#motogp angst

[flyingcakeee]

Even when the mountain doesn't move, the river may still dry. Nature will whither, fauna will leave, the fish will find new homes. Yet, if I were created to love you, then why can you not bring the winter snow to fill up my path?

[formulapookie]

:)

Under the cut to read on tumblr, here to read on Ao3 <3

I'll commit your every scar to my memory rosquez, 6k words

(set 2025)

Marc has been looking at himself in the mirror for twenty minutes now.

Inspecting for every micro feature which signaled he was getting older.

He doesn’t want to get older, he can’t.

All his career, his success had come when he was a kid and he had been nicknamed “alien” for it goddamnit.

youngest pole sitter, youngest podium finisher, youngest winner, youngest champion.

key word being young. 

he doesn't feel old, but older, god yes. Everyday.

A new source of pain coming out, an old one resurfacing, the fear of falling behind, of not fitting in anymore and of running out of time.

All present and heavy on his body, which took the hit every time.

Why he thinks that, he isn’t  sure.

But he feels like he must get everything now or it will all have been useless.

It’s been one year now since he and Vale reconciled, and nine months since they made their relationship official, but only to intimate friends and their families, since Marc was still a target in the paddock, and they both knew that having a gay relationship wasn’t exactly the greatest thing to share in a sport like theirs.

And while the respective families had reacted well (except for a bit of skepticism on Alex’s side) the Academy had been more bitter, especially Uccio, but it was to be expected since he is so obviously in love with Vale since the dawn of time.

The mirror in their room at the Ranch keeps reflecting his toned and muscled body, along with his freshly shaved face and regrowing curls.

If he has to be honest he isn’t the one who brought up the aging thing.

First Vale, at his birthday, after he was officially a Ducati factory rider for that year, telling him he was “growing up”, getting closer to 35.

And it terrified Marc.

Then his brother, joking about him retiring so that he could be the only Marquez on the grid “haste que tu y Mr doctor creéis un hijo con magia y aterroricen a MotoGP” (Until you and Mr Doctor will create a son with magic and terrorize MotoGP) 

And finally Bezzecchi two weeks ago.

He was talking to Celestino, to which he seemed glued to the hip, almost symbiotic, as if they only existed one attached to the other.

“Sta invecchiando comunque, magari Vale con i gusti per i più piccoli che ha se ne trova uno più giovane e meno sfasciato” (He’s aging by the way, maybe Vale with his taste for younger people will find a younger and less broken one) 

“Sei un coglione Marco dai” (Marco you’re a dickhead come on)

“Dico la verità, magari tra una settimana ci porta un ragazzetto di 20 anni che lo guarda con gli occhi a cuoricino e che non sia mezzo pieno di cicatrici” (I’m saying the truth, maybe in a week the he’ll come to us with a 20 year old boy who looks at him heart-eyed and who’s not half covered in scars)

“Immagini? Tanta fatica e poi se ne sbatte un altro”

(Can you imagine? So much trouble and he ends up fucking another guy)

“Sarebbe karma” (Would be karma)

Marc had been hidden behind the door throughout the whole conversation, and a wave of nausea and vomit overwhelmed him, causing him to rush silently to the toilet and throw up.

Maybe they were right. 

He was getting older, Vale had said that himself, joking about his smile lines.

He had started exercising even more, buying more products for skincare and trying to act like he was 20 again.

And suddenly he didn’t feel pretty anymore, he just wanted to ride a couple laps on the dirt track and forget about it.

He looks at himself one last time, not failing to notice the faint line of a wrinkle in the corner of his eyes staring right back at him, menacing.

He puts on his gear, ignoring everyone in the kitchen and heading straight for the track, grabbing the bike with the bright orange “93” plastered on front.

It’s the best way to shut his mind off, it’s just him and the track, the bike being a direct extension of his body.

He completes ten, twelve, fifteen laps then he slips, bike flying out of his hands and his body tumbling down in the dirt.

His arm hurts, but his brain aches more.

Finished finished finished.

He goes to grab the bike to climb on it again when he feels a pair of arms around his body. Vale.

“Are you ok Marc? Do I need to grab your painkillers? I’ll help you back on the bike if-” the older one gets cut off harshly by Marc, who has pain in his eyes

“I can still do things Valentino you know?”

He's angry, his tone bitter and his words harsh.

He’s not like that and Vale knows, he’s tender when they speak, they’ve hurt each other way too much already to be cruel to one another now.

Vale has a concerned expression painted on his face, his eyes quickly running to Marc’s right arm, then to his face again.

“Let me get up”

“Ok but-“

“I want to do some other laps let me do them” 

it’s not a plea, or a begging, his voice is resolute and firm.

Vale is visibly worried, but lets him.

He looks as Marc gets back on the bike and restarts, the corner of his eyes caught by Bezz and Celin giggling between themselves.

Marc gets off the bike after one hour, when his body cannot take it anymore and his brain is foggy enough with thoughts about breaking, turning, speeding.

He leaves the bike in the garage, stripping out of his leathers, the only clothing underneath a sleeveless adherent black top, half dirty from soil and grass.

And just when he was convinced to have sedated the thoughts for at least a good few hours his eyes trace the outline of his scar, dead tissue on his arm.

He goes to their bedroom bathroom quickly, to avoid more sensations to overwhelm him, getting into the shower and turning the hot water on, letting it rinse away scenarios where he’s not present in Vale’s future. He spends at least twenty minutes under the water, washing himself carefully and almost trying to clean away the scars littering his body, obviously without succeeding.

As he gets out of the bathroom he’s only wearing a towel around his hips, and he inevitably meets his reflection staring back at him from the mirror.

He wants so desperately to see the 20 year old wonderkid he used to be, but that’s his past. Marc knows time passes for everyone, it takes from you, sometimes more than it should, sometimes it’s harsher on your body and sometimes on your soul.

He isn’t fucking eighty he knows that but still. He’s grown. He’s not the starstruck kid Vale first met and with whom shared many nights during their rivalry.

He’s a grown man now, he looks different, he can see the tiredness in his own eyes, pain sometimes so much it eats his body whole, the same pain which has him stay awake some nights.

And he knows Vale is older than him but Vale is also Vale and no one in their right mind would ever question his capacities or greatness, not even if he was 90.

And like Bezzecchi said he had a taste for youngsters, full of life and ready to do whatever he said as if it was a command.

He used to be one of those, but now…

He hears his name getting called downstairs for dinner, yells back he’s getting dressed and will soon be there.

He avoids the mirror while changing, his body feels wrong every time he tries to look at it, his face transpires the worry sleeping in his chest.

They all eat together, Pecco is there too, he’s getting used to sharing spaces with his future teammate which is good, but Bezzecchi is there too, casting funny glances at his best friend making them both giggle while sometimes looking over at Marc. He speaks maybe four words during the whole dinner, his brain feeling like it’s underwater and needs to be saved from drowning into the abyss.

As they finish eating he helps clean up the table and when he’s proposed to stay and watch a movie he fakes a headache, heading upstairs and leaving the academy to enjoy their time. 

Not even two minutes later he’s in his boxers under the sheets, back turned to the glassy hell his mirror has become.

He hears the door opening and quiet steps making their way to him.

“Ei amore, everything ok?”

Vale’s tone is tender and caring, something which only surfaced once they reconciled, a side of Vale making him humane, not the cold and distant concept of a God Marc still had in the back of his mind.

It was good in a way, but on the other hand it made him feel weak, like he needed to be spoken softly otherwise he would’ve broken like glass. 

“Si, I’m a bit tired and have a headache, can we just…can we just sleep?”

It was the most obvious of the answers, the fakest one, and yet the only one he could give him at that moment.

Valentino nods, taking off his shirt and pants and climbing into bed, Marc laying his head on Vale’s stomach, feeling the man’s hand stroke his curls gently.

Valentino is tired too, he had to follow an event all day and close a contract for VR46, he falls asleep in a half hour, while Marc has his eyes wide open in the darkness of a night lightened only by a pale moon in the distant sky.

He hears his mind speaking again, telling him how he’s not himself anymore, he’s not what Vale wants and he’s not the best Vale can have, because afterall he is THE Valentino Rossi and everyone wants a piece of him and Vale could feel entitled to request a piece of every one just because of who he is.

