#marc pats(?) vale's back

[isacksteban]

them (marc and alex)

[prostatepushingpecco]

Two Vials Later.

Uccio and Vale, wanting to give their boyfriend a solid sign of their affection, took the risk. Two vials of de-aging potions later, and Marc now had two boyfriends his age.

'€5.25 for two vials' - Your Etsy Witch.

The dm was very clear, Valentino's witch on standby was happy enough to help him with his request. She was even kind enough to give him a discount.

Valentino was a lucky man. He had a great racing career, friends in abundance and two lovers. He had a second chance at the life he thought was long gone. 

But he didn't have time.

Youth was a fickle thing. One touch was all everyone could get. But Valentino had something most didn't, an etsy witch who took pleasure in his schemes and the bankroll to fund them. A youth spell was harder. It required more than a few hairs and spoken words. Yet his witch was skilled enough, two vials of the potion, potent enough to last a lifetime and carefully measured to bring back himself and Uccio to Marc's age. A gift to their latest addition, an apology and a promise. With this they had the chance to experience life together, going through it all at the same time. Not Marc trailing behind the pair, not Valentino storming ahead, not Uccio bridging them to each other.

They fought about this idea, the risks too high, the potential for the vials to be useless hanging thick in the air. How much could you trust an etsy seller for life altering drinks? What were the chances of the vials being filled with vodka dyed with food colouring? Valentino trusted her with his life, and yet all she did was curse Jorge Martin and his bones. It wasn’t very difficult to curse Jorge. A few choice words whispered in front of his pit, just loud enough for him to hear. During the race, he would do exactly what was said, just a mind trick that he was too weak to fight. But Uccio had convinced him, something that he would have never expected to happen. “It’s his way of trying to get back the time he missed with you.” Uccio had said, stirring a pot on the stove. Something in Marc shattered. He had spent years trying to get over Valentino to ignore whatever he felt about Uccio and yet. Here he was, both of them under the same roof as him, willing to risk their bodies to get more time. Not just time in general, but time with him.

The trio sat in their bed, vials in hand as reality hit them. Marc remembered Valentino's youth, that face he memorised years ago. He looked at Uccio, vague ideas dancing in his mind as he watched him drink the vial. “Dumbass you were supposed to wait for me!” Valentino exclaimed, chugging his vial as Uccio groaned, face pressed against the mattress. “This tastes like shit.” he mumbled as Vale hid his face in Marc's thigh. “Yeahyeah what were you expecting, huh? A spritz for youth?” Valentino looked up at Marc and winked, “too much time in front of that ipad, and now his brain doesn't work.” Uccio sat up, whacking Vale on the shoulder with a grin. “I'll show you how my brain works in a second.” Marc could feel his heart in his throat, his eyes wide as he stared at Valentino's sparkling eye and Uccio's flushed cheeks. 

“Oh.” Marc stated, not sure where to look. Uccio pressed his hands to his face, feeling the soft skin. “What?” Marc shook his head as Valentino reached out to cup Uccio's jaw. “Your jaw is back.” Uccio threw his head back in a laugh. “Thank god, I thought I'd never get it back.” Uccio patted his face, feeling stubble under his fingertips. He turned to look at Valentino, complaint on the tip of his tongue, falling to the wind. Valentino's face had lost the weathering that came with age. There was something extra in his smile, not boyish but more impish. A spark that Marc knew very well, a spark that everyone knew well.

Vale's hair had grown out to the puff of curls it had once been. Marc reached out, running a hand through Uccio's hair before doing the same with Vale. “I need to shave.” Uccio announced, his hand holding Marc's against his face. There was a thickness to the air, lust mixing with confusion. Either of them was willing to make the first move. What would happen if they kissed and everything they had built washed away in one motion. Nerves nipped at their ankles as Valentino held the napes of their necks, pushing them with caution towards each other. The worry melted away as Uccio crawled closer to Marc, pulling him into his body as Vale sucked on Uccio's neck. 

Marc pulled away breathless, cupping Uccio's face as a laugh bubbled out of him. Valentino pressed his face into Marc's neck, breathing him in as they fell in a pile on the bed. Comfortable silence blanketed them as the complaints began. “I need to shave my head. Now.” Vale began, tugging at his curls. “Or just cut it shorter.” Marc smoothed a hand over his forehead, vale almost purring. Uccio lay with his head on Marc's chest, scratching his jaw against his body. Valentino reached out, dragging his nails across Uccio's jaw as the latter sighed in relief. 

The clock on the wall ticked along as they fell into a routine. Marc ran a hand over Vale’s hair, the other over Uccio back. Uccio rubbed his thumb against Marc's waist, his other hand drawing shapes on Valentino's back. Vale massaged a thumb on Uccio's jaw, his other hand under Marc's neck, still holding him. The empty vials of youth potion sat empty on the desk, a checklist of things that had to be done growing as the clock lulled them to sleep. 

[lagunaseca2013]

marcnaia arranged hookups? luca coda? tell us more please im so curious

lol hi anon! I feel like arranged hookups sounds a lot more sinister than it actually is. the premise of the fic is basically gigi tells pecco and marc that they have to hang out once every race week for idk team bonding reasons. little does he know they had emotionally fraught not-really-hate-sex at valencia testing which pecco cannot get out of his head, and marc enjoyed quite a bit, so their mandatory hangouts immediately become weekly dick appointments. it’s told entirely from pecco’s pov and the 2025 season progresses as such.

the luca coda is like. okay well obviously pecco is weird and fucked up about the decade long situationship he had w luca prior to luca’s, um, marriage. marc clocks it almost instantly and is trying to get to the bottom of it for most of the main fic, except it’s so painful for pecco to even think about that he literally can’t address it in the privacy of his own mind. the luca coda is to kind of slot in the missing puzzle piece of the story, what pecco is carefully avoiding for all of the main fic. I’m actively working on the main fic (it’s called honey trap and is tagged as such on here) but here’s the intro to the luca coda bc idk if that will ever see the light of day!

—

Luca hears about it from Celin, of all people. They’re walking back from the showers together because they both like to go last; it feels cleaner, to Luca, not to have someone breathing down his neck and flicking mud at him if he’s taking too long. It’s just another quirk for Celin, who has a lot of preferences with seemingly nebulous origins.

Pecco had told Bez, apparently, and was freaked enough by his reaction to keep it from the rest of them. Celin and Bez are in some kind of symbiotic relationship that only occasionally harms them both, so of course he heard about it eventually. Or, immediately, if Luca’s suspicions are correct.

He lets it slip when they’ve nearly reached the house, amber light spilling from the windows, shadows of bodies milling around through the glass sliding doors. It’s probably going to be some kind of pasta, because Vale’s chef has been around long enough to have pre-season traditions. He’s thinking about how he’ll convince Vale to break out the good wine, instead of the cheap stuff he buys in bulk because he still views them all as children with no taste, when Celin asks, apropos of nothing: “Do you think it will end poorly for him?”

Luca pauses, huffing a laugh and ruffling a hand in Celin’s hair. “Do I think what will end poorly for who, Stellina? I’m not like Bez, I can’t read your mind all the time.”

Celin blushes, shoving him away and patting at his wet curls self-consciously. They fall exactly the way they did before Luca got his hands in them, and exactly how they did before the shower. “Marco can’t read my mind,” he says sullenly, instead of clarifying. There’s a guilty edge to his look, like maybe he was hoping Luca would understand what he meant before he had to give away more details. Probably, this is another one of those things Bez told him in bed.

“Cmon,” Luca nudges him forward. He’s hungry and he’s tired and he’s getting cold standing in the dark with his hair also wet. “If you’re not going to tell me at least let me go inside before there’s no tortellini left.”

Celin grimaces, a torn expression on his face. Luca sighs, wondering when he became a person others confessed things to. These are the consequences of getting old, he presumes. “It’s just—well,” Celin looks down, fiddling with the hem of his oversized sweater. It’s probably Bez’s, just like whatever it is that he can’t seem to spit out is also Bez’s to share. Or maybe it isn’t. “Did Pecco really not tell you? What Ducati is forcing him and Marc to do?”

Well, Luca thinks, staring as the glow of the house dims, a bit. Someone had finally remembered to draw the curtains. There’s a sinking feeling in his gut, but he can’t attribute it to any one thing. Since he’d moved to Honda, the beginning of every season has sort of felt like a million things slipping through his fingers. Things he’d once held close quietly washing away. He and Vale don’t talk about work, really, anymore.

He doesn’t ask, whatever it is that Pecco told Bez who told Celin, that Ducati is forcing him to do with Marc Marquez. Luca has never held the sort of grudge against Marc that he probably should, and they’re teammates, anyway. He does all kinds of things with Joan Mir that he rather wouldn’t.

And the thing is, Pecco hadn’t told him.

Pecco isn’t really speaking to him right now. Although—maybe that’s overselling it. It doesn’t seem to be a choice so much as a natural consequence of the ever-growing space Marc Marquez appears to be taking in his best friend’s life. Luca feels it, though. An absence so large it’s become a presence. So hot and cold, Pecco has always been. Emotional whack-a-mole.

[fall0utmind]

chapter 16 :)

Hi guys,

one more chapter after this one - I am so chuffed with this coming to an end ha

hope you enjoy - let me know

ao3 here

Chapter 16- (The) Come back (to me)

Marc doesn’t know how it happens, one moment he’s out of the shower, ready to settle down for the evening, glowing in the aftermath of another win and trying to ignore any thoughts of Valentino. The bitter sting from their confrontation earlier is still burning. He doesn’t know what to make of it- his head is still spinning, his heart smarting. Marc tries to take stock of the facts: he loves Valentino and wants to make up, but doesn’t want it to be a product of guilt rather than affection. He doesn’t want friendship alone. It hurts that only pity could bring about their reconciliation. He doesn’t want Valentino to see him so weak, lest he realise Marc isn’t the one he wants.

