yourusername has posted!

liked by alexmarquez73, marcmarquez93 and 746 others

yourusername: do you know how they say that drivers in his home race spend time in their home? WELL THESE TWO MF LIE get out of my house pls

tagged: alexmarquez73, marcmarquez93

alexmarquez73: And the need of post the most shittiest pictures ever?

yourusername: 1) my revenge 2) i have to give content to the girlies 3) why not?

marcmarquez93: can i still come over tonight?

user194: MARC FINALLY COMMENTED ON HIS OWN

user725: and to ask for A DATE????

chat in between marc and alex

yourusername has posted an story!

first one: caption: what a gentleman, liked by marcmarquez93 and 862 others

alexmarquez73 has replied to your story

did he said something weird?

hi to you too, I'm great, thanks for asking

...

he's weird in general, so no gtg bye

second one: caption: 🫠🤍, liked by alexmarquez73 and 957 others

alexmarquez73 has replied to your story

HE HAS TAKEN YOU OUT ON A DATE?

jezz calm down I just wanted to try this new restaurant

so nothing romantic...?

shup up Lex

that's not an actual answer

read at 21:48 pm

marcmarquez93 has posted!

liked by yourusername, alexmarquez73, and 19,694 others

marcmarquez93: i do pick his phone more than him... but he was being quite intimate with his bike, i didn't want to ruin the mood

tagged: yourusername

alexmarquez73: AT LEAST the bullying to him is back

yourusername: he's still all yours, leave the jelousy it makes you uglier alexmarquez73: stop hating on your bff please? yourusername: booooriiiing

marcmarquez93: @yourusername remember me again why do i leave my phone near you?

yourusername: because you love me and my pictures marcmarquez93: idk if it's this worthy user725: they're going to kill Alex at this point alexmarquez73: i'm already dead at this point

alexmarquez73 has posted!

liked by yourusername, marcmarquez93 and 14,846 others

alexmarquez73: ready to race y algunas tradiciones no se rompen *and some traditions can't be broken*

user527: traditions? what traditions?

user135: The first time y/n went for the first time to a grand prix she gave Alex a "good luck kiss" on the cheek and he got a podium, again with the second and it had been like that since forever

yourusername: I should be the one keeping those trophies fr

marcmarquez93: if it works with me i would give you mine alexmarquez73: bro that's OUR tradition marcmarquez93: i need my own good luck kiss

marcmarquez93 has posted!

liked by yourusername, alexmarquez73, and 19,694 others

marcmarquez93: P1 BABY!!! great race today... and maybe i need to continue with this tradition for a while

tagged: yourusername

alexmarquez73: the worst thing is that they did it in front of me, iugh, congrats anyway ig

yourusername: i got you a p2, my kisses are magical, your welcome user725: you can't deny they are cute alexmarquez73: but it's weird

yourusername: CONGRATS BABY (i should start charging for these)

liked by the creator

yourusername has posted an story!

caption: he actually gave me the fucking trophy, liked by marcmarquez93 and 862 others

marcmarquez73 has replied to your story

i made a promise

I WAS JOKING

i was not

coming over anyway?

ofc

#marc marquez #marc marquez x reader #motogp #motorsports #motogp smau #alex marquez #x reader #motogp x reader #parker and motogp →

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remapped-soul · 2 years ago

Text

solar power

when marc can't take care of himself, valentino steps in.

a valentino rossi/marc marquez fic for beloved @carlosheinz <3 self care is hard but we're not alone and i hope you know that <3

read on ao3

(for tw check the tags)

Valentino can’t stand Marc.

It’s a constant feeling nestled between his third and fourth rib, but the intensity varies. On a good day, Valentino simply ignores Marc. On a bad day, Valentino wants to get his hands around his neck and squeeze until the tendons crack under his knuckles. He got a taste of it in 2014. He hasn’t been able to stop thinking about it since. What would have happened if there were no cameras around them?

Marc’s bad luck starts in 2020 and it doesn’t stop. A bad day for Marc means a bad day for Valentino. A bad year for Marc translates into a bad year for Valentino. It’s worse than 2015, more difficult to swallow than 2018. Valentino wants to scream until he runs out of breath and chokes to death.

2022 is the worst of it all. Marc moves to Madrid to speed up his recovery, and it leaves Valentino baffled and a little irritated. The big city won’t be able to replace the things he gets for granted in the countryside: the quiet, the nature, the clean air.

Marc moves to Madrid and Valentino follows against his better judgment. Madrid is fucking insane, but so is driving 20 hours from Tavullia. At least, when Marc doesn’t answer his phone, he is a 20-minute drive away from Valentino’s place in town, close enough to reach before Valentino’s desire to strangle him subsides.

Valentino can’t stand Marc when Marc doesn’t answer his phone. Sometimes Alex picks up when he’s around, saying that his brother is sleeping, eating, exercising. Marc is busy and he can’t come to the phone. Those are the days Valentino drops the car keys back into the glass bowl and gets back to his life. But Alex is not always with Marc, so Valentino gets in his car, he drives with fingers gripping the steering wheel until he parks a little crooked in front of Marc’s house.

When Marc doesn’t answer his phone it means he didn’t get out of bed in the morning, so Valentino has to do it for him. He is annoying like that. Valentino knows where the spare key is, hidden under a fancy pot with fancy hydrangeas around the corner. Of all the windows the house has, there is only one door. Valentino grabs the key and unlocks the door, lets himself inside.

“Sono a casa,” he yells to the empty hallway, the empty living room and the empty kitchen.

The air smells like dust and engine oil, things thrown hazardously around. Valentino stands in the middle of the living room, surrounded by the big couch and the big table, and looks around with his hands on his hips. He’s listening. The house is quiet.

“Brat,” he mutters under his breath. He gets to work. He opens the windows, lets the fresh air in. He gathers the clothes and redbull caps and puts them in one place, fluffs the pillows and loads the dishwasher with dirty plates and cups of coffee. Il dottore turned housemaid. If this is what retirement is about, he doesn’t want it.

When the place looks less like a dumpster and more like a place designed for humans, Valentino sends a prayer to whoever is listening and goes looking for Marc in his bedroom. He opens the door, steps inside. It’s dark, claustrophobic. This time, Valentino doesn’t pull the curtains apart, doesn’t open the windows. He makes his way to the bed, where the blankets sit still, a bump in the middle the only indication there is a person underneath it all. Valentino sighs.

“Sun will do you good, moccioso viziato.”

Marc’s head pops up, unruly curls and unruly smile. “Vale?” His voice sounds hoarse. It hurts Valentino’s brain just hearing it.

“Shhh,” he says as he climbs in bed, slipping under the blankets. Marc is on his good side, his injured arm placed carefully on top. Valentino settles behind him, head tucked into Marc’s shoulder, arm around Marc’s waist.

“Sono qui,” he says before he presses a kiss to Marc’s neck. Marc melts in the embrace, breath stuttering out of him in a hiccup.

“Vale.”

They will stay like this for a while. Then, Valentino will pull Marc out of bed. He will clean this room too, and take a walk with Marc in the garden, force him to a light run because only his arm is broken, not his fucking legs. Valentino will help Marc stretch his muscles, wash his hair, and at the end of the day he will ask for a hefty compensation because he is Il dottore, not a fucking maid.