You’re not the one Vale deserves.

He could have them younger, prettier, faster, better.

He could have someone he can be seen with, with someone he could bring to races and shit like it was normal to do.

He could have someone who didn’t try to fight him so hard back then.

A new rookie maybe, fast, magnetic, idolizing him.

Vale would have every right to just let him go to find someone who doesn’t look so broken, who doesn’t risk getting more and more broken every week.

Perhaps he wants children.

And well for how much you can adopt kids maybe, no surely, Vale wants his kid to look and be like him.

Marc doesn’t cry, but just because he’s too afraid of waking Vale up, and surely seeing him acting so pathetic would be the last straw Vale would need to leave him and go find someone else.

So he doesn’t, he cries a lot internally, he tries to trace every mole on Valenitno’s body because he’s so afraid that in a matter of time he’ll be unable to see him like this again.

or feel the heat of his body next to his own.

Afraid to wake up without the smell of his shampoo or go to sleep missing the pair of arms that are holding him at this moment.

He manages to fall asleep after more than an hour, thoughts feasting on his brain like worms on a carcass, the same word echoing endlessly in his mind.

useless

He wakes up to an empty bed, no sign of Valentino in the room whatsoever, and he imagines his life could become like this in a matter of time.

He doesn’t understand how those little comments managed to get under his skin so much, he had never been the one to take those things to heart because…

because he had never actually believed any of that shit talk before.

But now he’s the first one to think that, the first to indulge on it. 

He can feel a sense of inadequacy crawling in bed with him, wrapping his hands around his throat and slowly depriving him of the chance to breathe.

It’s burning and it hurts like hell, it’s ugly.

He scrambles to the bathroom, throwing up bent over the toilet, coughing and sniffing like during the worst hangover of his life.

He can make out rushed steps coming to the door, Valentino crouching down to level himself with Marc, stroking his hair and back, worry painted in his eyes.

“Marc, do you want me to get you something? Are you ok?”

Weak, undeserving, not enough

That fuckin voice doesn’t shut up goddamnit, it haunts his mind and poisons everything coming in close contact with him.

What if it can poison Vale?

What if by standing so close to Marc he’ll end up being corrupted by this voice?

No no no, he’d rather suffer alone and watch Vale be happy with someone else rather than seeing him hurting.

Because that’s what Marc is when it comes to who he loves.

Selfless, adoring and ready to let go, because he knows he’s not an easy person to put up with so he never pushes.

“No I’m ok I just didn’t digest dinner well that’s all”

“Marc”

“I told you it was yesterday’s dinner Vale, I’m already feeling better, see?”

And he smiles, the fake PR smile Vale has seen hundreds of times, he could recognise Marc’s true smile in a crowd full of people, his laugh in a room filled with clowns and most of all he could recognise Marc hurting in a massacre.

His eyes are lifeless, a veil of something trapping the joy and happiness inside, not letting them see the sun.

“Marc tell me what’s going on because you’re not ok and I am not letting you leave the room until you’ve told me what’s happening”

“I decide if I can get out of the room or not Vale, you’re not my mom, I told you i’m ok so let me go thank you”

Vale wants to stop him but he knows it would be worse, Marc would shut down and respond robotically to questions he dreads to know the real answer to.

“Marc. I won’t force you ok? But please tell me what’s going on, you look-”

“I know what I look like there’s no need to tell me”

Marc thinks of old, spent, expired, outdated. 

All different words to mean only one thing.

undesirable.

And weak.

He fucking threw up in front of Vale, he almost had tears in his eyes, he had to come up with his fake smile he knew Vale would recognise, he’s so fucking stupid god how can he act like that and hope to still have a chance in keeping Vale.

He gets past him, putting on a pair of joggers and a short sleeved shirt of his and walks out the room, grabbing his biker boots and protective jacket by the entrance and putting them on, ignoring the boys sitting in the living room looking at him with curiosity.

Probably he yelled before, and they heard him.

Amazing.

He slams the door shut behind him and goes to grab his street bike.

Once he’s put the helmet on he’s alone. 

Truly alone.

No other voices or sounds, not even the one in his head.

It’s quiet, like one of the earliest nights he remembers sharing with Valentino, the one in Aragon perhaps, or the many in between races when they could wander off in one of Vale’s secret spots and share everything, even the silence.

He starts the bike and goes for a ride, a long one, he didn’t bring his phone with him so he doesn't know how long precisely.

He comes back home once he’s hungry and beginning to feel tired.

Once again he doesn’t dwell on the academy boys watching him, he can only imagine what they’re saying.

He doesn’t let the thoughts come to him this time though, he just heads straight for the shower and gets ready for lunch.

Vale is an amazing cook, he prepared something that smells delicious, but Marc can’t eat more than half a plate before already feeling nauseous.

He eats everything anyway, he doesn’t want to upset Vale more, so he forces every fork until he clears the plate.

“Vale” it’s Bezzecchi’s voice, he has a strange tone to it “how’s Pedro? didn’t you say he should come to the ranch soon? To see what he’s capable of off track?”

Marc doesn’t want to suppose things, but the way he says the last sentence sends shivers down his spine

20, fast, starstruck by Vale, not half covered in scars.

Check, check, check, check.

The qualities Bezzecchi talked about a few weeks prior are all part of Pedro.

Marc excuses himself from the table for the second time in a row, feeling bad about doubting Vale but also not holding him responsible if that came up to be the case.

He had said it himself he was now the past of MotoGP, and Pedro the future.

Bezzecchi cackles from the table, Celestino elbows him in his ribcage, earning a harsh stare from his friend.

Vale just sits at the table, looking in the direction Marc had disappeared to, trying to understand what was going on with his boyfriend, because he truly has no idea and is scared something had happened outside of the peace of the Ranch, maybe someone finding out about them and threatening Marc to reveal their relationship to the public.

He decides to leave him alone for a while, maybe he’s just not used to having all these people around all the time and needs his space, a moment alone to quiet down his brain.

He spends the afternoon with the boys, racing around the track, checking and analyzing data and talking about Bezz’s newfound harmony with Aprilia.

The clock hits eight pm and they’re all hungry as hell, so the boys quickly make their way to the bedrooms to take their showers and change, since they also decided to go out tonight for a party held by one of Bezz’s DJ friends.

Meanwhile Marc had stayed in the room the whole time, spending half of it crying his eyes out because he couldn’t stop thinking about what if Valentino actually decided to break up with him again and the feeling of emptiness he would feel eventually.

The other half he spent it trying to understand how to make himself look younger for Vale, which clothes to wear, how to act, to talk, to lie when his arm hurt while they were having sex.

Fucking pathetic

He wishes he could tear his brain outside of his skull, anything not to hear that sharp voice commenting his every move and look, he just wants the world inside his mind to shut the hell up and leave him be, at least for a few hours, just that.

A few hours where he doesn’t have to worry about being abandoned by the one person he loves more than life.

A few hours where he can love himself again.

But his brain doesn’t concede him neither those few hours, it’s a machine programmed to drive him insane, unstoppable.

Vale knocks on the door, he recognises their passcode, never changed during all those years spent together.

“Dinner is in five minutes, are you coming?”

“Yes yes, just let me get dressed and I’ll be there”

“Ok, see you downstairs amore”

It cuts deep, the bug whispering in his ear the word amore is just a way to keep him close for need, not driven by real feelings.

He comes down two minutes later, a simple pair of shorts and a t-shirt he stole from Vale not so long ago, still smelling like him.

He smiles softly at the man, sitting beside him, across Pecco, who greets him with a nod.

The boys eat in a rush, not speaking a word, apparently they were supposed to meet some other guys by nine and they’re never going to make it on time.

They practically absorb their food and are out the door in twenty minutes, in Luca’s car off to the bar they set as a rendez-vous point.

And so he and Vale are left alone.

He doesn't know how long it’s been since the last time they were completely alone, not even that annoying guard dog of Uccio staining the environment.

“You’re really beautiful tonight amore”

Lie

“My shirt looks really pretty on you, makes you look smaller”

He doesn’t actually like it

“Want to go upstairs?”