The next he knows; he is being dragged into the rapidly cooling night air by one of Valentino’s minions. Fucking typical. He cannot seem to escape the older man, no matter where he turns.

He stumbles next to Pecco, questioning why the fuck he has been taken from the warmth of his motorhome and whether he is about to be murdered.

(Unlikely, but never impossible)

To his surprise, Pecco pulls him to what looks like Valentino’s motorhome, which is a bad idea. Marc tries to pull away, but Pecco keeps his grip tight on Marc’s arm and a second later is shoving him through the door. Marc turns to glare at the younger man; this all feels very unnecessary (and stupid). A quick scan of the room tells him that (thankfully) Valentino isn’t present. Even the boys wouldn’t be that stupid, he thinks anyway.

Marc keeps his head down once he’s scouted the room, trying to blend into his surroundings. Pecco keeps pushing him forward. He doesn’t think this is a good teammate-bonding exercise.

On the sofas, a few of the boys are lounging, scrolling through their phones or talking between themselves. To Marc’s surprise, it’s Mig who greets him first with a quick ‘ciao’ and a friendly smile. The others continue in kind. None of them seem confused by his presence which suggests that this was planned. Marc struggles to wrap his head around why they’ve committed to this; he assumes that Pecco is simply the designated kidnapper for the evening.

Luca is up by the sink. He twists around at the sound of chatter, smiling softly but bemusedly when he sees Marc.

“Sorry,” Luca offers, “It wasn’t my idea, but the others think some forced bonding might make it easier for Vale”

Luca laughs incredulously at the idea. Bez immediately scrambles to his feet and launches into a defence.

“It’s a brilliant idea; Valentino has to realise at some point that he’s being stupid-”

“Said the one who only realised two weeks ago” Cele mutters. Bez shoots him a glare and turns back to Marc with wary eyes.

“Yeah, sorry about that” Bez begrudgingly murmurs, avoiding eye contact.

Marc stares, and there’s another awful pregnant pause as the room looks on. Marc assumes this is a pretty defining moment for their relationship.

He sighs.

“It’s fine. It’s too much effort to hold grudges. You hate me because of what Valentino has said, he’s your hero. I don’t blame you.”

Pecco claps a hand on the back of his neck. Marc tries not to flinch. Since Dovi and Dani left the paddock a few years ago, Marc’s been pretty isolated. He isn’t used to the casual touching that comes naturally to these boys. He doesn’t know whether to pull away or lean in. 

Bez stands and pulls Marc into a slightly stiff half hug (Marc’s sure that they will get there), before he slumps back onto the sofa, practically on top of Cele, causing the younger to squawk and fall into a fit of giggles.

Like that, the tension is broken.

 Luca rolls his eyes and turns back to the kitchenette, as Pecco leans up against the counter next to him. Marc stands awkwardly for a second but perches on the sofa’s edge when Franky pats the space. He feels out of place, too jagged for the smooth comfort of the motorhome. The boys are so comfortable in each other’s presence whereas Marc feels like an intruder. He is content to listen quietly whilst the others talk.

Underneath his skin, discomfort prickles. He isn’t meant to be here, he is scared that if he opens his mouth, they will all flinch, push him away, and realise what they have done. Or he will say the wrong thing, and be accused of evil, or something. He is too stiff, his spine upright as he perches on the sofa. Luca keeps looking over at him, Franky too. The latter is typing frantically, at one point stopping to squint between Marc and his phone. Marc pointedly doesn’t look back.

He misses Pecco and Franky’s shared glance over his head, too busy watching Bez and Cele interact. Marc thinks they are the youngest of the main academy group; they certainly act more childish together, like the younger brothers of the group. An odd mix of boyish humour and pining glances is shared between them. It's somewhat sweet.

He wonders whether they’re dating.

A hand lands on his shoulder and he jerks, immediately freezing and hoping it isn’t too obvious. He stays still, not daring to glance at where Franky’s hand rests. He tries to act normal; it’s just someone (one of Valentino’s students) touching him (someone other than Alex) as if that’s something that ever happens at races (it doesn’t, it hasn’t in years).

Marc relaxes slightly as the conversation continues around him, no one drawing attention to the way Franky’s fingers curl over his shoulder, hovering slightly as if he’s afraid to fully commit to touching. The stiffness in Marc’s body ebbs as he sinks into the touch, allowing Franky’s grip to become a grounding presence. He tries incredibly hard not to overthink.

(He fails)

Marc is so stuck in his thoughts that he barely notices Luca and Pecco moving, only registering when Luca tucks himself into the final space on the sofa, between Marc and the arm. Pecco trails after him, sitting on the floor in front of them and launching into a discussion with the others. It places Marc firmly between Franky and Luca, with Pecco shifting to lean back against Luca’s legs. On the adjacent sofa, Bez is still practically in Cele’s lap, joking around with Mig as if used to it.

There is a poke to his leg whilst he is distracted, followed swiftly by another. His attention is drawn to Pecco, whose finger is raised as if mid-attempt three. Marc raises an eyebrow.

“What do you think? Rain or no rain?” Pecco asks.

Marc hums under his breath, considering. He is glad Pecco has brought him into easy conversation territory. It has been glorious all day but there are talks of it turning overnight, as it had yesterday. It is uncertain but not off the radar completely. Spain tends to be hot, even in September, but it isn’t rare to have rain showers. He says as much.

He wonders why Pecco asked so out of the blue since the younger man simply nods in assent and moves the conversation on.

Franky shifts, draping his arm across Marc’s shoulders now. Marc unconsciously relaxes into the touch, leaning into Franky ever so slightly. It is odd, how quickly he is adapting to this behaviour. His shoulders drop and he falls back against the sofa.

Marc doesn’t notice Franky’s pleased smile, nor how his phone vibrates in his hand. If Marc were less tired and more engaged, he might piece together that his brother has a hand in this.

Alex knows him better than anyone else and knows that Marc will let his guard down when he feels comfortable. The boys have done a frighteningly good job of acting normal despite the forced proximity. Their joking and complete lack of interest in what Marc’s doing makes it easier for his mask to slip, just a little bit.

If Marc was thinking clearly, he would realise that the impromptu physical contact is Alex’s doing too. Marc isn’t very tactile in the paddock but always reaches for Alex when they’re close. Alex likes to tease him about being “touch starved”, and Marc always pouts until he relents.

It explains why Marc can’t help but melt into touches though, like with Dovi last weekend, or Franky now. He hates that Alex is right; so long as he has time to adapt, he loves physical touch, it’s his love language or something.

Of course, Franky and Luca have been nominated as instigators due to their general neutrality towards Marc. And with the help of Alex’s expertise, it’s proving fairly effective, with Marc feeling more and more settled as time passes, slipping into a state of sleepiness.

*

Marc tries his hardest to keep up with the rapidly moving discussion (currently- the best wet races of all time). He contributes as much as he can without overdoing it and makes a conscious effort not to be too much.

It's tiring, especially on a race weekend. The exhaustion is threatening to overcome him, he can tell by the way his eyes are drooping and his muscles relax.

Marc yawns into his hand. Luca laughs.

“Tired?” He asks.

Marc shrugs, “Long day,” he says, blinking sleepily at Luca. It's slightly embarrassing the way he has shifted into the taller man's warmth. He doesn’t really know when it happened. Someone still has their arm across his shoulders (Franky). It should feel weird (it doesn’t).

“Long month”, Marc corrects himself with a wry grin, his words slurring.

Luca is the only member of the group he has been friendly with before; the person he probably feels safest with. He can feel his eyes shutting of their own accord and tries to shake himself awake.

The others are chatting between themselves, no one is paying attention to Marc. Luca smiles softly at him, laying a gentle hand on his shoulder.

He falls silent after that, in a state of half-awareness, still leaning into Luca’s space. Time feels slow and syrupy as he sinks into the warmth.

 He will be embarrassed after, but now, he doesn’t care. He hasn’t had companionship on the grid for so long, apart from Dovi, and then he too left.

The conversation continues around him, but Marc doesn’t notice. The sound is muffled, the only notion he has is the soothing rumble of Luca talking and the occasional shift of Franky’s arm.

If he tries hard enough, he can pick out the words. He doesn’t. Marc lets his breathing even out and a blanket of calm settles over him. Content.

*

Pecco is trying to think of another time he has seen Marc so vulnerable. Only when he and Bez had stormed into his motorhome in Misano. Before then, it would have been 2015 - after that Marc’s walls had been built, tall and unscalable.

Valentino was the one who triggered it. They can see so clearly as they deconstruct brick by brick. So, the sight of Marc, potentially asleep, sprawled on top of Luca, Valentino’s little brother. Well, it’s giving Pecco whiplash. It’s sort of sweet, the way Marc curls into Luca’s body heat (Pecco would be jealous, if not for Marc’s clear preference for Valentino). It’s also incredibly at odds with the image of Marc which has been painted in his head for years. He doesn’t think a ruthless and cruel man would practically cuddle up to his rival’s little brother.

Franky interrupts his staring with a pointed nudge. Before Pecco can respond, they’re interrupted by the front door banging open.

Marc stirs.

They all stare at him.

Valentino storms in.

Luca sighs.

“Who does he think he is?” Valentino seethes.

“Vale-” Luca tries to interrupt with little success.

“Honestly, he drives me crazy, I can’t believe Marc even likes him. It's so freaking stupid.”

Marc grumbles unhappily at the noise, trying to push himself further into Luca and the sofa cushions. Luca pets his head. It makes a funny image, Pecco thinks, a bit like a cat.

Valentino is pacing now, completely unaware of the looks he’s receiving. 

