#and the oscarmark and the sebmark

[throttledsnipe]

truly whats is oscarmark and sebchal if not a weird continuation/descendent of sebmark

[vadergf]

This mark webber twink progression list

[flyingdutchmax]

"What do you want of me?"

"Your sword. I would make you mine own man, and raise you high. My dreams do not lie, Ser Duncan. You will have that white cloak, and I must have the dragon's egg. I must, my dreams have made that plain. Perhaps the egg will hatch, or else-"

seb, mark, and oscar + excerpts from The Mystery Knight by George RR Martin

[more-mara]

Your Oscar harrem posting featuring the old men of the paddock has me thinking like seb visiting the paddock and being like “sure I guess I’ll partake” after the other drivers tell him how good Oscar is and mark webber hearing about it (or walking in?!?) and experiencing a generational emotional breakdown over it

I can’t tell you how often I think about this exact scenario lmao.

Like, don’t even get me started on the fact that Mark has spend so much time and energy on making sure that Oscar doesn’t turn out like him to the point where Mark has accidentally moulded Oscar into an image of Seb. But I digress.

The absolute scenes of him realising that Seb is sullying his boy would be *mwah* generational crashout.

The thing is that Seb doesn’t give a shit. Neither does Oscar. But Mark on the other hand…oof.

It’s even worse because Seb is obviously so cautious and gentle with Oscar that it has mark just sitting there comprehending life because he’s never seen anyone be THAT attentive towards Oscar before.

Obviously, the rest of the guys love and adore Oscar and take good care of him but at the end of the day, they’re still chasing their own pleasure.

With Seb, it’s exclusively to get a reaction out of Mark so he takes his time and gently caresses Oscar’s cheek and guides him with soft touches.

Oscar likes spending time with Seb because he’s not afraid to say what he really thinks. To tell Oscar all of Marks dirty little secrets just because he can. But Seb also has so many positive stories to tell that it kind of has Oscar seeing Mark in a new light. Like he’s just now realised that Mark was once “just a boy” too with the dream of becoming world champion being crushed in front of his eyes in the form of his less experienced, younger teammate.

It kind of makes Oscar realise why Mark always looks at him with this strange glint in his eyes that he could never quite place. A look he now knows as recognition. How Mark is looking at a reflection of Seb in Oscar’s eyes- knowing that this 24 year old is going to become the world champion Mark could never be.

[ftme]

mark webber so close yet so far to a wdc, outshined and outperformed by a guy born a decade after him; seb vettel…

mark webber, in retirement, becoming a mentor to oscar piastri; half his age and talented, filled with wit…

oscar years later, strapped to a lie-detector, admitting that seb was statistically a better driver than mark…

seb: flat faced and slack, saying simply, as if it was an afterthought: “mark didn’t deserve to win.”

and mark staring at oscar spraying champagne atop the final step of the podium; watching, waiting from down down down, from even lower than second, from much lower than the stage…

huh.

it all comes back around, doesn’t it?

[stockcarbaby24]

Oscar Piastri/Mark Webber, Former Sebastian Vettel/Mark Webber

6.5k words, completed, rated E

Summery

Everyone knew about them of course. Not Oscar and Mark… but Mark and Sebastian. Even if no one knew exactly what they had been, any person with eyes could tell it was somehow more than teammates. They looked at each other like they loved one another, like they wanted to kill one another, like they never wanted to be apart, and like they were doomed for all eternity.

What had happened to them all those years ago to make Mark the way he was now- so contemplative and filled with regret...

Oscar wanted to know everything, maybe then he could understand even just a fraction.

---

Where does the line between past and present end? What is a chance to fix your mistakes verses a chance to make more?

[seb5star]

my works (f1 rpf) :

Sharp fangs collide (1/1)

Sebastian Vettel/Mark Webber

rated : E - graphic depictions of violence

8,320 words

"The older man looked at him, still very puzzled but insanely frustrated and angry at the same time. Muscles tensing up, his face is burning. He didn’t know what Seb was playing at, pushing his buttons again, acting like a fool, but still, without thinking too much, he launched himself at the German, pushing him to the wall with one hand on his neck and the other going for his left shoulder, pressing hard. But the force was not needed, Sebastian did not move a muscle, letting Mark do whatever he wanted, whatever he felt.

"That's more like it" squeaked Seb, with a hazy smile painted on his face. The little shit.