He just needs a release, not you.

“Yeah sure” he’s convincing, Vale doesn’t seem to notice his body twitching when his fingers touch his arm.

They reach their bedroom, Vale guiding Marc towards the bed, hands running under the stolen shirt to go catch on his abs, fingers looking for a strong grip.

They share a sweet kiss, nothing like the ones shared after their battles on track, quick, charged and filled with need.

 Marc knows Vale wants those back, not these ones, too plain and domestic for him to ever like.

So he tries to pull the switch, biting at Vale’s lip, pressing himself against him, backing up until his body is caged between the wall and Valentino, who looks rather surprised at the sudden change of attitude.

“Fuck me Vale come on” it feels dirty, demanding, but that was exactly like he was back then, and he so desperately needs to feel like that again.

Vale’s lips are on his neck, biting and sucking hard, matching Marc’s tone.

It’s not what he wants, it’s what Vale wants.

And that is enough for him, he’ll just try to enjoy what was probably going to be one of the last nights together, and he didn’t want Valentino to resent him for it too.

He’ll just have to relax, think about Vale’s happiness and take it.

After one particularly harsh bite he winces, but so quickly Vale cannot register it while dragging him to bed.

The grip on his wrist is strong, possessive, needy.

It’s what Vale wants, stop being fucking selfish and let him have it.

The voice is right, he cannot be selfish and wish for Vale to stick around out of pity.

He needs to earn his lover back, who cares if he has to do things he doesn’t want to do?

In the end it’s all for love.

He lets Valentino undress him, sharp teeth attacking his nipple, making him moan loudly, he’s exaggerating a bit his actions but it’s for a good cause. 

He keeps repeating to himself this is ok to do, he really wants to please Vale, it’s not bad, he used to like the sharpness and rush of adrenaline that came with battling on track so why should this be different?

He feels Vale’s hand cupping him through his boxers and he thrusts his hips up, eyes closed and hands gripping both on Vale’s hair and back, keeping him there.

“You smell so good Marc, never going to let you go”

And that’s where Marc loses his battle with himself.

He tries to keep it in but a sob comes out anyway, a tear rolling out of his eye and ending up on the pillow underneath his head.

And Vale knows Marc. He knows the difference between a sob due to pleasure and this.

This is not Marc enjoying it so much he cries, this is Marc not enjoying it at all.

He stops, getting up and sitting in front of Marc who has his eyes closed, hands balled into fists and his mouth shut in a rigid and thin line.

He’s fucked it up, he let his own feelings ruin everything again.

He doesn’t want to look at Vale, to see the disappointment and displeasure which surely the older has in his eyes right now.

He can’t bear to see how pathetic he is in Valentino’s eyes.

You ruined it for him, good job.

His head echoes with this thought, he was almost there, so close to faking it perfectly but he had to fucking cry.

He didn’t even cry in front of Vale when he told the world he hated him and he should be off the sport, but he cries for this.

“Marc?” Valentino’s voice is filled with something, it sounds like concern, fear almost.

“Marc, would you open your eyes?” no he can’t he fucking can’t because they’re filled with tears that are just going to spill out if he does, he doesn’t want that, he doesn’t want Vale to see him weak and scarred and broken.

“Amore please, what’s going on? Did I hurt you? I’m sorry if I did just please open your eyes and tell me”

There, now Vale even thinks it’s his own fault, amazing, really fucking amazing, another step towards separation.

Vale is so fucking worried right now, Marc is practically crying in front of him, trying to hold his tears in to seem tough but his body is shivering and his lips already trembling.

If he seriously went overboard and hurt him he’s going to punch himself in the face, he would never want to wound Marc.

“Amore?” It sounds like a plea, and it is, he’s begging for an answer, because he has to know what he’s done wrong.

Was he too harsh? Too demanding? Did he hurt his arm? How many possible things may he have done wrong? 

Marc gathers what little forces he has left and props himself up, sitting on the bed and opening his eyes, but he doesn’t look at Vale.

He wouldn’t be able to see him even if he wanted to, tears clouding his vision and falling on the bed.

Vale grabs the shirt he discarded earlier on the bed, the one with a wrinkled 46 printed in front in a now not so bright yellow font.

“You’re shivering Marc put this on, you’ll get sick if you don’t” he lets Vale dress him, he feels like he doesn’t have control on his body and it makes him go insane.

He always needs to have control, otherwise how can he handle reality?

He finally manages to look up at Vale, and the man can see the pain rooted deep into his stare, and he aches.

He aches because how could he not notice how much Marc was truly hurting? His eyes look like the ones he had back in 2014, after the press conference where he first broke his heart.

God that stare, the haunted gaze he had that day, it will haunt him forever.

A kid, he was a kid and he managed to kill him.

And now he looks like that kid again. Confused, hurt, crushed and dead.

“I-I’m sorry I ruined it Vale, I didn’t mean to I-” he stops, a hiccup interrupting his words “I can’t I’m not what you need right now and I get it” What was he saying? What does he mean not what Vale needed? He is everything Vale needs and way more than what he deserves.

“I just…I thought I could at least still let you have this but I can’t even fucking bring myself to ignore myself for this while”

Vale is so confused right now, because he doesn’t understand. Why is Marc talking like he’s going to fucking die in a minute? Why should he ignore himself? 

He has so many questions but he cannot even pose one, his lips sealed by incredulity.

And Marc on the other hand feels like he isn’t even deserving of an answer, he wants to scream and cry and beg Vale for a chance, but he doesn’t.

Finally Vale manages to speak up, the feeling of instability being suppressed by the need to understand what was killing Marc’s mind.

“Marc, what are you saying? let me have what? you didn’t ruin everything and what’s with the 'I'm not what you need’ thing?”

It looks so real to Marc now, the concern and the preoccupation radiating from Vale.

You failed him, you just had to shut up and endured and you fai-

For the first time this week he manages to shut the voice up, sending it back to the hell it came from long enough to be aware of the fact Vale really cares about him.

He breaks down, crying in front of the man he loves for the first time.

It’s ugly and messy, and he’s fuckinging exhausted, he wants to hold Vale, he wants to be held by him, he needs to feel at home.

And even if he doesn’t say that explicitly Vale gets it, he throws his arms around the boy, keeping him there for a while, not bothering to check how long, he places him on his lap, Marc’s ruffled hair tickling his neck as he continues sobbing into his collarbone, shoulders shivering at every sound.

He gets his head up from Vale’s neck, and fixes his gaze on Vale’s.

“Please Vale promise me you won’t leave me for someone younger and prettier, because I know you could do that anytime if you wanted because you deserve it but please don’t, I know I’m not beautiful like before and that I’m broken now and that you should be with someone who doesn’t hurt himself every week and I know I can’t do what I did before in bed but I swear I’ll try to do it again, and and I get it you could have anyone because you’re you but I only want you please please I love you I can’t let you go I need to be with you I know it’s so pathetic and dumb but I beg of you don’t leave me”

He rushes his words out, one attached to the other not caring anymore if he sounds weak, his face is now completely wet with tears and Vale’s shirt is soaked as well, but he doesn’t care, it feels like he let go of an enormous weight and is finally free.

Vale's answer comes like a helping hand to a drowning person, the hand that grabs yours and drags you out of the angry waves keeping you underwater, your lungs burning.

“Marc I- I don’t even know where to start I mean…why would I ever leave you if you’re the best thing I ever got the chance to have in my life? Why would I need someone younger when I have you and how could I want someone prettier when no one’s more perfect than you?

You’re right you’re not as beautiful as before, you’re far more breathtaking now, and you’re everything but broken, do you think that just because you fell and injured yourself you aren’t attractive to me anymore? Those scars symbolize you never giving up. They are one of the most attractive things you have, amore.

Marc I don’t care if we cannot have that rushed sex we used to have when we raced together, I love what we do now, I adore it, I feel much more connected to you, back then it was adrenaline and desire, now it’s love and need, I wouldn’t trade it for any sum on money in the world you must know this, I would never want to hurt you or force you to have sex with me if it hurts you, ok?