Valentino hates speaking Spanish and he hates Spanish food, but when Marc refuses to eat, Valentino cooks for him. He speaks in stilted phrases to the women at the market, Tias and Tios that have no idea who he is because this country worships a different kind of God. He learns how to cook escudella and callos a la madrileña because Marc is a spoiled brat and doesn’t want to eat unless it’s his grandmother’s recipe. One phone conversation with Juliá about Marc’s favourite dishes is one conversation too many. But he makes the call anyway and he listens to Juliá’s guidance over the speaker phone as the stew bubbles on the stove. The house smells like meat and vegetables for a long time after, rich and savory that it almost makes Valentino’s mouth water. He’d eat a bowl if it wasn’t for the soft texture of the carrots he despises so much. Marc stops being annoying for a second, he eats two bowls of escudella sitting with his legs crossed on the wooden floor, Valentino next to him munching on a piece of bread. When he’s finished, his smile kicks up a notch before he lunges for Valentino and presses his sticky mouth to Valentino’s cheeks and neck and mouth, wherever he finds skin. His giggles rattle Valentino’s ribcage where they are pressed together.

“See if I ever cook for you, brat,” Valentino tells him when Marc runs out of steam, slumping against his chest on the couch.

“You will,” Marc smiles at him, chin resting on his hands, feet kicking up in the air. Marc is tolerable when his arm behaves and he forgets about the pain for a while. Valentino doesn’t want to break too many things if Marc offers him his smile constantly.

Valentino gets his hands into those curls, tugs at the roots until Marc’s eyelashes flutter. He doesn’t say anything, because they both know Valentino will break his promise the next time Marc refuses to eat. He will cook for Marc again. It doesn’t matter if he hates the process when he loves the result.

Marc is the most infuriating when he can’t stop talking. Valentino doesn’t think Marc is aware of it. It happens when he least expects it, when they’re doing the most mundane shit.

They’re running around the track in Tavullia, and between one ragged breath and another, Marc says. “Maybe if I trained harder, maybe if I worked harder, I’d get better. I’m not doing enough. It’s never enough.” It’s random and unexpected and it distracts Valentino so that he almost trips over his legs and face plants the ground.

It happens when they’re cooking when Valentino is making fresh pesto and Marc is dicing the zucchini. It goes well until Marc tries to dice his fingers too. He nips the tip of his index with the sharp blade, starts swearing up and down, “You can’t do anything right. Idiota.” Valentino almost sticks his own hand in the boiling pasta water because self-inflicted pain is easier to bear than whatever shit Marquez is saying. He doesn’t. Instead, he grabs the first-aid kit and tends to Marc’s tiny wound.

By now, Valentino learned to expect this kind of talk from Marc, but he has yet to learn how to deal with it. He either gapes like a fish as Marc smiles through his horrid words or Valentino leaves the room, fuming, because he can’t yell at a person who thinks they deserve to be yelled at. The crash in Jerez must have damaged more than Marc’s bones. There are enough doctors around Marc to take care of his injuries for him, but who’s taking care of the nasty voices inside his mind? Valentino doesn’t think he is equipped enough for it, not when he can barely stop himself from pressing his fingernail to Marc’s wound in an attempt to make him realise that maybe his way of dealing with the recovery process is not the best one.

“It’s just a scratch, Marc, not the end of the world.”

Marc shrugs, not lifting his eyes from the chopped zucchini. “Then what do you call Jerez 2020?”

Valentino raises an eyebrow at him. “An accident,” he says in English. “Un accidente. Un incidente. If they invented another word for it, I don’t know it. ”

“Only idiots make accidents.”

“Would you tell that to Jorge?”

Marc inhales sharply at that. Fabio would probably knock him over at the next race if Marc called Jorge Martin an idiot.

Valentino smiles. “That’s what I thought.”

Marc frowns. “Te odio.”

“No, you don’t.” And to drive his point home, Valentino grabs Marc’s hands and bites his knuckles until Marc’s face smooths into a laugh and he forgets how the word idiota sounds in his mouth. If Valentino still hears the echoes of that words weeks after, it’s his problem to deal with.

Everything comes to a halt when they are doing laundry and Marc looks at a pair of pants and says, “Maybe I shouldn’t be left out on the track if I keep crashing like this.”

Valentino sees red. He tries to understand most of the time, but his understanding has a limit too. Now all he wants is to scream at Marc to shut up, shut up, shut up. There must be something visible on his face because Marc takes a step back as Valentino turns toward him, hands held high in front of him as if Valentino will attack any minute.

“What?” Marc says, shoulders raised to the ears. “I haven’t seen you this angry since Sepang 2015.”

Valentino ignores him. He grabs Marc’s face in his hands and says, “Amore,” because Valentino never uses pet names unless he wants to distract Marc. It works well this time as well. Marc shuts up and blushes a pretty red, dropping his hands to rest in the crook of Valentino’s elbows. “I’m breaking up with you if you don’t win your ninth.” He says it in Spanish too to drive the point home.

Marc frowns, his brain registering the words. “In case you haven’t noticed—“

“Bodies heal, that’s what they do. Unless you’re dead, there is no reason for you to think otherwise.”

Marc’s frown deepens. “But—“

Valentino presses his lips against the wrinkle on his forehead, down at the corner of his eye, on the edge of his jaw. Marc shudders in his arms.

“You once told me you can be faster than me.”

“I am,” Marc says, eyes closed, breathing hard against Valentino.

“Faster than you, I mean.”

Valentino smiles. “Not sure I believe you.”

For the first time in months, Marc’s eyes twinkle with hunger. “I am. I’ll prove it to you.”

“Good.” Valentino kisses him hard. “You can start doing that, but after you’re done with the laundry. I’m not your maid.”

Marc does not finish the laundry. Neither does Valentino. The sunset catches them in bed, sheets draped all around them as Valentino presses his grievances into Marc’s golden skin until the room lights up with Marc’s giggles, with promises of being kinder to himself in the process of healing. Marc will probably forget come morning. He is infuriating. But Valentino knows where the spare key is and how to cook escudella and calçotada the way Marc likes them. If Marc forgets a thousand times, Valentino will remind him a thousand times.

After all, there is still a race to win.

#rosquez #valentino rossi #marc marquez #rosquez in the year of our lord 2k23 #moto gp rpf #luna.writes #my stories #tw mentions of injuries #tw food #radical self care #marc is really bad at self care and everything that comes with it #i altered the real life events so it fits my narrative #im a little nervous about it tbh. i think i stepped out my comfort zone a bit lol #thanks to lu and maina and mery for all the specific spanish/italian stuff

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lucy90712 · 2 years ago

Text

Marc Marquez- Enemies

Signing for the pramac team and getting to race in MotoGP was something I'd dreamed of for many years and I was so excited about it but it has turned out to be my worst nightmare. You see when I got to race once in the class as a replacement rider I managed to make an enemy without really trying who has been ruining my life now that I'm here permanently. I thought that I was racing well and being respectful of everyone there at the time but clearly Marc Marquez didn't agree or found some other reason to dislike me because now he really seems to hate me. Even when I went back to moto2 I was always hearing his opinion on my racing and he seemed to be friends with everyone else but me which was really frustrating as I just wanted to be civil with him I mean we didn't have to be friends but no he chose enemies. That didn't change one bit when I moved to MotoGP if anything it got worse as it always seems like he pulls silly manoeuvres just on me during races or will pull up behind me when doing practice starts just to psych me out.

Last season I let him get the best of me towards the end and said and did some stupid things which I really regret but I'm determined not to do the same this season. I have moved up to the factory Ducati team this year after doing pretty well last season and I'm determined to show them what I can do and prove that it was the right decision to give me the ride. So far this season I've done pretty well not finishing outside the top 10 apart from one time the brakes broke and I had to jump off the bike and getting a few podiums but it's been a struggle to adapt to the bike as it has so many different features but recently I feel like I've been doing better especially as I was just a tenth off the win at the last race. At this race I'm determined to finally get my first win with the team and get them some good points for the championship.