Mark couldn't keep himself under control anymore. He let it all slip from his hands.

He wanted to show Sebastian how he actually felt. He wanted to make him pay for everything.

He wanted to break him completely. "

playlist

fanart section : 1, 2,

Car-fucker (1/1)

Sebastian Vettel/Mark Webber

rated : E - no archive warnings

2,314 words

Mark had a really long day. Longer than he would've expected or liked. Photoshoots, interviews, going through last race's data over and over and over again, until his head was sent spinning. The day turned into night, and slowly he became more and more clumsy and forgetful, not remembering important details or leaving his belongings at random places. The latter was the main reason he decided to head to the garage.

Take a bite out of me (1/1)

George Russell/Max Verstappen

rated : M - graphic depictions of violence

2,287 words

“I fucking hate you”

“Then i guess you’re gonna hate this too” said the Brit under his breath, and with determined movement he pushed Max down a bit so their crotches would meet. He couldn’t help it, he wanted Max to suffer, wanted to take his anger out on him. To have something for himself after all. He hated how much he liked the other man like this: lips bloody red, his eyes filled with teardrops, sweating and whining under his touch. It was exhilarating to say the least and he couldn't help but to let out a deep moan as well.

fanart section : 1

Knee deep in the passenger seat (1/1)

Mark Webber/Oscar Piastri

rated : E - no archive warnings apply

4,873 words

Mark wanted to tell everything, let Oscar know, make him feel how much he caref for him, how proud he was and how painfully he needed him more than he ever did anything.

And on a fateful night, in a dimly lit car he did.

[puppyboyfranco]

slowly collecting as many mark ships as possible 🫡

[transbrucewayne]

Ok I wasn’t tagged and it’s not Wednesday, but I still wanted to do this lmao

RULES: post the names of all the files in your WIP folder, regardless of how non-descriptive or ridiculous. Let people send you an ask with the title that most intrigues them, and then post a little snippet or tell them something about it! and then tag as many people as you have WIPs.

My WIPs (in order of idea recency)

1. Chestappen Roommate AU

2. One-sided Carlando OR Versainz

3. Carloscar kink meme bed sharing prompt

4. Oscarmark wisdom teeth removal

5. Sebmarkson seduction competition

6. Sebmark cowboy AU

7. Butter morning after

8. Jendo/Oscarmark (with past Butter and Landoscar)

[sadsackpostteen]

Maybe I'm going mad

(2.7k words)

Summary:

Seb landed on the paddock, unannounced and unaware, and the only way seems to be sent back was a closure with Mark.

*trigger warning: very brief mention of physical violence, coming from Mark's illusion, if you're uncomfortable with it, skip the paragraph starting with He can't remember how many times.....

Work Text:

"Mate, you gotta stop doing that, looks like it you are patronizing me." Oscar shoved his phone into his manager's hand with an undertone full of undetectable grudge, which, regardless of how nonchalant he looked, could never escape the vigilant eyes of the latter.

Mark took the phone, deliberately not glancing at the screen in a closer distance, greeted by the candid shot taken in Mclaren's garage where he squatted in front of the driver, mansplaining something, while the younger man stared back at him, deadpan as always.

"How is that patronizing? You can barely see my face." Mark held back every muscle around his mouth, not letting his tone show any suggestion of a smirk, and handed the phone back to Oscar.

"Of all the empty chairs in the room, you have to squat down to talk to me. Even the back of your head, Mark, spells patronizing." The younger Aussie accepted the phone without looking back at his manager, walking faster towards his motorhome.

"Mate, you do remember I was asking you about dinner, not instructing you how to race weren't I?" His manager couldn't keep his voice strained anymore, hand brushing the young man's as he speeded up the pace to chase after him, giggling like a fool.

Feeling slightly self-conscious of the accidental physical touch, however reassuring that was, Oscar cracked for a split second as well, but quickly resumed his usual stance. "You're probably right, mate. My brain's gonna hurt for thinking too much."

The confession melted Mark's heart so much he thought it might burst with affection.

From the beginning of their relationship, where Oscar was too laidback to reveal his own feelings besides racing while Mark never felt obligated to coax them out of his boy's head, since they were comfortable enough with each other's company, to every now and then when Mark was endearingly dumbfounded at the emotional crumbs scattered by the young man, between nothing and everything along the road, now look how far they've come.