“He goes and talks to the freaking media and goes on and on about Marc and how talented he is. He sounds like Casey. Then-”

He turns to the group- arms thrown into the air for dramatic effect

“-Then he corners me and tells me to be careful. Can you believe it?? I have to be careful. Tells me not to hurt him. Like he has any right. Fucking Dovi” Valentino protests

Luca scoffs. Valentino stops mid-rant, his eyes falling on Marc and Luca. The former of whom he has only just noticed. His eyes widen in shock as he abruptly cuts off, his arms falling to his sides. His expression would be funny, if not for the circumstances.

Time stops.

The whole room holds their breath, waiting for a reaction. It doesn’t come, Vale looks at Luca curiously but appears to register no threat and instead smiles softly at Marc sleeping.

The peace lasts approximately 5 seconds.

“Can you please shut up” Marc grumbles, shoving his face into Luca’s sweatshirt.

Then his eyes fly open and he shoots upwards.

“Fuck” he scrambles off Luca and the sofa, eyes darting around the room.

His hair is fluffy and askew, his body tense, a second away from taking off.

Pecco and Franky groan in sync. The smile has fallen off Vale's face. Marc’s eyes are wide, huge.

He trips over himself in a haste to get to the door. No one says anything.

“I’m just- um- I’m going to go” Marc stutters, pointing at the door.

He glances at Luca, flicking his eyes to Franky and Pecco.

“Thanks for the um- yeah, thanks,” he says, his voice strangled.

He bolts before anyone can reply.

Franky is the first to move, standing up and whacking Valentino up the backside of the head.

“What was that for?” Valentino whines, reaching a hand up to rub his head.

“You know what. Get your shit together already” Franky says

The group breaks into sniggers and the tension melts immediately.

Valentino stares longingly at the door.

*

On Sunday the atmosphere is electric. It ricochets around the paddock.

Marc is still reeling from last night as he treks towards the garages. Panic, ambition, and adrenaline humming under his skin.

 He doesn’t quite know why he reacted so strongly but he was (and still is) mortified. He had tentatively made up with Valentino, told him he needed time, and then fallen asleep on his brother in his motorhome. It doesn’t help that Valentino had charged in ranting about him, or maybe Dovi. Marc isn’t sure. He has to admit, sprinting out of the motorhome wasn’t his finest moment, but what can a man do? He was shocked and scared. He reacted on instinct.

It definitely had nothing to do with the look in Valentino’s eyes. 

Anyway, it probably didn’t matter now. After that performance, Vale doubtless thinks he’s pathetic. The man Valentino used to know was untarnished by this fear and pain. He had not been through all of the shit, the injuries, the medication. Surely Valentino doesn’t want him now. The realisation hurts.

Marc pushes it to the back of his mind; he can’t think about it too much right now. He has a race to win after all.

The air by the track is filled with red smoke, it snakes through the sky with the breeze, settling like a blanket of fire across the circuit. The stands are painted red, with people waving his banners and sporting his merch in a show of solidarity and love that has Marc grinning ear to ear.

Marc feels the support of the crowd like a pair of arms wrapping around him, it almost makes his knees buckle. He waves at every fan he passes and dutifully stops to sign and pose for photos. People continue to shout support at him as he goes, encouraging him to win, thanking him for the interview, and telling him that they love him. He takes every word to heart and pockets the emotions somewhere deep inside him.

He takes that energy, the feeling, into the race, so when he’s lining up on the grid, it’s thrumming inside of him. It courses through his veins with every cheer of the crowd, pumped through his heart, to his tense muscles.

He flips his visor down and prepares to raise hell.

This feels monumental, a fuck you to his doubters and haters. It feels like a plea to Vale and to the world to let him have the good after so much bad.

He throws himself into the race. Leaves everything behind on the track. He watches as the gap between himself and the battle for second grows and grows, as he leaves the others in the dust.

Not once does he falter.

Marc doesn’t make a single mistake.

This weekend he could be 20 again, alive and untainted. Riding purely on the self-assurance only someone so young could possess.

He has skill now, on top of the talent. Years of hard work and dedication. 

He is the Ant of Cevera. The thunder which cracks through the air like a whip. He is an 8-time world champion and he will not go down without a fight.

So, he doesn’t.

Marc keeps extending his lead, pushing the bike to the limit even though he can taste victory. It will never be enough unless he has left everything he has on the race track.

By the time he enters the last lap, he’s built up a 5-second lead. With no one breathing down his neck, he allows himself to enjoy it, to hear the rumble of the crowd over the whine of the engine. He lets himself tumble off the edge into delirium.

Crossing the finish line feels biblical like the heavens have opened just for him, shining a light onto his victory. It is monumental; he feels like the world’s balance has been restored. He is back, and he has risen above every challenge thrown at him. 

Marc raises his fists to the sky, standing on his bike as the first tear rolls down his cheek. He grins.

Pecco is the first to reach him, holding a hand out as they ride side by side and patting Marc on the shoulder. The others follow, old and new friends on the grid slow to ride at his pace and offer congratulations. Alex pulls his bike near and reaches for Marc’s hand. Even through their helmets, Marc can see Alex’s megawatt smile.

Although it is Marc’s second win in as many weeks, it feels colossal – proof that he can overcome anything, proof that it wasn’t a fluke. The others can tell.

Once he reaches his dedicated fan stand, he pulls his bike to a stop. He falls to his knees in front of them, praising them for everything they have done for him. Their unwavering faith through it all. Through Valentino’s hate campaign, his injury, and now this. He owes them a lot. So, he celebrates with them, for them, and for this win.

When he eventually rescues his bike, he returns to the other people he owes this win to – his family.

They are there when he pulls his bike to a stop, as they always have been for his whole life, through thick and thin. He is fully crying now.

Marc reaches for his mum first, letting her pull him into an embrace as his team slap him on the back. Alex and his dad are next, each hugging him for as long as he needs.

They can read his emotions too well.

Marc pulls his helmet off, shaking his hair out and squeezing his eyes shut. He is not embarrassed by the tear which rolls off his nose. His dad wipes it away.

When Marc opens his eyes again, he is confronted by a startling blue gaze.

Valentino is there, waiting in parc-ferme, probably for Pecco. Marc thinks he finished second. He doesn’t know.

But then Valentino is walking towards him, stopping at the edge of the sea of Gresini blue and staring at Marc. The tears won’t stop now, not after everything.

Marc stays still, frozen as Vale parts the crowd to reach Marc. When just a fence separates them, Marc has to clench his hands into fists to contain himself.

This feels significant, Valentino seeking him out, in front of all of these people. It feels like an admission, an apology.

God, Marc has wanted this forever. Futile in his hopes for Valentino to reach out, even years after. There has been an ache inside of him for years, the gaping hole of deceit from someone held in high esteem.

When he was 22, he desperately grappled with Valentino’s rejection in such a public sphere, followed by the hit of stomach-wrenching longing which settled for the long haul. He has repressed for years. Every time he reached out to Valentino, his hand was so cruelly pushed away. Even now, he is waiting for the blow to land. There is doubt creeping in at the edges, seeping through their hastily patched-up relationship. It will not be an easy fix. 

Marc is scared to meet his eyes, always so bright- intelligent, sharp.

The paddock seems to fall quiet.

Marc’s heart is pounding. He wonders if Valentino can hear it.

Valentino reaches forward, and echoes his dad’s movement from moments ago, brushing a stray tear off his cheek. Marc looks up, shocked.

A soft smile greets him, Valentino staring at him with something close to adoration. Marc gulps. It feels too good to be true – like a dream. Even after the promises Valentino has made, the trust has been broken for a long time.

Marc can only cling to hope and pray he isn’t making a mistake.

The softness in Valentino’s gaze tells him that he isn’t.

Before, Valentino used to glance at him with a sweet look, the kind you’d give a child. But then Marc had gotten good, really good, he had become a threat. The looks turned bitter, tinted with jealousy, with annoyance.

Eventually, hatred.

There is none of that now.

“Don’t cry, Bambino” Valentino whispers.

“Happy tears” Marc replies, his voice quiet and choked. Valentino hasn’t called him that in years.

Valentino tugs his arm, bringing his arm to wrap around Marc and pull him into a warm embrace. The crowd erupts, screaming and cheering. Marc has his eyes screwed up; his face tucked into Valentino’s neck. When he pulls back, Valentino looks alive, and so, so fond. Suddenly the world is in technicolour, and everything falls into place.

Valentino’s eyes are alight with joy. Marc tilts his head, searching for something more. That ache inside of him is dissipating.

Valentino, as always, knows. Understands.

“Later” Valentino whispers, Marc just nods.

They’re pulled out of their world by a firm hand clapped onto each of their shoulders. Marc turns to see Pecco grinning next to him, and Pedro in the arms of his team behind.

Pecco pulls Marc into an embrace and slaps his back, before turning toward Valentino, telling him that he’s a crazy idiot, and allowing the older man to pull him into a bone-crushing hug.

When Marc turns back to his family, his parents are frowning, his mother's eyes thoughtful. His heart clenches. He hates the idea of disappointing them.

It must show on his face, as before he can blink, he’s being pulled back into his mother’s arms and she presses a kiss into his hair.

The team cajole him into a photo, two fingers up for his two wins this season. They cheer and shout his name, their arms wrapped around his family and supportive hands on his shoulders where he is crouched in front of them. Marc feels so loved; he feels so happy. Two wins in two weeks after a three-year drought. Somehow, it feels better than if he had been winning all this time.

He is pulled away too soon and sent to the podium.

Marc beams and beams with happiness in front of his home crowd. His cheeks hurt. His heart is full. The crowd is screaming his name. As he climbs onto the top step, he meets Valentino's eyes.

 There is a shared understanding which passes through them.

Marc looks to the heavens and smiles.

[42bakery]

happy lucamarc day waru !!! hope your day is going well <3333

OMG This is the way I learn that Marc lives rent free in Luca's mind. And it's also funny in which way, because it's so different from the way that Marc lives in Vale's mind. It also makes sense that difference.