Typically this weekend we are at Sachsenring where both me and Marc are really good. The team have been telling me not to have expectations as the track isn't really suited to the bike but I'm determined to do well here and show Marc that he has some serious competition. Since I moved to Ducati me and Marc have become each other main rivals as we both end up on about the same lap times and roughly in the same positions in the race and now he's just a few points ahead in the championship which I'm looking to close even more in this race. We are yet to go out on track but I'm really feeling confident and I've been watching the last few years races in between to study the track as well as where the bike seems weak so I know where I can and can't push which I'm hoping will play to my advantage as long as I've interpreted things correctly.

The media attention this weekend has been insane and I've done more interviews than ever all because this is where they believe they will really see mine and Marc's rivalry come to the surface. Usually I wouldn't like too much attention but I've been trying to use it to my advantage and get my name out there as a serious contender for the championship fight. The biggest problem with this is that there are constantly cameras in my face like now that we are preparing for fp1 there is at least 4 cameras on my garage with 3 of them focussed directly on me which is an issue as they always break my focus when I'm trying to get into the zone. Eventually I had enough and just sat on the bike in front of the garage with my helmet on to help block everything else out until the team were ready for me to go.

Like always I was one of the first out on track and set an early lap time before coming in again to see how it compares to what others did. My time was pretty good but Pecco was a few tenths quicker which meant there was room to improve so I hoped back on the bike and head down pit lane but when I turned around to make sure I wasn't too close to anyone Marc was coming out his garage right behind me. Generally I don't mind him following me as it means I'm faster and he wants to use me as a marker or for slipstream but this weekend I didn't want him to as he probably has a slight edge on me so using my slipstream would only make him faster but I guess that's what racing is all about. After another set of laps I came in to check the data before one last time attack and just as I got in they put a replay of one of my laps where Marc got incredibly close behind in a corner and was inches away from taking me out, it was hard to watch it was that close but luckily I didn't notice actually on track so I didn't lose focus.

~~~~~~~~~~

Every other practice ended much the same way with Marc following me around even when I pulled out of a lap he would do the same just to stick with me. His little plan wasn't working though as I have the quickest lap time going into qualifying with him 4th. Through the weekend I've been predicted to get pole which I would love but Pecco is also looking really good and seeing as we have the same bike there's a good chance he could beat me to it. For some reason this weekend I'm really feeling the nerves which is unusual as I mostly only get nervous right before the start of a race not for qualifying but today I'm all over the place. My nervousness must be quite obvious as the team have been trying to help keep me calm and even Pecco has been trying to help which was sweet but it hasn't really worked I'm still just as nervous which isn't what I want when trying to get my first pole position.

As qualifying got closer I watched q1 to see the lap times and who was coming through and their times weren't that near what I knew I could do so that calmed my nerves a little but when it was time to get on the bike all the nerves came right back. For qualifying the team wanted me to go out alone first before coming back in and going out with Pecco so we could help each other which I was fine with as it would be good for the team if we could both qualify on the front row. The plan quickly went wrong when I left the garage and Marc followed right behind me for the whole outlay and then got even closer when we both started our first flying laps. This didn't got well for him though as he went in too fast on one corner and had to hold back a bit while I set the fastest time in the session and then slowed down so I could go back to the pit which I did and the team went over the plan again. I went out first with Pecco right behind me as he was currently 5th but as we were going down pit lane Marc cut in between us and I wanted to slow down to get back to position but I didn't want a penalty so I had to keep going and hope that Pecco could use Marc as his target instead of me.

All of that threw me off my first lap a little bit and I made a few mistakes but I had one more go at it so I put my head down and forgot all about everything around me and focussed on doing a good lap. As I crossed the line I felt good but I had no idea where I actually qualified as there were more people still to taken the checkered flag and most of them had red sectors from what I could see on the screen. Getting round to the practice start area I kept checking every screen until everyone had crossed the line and I was still on pole. I actually got pole position, my first pole position at probably the most important race for me which felt so good as I've been waiting for this day for forever. While checking the screen I saw that Pecco got 2nd and Marc was 3rd which meant that hopefully I had a bit of protection at the start of the race from Marc and his antics.

Getting into parc ferme the whole team were excited and they all congratulated me even if they were part of Pecco's side of the garage which juts goes to show how close the entire team is. Pecco himself came over to congratulate me too because as much as we are rivals on track we are good friends off track and always happy for one another even if it means getting beaten. Marc on the other hand wasn't quite as nice he simply came over and patted my back before walking to his interview without saying a word which has become the norm with him even when I make an effort to properly congratulate him. Just when I thought that I would be done with his antics for the day I had to do my interview and the first thing they asked was my response to a comment Marc had made about how I wouldn't be a threat in the race as I was really pushing just to put that lap time in. Hearing what he said really hurt as when I have worked to hard to get to where I am right now and to get my first pole position is something I've been excited about since I joined the class and to have it ruined because of one stupid comment is really annoying. Not to mention that when I was younger I really looked up to Marc as he was achieving great things and breaking records which is what I dreamed of doing so for him to hate me so much for seemingly no reason ruined all those childhood memories of watching races and wanting to do what he did.

~~~~~~~~~~

After many interviews and press conferences all questioning my ability to hang on in the race or asking about Marc I wasn't excited about my pole position anymore and I'm still not even now that the race is starting in under and hour. I just can't bring myself to be excited about it when I know how tough the race is going to be and that everyone's eyes will be in me to see if I succumb to Marc's predictions. Usually before a race I'm a bit nervous but adrenaline usually takes over and makes me excited to get out on the bike but today I'm the opposite there isn't a single shred of excitement I'm just dreading having to go out there in case I fail and ruin the good reputation I have built for myself. To calm myself down I often watch whatever race is on before and today is no different but while stood at the pit wall I found my mind drifting to thinking about how I would take each corner and what I would do if I was overtaken at a certain part of the track which is not at all what I was going for.

Eventually it came time for the race to start and all the mechanics had left the grid meaning it was all down to me now and no one could do anything to help me. Luckily the warm up lap was first which helped me to feel more confident as the bike felt good just like it had all weekend despite changing a few things for the race. Once back in my place on the grid the lights came on and I watched them closely waiting until they finally disappeared which is when I set off. My start was pretty good but the bike was a little out of control into the first corner but I kept it together and came out the first corner still in first which was great but it meant I had no idea who was behind and if Marc had managed to pass Pecco or if someone else entirely was there. By the 3rd corner I really got into the race and forgot about who might be behind me and just focussed on myself and my race as otherwise I knew I'd start to make mistakes which is not what I want to do.

After 5 laps Marc caught up to me and kept attempting to overtake but he could never make it past as I either out-braked him or simply didn't let him past which made the crowd cheer every time which spurred me on to keep going as they enjoyed the fight and so did I. For once I was winning the battle with Marc as usually he can get the best of me but today I'm not going to let it happen this is my race and I won't settle for second just to not ruffle some feathers. After a few more laps Marc made a mistake and went incredibly wide which I took advantage of to create a few tenths gap which made me feel a lot more comfortable. The gap increased lap by lap for a good majority of the race but in the last 5 laps it started to close no matter how hard I pushed my tyres were just gone and I was losing grip. As much as I didn't want to I had to let Marc catch me and hope that I could do what I did earlier and hope that the tyres didn't let me down.

Marc quickly caught me and passed a few times but each time got him back almost instantly that was until he went up the inside when there wasn't really a gap for him. Instantly I felt myself losing control and the next thing I knew I went tumbling into the gravel eventually stopping with Marc's bike on top of my ankle which was throbbing with pain. As much as I was in a lot of pain I was more angry than anything as I was on to win my first race but as usual Marc had to go ahead and ruin it by making a stupid manoeuvre. He ran over and attempted to pick his bike up and I wanted to tell him to go away but I wanted the bike off my foot more so I let him try although in the end he needed help from the marshals who took what felt like forever to arrive. Once the bike was off my foot Marc helped me walk to the moped that was waiting for us which he drove to the medical centre where my team were waiting to help me. They assessed me in the medical centre and I had just dislocated my ankle which was a relief as everyone in the team was worried it was broken but I hadn't and I should be able to recover quickly enough for the next race.