And I don’t fucking care I am who I am, or the fact I could have anyone else because 

I. have. you. 

And you’re the only one I want or need or dream about sharing my life with, you get it?

I love you Marc Marquez and I’ll be damned if I let these thoughts get to you and make you act like that.

I’m never going to leave unless you want me to, because I already left once and I hurt you and myself and I cannot go through it again. 

It was the worst period of my life because I looked for you every night and you weren’t there, because of me.

I should be the on worrying about you leaving me because of what I did, never never never the opposite” 

And now Vale is crying too, his eyes holding onto Marc’s gaze like his life depends on it, like he needs an answer to breathe again, because he too feels like he’s drowning and being brought to safety by his lover.

“You still love me? You swear?” It sounds so feeble and desperate Vale wants to open his chest with his bare hands and gift Marc his heart as proof of his love, because the only way he could doubt his love for him would be Vale not showing it enough, not doing everything the boy needed to feel loved.

“Of course I still love you Marc, I never stopped, and I never will, I want to share my whole life with you, you are my star and I will never let you say those things about yourself again, got it?”

“Even if I’m older now? I’ve got scars and lines and I look-”

“You look perfect. Listen I know I said I don’t believe in therapy and all that shit but I just- it’s just I didn’t like what they told me there and I decided to shit on it, but it actually helped me realize I still loved you and if you need to go there to understand how much I love you I’ll pay for it, I’ll bring you to your appointments and I’ll accept whatever outcome you get from it”

It feels good now, to Marc. It’s like he got dragged out of a stormy ocean onto a tropical beach, sunny, warm, quiet and calm.

Quiet.

No wretched voice demonizing or belittling him, just Vale, the only other presence on his dream beach, so close to him he can feel their hearts beating in unison.

He locks his fingers with Vale’s, a soft smile forming on his lips.

“Yeah I- I want to go, because I don’t want to feel like this again, I need to free my mind. Do you understand me? It’s so full it feels like it’s going to explode”

Yes, Vale knows. He’s gone through it more than he likes to admit, and he just nods, pulling Marc even closer, pressing a sweet kiss on his forehead, feeling the boy relax under his touch.

Marc tilts his head, looking up at Vale, and goes to plant a soft kiss on the man’s lips.

No rush, no lust, nothing except deep love and trust, a feeling of peace hovering over the couple who drifts to sleep together, Marc being able to dream of a beautiful snippet of his life with Vale, them together at the Ranch, not worrying anymore about hiding because Marc is retired and nobody will say anything, Stitch and Shira running after a kid with big blue eyes in the garden, the academy boys discussing who’s the favorite uncle.

Marc and Valentino holding hands, Marc’s head on Vale’s shoulder as they look at the little  girl laughing, playing with the dogs and the grass.

It’s domestic, soft, and quiet.

So quiet.

The only sound being the laughter coming from their friends and families and the dogs panting behind the buzzing girl.

She looks like Vale.

She calls him and Marc picks her up, she smiles, they’re happy.

There’s no need to worry anymore, Vale never left him, Marc neither, they went through Marc’s insecurities together, they didn’t let go of eachother.

In the real world Valentino is smiling, putting Marc to bed, covering him with their sheets, dreaming of the same thing. 

A life, a future with Marc.

[nooripoori]

our my baby

~a rosquez fic - pt1

word count : 467

just a little something that has been in my notes for days now…

On media day of the 2015 Malaysian GP, Marc found out that he was pregnant, and he wanted to tell Vale but each time he saw him he kept chickening out and then due to the chaos that ensued during the race, Marc choose not to tell Vale altogether, fearing that he might not believe him. Faced with a difficult decision, Marc resolved to keep the baby and had decided to step away from racing in the 2016 season. Together with his team, he carefully planed the narrative and actions they would tell the public.

With only one race remaining in the season, Marc didn’t have to keep his secret from the media for long, and since he wasn't visibly showing, no one suspected anything. His doctor had confirmed that everything with the pregnancy was progressing well, though he emphasized the importance of relaxation, warning that the stress Marc was experiencing could adversely affect the baby.

The season came to a close, but the torrent of hatred and vile remarks directed at him persisted. He did his best to shut it all out, even abandoning his phone, which Alex had taken away to shield him from the negativity. Yet, even in his hometown, whispers of disdain followed him, as people spoke behind his back. During every doctor’s visit, he was reminded of the importance of staying calm, as the stress was affecting the baby. But despite his best efforts, he found it nearly impossible to relax. The pregnancy had made him more vulnerable and emotional, and while he tried not to internalize the cruel words, he couldn’t help but question their truth. He wondered if vale Valentino was right—if he was indeed dangerous and reckless. Days were spent in torment, doubting whether he was fit to raise a child when he felt like a threat to those around him.

Marc had gone out with his family to try a new restaurant that Alex had been raving about. Although he couldn't eat much due to his aversion to the smell of food, he still joined them. Upon returning home, they were alarmed to find the front door already open. Rushing inside, they were met with a devastating sight: the house had been completely trashed, with debris scattered everywhere, broken decorations, and vile words scrawled across the walls, directed at him and his family. In that moment, it struck him—Valentino was right. He wasn't just a danger to himself but to everyone around him. As he lost consciousness, with Alex calling out to him and his mother desperately trying to rouse him, only one thought echoed in Marc Márquez's mind: "I am a danger."

-to be continued

[moonshynecybin]

how are the academy kids with teen mom marc's daughter? because most of them are only a few years younger than marc, do they only start getting attached once she's a few years old? none of them are on the babysitting list, right?

also, the question of all questions, will marc's daughter get siblings at one point or another? 👀

this is interesting 2 me because like. if marc brings that baby to the ranch (he does. they do that dumb little track tour with marc in his tight little t-shirt and vale balancing her on his hip) then pecco luca and franky KNOW HER pre-divorce. and probably wave to her around the paddock and say hi but also like. they arent super close to marc so i cant imagine they feel tooooo comfy just going up and saying hi to his baby during the divorce years when theyre in the feeder championship... ALTHOUGH. maybe because pecco and franky were alex's teammates at one point they get to know her as that way... saying hi to his niece that says hi to him before his races... waving her little baby fist... like i REALLY dont think they get on the babysitter list (it is. marquez family. santi. dani. LATER dovi and sometimes jorge. vale. literally never fabio but he does LOVE that little girl and they DO hang out. just. supervised.) but they do love to say hiiiiii when shes zooming around the paddock on her razor scooter and bedazzled helmet... shes determinedly planting her feet outside the yamaha garage and like. monologuing to vale about what she had for breakfast while he active listen faces at her and bezz is standing there RELUCTANTLY CHARMED.

i DO think it changes when they all get to be coworkers with marc in their own right! and develop more of an individual relationship with him. like time has passed at that point and she's a precocious little thrillseeking terror with an evil little delighted marquez jajajaja laugh and a genuine attachment to vale. so YEAH marc is helicopter mom-ing but shes definitely got a mind of her own and i think she wants to say HIIII to people. especially ones she's known forever at this point. and shes kept outside of the media circus of the rosquez cold war for the most part so i think she has good relationships with luca (calm and always very friendly) pecco (will clearly explain engineering things to her without talking down) and franky (teases her very kindly like he does to cele in that one video)... i think later on her favorite is bezz because he has a BIG DOG (novel to a little girl surrounded by weenie dogs her whole goddamn life) and will indulge her thrillseeking tendencies in ways that vale and marc still feel weird about

[scrollonso]

[yeastinfectionvale]

Pecco woke up to a small hand slapping his face repeatedly.

He groaned, turning to face Celin who held a dog shaped teddy in his hands. Pecco shuffled back, pulling Celin into bed and falling back asleep. The little boy tossed and turned for a while before falling asleep again.

Pecco woke up again to Celin fast sleep in his arms and another arm tossed around his waist. Pecco turned his head to see Franky and Bez both asleep in his bed. He stared at the ceiling questioning his friendship with the pair before sliding out of bed. Franky moved into the empty space, still asleep. Bez muttered something in his sleep, an arm pulling Celin in. He walked into the kitchen yawning to see both his dads making out with each other. He groaned, Vale pulling away from Marc, an apologetic look on his face.