Did you notice he says Marc Márquez? Well for Luca is always Marc Márquez because just Márquez is Álex. He's following the tradition of beefing with a Márquez, but it's Álex and we don't know why

Also did you notice how quick Luca asked if it the question refer to cat ears on the helmet? My boy is showing his otaku side 🙌🙌🙌🙌.

I also notice, Luca like to have his ass patted and finds it normal. Joan on the other way says it's the back, so not loving to have his ass messed.

[hotmessmaxpress]

can we please have bez/cele getting together in of au?

Yes you can! This is a direct continuation of this, where Bezz finds out that Celestino subscribed to Marc's onlyfans before Marc and Vale started dating. That threw Bezz into a gay crisis, and here we are!

Thanks for waiting so patiently for this!

OnlyFans au interlude: celestino and bezz

Bezz wakes up the following morning on Celestino’s couch. He’s stiff and still a little tired, and he enjoys that special type of calm that comes from waking up in a safe place. 

He freezes when he remembers the events of the previous day.

Cele has an onlyfans account and he subscribes to Marc Marquez. Bezz lays there, staring at the ceiling, wondering what other types of people Cele subscribes to. Do any of them look like him? Are they all tiny, fit twinks? Are they all fucking Spanish?

Bezz doesn’t realize he’s breathing heavily until Celestino walks timidly into the room. 

“Bezz? Are you okay?”

Bezz sits up and looks at Cele. He’s sleep-rumpled, and Bezz wonders how late the two of them must have slept. There’s a pillow line across one of Cele’s cheeks, and the neck of his shirt is stretched out. Bezz wants to wrap Celin up in a blanket and bundle him back into bed. He wants to hold him and kiss him on the forehead and make sure he’s warm and comfortable at all times. 

The revelation nearly sends him into another panic attack. Now that he’s acknowledged that he likes men, or, at least likes one man, it’s like he is seeing Cele with new eyes. 

“I”m okay,” Bezz says, voice rough and a little high pitched. 

Cele stands there awkwardly for a moment, and Bezz pats the couch next to him. Cele sits down, and he grabs the edge of Bezz’s blanket so he can pull part of it over himself as well. 

“Can we talk about yesterday?” Bezz blurts.

Celestino looks like he would rather do quite literally anything else, but he doesn’t get up, so that’s a win. 

Bezz has no idea what to say now that he’s opened the door, though. How do you tell your best friend that you’re having some not-quite-heterosexual thoughts about him? How is he supposed to tell Celestino that he hates Marc now, only because he has to live with the knowledge that Cele found Marc so attractive that he–

“You aren’t going to tell Vale, are you?” Celestino asks awkwardly, interrupting Bezz’s spiraling.

“What?” Bezz asks, staring at him. 

“Please don’t tell him. If you think he needs to know then I should be the one to tell him– but I already cancelled my subscription, okay?”

Well, that’s not the direction Bezz thought this was going to go. 

“That’s not what– no, I’m not going to tell Vale. I am trying to explain…” 

Cele stares at him expectantly. 

“I don’t like that you followed Marc. I don’t like that you’ve seen him naked.”

Cele recoils, embarrassed and clearly a little hurt. Bezz immediately realizes his fuckup and knows there’s no coming back from this. He can’t let Cele think he’s homophobic. 

“Bezz-”

“I’m jealous,” Bezz croaks. “I don’t want you to be attracted to him.”

Cele stares at him. Now that Bezz has admitted it, it’s impossible for him to stop his mouth. 

“I want you to think of me that way because I want to think of you that way. And I know you didn’t have sex with him but in a way it feels like you did, and I am jealous of that because he doesn’t deserve that from you. You shouldn’t have to watch him jack off or whatever because you deserve to be taken care of,” Bezz complains. 

Cele is staring at him.

“Sorry,” Bezz adds, as an afterthought. 

Cele is still staring at him. 

“You’re gay?” Celestino asks, dubiously. 

Bezz hadn’t gotten that far in his internal discussion when he woke up. He has no idea, and he’s not sure how to explain that to Cele. He hasn’t ever considered if he likes men before. He knows without a doubt that he likes Cele, though. He thinks he probably always has. It feels like breathing. This entire situation has felt like his world has been upended, but liking Celestino feels like breathing. 

“I… I don’t know,” Bezz says lamely. 

Cele looks away. 

“But you like me?”

Bezz nods, but Cele isn’t looking at him. 

“Yes. I think… I didn’t ever really think about it until you said you follow Marc and I felt jealous. And then I had to think about why I felt jealous. And I guess if I’m jealous that means I’m at least a little gay, right?”

Cele is silent for a moment before he snorts and starts laughing. 

Bezz shoves at him, embarrassed and defensive. 

“You’re supposed to be supportive!”

Cele is howling with laughter now. 

“Of course I am supportive! But you were the one who made me think you were mad at me yesterday!”

Bezz frowns. 

“I’m sorry,” he says genuinely, but Cele is clearly not listening. He’s still wheezing with laughter at Bezz’s expense. 

Bezz pouts while Cele calms back down. 

“I shouldn’t have told you,” Bezz complains. 

That seems to remind Cele of what they were talking about, and he turns to Bezz with wide eyes. 

“Wait,” Cele says, “you have feelings for me.”

Bezz’s heart is racing and he nods. 

“You are jealous that I follow Vale’s boyfriend because you want me to see you naked, not him.”

Bezz nods again, sure that he has never been this mortified in his life. 

“You’re ‘a little bit gay’,” Cele says, making exaggerated air quotes. 

Bezz buries his face in his hands. 

Cele laughs again, then pulls at Bezz’s wrists until he uncovers his face. 

“You’re lucky I’ve had a crush on you since I was thirteen.”

Bezz makes a startled noise at that information, but before he can think, Cele has placed a hand on the back of his neck and guided their faces together. 

It’s the worst first kiss Bezz has ever had. Their noses bump together and Cele is still giggling a little bit, and Bezz’s brain is still moving so slowly that he only realizes he’s being kissed as Cele is already pulling away. 

He frowns, deciding that is not good enough, and he leans forward. This time he’s prepared for it, and Cele has stopped laughing, and when their lips meet it’s easy for Bezz to close his eyes and relax. 

Kissing Cele is feels normal. It’s almost anticlimactic how normal it feels. There are no fireworks or explosions. 

It feels like getting on the bike; a flash of nervousness followed by a sense of rightness; a feeling that all is well. Bezz has a flash of frustration at himself for taking so long to realize that he wanted this. 

He’s not sure how long they kiss, but when they finally pull apart they’re both smiling.

[whoregaylorenzo]

do we have any idea what happened between mavio? oh fellow mavio lover please tell me you have an idea 🥺

oh bestie....*pats seat next to me* we're really in it now aren't we..😭😭

okay there's definitely better ppl to ask this since I've only been here for a few months but I'll tell you what I think I know

disclaimer: a lot of the gaps of my knowledge (so a lot) are filled in with dramatic exaggerations and my own headcanons so don't take it too seriously

1. maverick comes into motogp with one championship under his belt (moto3) and a third place in moto2, from what I've gathered he'd been seen as one of the real next talents, I'm not 100% sure of the timeline but I know I've heard vale mention him as well as marc as someone who could be quick/has a lot of talent

2. he starts off at suzuki (with aleix), gets some good results even a win and a couple podiums and after two years moves to yamaha in 2017 after coming 4th in the championship im 2016

3. he fucking wins his first two races with yamaha, talk about an entry to a team. oh and his teammate was valentino rossi. enough said.

4. mav having a grand time at yamaha, finishing 3rd and 4th and 3rd again (2017,18,19) in the championship. then shit starts going downwards.

5. in 2019, fabio arrives on the motogp stage with the petronas yamaha. he has an amazing first season, getting like 7 podiums and finishing 5th overall.

6. 2020 (ooh getting spicy) so there's a lot of very friendly interactions between mav and fabio from this time, it really seems like they were good buddies, n then preparing to be teammates in 2021, being excited about it!! looking at results tho - even though fabio only finished 8th that year, he won three races, meanwhile mav got one win plus two second places - both behind fabio...

7. so going into 2021 the situation is basically - fabio, boy wonder replacing motogp legend and maverick - not quite being able to fulfill the potential ppl said he had, getting this new teammate, a fast young guy - [threatening music starts playing]

7. and then the season starts off not too bad for mav with a win but after that - forget it. mav getting worse, fab winning and winning and winning. mav starts thinking yamaha have clearly moved on from him and are backing fabio, casting him aside a bit (in his perception, I can't really speak on what really happened I simply wasn't present in the fandom and I've not dove that deep yet), and then ofc it culminates in the whole debacle with mav just having enough of the frustration and doing sth rash, leading to the yamaha fallout and him leaving the team - well being fired really - and going to aprilia

8. as far as I know, it wasn't this alone that broke mavio? I think fabio said sth to the effect of he doesn't really care about mav leaving the team, and then there's a mav quote I think of him saying he's surprised to hear that from fabio

9. and then ofc there's fabio on that podcast this year answering the question "who's the rider you have the worst relationship with" with maverick.

IN CONCLUSION I think a culmination of fabio riding high on success, mav spiraling and lashing out, all that lead to the sorta icy relationship they have now....*sob*

anyway at the bottom of this I gotta add these tags from vic @distinguishedfifty to lighten the mood bc I simply love them uwkfjfkd

if any motogp mutuals have more to add here or maybe wanna correct me on things pls feel free!!

[marquezism]

https://www.tumblr.com/certainstarfishllama/772384939269324800?source=share

What was the need for the chin tap. Thats his idol 14 years senior and marc just goes, chin tap like, not even a chip tap, a whole palm to his jaw like, hey sweatheart.

And vale just pulling him in for the hug with both arms, pat pat on his head all fond.