When I left the medical centre Marc was sat outside waiting so when I came down the steps he tried to talk to me but my crew chief stopped him as he knows about our rivalry and how much Marc annoys me but for once I actually wanted to talk to him and see what on earth was going through his head when he made that move. We went back to my motorhome so I could sit and rest my ankle and so we could talk in private but it was awkward as we both sat down in complete silence for a few moments not being used to being in the same room as each other.

"Y/n I'm so sorry about that I shouldn't have gone for that gap and I feel so bad that I hurt you" Marc said breaking the silence

"I'm not bothered about this race as much as it's frustrating I just want to know why you hate me so much and don't tell me you don't because it's so obvious" I said just waiting answers once and for all

"You aren't going to believe me when I say it" Marc comment

"We'll just go ahead and say it and we'll find out if I believe you" I quipped urging him to spit it out

"Well when you first came in as a replacement and I saw you during media I thought you were amazing but then you were better than me and I felt threatened as people kept comparing us and saying you were giving me a run for my money and I hated that so I then hated you" he explained

"Wait so just because I was better you hated me?" I questioned

"Yeah and it didn't help that I thought you were incredibly beautiful and I didn't want to catch feelings so I pushed you away in anyway possible which didn't work at all because I ended up catching feelings" he added

It took me by surprise that he liked me in that way because when we first met I was attracted to him but because he had been so awful to me I had pushed those feelings to the back of my mind as I thought he clearly didn't feel the same. Hearing him say that made me relive the first time I met him and how I said to my friends that I was going to struggle to focus if he was around. Oh how things changed very quickly but those thoughts didn't go away they were just overshadowed by the rivalry we both had.

"You know I felt the same when we both met and I would have loved to be friends at the very least but I couldn't take the way you treated me" I explained to him

"Can we maybe try this again and go out to dinner or something even if it's just as friends to get to know each other and forget about this rivalry?" He asked

"I'm up for that but if you knock me off like that again it's all over" I joked

We both hugged each other and agreed to do out together when I was feeling better s d if you'd have told me that I would be happy about that just a few hours ago I would have laughed at you but here we are. It felt good that we had seemingly made up and could put this stupid rivalry behind us and become friends or even maybe more if all goes well which I wouldn't be against.

#marc marquez fluff #marc marquez x reader #marc marquez #MotoGP #motogp imagines #motogp one shots #motogp fluff

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kingofthecotas · 5 days ago

Text

postscript | ao3

future fic | ~1.5k words

love writing post-reconciliation with no idea how they got there

——

Marc gets in three and a half hours after he was supposed to.

Storms in Japan meant a delayed flight out of Tokyo, a missed connection in Doha, and landing in Rimini just after two in the morning. By the time he collects his bag, finds his car, and makes the drive home, he’s ready to sleep for the next twelve hours.

The house is mostly dark when he opens the front door, holding his breath as if that’s going to make him any quieter, and gently slides his keys onto the hall table. There’s a light on in the living room, though, and he slips down the hallway, leaving his suitcase by the door.

He hasn’t had enough time here yet, caught in the winds of a busy season, but there’s traces of him: Ducati cap slung on the coatrack; a pair of cycling shoes under the stairs, the decorative glass jar filled with the peppered colours of Aragón stones—they’d given it to him on the podium along with his trophy, said this place is yours, and he’d had to bite back tears.

He throws his coat over the banisters, over a BMW WRT jacket, and follows the warm light down the hall.

Valentino is sitting up on the sofa—well, propped up by his loosely balled hand against his cheek, knuckles pressed into his face. The throw blanket, the one he hates, is twisted around his thighs; Marc had snagged it from the household section of some English supermarket, and Valentino likes to complain that it shits fluff everywhere, it’s all over my sofa, it’s all over my jeans, Marc. His eyes are closed, shadowed in the lamplight.

Marc swallows a fond smile and kicks his shoes off, leaving them in the middle of the rug, before he slides himself onto the sofa beside Valentino and pulls the blanket over his legs.

Valentino blinks out of his doze, heavy eyelids and scrunched expression, but it all softens when he finds Marc next to him. “You’re back.”

“Shit journey,” Marc whispers. “You didn’t have to wait.” He always waits.

Valentino shakes his head. “I fell asleep watching the, ah, IMSA. Actually.”

“Of course.” The TV is dark, no laptop in sight, but Marc lets him have it. “Must have been exciting.”

“Mm.” Valentino yawns. “You must be tired. Very hard to be a MotoGP rider these days. All these first-class flights.”

“Terrible, yes. I’m comfortable here, unless your back cannot handle it.”

A smile cracks. Victory. “I am fine.”

“Good,” Marc says, and stretches up to kiss him.

The first time they’d done this again, pressed their lips together after nearly ten years apart, Valentino had shoved him against the wall too hard, overeager, and Marc had nearly headbutted him in the nose and they’d had to laugh at themselves—Marc thinks he would have cried otherwise, at how apart they’d grown, how they’d forgotten how to move together.

No such problems now; they aren’t starving for each other, trying to breathe it in after years of suffocating. It’s—and Marc never thought he would say this about Valentino—easy.

Marc usually runs hot, Valentino cooler, in a way that makes Valentino roll away in the heat of summer nights, grumbling get the fuck away from me, and curl around him as soon as the temperature drops again. His feet, under the blanket, find Marc’s legs.

“Vale,” Marc hisses, because he may as well have pressed an ice cube against his ankles. It’s late October, and Valentino’s core temperature appears to be the same as that of their fridge.

“We can go to bed.”

“You said you were fine.”

“I am fine.”

“Put some fucking socks on.”

Valentino just laughs into the top of Marc’s head. “Ah, you are tired. We should go to bed, yes? You must be stiff from the plane.”

Because he’s laughing, Marc acquiesces, downs blades. “Fine.” His arm is sore, and from the way Valentino is rubbing it, it must be obvious.

They might play at sword-fighting, feints and jabs that are incomprehensible to anyone else—Pecco had watched them bickering in Misano, forehead pinched, until Valentino accepted defeat with a delighted laugh—but in the quiet, between duels, it’s gentle.

“I can get the hot water bottle,” Valentino offers, “or I put the electric blanket on the bed while you were away. Is it bad?”

“Not bad,” Marc whispers. Just hard airport seats and the autumn-night chill. He’s got the rest of his life to get used to it.

“Come on,” Valentino says, soft now. “Ducati will not be happy if I am not taking care of their rider. Plenty of rest before the next race. You know how it is.”

“Oh, but I thought you were watching the endurance race?”

“Probably for the best, you know.” Valentino lets out an exaggerated sigh. “I might sign up to race in another championship if I am not careful.”

“Give you something to do, no?”

“Ah,” Valentino says, “but who would wait up for you with the light on?”

“Not you, you fell asleep.”

Another huff of laughter. Vale lets him get away with a lot these days, silent apologies Marc has already accepted for transgressions long since forgiven. Valentino’s eyes had been huge the first time, uncomprehending, what do you mean okay?

Forgiveness had always come easy to Marc, relatively speaking, even with Valentino. Especially with Valentino.

They peel themselves off the sofa, untangle the blanket—Vale picks a thread of fluff from his jogging bottoms with a sigh, then bends down to scoop up Marc’s abandoned trainers and a long-forgotten wine glass. Marc folds the blanket, places it over the sofa arm, waits for Valentino to head towards the hallway so he can follow. Glass on the hall table: they can wash it tomorrow. Shoes under the stairs. Suitcase left by the door.

“Who has your trophy?”