Pecco ate his breakfast, listening to his dads' plans and how they would be out of the house until dark. Pecco nodded, ready to watch Cele for the day. He finished his food as his parents left. With some free time he read his book until Celin waddled out of his room, sleep still in his eyes. He said something that resembled a sentence, the little boy still not really talking. He hadn't said his first proper word yet, but had created his own names for everyone and everything. Pecco picked Cele up, holding him for a while until he whined, hungry for his breakfast. The bottle he drank before crawling into his older brother's bed no longer filling him. Pecco put the little boy in his highchair, and then cut up some strawberries, leaving them on the highchair's tray.

Franky and Bez woke up, entering the kitchen to see Cele throwing fruit at anything that moved. A piece of strawberry hit Bez in the eye and the teen wiped his face, cursing. Franky laughed, strawberries in his hair.

"moth-" Cele began, gathering more projectiles in his chubby hands. "Motherfu-" He said lifted his hands, "motherfucker!" He exclaimed, hands crashing down on the tray, crushing the fruit juice going everywhere.

Pecco stared at his brother wide-eyed. Franky looked between the brothers. Bez fell to his knees laughing.

"Motherfucker!" Cele exclaimed again, chubby hand reaching out to Pecco. He picked him up, panicking slightly. "Chill it's fine, so what." Pecco turned to look at Bez with fire in his eyes. "This is Celin's first word. He said his first word he says while we are babysitting and he said motherfucker." The smile fell off both Franky and Bez's faces, the idea of both Vale and Marc hearing their little angel curse hitting them. If they didn't teach Cele another word, they were fucked. Franky started to pace, hands in hair as Bez scratched his eyebrows, thinking.

The trio moved to the living room. Franky tidied the kitchen up with Bez as Pecco tried to teach him the word 'Papa'. Franky sat on the floor as Bez took over trying to teach Celin the word 'Dog'. Celin refused to copy, just repeating his new favourite word over and over. Franky recorded Bez and Pecco panic after hearing Cele chant 'motherfucker' rhythmicly. He sent the video to Enea with strict instructions to send the video to everyone but make sure Vale and Marc didn't see it. Pecco groaned, calling one of two people he trusted in this situation.

Luca showed up quickly, not sure what was going on but if his nephew called asking for help he sure wasnt going to hesitate. He scanned all four boys for injuries and looked at Pecco confused. Cele gestured for Luca to pick him up, hugging his uncle and holding his face. "Motherfucker." He said sweetly as Luca froze, suppressing a laugh. He looked at the three teens. "Who taught him to curse?" Bez pointed at Pecco who pointed at Bez. Franky just shrugged. Luca set the boy down, kneeling in front of him. "Can you say Papa?" Celin smiled innocently. "Motherfucker!" Luca closed his eyes. This continued for a while before Luca threw the towel in, calling his Spanish counterpart.

Alex picked up the phone, lounging beside the pool. He smiled seeing his little nephew on the video call sitting on the sofa like a cherub. He was caugh off guard after hearing Cele curse. He cackled, his phone slipping out of his hand and landing inside the pool. The call cut and Cele was running around the house cursing. Luca scratched his head as Pecco started to pray. He didn't want his dads to stop trusting him to watch his brother. Franky and Bez started praying too, three prayers had to be better than one. Cele ran back into Luca's arms as the door opened.

"Cazzo." Luca muttered just loud enough for Cele to hear. Valentino and Marc walked in, making a beeline to greet all the boys. Cele reached out to Marc, babbling as he settled himself in his Papa's arms. Valentino and Marc made some small talk as Cele turned to look at Luca. "Cazzo!" He said with glee as Luca watched his life flash before his eyes.

[melanieph321]

SEVEN DAYS OF REQUESTS!!!

Okay, now that my Ruben and Trent fic Dark Rivalry is coming to an end, it's time to go through some of your requests!" 🔥

⭐️ Next week I'm only writing requests, all of which you can read for free on Tumblr and Wattpad.

😱 The goal is to write and post one request a day, so send in AS MANY ideas as you can.

I'm also open to write for anyone, even non footballers, so you Mason Mount, Charles Leclerc and Erling Haaland lovers, DON'T be afraid to send in your requests as well! 😝😝😝

Ciao!

[batsplat]

Hello Bat!! I love love love reading your thoughts on things, from motogp to terrible 2000s tv shows. You mentionned great Smallville Lex/Clark fic in a recent post, and I was wondering: could you please share? I literally just finished rereading the Astolat's and still hunger for more.

yeah sure!! I'm kinda coasting off my ao3 history here (apparently I spent the entirety of 30/10/22 Having A Moment) so it's like,, a very imperfect list

okay, I'm gonna start with a bunch of seperis fics but I'd genuinely check out... all their stuff. it's just a fun read of the characters!! also there's so much of it and it's a good time to work your way through

A Handful Of Dust 47k words

At the end of the world, Lex can't stop running.

quite a dark and sad fic but I think about it a lot and it really works for me. it's basically a post-apocalyptic fic where the apocalypse is caused by clark being pushed over the edge and succumbing to his god complex. he's hunting down his former friends and allies, including lex. I think this kind of premise can easily be like... edgelord central 'ooh what if the hero were actually the villain', but this one feels true to the characters and their relationship + is very engaging

Advanced Masochism 8.6k words

In which Lex is curious as to why he's become a proxy stalker.

a small series that consists of lex trying to make the whole clark/lana situation work while doing his best to suppress his attraction to clark. lex's internal monologue in this is fun and punchy - though a lot of it is about his age gap to clark, which never like... feels THAT extreme in the show because tom welling *gestures*. but if that element makes you uncomfortable, I'd give this one a skip!

My Usual Lie 4.1k words

He wants to be so much more than that.

ice skating!! kinda melancholic but also idk a little sweet. it's clark spending time with lex after he's already grown up and they've already grown apart and clark misses the way it used to be between the two of them... again also ABOUT the age gap. lex is such a fun kinda slippery presence here, funny and kind but also a little detached

Frantic 9.1k words

In which Clark does not get dinner. And then everything goes downhill.

oh yeah I really enjoy re-reading this one. clark finally is forced to reveal his powers to lex at an inopportune moment, when evil goo is attempting to kill them both. no angst, just bickering

Resident Alien 2.7k words

It's tax season in the Luthor household.

just short and sweet and fun! established relationship, does what it says on the tin, lex is very into taxes. he's also very into clark

Closer to Breathing 8.6k words

Christmas parties at Luthor Manor. Boys sharing thoughts with brandy. And other things.

really lovely read, tender and fun and just kinda... nails a version of lex who is so very good at what he does, who might be loathed but can charm the small town people anyway, and a clark who stands at crossroads between being part of the small town and not liking the feeling of seeing lex play people like HIM (but not him). gets into a lot of the inherent tensions of that relationship!! love lex the outsider

Vix Te Agnovi 36.8k words

Clark gets a late-night call and interesting things happen.

again, age gap-centric warning!! lex asks clark to pick him up from a sex party. very much about the tension between the worldly metropolitan lex and the country boy hick clark, and both of them kinda entering into each other's worlds... lex reckoning how he's changed, clark curious and awkward and frustrated at being treated like a child (which. he very much is)

A Life More Ordinary 4.1k words

It wasn't sudden, and Lex didn't know it was happening until it had. And then he did.

aggressively not ABOUT superman, it's just about lex and clark. about lex and clark being flatmates. soft and gentle and intimate

Two Paths 21.8k words

Everything decided in one breath.

man I WISH there were more of the series. the basic premise is the whole smallville lie falls apart and lex is trusted to like... get clark out of there and hide him. so basically clark becomes his ward!! they live together!! lex needs to be an Adult who Takes Care of clark, but again. conflicted. this is just fun like it's such a funky dynamic that feels like an absolute perfect nightmare for lex specifically

and fics by other authors:

The Olive Branch by tasabian, 3.9k words

It's the holidays...which means Lex Luthor is keeping Superman very busy. But what is Lex's hidden agenda?

lex does crimes to get clark's attention. they're cute idc

When a Strawberry Is Pushed into a Mountain by Thamiris, 33.1k words

Away at college, Clark learns to read between the lines and finds his future there.