Was there a need i ask you.

about this post

listen. i genuinely. dont think people appreciate how insane their interactions really were in context. like im completely serious when i say most rosquez interactions - especially in 2013 - are way worse if one truly gets it inside one's head that marc was a twenty year old rookie with two world titles and valentino was the nine-time world champion goat legend fourteen years older than him AND his grand idol/icon/etc.

because the thing is that marc isnt... marc isnt outwardly arrogant. what he thinks of his own riding and achievements on the inside is one thing, but he never carried an "im better than you lol" attitude around, especially not those days, outside of cheeky little confrontations with jorge fucking lorenzo. it would not be possible for marc to consider himself anywhere near valentino's status, and like, marc is... well-behaved, if you want. like, he acts a specific, respectful way with the legends of their sport even today, when he himself is easily amongst the best...

and back then... yes, marc and valentino have known each other for five years at that point. yes, across the past two they have been pretty close as far as a moto2 rider and a motogp rider can go, especially in terms of business connections. but like. jesus.

when you watch the way marc acts around valentino, starting all the way in qatar, you get the feeling they are... well, certainly not "inexperienced shy rookie and his great idol, the charisma beast"... marc so so so so so so so so so distinctly does NOT act like a "shy little rookie afraid to speak" around vale. and its like. GOD. the easy camaraderie between them is not something you develop across a couple weeks, even months. it takes SEASONS spent together to act that way about each other. hell, name two riders off the current grid who would act this way. pecco and bez? who else? pecco and luca? hm. wonder what kind of relationship these people have. possibly "rookie and idol"? NO. like.

sometimes i feel like im going crazy. i mean genuinely. sometimes i feel like im losing my mind looking at 2013 because there is just no fucking way. im trying to imagine circumstances in which i would be acting like this around a guy fourteen years my senior that i have admired all my life and im coming up empty, unless we literally share a kind of intimacy that can only be achieved via prolonged periods of being INTIMATE. in whatever way. in whichever form. and its making my brain hurt. like this is not normal. this is not normal. marc is not acting normal, and neither is vale. neither of them HAVE acted normal, from the first race on. idk, maybe its just me coming into this sport and looking at it from the outside but the discrepancy between their social statuses and the way they act about each other makes my nose bleed.

now lets talk about FUCKING assen. FUCKING. assen. CAUSE WHAT THE FUCK WAS GOIGUNGNGN ONNNNNNNNNNNN!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! honestly i can never stop thinking about 2013 assen like these bitches were fucking im sorry whAT!!!!!!! WHAT!!!! what was going on in assen. vale wins a fucking race for the first time in almost three years and marc is like wow, yeah. hot. gimme that. OR WHAT. like.

i went and reblogged that post you sent me so LIVE REACTION is in the tags but also my fucking god. its like... there's something to the interaction that is so intimate. so indulgent. so special. the fucking chin tap has me like. imagine a guy being stabbed in the heart and then dramatically crumpling on the floor groaning. because its SUCH a gesture of... security? like i say this every time marc taps vale's face or head those days but its... you dont do that to people you barely know. or your idols since childhood. you dont do that. but marc does. to THE valentino rossi. like the entire thing is so... like they are aware of the gap. in age. in experience. vale love-patting marc EVERYWHERE. you can about hear the "my darling, good race, eh?" marc ISSSSSSSSSSSSS his darling!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! he's vale's FUCKING darling!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! but at the same time the chin pat makes it so. equal. between them. its like marc can allow himself things no one else can BECAUSE he is vale's darling AND HE KNOWS IT!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! he can be PRESUMPTUOUS. AUDACIOUS, even. what an audacious thing to do, that chin pat, in marc's position. it's like a slap, without the helmet. a cheeky little slap. to valentino rossi's face. a "see, baby? i told you it's coming. i told you. well done." a WHAT??? WHO is marc to act like that with vale!!! who is marc TO vale, to get away with that, and get rewarded for it, with a tight hug that vale DEMANDS of him like HE needs it. WANTS it,,, with vale's voice whispering to him, with little pats everywhere. my darling, my darling, how glad i am to share this with you.

how isn't this both of them showing off how special their relationship is... the greatest and his successor, a love story for the ages. lets all go DIE.

and talking about assen, i will never in my fucking life get over marc running his hand through vales curls ON the fucking podium. THIS. like . like if you told me they were *slams table after ever word* SUCKING. AND. FUCKING. after this i would believe you without a seconds doubt. this isnt haha shit. this is real, emotionally. like not to be a fake empath on tumblr dot com but we can all feel. that this is real. emotionally. they LIKE each other. they are FLIRTING with each other, with the explicit fucking goal of- WHAT? like this is CRAZY. i feel like im losing my mind.

[isacksteban]

more thoughts on boypussy! bez?

pleaseeeeeeeee

hi anon!! 😽 so i was gonna write more headcanons but instead... marcmarc smut?? luca, pecco, and cele are mentioned two times i think? 😸

Marco usually isn't this careless. Or easy. Or both. But something he's noticed when it comes to Marc is that none of that actually matters.

Because half of the time he's with Marc, he's either teasing him, making him cook for him, or having his tongue halfway down his throat.

Marc is honestly as easy to get to as Marco is. It's probably why they work best together.

Not that the other riders don't work well with Marco or they don't treat him just as good or even better than Marc does, but something about knowing that the person he's with is equally on his wit's end just drives him haywire.

It's what's happening now, with Marc's hand halfway down the front of his pants, hand too eager to pull down the sweatpants he's wearing for easier access. He's instead stretching the front of the pants as his hand makes its way into Marco's panties and his palm cups him.

"You're all wet," he says breathlessly, his mouth sucking a spot into Marco's neck, the Italian could cum from just that if he had Marc's permission. "Your pussy is so wet, amor. It's so ready for my cock."

The younger man has his neck bared for Marc, head thrown back, his mouth parted open on a whine when Marc's palm makes contact with his clit. Marc rubs his finger around Marco's cunt, spreading the wetness all over, making sure his hand is coated with the wetness.

He loves Marco's pussy. It's always nice and wet. Whether or not someone has fucked him earlier, Marc revels in the thought of sliding into him, the slide sure to be sloppy and hot.

He's so sensitive, his body twitching with every flick that Marc now gives to his clit. He rubs it around distractedly, eyes simply on Marco's face, he's wondering how Marco could be so pretty in the light of the room like this. How his neck looks so much better now that there's a mark or two, telling the riders and staff that he's just been fucked when they walk out of the older mans motorhome..

The words that he thinks off dissipate before they come out of his mouth and he's left licking his bottom lip over and over to keep it from drying out.

He's so delirious with pleasure and Marc isn't even touching him in the way that he wants. Marc knows that. He knows that Marco needs at least three fingers scissoring inside him for him to be ready to take him easily. Now he's only got two in, stroking them in and out of him at a steady pace.

This is why Marco likes being with Marc. Or is it the other way round? Either way, this is why Marco had snuck out of the VR46 garage the moment they concluded debriefing and had pulled Marc, who was next door, along with him.

Marc had stared up at him from where he was sat on the large couch in the room and Marco had smirked, moving closer to him until his shins made contact with Marc's knees.

"Why are we here?" Marc asked, no other reason to it than the way Marco goes pink in the face, eyes avoiding him when he mumbles an answer under his breath. "I can't hear you, ricitos."

"I said I want you to fuck me," Marco said, still not looking at Marc but his voice was louder and it wasn't as timid sounding as it was earlier.

"Right now?," he said with a tilt of his head. "You know Valentino is probably wondering where you've gone?"

"Don't talk about him right now," Marco barked, he hated wheh Marc brought up Vale, especially knowing their history. Marc was his now.

It only took Marc one look from Marco, eyes wide and shiny, a purposeful bite of his lips and he opened his arms wide, patting his lap and welcoming the taller mans body on his.

Marco had straddled Marc, each thigh on either side of him. Marco feels smaller like this and it turns him on so much that he can't help grinding down against the front of Marc's pants.

They are soft and cotton and leave nothing to the imagination or feeling. Marco has always loved how big Marc was. It was an amazing compliment to his body; all tan muscles and hard skin. It was also a beautiful contrast to Marco's; lean, milky, soft in all the right places.

The feeling of Marc's hard-on under his ass makes Marco groan low in his throat. Alongside the way Marc keeps staring at him, watching his reactions as he twists his hand just right, finger pads pressing up against that sweet sweet spot, Marco feels the telltale feeling of his orgasm building up.

And that can't happen without Marc's cock inside him so Marco uses all the strength inside his body to push at his hand until the man gets the memo and pulls away.

"Did you bring a condom?" He asks, pulling out his hand, now wet with the juices from Marco's pussy.

Marco shakes his head, running his hand through his hair. Marc stares even harder. If there was an award for being the most beautiful person in motorsports, he's sure Marco would take it without a beat.

He's always been enticed by how one person could carry such an air of confidence alongside such dazzling beauty, making him the center of attention wherever he went.

It's why he's always shocked when Marco comes to him with a pout on his mouth, asking him to,

"Please fuck me, amore," or "Do you think you could eat me out instead tonight?"

And by far, Marc's favorite,

"I wanna ride you,"

He knows Marco fucks around with other riders too. Hell, he does too. But something always tells him that he and Marco have a great streak going with the amount of times Marc has had to change his sheets during the summer break.

It's nothing to be proud of but he feels pride in knowing that he's one of the small amount of people that get to see Marco cry tears as he's filled up with cock or the way Marco holds on to Marc's biceps when he's about to come, his eyes shut, mouth open, head thrown back as he makes the most pornstar sounding moan Marc has ever heard.

And Marc's heard a lot.

The academy riders often talk about what Marco is like in bed. Marc, who couldn't stop himself from listening in, has come to find that Marco is completely different with every rider he's with.