“Someone in the team.” Marc shrugs. “It will get home somehow.”

“Too many this year for you to keep track of, hm?”

“One hundred and eight,” Marc reminds him, sing-song, and almost relishes the flash in Valentino’s eyes. There’s no danger in it, not anymore.

“I will have to make Pecco work harder, then. We are training on Wednesday.”

“Promise I won’t run him off the track.”

“You are getting soft,” Valentino says with a smile that’s all teeth, but holds the door to their bedroom open and flicks the light switch.

“Like you?”

“Maybe.” And he says it like he doesn’t mind. “Brush your teeth, you smell like you have been on a plane for twelve hours.”

“I have no idea why that is.”

“Mm.”

When Marc is finished in the bathroom, quick shower, teeth brushed, shivering a little as he dries off, he crawls into bed and can’t hold back a sigh at the warmth beneath his skin.

Valentino watches him, so fucking smug—Marc used to hate that expression, used to grit his teeth and lift his chin against it, but now it’s closer to satisfaction, that he was right, that Marc needed something and he got to give it.

“This is the best thing we ever bought,” Marc says with conviction. “My favourite thing in the whole world, maybe.” Álex can laugh at him for having an electric blanket, my God, you’re old, but the heat of it against his arm is heavenly.

“Your favourite, hm?” Valentino smiles again, easy as breathing. “I will remember this.”

There’s no prodding, no you said it wasn’t bad, no see, I told you, wasn’t I right? No knife sliding through the chink in the armour.

“Eh, you are up there as well. Maybe third on the list.”

“So high?” Valentino stretches out his leg, lets Marc move closer. “There must be at least ten bikes you like more than me, yes?”

“It is close,” Marc murmurs, “but you have a lot going in your favour.” His hands find Valentino’s waist, his stomach—still toned, racing GT cars is no walk in the park—and he presses his cheek against Valentino’s outstretched upper arm.

“Yes?”

“Well, you put the blanket on the bed.”

“Ah, yes.” Valentino lets him shift, shift again until he’s comfortable, without complaint, and offers him a tired smile. It’s one of Marc’s favourite smiles, because it’s one just for him. “This is okay?”

Marc closes his eyes, sighing at the brush of fingers on the back of his neck. His arm will be stiff tomorrow, but this will help, and he has ridden through worse. “Okay.”

“Okay,” Vale repeats, and his fingers curl through Marc’s hair. “I bought eggs for breakfast also.”

“You are getting soft,” Marc tells him, grinning loose and easy where it might have been sharp, once.

Valentino only smiles back, and the part of Marc that still gears up for a fight, buried deep but there, stands down. Three years of this do not erase everything that came before, but every minute they spend like this is another coat of paint over the bloody stain. That’s fine; he has time.

He’s got the rest of his life to get used to this.

#get your self indulgent fluff here #rosquez #motogp rpf #motogp fic #cara.fic #marc marquez #valentino rossi #i’ll put this on ao3 later i’m TIRED #title shoutout to my favourite poem ever. bears absolutely no relevance to this story

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fall0utmind · 22 days ago

Note

Hiiiii sooo, loved this chapter so much

Wanted to kill myself reading it but oh well

He has a message from Casey Stoner, telling him to keep his head up and to ignore the media, although his choice of words is a little stronger

Casey I love you, I hope we get to see more of him in the future

Stop playing games

Now, why was my first thought Uccio🤨

Alex is just glad he still has an older brother

What if I cry 😭

I love their bond sooo much

because Marc Marquez is synonymous with winning, it is his purpose and his destiny. If he is not riding, if he is not winning, he does not know who he truly is.

Yes, you are that bitch Next chapter better have his win🙄💅

(*cough*bikefucker*cough*)

(I'm gonna ignore the implications of the last sentence for my mental health)

Tell Dovi he’s a dick for stealing my thunder. Unfair advantage, he was already in the country. We’ll be there in a few hours

Maybe these 2 will do something so he doesn't think THAT bad of himself

Dovi, I love you, you have my heart(Aleix too, loved that scene)

Peccoooo, I love you, hope we get to see them interact more soon(will we sometime get the taxi scene?)

Also vale being vale

I love every fic where Vale is jealous over dovi It hits like crack every time

And of course the media being the worst as always 😒(maybe we can get him to see/hear some nice words from strangers pretty please 🥺)

In summary, this chapter made me want to kms but the fluff made it worth it

Can't wait to see where you take this story

Helllloooo, fancy seeing you here!!!

I feel like I don't know Casey well enough to write him! But I cam certainly try! Maybe in a spin off?

No comment on Uccio hehe

Marc was truly made for winning, but I cant say whether he will or not :)

So glad you love the protective vibes from Alex/Aleix/Dani/Dovi

I will say that they are the main sources of comfort in the coming chapters- especially the next one!!!

No taxi scene in this fic butttttt lots of Marcnaia interaction coming up!! They play a big role for me in this fic

You keep saying things that I've already written hahahaha! Imma leave it at that for what I'll say spoiler wise 🫶🏼

On a serious note, I know you're probably joking about wanting to kill yourself, but please do look after yourself! Especially if the fic is triggering for you! 🤍🤍.

Can always message me :)

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scrollonso · 3 months ago

Text

Gentle — Marcmarc oneshot

Marc steadies Marco with a hand on his thigh as he leans over Marc’s lap, reaching for the popcorn on the sitting room table. His boyfriend makes a little questioning noise in his throat, and tilts the bag towards Marc, but Marc just shakes his head with a smile, hand rubbing up and down his thigh affectionately. Marco looks so cute like this, dark curls in his eyes, dressed in just a hoodie and sweatpants, light from the TV highlighting his face every now and then.

Marc doesn’t miss how Marco scooches a little closer to him when he puts the popcorn back down, pressing his body closer into Marc’s side, the two of them comfortable and lazy in Marc and Alex's house. He takes it as permission to keep stroking Marco's thigh, moving his thumb in small circles. His attention is easily diverted from the movie to instead watch Marco pick up one piece of popcorn at a time, nibbling and swallowing before starting the next, like he’s a squirrel or something.

Marco notices him staring quickly, glancing his way with his wide, puppy-dog eyes. “What?”

“Nothing,” Marc smiles, and leans in to kiss him, tasting the salty popcorn on his mouth. He wants more of it, and kisses him again, longer and slower.

Marco sighs with a happy, low noise when he pulls away, and Marc realises he’s gripping Marco's thigh a little harder than before, though Marco doesn’t seem to mind. “Where did that come from?”

“Can’t I kiss my gorgeous boyfriend?” he asks, leaning forward again to press a kiss to where his jaw meets his neck, burying his nose in Marco's soft hair.

“Of course,” Marco says, voice softer now. “But you could tell me what brought it on. I might need it in the future.”

Marc smiles into his skin, kissing down the length of Marco's jawline just because he can. He wants to, and Marco likes it, tilting his head a little to give in to Marc, and Marc has kind of lost interest in the movie anyway. It was fine, he just has something much more interesting sitting right beside him.

“Why would you need anything special to woo me? You can just ask me for what you want, whenever you want. I’ll give it to you.” He’s made his way back to Marco's mouth, and kisses him there again, before continuing up the other side of his face. Marco turns his head again for him, humming happily.

“Because saying things is hard. But if all I need to do is eat popcorn and you’re all over me, then great, I’ll remember that.”

Marc laughs a little, reaching Marco's neck, and beginning to kiss down it slowly, languid. He’s turned his whole body towards Marco on the sofa now, and plants a hand over the back of the cushions to steady himself, press in a little closer. “I know you can get shy. But I’m so gone for you, amor, you’ve got nothing to worry about. Nothing to be shy about when it’s me, okay?”

“It’s the most scary when it’s you,” Marco says, very softly, almost a whisper.