college!clark!! a few misunderstandings and tricky emotions that serve as a backdrop for the care clark and lex show for each other... I quite like it when fic doesn't like,, cut out their terrible parents

The Butterfly Effect by The Spike, 11.6k words

Lex can't let this Cassandra thing go.

remember that old prophecy lady from s1? well, what if lex injected himself with something that gave himself the power to see the future too, and was horrified and traumatised by what he saw? feat. clark taking care of him and papa kent playing the role of the homophobic dog

Going Home by mskatej, 5.5k words

Lex has amnesia.

amnesia future fic! clark comes to the rescue a little too late and takes care of lex. warning: the amnesia creates some issues of consent

where the colors are by museaway, 10.3k words

After Clark rescues Lex from Belle Reve, they flee to Canada to start a new life. Although his age and the need for discretion limit his options, Clark does his best to support them. But despite Clark's loyalty, Lex continues to have nightmares of his time in the asylum and worries that one day, Clark will leave him—or that the rescue was entirely in his head.

this scratches a very straightforward itch: the one where clark successfully saves lex in season three and chooses him. kinda nice and comforting even in its melancholy of not being able to return home again... y'know, sometimes you want something exactly like this

light the torch and pass it on by ang3lba3, 19.8k words

Clark starts behaving erratically, and it's up to Lois and Lex to figure out how to fix him. Thankfully, the paper cuts off there. Clark is faint, sweating. He thinks he’s hard. He checks. Yes. Yes, he is. He flips the paper over. In a deep purple ink, almost black, is an unsigned note. I think we can come to a mutually satisfactory conclusion on this matter. “Oh my god,” Clark whispers, thrilled. “He’s blackmailing me.”

lex/clark/lois. clark is having like... a weird alien hormone situation and it means he's weird towards both lex and lois. lex knows clark is superman but they're still very much enemies here, so this is the push that gets them to change their relationship. this one's just fun! sweet, good banter between lex/lois, it's obvious beneath it all how much they care for clark and clark does for them

The Milk and Cookies War by Punk, 6.2k words

Lex Luthor's Penthouse for Wayward Boys.

college!clark shows up at lex's place and makes himself at home. my favourite scene in this one is a brief interlude where lex is bitchy to his father

m2m by rivkat, 2k words

For thefourthvine, prompt: Craigslist. Clark gets curious about all those superhero kink offers.

what it says on the tin. I think you can probably guess who's demanding a superman lookalike. this fic made me laugh

Risk Management by tasabian, 7.3k words

A bad day for Metropolis reunites Clark and Lex.

future fic where lex almost dying sparks the reconciliation. ... I'd also just rec checking out all their fics tbh

The Grope of Destiny by suzvoy, 19.7k words

Clark had no idea how he was going to explain *this* one.

clark and lex are physically stuck together, and it's what prompts the reveal. always satisfying!!

Candy Cane Hearts by tasabian, 4.6k words

A new brand of candy makes Clark unusually mellow; Lex finds it all very confusing. Written for the Under Mistletoe challenge.

another christmas-y fic, another fic where clark acts weird! basically whenever you remove clark's inhibitions, he whisks lex off. just sweet and charming

No Choice by mskatej, 4.3k words

Clark is in heat.

okay. listen. you need to un-repress them, right. again, this is taking license of some weird alien biology. lex's blend of caring about clark so much and also needing him and also feeling weird about it and also being very into the whole alien thing but also kinda freaked by it... the classic dynamic

The Hinge Moment by tasabian, 14.8k words

Superman has a bad day; Lex just happens to be there.

clark kidnaps lex! but like, in a nice way. a lot of these fics don't REALLY engage with canon all that closely, but this is a future fic that definitely does. gives them the chance to actually have some conversations, y'know. some days I don't actually want them to forgive each other easily, but sometimes it's nice to scratch the itch of having slightly older and more mature versions of them figuring out their issues. really well written

I might add some more at some point but I only had the energy to go through a few right now lol and well I imagine you'd rather like them now than in like. three months. also psa: pLEASE feel free to send in smallville fic recs to this account, I'm always happy to receive them

[formulapookie]

💛💛

Under the cut to read on tumblr, here to read on Ao3 chapter 1; chapter 2; chapter 3

Les fleurs du mal ch4 rosquez, 1.8k words

Vale has been thinking of everything but Marc lately, or at least, he’s been trying to.

He wakes up every day with a different person in bed, this break is getting him the refill of energy he needs, or well, the refill of alcohol and whatever substance he keeps putting in it he needs.

He had thought about calling up Marc.

Just to fuck, or to have him suck him off, like it happened in Sepang.

But the chill that runs up his back at the thought of Marc being hurt, those damn petals in the bin, Marc yelling at him not to touch him makes it impossible.

He turns around, he doesn’t even remember who he got in bed with last night, too high or drunk or both to care.

There’s a cute guy beside him, he looks young, he probably is not older than 25, brown curly hair, slightly tanned skin.

Ok so this one Vale has to admit is basically another version of Marc.

Even the lips they’re - not the same but similar to Marc’s.

There’s no mole on his pec though, the one Vale kissed so many times before, there’s no twitch of his eyebrow when Vale moves the sheets, no heavenly sweet voice calling him back to bed as he gets up to get dressed.

If this was Marc’s home, he’d stay.

Get up, prepare breakfast, wake Marc up and lead him to the kitchen.

Eat together, mostly in silence because Marc doesn’t really like to talk in the morning and then either have another round, nice and lazy, or just lay on the couch watching something horribly romantic Marc would put on the TV.

Now, he just gets dressed as quickly as he can, ignoring the boy still sleeping in the bed, and getting out of there.

Luckily this guy doesn’t live too far from the hotel he’s staying in, so he can walk there pretty easily.

Marc on the other hand, he’s been spending his winter break at home, cold and shivering, refusing visitors except for his mother and exceptionally his brother and father, without ever mentioning his disease, playing it down to a harsh fever he didn’t want to pass to others.

Jorge had texted him, phoned him, trying to put some sense in his mind, trying to convince him to get the operation done, telling him Vale would not go back on his steps, that Vale had probably never even loved him to begin with.

He had just worsened the situation, trying to make Marc understand it was useless to keep hoping.

But once again, Marc is a stubborn man, he’s set his head on the thought Vale will reciprocate again, that Vale will call him.

Or text him.

Or meet him once they’re both back on track for the new season.

But more than a month has passed since Valencia, since the incident he had to mask to the media, since Vale obviously came to know about the situation he is in.

And he hasn’t called or texted.

But maybe he just needs time.

They have time.

Marc is sure they have time.

Even if these days the shivers and fever are higher, even if his own mother is begging him to get the operation done, he knows they have time.

Because they’re soulmates, they’re made to love each other.

Marc knows the story about the red string of fate and he’s ready to swear him and Vale are connected by it.

To each pinky they’ve got a red string bonding them together for the stars to see.

“You’re really pretty in the morning you know?”

“Only in the morning?”

Marc had pouted playfully at Vale’s words, still curled up against his chest, smiling against it.

“During the night you’re more hot than pretty amore”

“ I like you calling me hot”

“Yeah? You’re really hot”

“Are you trying to charm me in your pants Vale? Not very gentlemanly of you to do”

“You don’t like gentlemen Marc”

“Mh no, I like you”

They had kissed, Vale’s hands guiding Marc on his lap by his hips, as if he weighed nothing.

“I love you”

“Love you too Vale”

It was then Vale told him about the strings of fate.

“You know baby? There’s a legend, it says when two people are made for each other they’ve got an invisible red string which is tied to both their pinkies and bonds them together”

“You think we-“

“I said you would be the next me no? Would I say that to someone I don’t think has to be mine?”

It hurts to remember.

Because Vale had so much love in his words and so much truth it seems impossible to Marc that he’s puking petals again, hung over his toilet, because Vale had wounded him so deeply he could feel the blood run free of containment in his body.

There’s a knock at the bathroom door.

A soft one, almost ghostly.

“Marc? It’s mom, are you coming to lunch?”

“Yeah I” he holds in his cough, he knows it hurts his mother to hear him

“I’m coming mom”

“Are you - again?”