He's softer and more sweet when it's Pecco fucking him stupid. He likes the way Luca kisses him in between thrusts. He's a little controlling when it comes to Cele, too, likes to tell him what to do because the younger man is just clueless like that most of the time.

But still, no one matches up to the way he and Marc fuck. And Marc likes that. Likes that he's the only one that say things to Marco like " my pretty slut," "you're such a whore," and get away with it.

He likes that Marco lets him take full reigns when they're in bed. He loves that Marco trusts him with his pleasure.

Hearing how the academy riders talk is how he'd found out one thing he and Marco have never talked about or addressed. He's noticed it to be a consistent mention from everyone he'd listened to — well everyone he knows that has fucked Marco.

"Amore," he says, blinking up slowly at Marco. The man looks dazed, sweating despite the air conditioning in the room.

"Hm?" He hums, looking down at Marco with sultry eyes that only makes Marc's cock jump in its confines. He's sure Marco felt it, with the way he grinds back down on the appendage.

Slowly, gauging his reaction, searching his face for any disagreement, Marc's hand that isn't splayed on Marco's back lifts the front of his shirt.

He heard it from Luca, Pecco had said it in passing and Cele mentioned it a lot. So naturally, Marc was genuinely curious to see how it would change anything that they were already used to doing.

"Bez gets crazy wet when you fondle his tits,"

"They're not tits, Cele," Luca had said. "He's not a girl."

"He likes to call them tits too," Pecco had butted in. "Told me to call him principessa one time even."

Marc shook his head. Pecco had always been Marco's favorite. He gets too many privileges.

He gently pulls up the shirt until it's bunched up under Marco's chin and the man takes notice with a shuddering breath to hold the fabric with his chin.

When Marc looks away from his eyes to stare down at his chest, he silently curses and lets his nose make contact with the skin first.

Marco's chest is so pretty. Marc usually doesn't pay it much mind but now he's staring. Freckles are littered across his chest, nine prominent dark spots on just his pecs. The man's nipples are so soft and puffy, dark against his pale skin. They look almost swollen, practically begging him to have a taste.

Marc's own nipples aren't as sensitive as he would like them. He knows very well that some people have the ability to come from just their nipples being toyed with and from what he's heard from Pecco, the same could be said for Marco.

He didn't even know he was this much into nipples until the others mentioned it. Or maybe he's just into Marco. That would make absolute sense too.

Marc rubs his nose all over the areola, careful to avoid the metal and actual bundle of nerves. Marco's heart is beating so hard behind his ribs and Marc can feel it. The man is already shuddering and his body is trembling and he'd fall over if not for Marc's hand that's holding him at his back.

"Mar..", Marco says with a sigh when Marc finally gives a lick to his nipple.

Marc feels on fire when his mouth closes fully around the bud and he gives it an experimental suck. The reaction is instant.

Marco moans high in his throat, his back arching and therefore pushing his chest more into Marc. If no one knew they were here before, now they will, with how high Marco is moaning.

His hands are at Marc's shoulders, trying to push him away but at the same time still holding him close.

He can feel Marco moaning and shaking with every suck he gives to his chest. He didn't even know the man could get like this and he was so sure he'd seen every version of debauched Marco.

Marco keeps making these little sounds and noises. He's sighing out at one point and then making short moans with every suck Marc gives to his chest.

He switches nipples when he feels he's sucked enough on the other and opens his eyes to look up at Marco. The man isn't looking at him, which Marc expected with how much writhing he's doing. He can't sit still, his hips rolling forward so his pussy rubs down on Marc's cock to give them both a delicious friction.

Marc didn't think sucking on Marco's chest would make him this delusional. Suddenly he's thinking of Marco pumped full of come, ready to have baby in nine months. It could be a reality, Marco's body can take it. His body is able to take a child and Marc desperately wants it to be his.

He pulls off the nipple to speak, letting his hand twirl the hardened buds around.

"Amore, you've got such pretty tits," he says, voice breathy. He's looking at Marco as the man tries to keep his moaning at bay. He's failing. "They're so soft, could do this all night."

"Ah.. Amo.. Marc please.." Marco finally looks down at the older man to say. "Please fuck me. don' need prep jus.. fuck me, hm?"

Marc could laugh at the way Marco starts to rock back and forth on his lap, eyes shiny, lips bitten raw with how Marc's teeth don't leave it alone.

"No, I still need to finger you," Marc argues, going back in to suck a nipple into his mouth. He can't get enough of Marco's soft chest. He mentally curses himself for not paying it much attention now.

"I.. I-I.. Maro fucked me earlier," he says with a small voice.

It makes Marc lift up, chin on the lower part of Marco's chest while his mouth remains attached to the nipple there, tongue coming out to lave at it.

"See what I said? Such a cockslut, you are," he says again, his lips attached to Marco's tit. "It's no wonder you were so wet."

"Yeah yeah so just fuck me right now," he says, nodding.

Marco's fingers tangle in Marc's hair, pulling the strands to get Marc off of his chest. He's really so sensitive and it would be a shame if he didn't get fucked and came just from his nipples being sucked.

It's why he'd never mentioned it to Marc, knowing fully well that the other man would definitely take advantage of it and use it to make Marco keen in any given instance.

He's always been wary of how sensitive his chest was. It's why he doesn't let anyone get too close to touch him there. Just the mere brush of hands against it makes his knees keel and a few minutes later will find him stuffed full of cock to get off.

"Are you clean?" Marc asks him as Marco gets off his lap to take off his sweatpants. "Leave the shirt on."

He forgoes taking off the shirt as he flings the sweatpants to the side of the couch. Marc watches on as Marco's shirt presses against his chest and he can see the vivid outline of his tits. They're wet with spit and Marc loves the way they're still puffy and swollen, perfect. It's what makes him mumble a " fuck " as he too pulls down his cotton pants until they're pooled at his ankles, freeing his cock.

"Of course, I've only fucked the other academy riders," he says, getting back on Marc's lap. He watches, entranced as Marc strokes his cock to full hardness.

Marco's mouth waters with how much he wants to sink to his knees and try to take Marc to the hilt. Marc hardly ever fits in his mouth but he always tries his best, if to get praised like the attention whore he is.

"So you want me to fuck you raw?" Marc asks just to be sure. Even as Marco is already moaning, his fingers rubbing his pussy and stretching it open, almost like an invitation for Marc to be inside him.

"Yeah. Sì.. please.."

Marc is not one for going back and forth over something so he doesn't. Instead, he sets his hand on Marco's waist and pulls him closer to him. "Do you want to be on your back?"

"Anywhere, please," Marco isn't usually this obedient.

Marc fixes their position so Marco is laid on his back on the couch and Marc's large body is hovering over him. The position is so boring and made specifically for people who fuck just for the sake of procreation but maybe that's what Marc wants to do.

Maybe this is the position that would finally get Marco's body to take. It's not often that they fuck raw and he's sure it's the same with the other members but Marc is excited to pump Marco full of his seed and wonder if he'll come to him with the news of a pregnancy, if his tits would grow a bit and get heavier. More sensitive.

The fantasy in his head is so hot and Marco is right there for the taking, pussy pulsing and soaked with how much he wants Marc too. Marc can't deny him anything, not when he too is on the verge of bursting.

He lifts one of Marco's legs with his hand and pushes the under of his knee back to expose more of his pussy to him.

The couch isn't the largest but it takes both of their bodies and comfortably lets Marc rest one of his legs on the couch while the other is bent at the knee.

"Come on, Marc, fuck me," Marco says, his hair splayed out around his head like a halo, just like the angel he claims to be. Marc has always been a sinner.

He takes his time despite Marco rocking his hips down closer to his cock but his hand on his hips are holding him still. Barely.

"Be patient," he says, his own voice cracking with the amount of resistance it's taking him to not pound into Marco, raw.

He tests the slide in by lining up his cock with his hole. The tip pops in with a squelch and they both moan when Marc fucks the tip in and out, teasing.

He pushes in some more, making sure he watches for the way Marco's mouth forms an o shape, a silent moan making its way out of him.

He's so small under Marc. Marc loves the allusion of a contrast between them. How he's composed (a lie) and trying his best not to hurt Marco while the younger man is writhing and trying to fit more of his length into him.

Marc's hand that's not holding up Marco's leg to his shoulder comes up to push his shirt up so his chest is exposed to the cool air of the room.

At the sight of Marco's tits, chest heaving, practically calling for him, Marc slides in all the way, his dick pulsing for a short second as he almost comes just from being inside Marco.

Marco is wet and hot around him just like he expected and it feels so good to be inside him without a barrier between them. It feels too good to be true. Marc has to breathe out through his mouth so he doesn't come prematurely like a hormonal teenager.

"Feel so full Marc.. you're so good.." Marco mumbles, sounding out of it as Marc begins to pull out and then thrust back into him.

It's slow and steady yet rushed and fast because Marc is already so close to the edge, tethering there for so long.

"Your pussy is so good, ricitos," he groans, head thrown back as he continues fucking into Marco, the couch shaking with the force of their movements.

Marco can only moan and keen high in his throat, eyes shut, mouth open. He's so breathtakingly beautiful and Marc feels the sudden urge to have him to himself.

He suddenly wants to pump him full of his seed, fuck him over and over again so his body takes. Make him his, put a ring on his finger. Or a collar on his neck. It's driving Marc crazy with wanton heat.

"Amore.. so good.. s'good.. harder please.. please," Marco says through his teeth. Marc has pride blooming in his chest. He made Marco, confident Marco, like this. Reduced to nothing but a babbling mess.

He gives it to him like he asks for it, pressing Marco's leg back down against him, stretching him to his full elasticity as he pounds into his cunt.

Marc uses the opportunity of being so close to Marco's chest to lean down and take a nipple into his mouth, licking over it with his tongue, loving the way Marco holds his head there as if to urge him on.