Marc withdraws. “Really? Was that too much — are you not comfortable with this?”

Marco shakes his head, stumbling over his words. “N-no, I didn’t mean it like that. It’s not that I’m scared of you — you’ve never made me feel like that. It’s that I’m scared I’m not… that I don’t know… I mean, you know I’ve never seriously dated before…”

“You’re scared of the unknown?”

Marco nods, exhaling. “Not scared to be with you. Just scared to get everything right with you, to be good enough.”

“You’re always good, you’re so good, sweet boy. Never feel like you’re not, because I like you just as you are. Is there something I can do to help you feel at ease?”

“I do feel at ease, I feel so happy with you,” Marco says quietly, and leans in to kiss him, but even this is hesitant, like he’s not sure he can. Marc captures his face with one hand to hold him close, give him confidence that Marc wants this, likes this too.

“Then what is it about me that makes you shy?”

“I just…” Marco is going pinker the more they speak, voice softer, as if Marc might not take it to heart if he doesn’t say it too loud. “I like you so much. I want to make things nice for you too, I want to do things right. But I feel like I can’t when I don’t have any experience.”

"Ricitos, you’ve been so perfect. I'll tell you that every day, if you want. I love being with you because it’s you, not because I want a perfect kisser or someone who gives an amazing blowjob or whatever. When I kiss you and touch you, it’s because I like you so much. When we go further, I don’t have expectations for you, you know that, right? We don’t need to know what we’re doing the first time. Being with someone new is always like that, in a way, so it will be a new experience for me too.”

“It’s not quite the same as never having done anything sexual with anyone, ever,” Marco says, a little self-depreciatingly.

“Hey, don’t do that. Everyone moves at different paces, it’s shitty to shame that. Whenever you wanna go there, we can, and anything you don’t want to do, we don’t have to, okay? You don’t need to be worried about that with me. I want to take care of you first, make sure you’re happy and enjoying what we’re doing. That goes for anything, kissing, touching, any of it. But I can’t do that if you don’t tell me what you do like or don’t like. So that’s the only thing I have to ask of you — try to talk to me as much as you can, okay? Even if you’re shy, know that you’re perfect to me, you’re doing so great. I just want to know what will make you happier, and what you want. Okay?”

Marco's eyes shine a little as they turn on Marc, and his boyfriend leans in again, kissing Marc’s mouth with more confidence and genuine ease this time. It makes him smile, and Maco smiles in return.

“Thank you. That means a lot. I’ll try my best.”

“Anytime, handsome.” His hand is still on Marco's thigh, and he rubs it a few times soothingly, the two of them sitting closely, comfortably. “Okay, now can you tell me what’s actually going on in this movie? I’ve lost the plot.”

Their first kiss had been on their second date, after three weeks of knowing each other. They were having a quiet picnic after the Austin GP, where Marc had bought them hot dogs and they’d talked about whether or not their parents knew they were gay. Marc’s did, Marco's didn’t.

He’d learned a lot more about Marco that day. They finally surpassed flirting messages and shy glances, and while watching the children run through the fountain, he’d learned Marco was homeschooled throughout childhood so he could race but mainly so he could help his dad in his shop, that his best friends were his parents and Rubik, and that, despite appearances, he had never been on a date before.

“But do you mean like, a proper date with flowers and a restaurant and fancy clothes, or do you mean any date at all?”

Marco tilts his head to give him an amused look. “Isn’t this a date?”

“Uh, yes?”

“Are there any flowers or restaurants here?”

“Well, there are flowers over there… but ok, yeah, point taken. I just can’t believe no one has ever asked you out before. That’s crazy, actually insane.”

Marco shrugs. “Not had many opportunities to meet people before I started working. As a teenager I was too shy to even speak to people.”

“So I’m the first boy you’ve said yes to?”

Marco laughs bashfully. “Yeah, okay, I’ve been asked before. Usually by women, though. You’re the first guy I’ve met who seems so… I don’t know. You’ve got such a genuine nature. It made me want to give you a shot.”

“Why thank you,” Marc says, with a little bow.

They buy ice creams after they finish their food, and wander through the trees together. They end up going store to store after that, then to a restaurant for dinner, then the date continues into an arcade downtown. Neither one of them want to call an end to it, and the conversation flows easily.

Eventually, Marco calls ita night, because he has an early flight the following day. Marc is just glad one of them is strong enough to, and walks him to his hotel.

As they’re walking through an alley lit by neon lights, Marc slips an arm around his waist, and Marco returns with one around his shoulders.

“How am I for a good date, then? Do I get a good rating?”

“I’m not a reliable measure of that, since the only other date I’ve been on was also with you.”

“Sure, but I don’t need to know the answer on the scale of universal dates. I just need to know if it was good on the scale of Marco.”

Marco laughs. “It was really, really good. I loved it.”

Marc stops them before they exit the alley, the rush of the main street passing them unawares. “I’m really, really glad to hear that,” he says, pulling Marco a little closer to him. “Is it okay if I kiss you now?”

Marco nods, curve of his cheek lit up purple under the lights. Marc leans in and give him a soft, sweet kiss to the lips.

There’s a sparkle in Marco's eyes when Marc leans out, and they both press forward again for another kiss, just as sweet, but a little longer this time. Marco looks up and down his face, and Marc wonders if he’ll go in again.

“Thank you,” he says softly, and Marc strokes a long piece of hair behind his ear.

“No need to thank me. Was that your first kiss?”

Marco nods, and Marc finds him so sweet, he can’t help but lean in to kiss him again.

“You were perfect,” he says, planting a peck to his cheek before leading them both out to the street again, Marco's face perfectly pleased under the lights, his body warm to the touch.

Marc had booked them a table at a nice Italian restaraunt for their 100-day anniversary, and has to go to Alex for help with what to wear for it. Something nice, but not over-the-top. Something that shows he thought about this, and cherishes their anniversary, but not to outdo Marco too much if he turns up in a t-shirt and jeans. He thinks 100 days is a pretty neat milestone for them to celebrate, but they’ve been taking things slowly since the beginning, and he doesn’t want to make it too much of a thing if Marco doesn’t.

That’s all blown out of the water when Marco shows up.

Marc is waiting for him outside the restaurant, all-too pleased with his dark overshirt, white inner shirt, dark jeans combo, and he spots Marco coming from across the street. It’s like there’s a spotlight on him, even in the dim evening light, even in the crowded streets of Romagna.

Marco's dressed in a sheer, sparkly white shirt, long-sleeved, a glittery jacket over it, and white trousers. He's no stranger to more feminine clothes, Marc knew that, but before he was just some coworker in clothing from the womens isle of a department store. Now, with his dark hair neatly pulled back out of his face, he looks like Marc's beautiful, wonderful boyfriend.

“I think I made a mistake coming in all white,” he says as soon as he reaches Marc, taking his hand and giving him a kiss. “There are definitely going to be stains by the time we leave.”

“It’s worth it,” he says, cupping his hand to Marco's cheek and kissing him again, then unashamedly looking his boyfriend up and down. He’d been too polite to do so the last two times he'd seen the Italian all dressed up, but now he knows this is meant for him to look at. Marco's whole chest is visible through the sheet shirt, twinkling under the restaurant lights. “You look amazing, God. I don’t know if I’m hungry for food anymore, baby, I could eat you all up.”

Marco smiles shyly, eyes curving sweetly. “That’s too bad, because I’m starving. Come on.”

As they’re shown to their table, and he sees Marco under better light, he spots the twinkle of glitter on his eyes too. “Did you even do your makeup?” he asks, when the waiter has barely left their table. “Man, now I feel underdressed.”

“You look so good, Marc,” Marco says, half a whine. “Don’t say that.”

“Okay, I look fine I guess. You should’ve told me you were dressing nice, I would’ve done something too!”