“No no mom don’t worry”

When he gets out his mother hugs him, so tight he thinks his lungs are breaking more under pressure.

He’s fragile now, really fragile, his rib cage is very visible through the skin, his cheeks are hollower than they used to be, the color of his skin no more a sweet caramel tone but instead a pale and washed one.

He’s thinner, every cough feels like a hit to his sternum, if he bumps into things a bruise is really quick to follow.

He’s sick, sick as he’s never been before.

He even had to miss a training session because he was too debilitated to do it.

Santi had pretended to know what was going on, he had said bronchitis.

Which wasn’t completely far from the truth.

He can feel his mother’s pain through the hug, in the way she tries to keep the crying at bay, the way her heart is synchronizing itself to his.

“Marc, you need to listen to your friend.

He -” his mother never said the name Vale, or Valentino, not even Rossi.

it was always “he”

“He’s not coming back Marc”

“Ma-“

“Marc, please”

“Just - just give him some time mom. He’ll come back. I know he will. Now can we go have lunch? I’m hungry”

“You need to tell Alex”

“No. I won’t tell, there’s no need to. He doesn’t need to know, I’m gonna be fine in no time anyway. Plus if I told him he’d do something stupid like forging my signature and force me to get the operation”

“Marc”

“Mom. I’ll be fine. I promise you. We’re both gonna be fine, he just needs a bit more time to realize it”

Roser tries to have this conversation three more times during Marc’s stay at home.

She tries to tell Alex, but when her younger son answers she can’t tell him anything, beside “Marc is still sick, but he’s getting a bit better”.

Marc had begged her not to talk, and Roser can’t bring herself to betray her son’s trust, not after his heart has already been shattered by the person he loves more than anything in this world. 

In the delirium caused by the fever that keeps getting higher and higher, Marc had called for that man.

She had run to him, cold towels placed on his forehead and wrists to try and bring the temperature down, with little results.

“Vale it hurts please bring me water”

“Marc, it's mom, what's going on?”

“Vale just - he went to take a glass of water, don’t worry go back to sleep”

“Marc he is not -”

“Look he’s back, see? Go to sleep mom”

“Thanks Vale, you see mom? I told you he just needed time, we’re fine”

It had been a painful night, Marc snapping out his open eyed dream and sobbing in her arms like a little kid who just scraped his knee and wanted to be held by his mother.

And she had held him like that, trying to protect him from all the evil in his mind, from all the evil that man had sewed into his skin, but to no avail.

If she placed a hand on her son’s ribcage she could trace the outline of a root.

When he took deeper breaths in her embrace she could feel the bumpy surface of his bones against her chest.

She had thought, once, to call the man’s mother.

She thought that maybe she would’ve understood the worry of a mother, that she would’ve tried to talk to her son.

But she knew if she did she would’ve just spewed hate towards that woman’s son, and couldn’t do that to another mother.

So she just held him as if he was a little boy, tried to picture him as his three years old self when he had fallen from the mini bike and hurt his elbow, and she had held him until he slept.

Vale meanwhile had begun to doubt.

Doubt everything.

Uccio first of all people.

It made no sense, no sense what he had accused Marc of doing.

And even if - even if he had been shown proof of it, Vale doubts.

After months, long infinite months later he’s doubting.

Of the telemetry, of the color of the petals.

Hell he even doubts Marc ever came to the Ranch on purpose to beat the record and shame him.

Because it simply doesn’t hold ground as an accusation, why would Marc, a lovestruck 20 something kid, who just loves Vale so much to still have a collection of bikes representing him, a rival,

in his room, why would he do something like that to him?

He wouldn’t.

He loved, still loves Vale, he’s sure of this. He just has to find counter proof.

For the first time ever he’ll have to work against the one friend he always trusted with all his everything.

So he begins his personal crusade to find out the truth he thinks lies covered beneath the surface of thick and carefully built lies Uccio fed him.

For what reason he doesn’t know, he can’t find it in his mind to understand what could have driven Uccio to do what he did.

He spends a month locked in his house, not even paying attention to his academy of growing riders, the only one partially admitted at home being his little brother, but not more than once every week.

He spends a month looking for evidence he’s been lied to, driven away, manipulated, blinded by his competitive spirit.

He doesn’t call or text Marc.

He fears if he’s not completely sure of his idea it will end up hurting Marc more.

The start of the season is two weeks away when Lorenzo sends him a text.

[laeana]

Motogp fandom keeps giving me fic ideas that I never get around to write, it’s embarrassing at some point…

I’ve been having two solid ideas lately, and I guess it’s different from what I’ve written before in terms of pairings but it’s giving me brainrot so I put them down;

Soulmates au Pecco/Enea, in which if your soulmate gets hurt you also do, but the bond can also be manipulated in several ways, set especially during their years at Ducati together.

A Jorge/Pecco fic because I’ve been intrigued about the sharing room thing. So no gf verse, kind of missed opportunity, a lot of character study about Pecco that doesn’t dare to act on whatever he feels, that is frustrated about it, especially as ‘he’s a world champion now’, and that wants to reach out to Jorge but he doesn’t know if he’s interested / the distance and the mistrust have grown between them. He kind of miss the time where it was easy and they were in the same team and room.

No I don’t have an exam in 7 hours shhh

[nooripoori]

ooh thoughts on marc and baby cele?

~the hidden helmet

It’s a very rare occasion when Vale has to babysit Cele. But whenever Cele has been left with Vale he has heard the word Marquez, or sometimes Marc when Vale allows himself a glass of whiskey, come out of his mouth only a handful of times. At first Cele was confused as to who that was but then he once saw Pecco calling this short man with curly hair Marc when he had won the race and thats when Cele found out who this mystery man named Marc was.

Whenever Vale says Marquez it is only ever to commentate as to who was behind or in front of the academy boys when they were watching the race. But there was one time when Vale had went outside of the house to get some stuff from the shed, Cele had started wandering around as he got bored quickly. He had stood outside of room where earlier he had pointed to Vale saying that he wanted to go inside but Vale had just dismissed him and said that it only had old stuff in there, well Cele has never been one to back down so with all the strength in his little body he opened the door and went inside.

The room was very messy, everything was scattered about and there was no light inside except from the sunlight coming inside from the window. There were a bunch of boxes filled stuff, old trophies, old pictures and helmets laying around. There was one box that caught Cele’s eyes tho, it was in the corner and was the only one that was actually clean and looked like it had been opened recently. Ever the curious, Cele peeked inside of the box and inside was a helmet. It had something written on it, now he was confused, all the helmets Vale got from other people were displayed in the house so he didn’t get why this one which was obviously given by someone was inside this box.

Just as he was about to take out the helmet he heard somebody clearing his throat behind him. Like a deer caught in headlights he turned around to see Vale leaning on the door looking at him with one of his eyebrows raised. Now Cele was sure he’d get told off for coming in here without permission, but unexpectedly Vale had come inside the room and sat down next to Cele. He took the box from Cele and took out the helmet, gently rubbing the handwriting on the visor. None of them said anything for a while and just as Cele was about to ask Vale about the helmet Vale spoke up.

“This helmet right here is very precious to me, it was given to me by someone I love very deeply. He and I had spent a great amount of time with each other which was filled with love and happiness. This helmet was one of the last happy memories I have with him, which is why i cherish this helmet very much.”

Vale cupped Cele’s cheek with his left hand.

“One day when you grow up you will also meet someone who makes you feel like it’s heaven on earth. When you do, hold them close and cherish them. Don’t let them slip away, as I once did.

Vale’s hand fell.

“Oh how I miss you Marc…”

baby cele adventures

[ray935sworld]

Valentino Rossi's academy of supernatural riders:

Summary: Marc had accepted that Alex was dating Luca for over a year now. He had accepted Luca as a part of his life and Alex couldn't be more greatful. So they decided to go to a dirt track together. No harm in it, right? Except that one fatal fall would turn the world of the Marquez brother upside down whne Luca makes a decision that could potentially risk his found family

I decided to share my current ao3 work in progress here. The main story is excatly the same, so no different plot or additional chapter but in some chapters I added or changed some phrases while editing it to uploaded here

It has currently 13 chapters and close to 45k words... Enjoy!