"Are you close? 'Cause 'm so fucking close," he whispers against Marco's skin. He looks up to see the man nodding, breathing harshly as his own body starts to tighten. " 'm gonna come inside you, Marco. You're gonna make me a baby. Okay? You think you can be a good mama and do that for me?"

"Oh my God.. fuck , Marc," Marco whines at that. "Please yes.. please come inside me. I'll be so good…please."

"Yeah? Want me to make you a mommy?" Marc groans, fucking into Marco with purpose.

"Please.. please yes.." Marco cries, his voice so loud that Marc is actually thankful for the thick walls and distance between the other riders motorhomes.

Marc curses and groans. Then he moves his head up and kisses Marco on the mouth, tongue swiping over his own tongue to lick into his mouth.

He bites down on his lower lips right as his back arches, his walls clenching down around Marc's cock, his body tightening right before it snaps and he gasps out when he finally comes.

Marc comes right after Marco's pussy pulses around him, practically milking him dry inside him.

"Oh my fuck," Marc mutters against Marco's lips, thrusting into him to ride out the rest of his orgasm. Marco is just so good around him. "God, you're so fucking hot."

"Mhm," is the only sound Marco makes, his eyes closed shut as he lets Marc kiss him stupid.

Marc chuckles to himself when he pulls out, his cock twitching in interest when he sees the way his come dribbles out of him.

He can't help the grin that spreads over his face when he lies between Marco's spread legs so his head rests comfortably on his tummy and his mouth closes around a soft nipple, loving the way Marco whines in oversensitivity and tries to push him away.

Marc is really gonna enjoy this newfound information.

[prostatepushingpecco]

Writing on the wall

Bonus Chapter

Ao3

Marc sipped from his glass, watching the gaggle of motorcycle racers fight over the grill. He couldn't help smiling as he watched Luca hold the spatula over his head, causing Mig to jump to try and get it. Marc shook his head as he spotted Bez sneaking meat to the dogs, Alex helping him. Vale snuck up behind Marc, an arm snaking around his waist as he rested his chin on his shoulder.

After Marc had landed, messaging Vale again, things were rough. Valentino, unsure of if they should try again, had left Marc on read. But that night, he answered, the pair quickly falling back into their old routine. Alex had his reservations about the situation, ones that he very vocally reminded the couple of. But they had matured, they had learnt from past mistakes.

"Should I order dinner?" Valentino whispered into Marc's neck. Marc laughed, draining his glass before he placed it on the table and turned to wrap his arms around Vale's neck. Vale leaned down, kissing Marc, savouring the taste of wine on his lips. Celestino walked into the kitchen, awkwardly coughing as he waited for them to part. "We ran out of meat." Cele announced, planning to run back out.

Marc patted Valentino's butt, watching his lover leave to get his phone. Pouring another glass of wine, Marc looked at Cele with a smile. "Its funny, I never thought I'd be back here." Celin nodded, thinking about the last slice of beef on the grill that he had hidden near the hinge. "Cant believe someone random person putting Vale's phone number on the wall of a toilet could lead to this." Celestino froze.

Oh shit.

He had been caught.

He laughed, slowly edging towards the door as Valentino walked in. "Just put the order in. What you both talking about?" He asked, phone in hand. Cele stayed silent, still shuffling as Marc took a swig from his glass. "I was just talking about how someone leaving your number on the toilet lead to all this. I wonder who left the number." Vale kissed the top of Marc’s head. "I actually never saw the toilet wall." Marc pulled his phone out of his pocket.

Cele saw his chance, he flew to the door, hand on the handle. He watched Mig eat the slice he was hiding as Valentino called his name. Celestino turned slowly, knowing he couldn't hide anymore. Vale had a smile on his face as he held Marc's phone out. "Why is my number on a toilet wall in your handwriting next to a drawing of an ant running over my turtle?" Celin thought about his slice of meat and thought about blaming Mig.

"You hired Diggia for the academy seat." Celin admitted, "not that it was a bad decision. But I was doing so good in Moto2 with no seat offers. Then there was an empty seat and you didn't consider me. So I drew the drawing and added your number." Marc let out a laugh, hand on Valentino's bicep. "Well, I have to thank you, Cele." Cele gave Marc a thumbs up and ran out, shouting at Mig.

Marc kissed Valentino again, his hand not leaving Vale's bicep. They stood silent, bodies pressed against each other. "It's not a bad drawing -" Marc started as Vale barked a laugh, "I am not getting it tattooed, I'm not Bez." Valentino replied, kissing his lover again.

[moonshynecybin]

one thing for sure : Marc would have been made captain early on à la Toews/Sid/Connor

(and you know people would doubt him at the beginning, say he’s too young and not captain material, etc)

this is so funny because it would be like. 19 year old marc too. baby. if we’re going off of youngest ever nhl captain. imagine rocking up to training camp and there’s marc with his acne and his black eye giving you the shark eyed stare in between honk laughs. crosby-esque in that regard…

i DO love this scenario because i think it works to heal a fundamental wound in marc which is how his ability/desire to compete kind of isolates him… he CAN work on a team he LOVES working on a team but if he’s in competition with you he’s not gonna hold anything back… so folding him into a hockey team where it’s all about building those lasting friendships that actually HELP you compete is going to be sweet… i still think he has a bit of that alien isolation (again pulling on sid here for some reason lol) but it’s mitigated which is niceee

HONESTLY in that same vein i can see the vale fallout coming where they’re on the SAME team marc’s rookie/sophomore year and then they have to compete at the olympics and marc is a SHARK and that’s what fucks them up… marc hits vale hard on the forecheck and it’s all like YOU KICK MIETTE? from there on out until vale leaves the team and in the playoffs shit hits the fan (to pull on sid AGAIN. injuring claude giroux’s wrists at the face-off dot in 2012 and being absolutely unrepentant)… BUT. BEFORE the divorce. can we all just take a minute and think about the cellys…. marc’s smiling face pressed into vale’s jersey while vale shakes him around with a noogie on the head and then pats him on the ass… COMPLETELY ignoring their lineys… nasty…

[isacksteban]

Heaven

A marcmarc fluff oneshot (1.7k words)

Pecco had won, and despite Bez finishing eighth, seeing his best friend on the top step of the podium washed away all his disappointment. Seeing his boyfriend smiling so brightly with his brother standing just one step below probably helped too. Bez couldn't help but shift his focus from Pecco to the Spaniard beside him, he looked perfect up there.

A few hours had passed since the podium celebration, and now Bez was heading out to celebrate the way he liked best, with alcohol and the rest of the academy. As soon as he entered the bar, Pecco greeted him with a bright smile. They hugged without hesitation.

"Feeling good, amo?" Bez grinned at his friend, who nodded, still on cloud nine from his earlier win.

"Andavi fortissimo," Bez praised. It was true, Pecco had been incredibly fast, beating Marc was a big deal, especially to Vale's boys.

They made their way through the building, joining the others and striking up conversations.

It didn't take long for Bez to get drunk, becoming more giggly than usual as he clung to anyone who got too close.

Cele was the closest, not minding the arms wrapped around him as he continued to drink, far less drunk than the curly-haired boy attached to his hip. Everything was funnier to Bez in this state, whether it was Vale coughing or a girl coming over to hit on one of them, he couldn't stop the giggles that followed.

As the night went on, the bar became livelier. Bez's laughter filled the room. Cele, amused by his friend's antics, tried to keep Bez upright as they navigated through the crowd.

"Hey, Bez, maybe slow down a bit," Cele suggested, chuckling as Bez nearly tripped over his own feet.

"Wowww" Bez groaned, his words slurring slightly. "Are you making fun of me for getting eigth"

"Oh shut up" Cele rolled his eyes, pushing him into a seat in a quieter area of the bar, not wanting him to get too drunk. The last thing he wanted to do was be on "Babysit Bez" duty.

Pecco joined them, a drink in hand and a wide grin on his face. "Looks like someone's having a good time," he teased, hand patting the back of Bez's head.

Bez frowned up at him. "Cele's making fun of me, this isn't fun anymore" The trio knew he was just being dramatic, this is how it went for Bez. Clingy, overdramatic, then sad.

Bez leaned heavily against Cele, his head resting on his shoulder. Cele's arm wrapped around Bez's shoulders, keeping him steady.

"So, what's the plan for tomorrow?" Pecco asked, taking a sip of his drink.

"Training," Cele replied, rolling his eyes. "Break just started and I can't even enjoy it yet."

Bez groaned dramatically as if he was the one scheduled to train, he had a week until his turn. "Do we have to? Can't we just stay here and drink forever?"

Pecco laughed. "Don't think you need any more to drink ever."

The night continued with stories, laughter, and more drinks, to Pecco's dismay. Eventually, Bez's energy began to wane. Cele noticed and leaned closer, having to speak louder into his ear to make his voice clear over the music.

"You okay?" Cele asked, concern in his eyes.

Bez nodded, though his eyelids were drooping. "Just tired," he mumbled.

Pecco sat down beside him. "Maybe it's time to call it a night. You've had enough fun for one evening." Bez sighed but didn't argue.

With Cele's help, Bez managed to stand up. Pecco took his other side, and together they guided him out of the bar. The cool night air was a welcome relief from the stuffy bar, and Bez took a deep breath, feeling a bit more alert.

"Thanks," Bez said, his voice soft. "You guys are so nice to me."

"Of course," Cele replied, smiling.

As they walked back to their hotel, the streets quiet and empty, Bez began to perk up at the thought of seeing Rubik. When they finally reached the hotel and made their way to Bez's room, they were greeted by an enthusiastic dog, who immediately bounded over, tail wagging furiously.

"Hey, buddy," Bez mumbled, kneeling down to cup Rubik's face, kissing all over the dogs fur. His excitement was contagious, and Bez's tired eyes lit up.