“You look really nice already! What were you gonna do, wear a dress?”

“Yeah, point taken. But you seriously went all out. Was it all to surprise me?”

“Maybe,” Marco says, looking down at the menu with a little smile on his face. “It’s nothing too much — I already had the clothes, and I asked Domizia to help me put some makeup on. I’m glad you like it so much.”

“You look out of this world,” Marc says, and Marco laughs again at his earnestness. “And I’m not just saying that cause your outfit twinkles more than the stars. You’re so gorgeous. I can’t believe you’re ever shy about anything, looking like way you do, baby.”

Marco's laugh turns bashful, shoulders rising to his ears. “It’s not that I’m not confident in how I look, I don’t have a problem with that. I just don't know what to actually do with myself, like, ever.”

“Honestly, you could just sit there and look pretty and I’d do whatever you asked of me, gorgeous.”

The waiter reappears at their table to take their order at that exact moment, and Marc suppresses laughter as Marfo goes even pinker than before, stammering out his order. Marc hasn’t taken his eyes away from Marco long enough to check what’s available, but he takes a stab at something on the list and orders it. He’ll be happy with whatever comes.

He’s got more important things on the menu for tonight.

“To be honest…” Marco starts, pulling at his earlobe and glancing at the floor before courageously meeting Marc’s eyes. “Well, I hoped you’d be looking at me tonight.”

It’s the boldest thing he’s ever heard Marco say to him. “I’m definitely looking,” Marc promises, leaning forward with his elbows on the table. “Did you want my attention?”

“I always do,” Marco says, reaching out over the table, and Marc leans forward automatically to take Marco's hands. He’s got a roundabout way of working up to things, and Marc can taste the anticipation on his tongue as he waits for his boyfriend to arrive at what he wants. “But I’ve been thinking more about what you said to me a few weeks ago.”

“What was that?”

“You asked me to tell you more about what I want,” Marco says, thumb stroking over Marc's hand slowly, looking between Marc's face and their entangled fingers. “And be honest… and ask you for things.”

“I did,” he agrees, voice low. “So what is your sparkly, sheer shirt telling me? What is it you want?”

“I don’t think I should say it here, in the restaurant,” Marco says, through a breathy laugh. “But I want you to come back to my place, and stay over tonight. Would that be okay?”

Marc exhales, feels his own breath shake a little. He and Marco had been to eachothers houses a few times before but neither of them has stayed the night before.

He’s pretty sure he knows what Marco's getting at.

“Amor, that would be more than okay with me,” he says, lifting Marco's hands to his lips. The press of his lips there is a long moment where only the two of them exist, Marco's smooth skin against his mouth. He feels a little heady, knowing just how much more of his skin Marc will get to explore with his mouth tonight.

They slide back into their seats as the waiter arrives back with their drinks, Marc flashing him a smile even though he barely sees the guy. His whole body feels wired up and alert, like he’s just had something injected into his veins. Now that Marco's made the suggestion, all he can think about is taking that sheer shirt off and getting his hands on his boyfriend — but he’s a civilised man. He can wait, and have their nice anniversary dinner first.

Marc manages to tame the feral animal inside him enough that he can relax back into their intimate evening out together, the two of them buzzed off just a little bit of alcohol, and a lot of the high of being in love. God, he is so gone for Marco.

He can tell Marco is wired up all evening, too, and as soon as they get up to leave the restaurant together, he takes Marco's hand and pulls him close. They walk through the streets swinging their connected hands, laughing and talking about anything and everything they'd been ip to. Marco's laugh makes his heart sing, and he can’t wait to get back to the apartment and kiss him silly.

“Am I still staying the night?” he asks when they’re stood in Marco's apartment block elevator, still holding his boyfriend’s hand. “Don’t feel like you have to say yes if you’ve changed your mind.”

“I can tell how excited you are to stay,” Marco says. The elevator doors slide open, and he leads the way across the hall.

“That doesn’t mean I’m gonna be upset if you change your mind,” Marc says, putting an arm around Marco's waist as he keys in his apartment code.

“I’m excited too,” Marco admits, pushing the door open, and Marc smiles as Marco turns in his entrance way to face Marc, walking backwards into the apartment to keep their hands interlinked.

“God, I’m so ready,” he says, coming in to kiss Marco on the mouth. “Just to be clear, we’re talking about sex, right?”

“We are talking about sex,” Marco confirms, and Marc shifts his hand back to Marco’s waist, to pull him in close and kiss him deeply, slowly.

He hears Marco inhale as he does, tilting his head into Marc’s kiss, free hand sliding up to hold onto his shoulder. Marc’s hand regrips Marco’s waist until his shirt hitches up, and Marc has his hand on hot, bare skin. “You’re amazing,” he murmurs against Marco's mouth, and gently guides him backwards towards his bedroom.

“I haven’t done anything yet,” Marco says, through a breathy laugh, and Marc kisses him again.

“I just wanted to remind you. But also, you’re not going to go down in my estimations if you want to stop at any point…”

“I know, I get it, it’s okay. I’ll tell you. But right now, I really want you, amore.”

“Yeah? How do you want me?”

Marco comes in to kiss under his jaw, and Marc sighs in satisfaction at the touch of his soft lips against Marc’s skin. “I want you to be in charge,” he says, a whisper right by Marc’s ear, like he was too shy to say it aloud. Cute.

“Yeah? You want me to decide everything?”

“Yes, please.”

“No problem, ricitos. I’ll take good care of you, okay? You don’t have to worry about a thing. Take your jacket off for me, and your shirt.”

Marco complies readily, dropping the jacket on the floor and lifting his shirt over his head.

Marc groans, admiring Marco's figure, reaching out to run his hands up his sides. “Jesus Christ.”

“I’ve been working out more than usual…” he says, as if embarrassed by the fact that he looks sculpted by a God.

“It’s paying off,” Marc reassures him. “Take your pants off and get on the bed, okay?”

Marco unzips his jeans as Marc pulls off his top in one movement, following Marco over to the bed, the two of them never far apart as Marco sits back, looking Marc up and down with round eyes.

“Amore,” he says, catching Marc's attention as he shoves down his own jeans.

“Yes, sweet boy?”

Marco pulls himself back onto his bed, and Marc mounts the bed on his knees, crawling over after him until they come to a comfortable stop in the middle of the bed, Marco sitting up, Marc leaning forward. “I love you.”

Marc hums, and leans forward to kiss him again. “I love you too. Lie down, baby.”

Marco's elbows slowly give way until he’s on his back, and Marc leans over to kiss his collarbones, taking Marco's thighs in his hands to reposition him, so he can plant himself between Marco's legs. He seems surprised by it, making a little noise that makes Marc want to bite down and mark his skin. Instead, he continues kissing downwards, along the divot in his chest, over every mole littering his chest, leading towards his toned stomach. Every inhale throws Marco's hard work into relief, muscles standing out in the lamplight of the bedroom, and something in him loves that Marco is strong but wants Marc to take charge, make him his.

“You are so beautiful,” he murmurs. “Turn over, let me see all of you.”

Marco goes obediently, and Marc runs his hands over his bare back, feeling every notch of his spine and beginning to kiss along that too. His hands wander to Marco's front as he does, and find his ribcage, pressing his fingers into the divots like he wants to leave his fingerprints all over him, be found at the scene of the crime, clearly flag the signs that he is mine.

“I’m going to take your boxers off, okay?”

“Mhh-hmm,” Marco hums.

Marc leans forward, blowing softly into Marco's ear. Marco shudders with a little whine.

“What was that for?”

“You need to use your words, baby.”

Marco shivers a little at his low tone, and Marc smiles, pressing his mouth to Marco's bare shoulder.

“Yes, please, I want you to.”