[moonshynecybin]

In a reconciliation world, what do you think it would take for Vale’s whole entire brain to jump in there?

Like you say he is repressing the fact that he’s in love with Marc. What makes him say: Ohhhhhhh that’s what that was.

THIS ONE IS HARD ummm see the thing is. they havent reconciled in the last 8 years.... and well. a large amount of history resentment and ego is preventing that from happening. which means we are left to theater of the mind to heal one of the most entrenched sports divorces EVER. one that has become a major part of their respective legacies and has been highly publicized by them both. so theyve got a lot on the line if they want to reconcile. and ive said that i DO think it should be valentino to make the first move here but um. well. i genuinely dont know how to get him to that point ! ive got amporphous ideas about a post-retirement crisis/re-evaluation (helpfully dovetails with marc having the worst time vis a vis his injury), them being in forced proximity and remembering they have insane chemistry/the same sense of humor, marc publicly looking like a slut, and many other somewhat plausible scenarios but until it happens (IT WILL. please please please youre nothing) im just throwing darts at the board.

[scrollonso]

touch starved with MarcMarc?

oh yesyesyes anon 🙏

Marc had always been the type to keep his emotions tightly wound, hidden behind a mask of determination and a fierce competitive spirit. It wasn’t that he didn’t crave connection — he did, desperately — but the fear of vulnerability, of showing even a hint of weakness, kept him from reaching out. Touch had become something foreign to him, something he ached for but couldn’t bring himself to ask for. Not since Valentino.

Marco, on the other hand, was a different kind of closed off. He wasn’t afraid of emotion; he wore his heart on his sleeve most days, especially around Marc. But when it came to the older rider, he hesitated. Marc’s stoic demeanor made him feel like any attempt at physical closeness would be unwelcome, rejected. So Marco kept his distance, though every fiber of his being wanted nothing more than to wrap Marc in his arms and never let go.

They danced around each other, caught in this unspoken tension, both yearning for the same thing but too afraid to act on it. Marc would find himself lingering near Marco longer than necessary, his hands twitching with the desire to reach out, to feel the warmth of Marco’s skin against his. Marco noticed, of course — how could he not? But every time he thought about bridging the gap, he convinced himself that Marc didn’t want it. Maybe Marc didn’t need the comfort, didn’t need the touch. Why would Marc Marquez need comfort from him? Need anything from him?

Days turned into weeks, and the tension between them only grew. They’d share glances that lasted a moment too long, fingers brushing against each other accidentally, sending sparks through both of them. It was torture, knowing they were so close yet still so far from what they truly wanted.

It finally came to a head one late afternoon, after a particularly grueling practice session. They were alone in their respective motorhomes, the atmosphere thick with the unspoken feelings that had been building for so long. Marc was sitting on the edge of his sofa, shoulders slumped, eyes distant. Marco walked out of his door, hands shoved into his pockets, heart pounding in his chest as he debated with himself, as he walked towards the structure with Marc's name on the door.

“Marc?” Marco’s voice was hesitant, almost trembling as he knocked. Marc was quick to his feet, opening the door as his eyes begansearching Marco’s face for something he couldn’t quite name. There was a silence, heavy and charged, before Marco finally continued, his voice barely above a whisper. “Can I hug you?”

The question hung in the air, and Marc felt something inside him crack, something he’d been holding back for too long. He swallowed hard, his throat tight as he nodded slowly. “Yeah,” he nodded, his voice rough with emotion, laced with fear, uncertainty, hesitant to let the younger boy too close. “Come here.”

Marco didn’t need to be told twice. He stepped forward, the gap between them closing with every heartbeat. His arms reached out, tentative at first, afraid that if he moved too quickly, Marc might pull away. But when he finally wrapped his arms around Marc, it was like everything fell into place. The tension that had been building between them for so long evaporated in that instant, replaced by a warmth that neither of them had realized just how desperately they needed.

Marc stiffened slightly at the initial contact, the sensation of Marco’s arms around him unfamiliar and overwhelming. But as the seconds ticked by, he found himself relaxing, melting into Marco’s embrace. He let out a shaky breath, his hands coming up to grasp the back of Marco’s shirt as if grounding himself in the reality of the moment.

It felt surreal — being held like this, feeling the steady rhythm of Marco’s heartbeat against his chest. Marc had spent so long keeping everyone at arm’s length, afraid of what it meant to let someone in again, to show that he wasn’t as strong as everyone thought he was. But with Marco, it was different. Marco wasn’t just anyone; he was someone Marc trusted, someone he cared about deeply, even if he hadn’t been able to fully admit it to himself before.

Marco’s hold tightened, his cheek resting against the top of Marc’s head. “You don’t have to be afraid with me,” he whispered, his voice soft and soothing. “I’m here, Marc. I’m not going anywhere.”

Marc closed his eyes, letting those words sink in, letting himself believe them. He had always prided himself on being strong, on being able to handle anything that came his way, but right now, in Marco’s arms, he allowed himself to be vulnerable, to admit that he wasn’t invincible.

“I’ve been so scared,” Marc admitted, his voice muffled against Marco’s shoulder. “I didn’t want you to think I was weak. I didn’t want to push you away.”

Marco’s heart ached at the confession, his fingers gently running through Marc’s hair. “You’re not weak,” he murmured. “You’re the strongest person I know, Marc. But even the strongest people need someone sometimes. And I’m here for you, okay?”

Marc didn’t respond right away, but he didn’t need to. The way he clung to Marco, the way his breathing began to steady, said everything. He wasn’t used to this — letting someone take care of him, letting someone see him like this. But with Marco, it felt okay. It felt right.

After a long moment, Marc finally pulled back slightly, just enough to look up at Marco. His eyes were glassy, but there was a softness in them, a vulnerability that Marco hadn’t seen before. “Thank you,” Marc whispered, his voice barely audible.

Marco smiled, a gentle, reassuring smile that made Marc’s chest feel warm. “You don’t have to thank me,” Marco replied, his thumb brushing away a tear that Marc hadn’t realized had fallen. “I care about you, Marc. More than you know.”

Marc’s breath caught at those words, a lump forming in his throat. He had been so afraid of letting Marco in, of what it might mean if he did, but now, standing here in the warmth of Marco’s embrace, he realized that maybe it wasn’t so scary after all.

“I care about you too,” Marc whispered, the words feeling both terrifying and liberating. He leaned his forehead against Marco’s, their breaths mingling in the small space between them. “I didn’t know how to tell you… I didn’t know how to ask for this.”

Marco’s smile widened, his heart swelling with affection. “You don’t have to ask,” he said softly. “I’m here, Marc. Whenever you need me, I’m here.”

They stayed like that for what felt like an eternity, just holding each other, soaking in the comfort and the warmth of finally being close. For the first time in a long time, Marc felt like he didn’t have to carry the weight of the world on his shoulders alone. He had Marco, and that was enough.

[flyingfabio]

the contrast if luca was bezz's crewchief... luca like he's handsome and thinks im boring bc of my fixation on data bezz like he cld b a model and i need him to take me seriously i must listen to his two hours chats with the mechanics and look concentrated and touch him lightly on the arm...

omg the mutual pining..... bezz being on his best student behaviour to impress him even though it's hard for him.... luca noticing bezz touching him and telling himself you're just imagining things. he doesn't care about you like that.... also luca in glasses 🤓

[f1-motogpobsessed]

Along For the Ride - Chapter One - They Meet (on Wattpad) https://www.wattpad.com/1301822023-along-for-the-ride-chapter-one-they-meet?utm_source=web&utm_medium=tumblr&utm_content=share_reading&wp_uname=embie3&wp_originator=yKLOuvkyI%2Fjdu4PR3Nhfkk66krR0TvVrrGlGdA5C2fHnuIMi6mUWOIPbFpTTLVga9%2B0Ob%2FDNtc1NlBi%2BB5wucHxVTwwmVjUazu6UtEfLoNIcGfxVrdHlB%2F2DlH1wGhml When they met she had no idea who he was. This was perfect for him, giving him a chance to be himself first and famous racer second. But with a life of her own, will she follow him around the world or is balancing their lives too hard.