"Looks like someone missed you," Cele said with a smile, watching the joyful reunion, no matter how long the two were apart it was always like this when they came back together.

Pecco gave Bez a quick hug once he finally let go of the Pitbull, "Sleep well, Bez. We'll see you in the morning?"

Bez nodded, having no plan of falling asleep as he fell onto his bed, Rubik settling down beside Bez as he pulled his phone from his back pocket to call Marc.

The phone rang a few times before he heard a familiar voice on the other line, curls falling back as he rolled onto his back. "Cucciolo, where are you?"

"I'm on the way to my hotel, is everything okay mi cielo?" Marc asked, picking up on Bez's drunken state just by the way he spoke

"Come to mine?" He asked, slightly whining as he thought about being alone, now he was sad.

"Okay, I'll be there soon Marco" He confirmed before hanging up, he was about a 10 minute drive from Bez's hotel.

Bez waited impatiently, the Spaniard couldn't get there soon enough. He pulled Rubik closer, muttering in Italian about his boyfriend. Where was he? Was he close? Was he not coming? Did Marc not want to see him?

It was silly, really, Marc adored being with Bez, he was happiest with the Italian in his arms and Bez was well aware of that, Marc made sure to vocalize his feelings whenever he could so there was no need for him to get so worked up over this, though the alcohol wasn't working in his favour.

Having a dog like Rubik was great when Bez was alone, he could be as clingy as he wanted to the pitbull and he never cared, more than happy to be smothered by the racer.

Time passed by slow for both of them, Marc eager to get out of his car and hurry inside, knowing exactly where to go to find Bez's room, it was easier when they were staying in motorhomes by the track but because the two were staying in Germany a little longer than the others their managers made sure to book them hotels instead.

He soon reached the boys door, knocking three quick times before stepping back to wait for the door to swing open.

Like clockwork both Bez and Rubik shot up, greeting Marc with smiles on their faces. Before the Spaniard could even speak the Italians arms were wrapped around his shoulders, light kisses being pressed on the side of his face as he was pulled back into the room

"Hi, cielo, hi" Marc laughed, leaning into the touch as Rubik waited impatiently for some attention to be on him, too.

"I missed you so much" Bez confessed between kisses, pulling back to look at Marc, "missed your face."

He couldn't stop his lips from curling up as he looked at Bez, eyes shining as he examined his boyfriends face. Cheeks still flushed red from his activities earlier in the night, curls now frizzy from laying on his back while waiting.

"Did you have fun? You celebrated with Pecco, no?" Marc asked, looking away to give Rubik what he wanted, nice scratches under his jaw

Bez hummed, cheeks hurting because of the smile stuck on his face, he loved seeing Rubik and Marc together, his two favourite boys getting along. "Yeah, everyone went to a bar together, drank too much"

"You always drink too much" He responded playfully, laughing at the expression on Bez's face, he knew it was true but he'd never admit it.

It wasn't long before they ended up laying down together, Rubik curled up on Marc's left, Bez on his right with his head on his chest as if he wasn't nearly 10 centimeters taller than him. To them it didn't matter, this is how it went. Marc always made sure Bez knew he was his, his baby, his heaven, his Marco.

Marc's hand found its way into the Italians hair, nails softly scratching Bez's hair. He hummed contently, eyes closing as he focused on the feeling, something so comforting about the position they were in, they'd stay like this forever if they could.

The room was filled with a quiet sense of peace as they lay together. Bez's breathing started to even out, and Marc could feel the tension melt away from his boyfriend's body. Rubik snuggled closer to Marc's side, his warmth adding to the cozy atmosphere.

Marc softly whispered, "Te amo, Marco."

"Ti amo, Marc," Bez murmured back, a sleepy smile on his face. He felt completely at ease, surrounded by the two people he loved most.

After a few moments of silence, Bez spoke again, his voice barely above a whisper. "Thank you for coming, amore."

Marc pressed a gentle kiss to Bez's forehead. "I'll always come to you. You know that."

Bez nodded, feeling his eyes grow heavier. He clung to the comfort of Marc's presence and Rubik's warmth. It was moments like these that made having to keep this a secret worth it. He was loved, cherished, and supported, and he knew that.

As the night deepened, Marc continued to run his fingers through Bez's hair, humming quietly as he gazed lovingly, Marc could look at him forever. Bez's breathing became slow and rhythmic, signaling that he had finally fallen asleep. Marc glanced down at him, his heart swelling with affection.

"Sleep well," Marc whispered.

The room was quiet except for the soft sounds of their breathing and the occasional snuffle from Rubik. The chaos of the day had faded, leaving only the serenity of the night. Marc stayed awake a little longer, savoring the moment and the sense of completeness it brought him.

Eventually, he too closed his eyes, letting sleep take over. Tomorrow could wait. For now, they were together, and that was all that mattered.

[moonshynecybin]

Okay but what is vale’s reaction to the motogp Instagram account posting that in the forced coming out au. Internally I mean. Does he do his best to ignore it? Is he so deep in denial that he’s patting himself on the back for being a good actor? What narrative is he building in his head?

coming down on jorge lorenzo (decidedly winning the idgaf war in all years) sending it to him and vale externally commenting two little love hearts and @ ing marc's insta publicly BUT also internally being like. im gonna have to run away to some uninhabited island in the mediterranean and live in exile like napoleon this sucks so bad

[marquezism]

waaaaaaaaaaaaahhhhhhhh etc etc etc GOD HE LOOKS SOOOOOO

"this is over, marc marquez has this one covered. he's now over two seconds clear of pecco bagnaia" -> music to my ears...

discussions on how difficult it is to overtake at misano... well, not for everyone, i guess!

seeing marc up there... i just know his ass is bored as hell...

call that back to back the way he's winning again. he doesn't even look stressed, man, he looks calm. just calm. focused as ever.

truly so remarkable how he pulled that out just a week post aragon like,,, unbelievable to me still.

thats his TEAM YOU GUYSSSSSSSS URGH GRESINI I WILL MISS YOU

marc marquez wins the san marino grand prix 2024 <3

crying. he really is making these people go through this twice in two weeks...

HELLOOOOOO GORJUSSSSSSSSSS IM SOBBBBINGGG YOOOOO

his eyes......... my darling love my sweet angel baby..............

jokes he's crazy actually

the leathers are sooooooo fucking beautiful................ how magical that he won in them.................

oh no...

MOMAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA

also pictures do not do the gresini celebrations, or any of these celebrations justice but it's truly just such pure emotion like...

gigi once again looking a bit too happy about it all...

also im really enjoying marc doing his little victory lap round misano knowing full well those people are PISSED off AND impressed...

also also. i kinda feel like baby has tears in his eyes... not saying he's emo but he's kinda emo i think...

also so fucking funny how the gresini and vr46 garages are right next to each other again, like. man.

EL LOCO NO AVISA, BITCHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH

also christian gabbarini just looked over and smiled at marc celebrating, im JUSTTTTTT SAYING

he is one point five apples tall and the best rider this sport has ever seen

literally loved beyond comprehension btw

oogghghhghg they are showing enea coming into parc ferme and pecco down with his bike by his fans and in the background of commentary you hear one loud "EL LOCO NO AVISA!!!! JAJAJA" im crying..........

JLM doing the most out there AND I WOULD TOO

throwing up. make it go away. but also vale in his garage means he was riiiiiiiiight there as marc rode past towards parc ferme :)))))))))))) i bet vale didnt look at him at all even once :)))))))))))

meanwhile gresini is having a full ass party like they are jumping aroundddddddd... it really is the perfect atmosphere for marc to return to himself, isnt it? like he said, in 2024, "i found myself again"...

gigi's faaaaace......................... oh NO......................

congratulating marc before being received by his team AND before taking his helmet off... WHERE have i seen that before...

im so happy he gave gresini this gift... idk, just. everything about it.

annoying motherfucker. guy of all time forever.

you know everyone also talking about "marc conditions" but the thing is that they arent "marc conditions", they are just DIFFICULT conditions. low grip, slippery tracks, unclear decision-making, all these things are HARD. and marc is the best in those shit conditions bc he's the best. that's how easy that is.

face of all time forever.

"im tired" he says......... im gonna kms..............

also the whole "fausto from the sky said drop a little rain, lead the race and pull away" story just. it's so. you know. like it's so. such a beautiful thought. that he isn't... like, he's admitting that the rain was what allowed him to take the front and WHY it rained just enough, his explanation is FAUSTO did it... can you imagine being nadia or fausto's son and hearing that... it's just so beautiful, and gentle, and sweet. even to himself, it's sweet. that fausto made it rain for the kid.

when he gave the bike a little pat over the line......... please......

big sigh

out of pics yet again so the podium will stay unpictured but man, the booing pisses me off so fucking bad. like i understand that the space is filled with valentino's fans, his flags and colours are everywhere, but. how DOES vale feel, when he watches on and hears HIS fans boo marc like that... to this day. in 2024. after SUCH an impressive performance. like, i want someone to ask him THAT. HOW does he feel, about his fans booing marc? to a point where even pecco tells them to pipe down? not that valentino ever had the decency to do that

gjfgakujgd OH NO marc sprays luca gresini in champagne and then luca goes into hiding and marc runs around to the other side and luca FLINCHES away from him but marc just wants to get him back out so mum can look at him :')

also the crowd is insanely big in front of that podium considering marc won the whole thing and they are blaring the spanish anthem up on there... almost like they want to see him even if pretending it's in anger... truly fascinating how vale's fans will mirror valentino himself like that lmao

and you know whichever motherfucker caught marc's knee slider is KEEPING that thing safe and sound...

I SPOTTED A 93 FLAG!!!!!!!!!! I SPOTTED TWO!!!!!!!!!!!! WE ARE ALIVE IN THE HEART OF ITALY YET!!!!!!!!!!! pun not intended. maybe a little.

gonna beeeeeee rewatching misanooooo today