“Good boy,” Marc says, kissing the nape of his neck before sliding his fingers into the waistband of his underwear, pulling the boxers all the way off and throwing them to the floor.

He groans as he looks over every inch of Marco, in the position they’re in, Marco slowly pushing to his knees, pink flushed across his cheeks and chest. Marc places a hand reverently on his ass, pushing slightly to see his hole a little better. Marc’s own boxers are becoming uselessly damp and uncomfortable.

“Can I ask you something?” Marc says as he pulls his boxers off, flinging them away without a second thought.

“Yeah?”

“Did you wax for this?”

Marco groans and hides his face in the covers, and Marc gets both hands on his ass, pulling the cheeks apart to breathe over his hole. There’s not a hair on him.

“I get waxed sometimes, but…”

“You timed it, right?”

“I don’t wanna talk about it!”

Marx laughs, and leans in to lick a stripe across Marco's asshole, and he shudders and whines in surprise.

“For the record, I’m happy however you come, okay? You don’t need to do all this for me.”

Marco raises his head, looking back at Marc. “Don’t you like it?”

“My baby, I don’t think I could ever dislike how you look,” Marc says, reaching around to grasp Marco's length in hand, stroking him slowly, spreading his leaking precome up and down his shaft. “You’re perfect, you’re so good. I love it, I just want you not to feel pressured to do anything special for me, okay? Next question is, do you have any lube? Condoms?”

“In there,” Marco gestures, and exhales when Marc releases him to reach over to the bedside table, opening the second drawer and grabbing the bottle. “Do we need… condoms…?”

Marc smiles slyly down at Marco, who doesn’t look back at him. “You don’t want one? I’m clean, I just got checked before we started dating.”

“I’m a virgin… and I got checked anyway, at my last health checkup. I don’t want a condom.”

Marc leans in to kiss him, and Marco tilts his head to meet it. “Okay. Whatever you want, baby.”

“Do you want me on my front like this?”

“You look like a picture right now, amor, unless you don’t like it.”

“I like it,” Marco says shyly, face half hidden behind his arm. “It’s just a bit embarrassing.”

“In a good way?” he asks, uncapping the bottle and getting back into position behind him, running his hands up Marco's thighs. “In the making you more horny way?”

“Yeah,” Marco admits, and Marc grins, and begins pouring lube directly onto his hole before putting some on his fingers too. Marco gasps at the cold contact, and pushes forwards a little as if the move away from it, and Marc steadies him with a hand on his hip.

“You’ve done this much before, right? Played with yourself?”

“Yes,” Marco says, a little whine. “But it’s different with someone else.”

“It is,” Marc agrees, pushing the lube in with his index finger, immediately greedy at the feel of Marco's heat, eager to get himself properly inside his boyfriend. “God, you’re doing amazing, darling, you’re so good for me. You’re gonna feel so good, I promise.”

“Put more in, please,” Marco groans into the sheets, and Marc complies without thinking twice, pushing a second finger inside him.

“You excited too? You want me inside you?”

Marco whines again, almost distressed, and Marc sees the way he’s got the sheets tightly in his fists, like even this is overwhelming for him. “Yes, yes I want you, please.”

“You’re still okay, baby? Want me to keep going?”

“Yes, yes, please don’t stop now, amore…”

“I won’t, baby, just checking.” Marc kisses the small of his back as he pushes in a third finger, and Marco keens, back arching in response. Marc might drool the longer he has to watch this, dick throbbing, and not be inside the most gorgeous boy he’s ever seen. The slide is smooth now, even with three fingers, though Marco's hole keeps tightening around his fingers sporadically.

“Will you please—” Marco says, cutting himself off with a frustrated noise.

“What is it?” Marc asks, withdrawing his fingers and putting his hands to Marco's waist again. He pushes onto his knees and grips himself, to better align with Marco's hole. “What do you want, baby? Come on, tell me.”

“I want you, please. Please, inside me, Marc.”

He places the tip to Marco's rim, rubbing circles into his waist gently. “I want to, baby, but you’re going to have to ease up for me first. Can you do that? Take a breath in, then exhale.” He moves his hand to gently rub Marco's side, help him relax. "That’s it."

After watching him breathe in and out a few times, gently stroking and praising him, he slides inside with a low groan. Marco goes quiet too, panting as Marc bottoms out inside him.

“That okay?” he asks, though he’s starting to lose his train of thought, obsessed with the feeling, the encompassing heat of being inside Marco. “God, you feel amazing, so good. You’re so good for me.”

Marco takes a few seconds to breathe. “You too. You — it’s a lot, but — want more. I want you, please.”

“Yeah?” he kisses his back, over his shoulderblade, and shallowly, slowly pulls out, and pushes back in again. The sound is obscene, and the feeling is divine, and he kind of wants to be here forever. “You want me?”

“Please, I want you,” Marco says, and Marc finally releases him to place a hand over his on the bedsheets, their fingers entwining on the bed.

“I got you,” he says, and begins to thrust into him, enjoying each snap of his hips deep inside his boyfriend, every stroke against his walls, the feel of skin against skin and Marco whimpering under him.

He cries out at one particularly hard thrust, and that motivates Marc to go harder, despite his aching thighs and the sweat collecting between their bodies. He wants Marco to feel good, as much as his own pleasure — he does his best to bring a hand around and begin to jerk Marco off whilst maintaining his balance. He’s getting close embarrassingly quickly, though he has a suspicion Marco is nearly there too.

“Baby, I want to come in you. I’m gonna…”

“Please, yes please,” Marco says and it only takes a few more thrusts for Marc to shudder into an orgasm, groaning and biting into Marco's back lightly. Marco comes only seconds later into Marc’s hand, whimpering like a puppy, and Marc kisses his back once more, waiting for them both to catch their breaths before sliding out of him. He rolls Marco over to see his face, smiling widely, feeling so blissed out and tingly.

That smile is wiped away when he spots the tear tracks on Marco's face. “Oh God, baby, are you okay? Did I hurt you?”

“No, no. It’s — it’s because I liked it so much. Promise, it was so good. Really.” Marco reaches up to pull Marc into his side, and Marc goes without complaint, burying his face into Marco's neck.

“Are you sure?”

“I’m so sure. You were amazing. You made me feel so good. Did I… was I okay?”

Marc pushes himself up to press a kiss to Marco's cheek, running a hand up and down his chest reassuringly. “You were so perfect. You’re so gorgeous, and you did so well. So good for me, Marco.”

Marc kisses him for a long moment, and when he pulls back, Marco's smile is so bright and wide that he knows nothing is wrong. They really are good tears. He hadn’t realised he’d been feeling so pressured to do well until right now — it was different, being the one with the upper hand. The last person he had dated seriously like this had been Valentino and to say he wasn't gentle when he took Marc's virginity was an understatement. Marc was convinced sex was only about the dominant ones pleasure, only about letting them cum then leave you naked and afraid. Marc never wanted Marco to feel as unwanted as he had that night.

He smiles too, Marco wrapping his arms around him, and Marc does the same. “Thank you, Marc.”

“You don’t have to thank me. Sex takes two — you did so good, really.”

“Really?”

Marc kisses him again. “You were so perfect, I’m serious. You don’t have to worry about anything.”

“I feel so safe 'nd good, with you. You’re so good to me.” He hums, eyes falling closed

“You deserve it, angel. Never think otherwise.”

He runs a hand up his side to hold him close. Marco curls into him, and the two of them lie there, breathing slowing, naked and safe, comfortably pressed together.

#aka marc taking marco's virginity #and being a better boyfriend than vale was #kats motogp blurbs!#motogp #marcmarc #bezquez #marco bezzecchi #marc marquez #mb72 #mm93 #motogp rpf #rpf #sports rpf #ao3 #fanfic #smut #fluff #uh #yeah

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