Ever since the young Aussie stepped into the seat of F1 cockpit, the pressure, mostly imposed by the driver himself, which weighed ten tonnes heavier than any other's expectation, has attenuated their distance instead. More and more often, he not only asked his manager questions about racing guidance for every new track he hadn't traveled before, but how he thought of those destinations as well, exhilarated for the adventure, overanxious for the results, and rarest of all, insecure about the reality.

"You know this is your rookie season in F1, right?" He recalled the same line he used to comfort Oscar every time his driver had regarded himself falling short of his teammate, the emotionless countenance he displayed despite on the inside there was a turmoil of self blaming. "No one is expecting you to win a wdc right away. The teammate battle means nothing when the perspective is different. Your brain's gonna hurt if you keep thinking too much."

The reverberation of his memory churned his stomach into a pond of unclassified emotions, unsettling yet transient. How to store that moment of sizzling pleasure was a talent he was never fortunate enough to be endowed with.

Those words were no secret code nor inside joke, but bearing in mind that Oscar has taken what he had said by heart only occurred to the older man that the smile plastered on his face when Oscar looked at him, clearly waiting for his reply to something.

It was honestly embarrassing, how being with a young man turned him into a school girl in front of a crush instead. Love is indeed a silly thing, he pondered.

"Sorry pup, you were saying?"

"Is that Sebastian Vettel over there?" Ignoring how unnerved the nickname made him, he pointed at a distant figure wandering around and looking lost.

bring himself back to present. "Yes, that's him."

"Is there any bee project to promote today?" There was no inflection in Oscar's answer, nothing sarcastic nor curious, just plain enquiring.

Mark chuckled, enjoying the effortless humor despite that was not the young man's intention. "Nah, I don't think this is what he came for."

"Oh," this time Mark noticed an ounce of perplexion in his tone, "why don't you ask about it?"

Driven by his own wonder and Oscar's, Mark approached him hesitantly. Thanks to the driver reflex, the German sensed him within a few strides, sparing Mark the strenuous effort of not spooking the unexpected guest. Still, the blond let out a little gasp of surprise, and when he looked up at his older teammate, something akin to fondness was glittering in his eyes. His lips, pink and plump, parted. Out of relief, he closed the distance between them and reached his teammate's upper arm like his second nature. All of a sudden, Mark found himself back in the old Red Bull hospitality, where all the intimate interactions, regardless of the mixed signals they implied, captivated him, disorienting the time from then and now.

"Mark, what's going on?" The reverie was disrupted by a monotonous question. Mark detached his arm from the grip of the young German, who shot him a slight pout in return.

He reluctantly shifted his gaze away from Seb's soft underlip to reply to his younger driver. "I'm not sure what's going on either. This is a hundred percent Sebastian, but probably a fifteen-year-younger version. You see, I had the same t-shirt as that one." He then turned back to his old teammate, questioning, "and what year you're from?"

"Isn't now 2010?" His eyebrows furrowed, looking genuinely confused.

"Nope", Mark took out his phone to show him the time and date, trying hard to repress the thought of how adorable the face he made. "Although you look no different from the back, especially that messy hair of yours."

"Get off, you know you love my hair." Emboldened by the bicker, Seb gently shoved at Mark's shoulder, more like a kitten punch.

As the older man reached for a ruffle at the mop of golden curls, an act he never dared to do when they were busy snagging each other's throats but longed to since back then, the younger Aussie interrupted his motion, meekly gesturing to the opposite direction, asking for permission to leave, "Um, Mark? I'm going to find Kim."

"Wait, pup, I'll go with you." Mark dropped his hand to his side and decided to leave Seb as he was.

"No, stay, you seem fun." Seb called him out over Mark's shoulder, "and you, you have to help me get out of here."

"How am I supposed to do that when I don't even know how you got here in the first place?" Mark grimaced, as helpless as his ex-teammate.

"Let's see," the German snickered, left brow arching, suggesting some sick trap plotting inside his head, waiting for Mark to voluntarily step in, "if I can't come back, Britta will worry sick, so do Christian and Dr. Marko, and the only man who's gonna pop champagne for my disappearance would be you, since you don't have anything else to celebrate."

"You cannot be serious." Instead of snapping or looking defeated as per Sebastian's wish, Mark grunted, shook his head and walked back to Oscar, who remained deadpan but clearly shocked amid the aftermath of the snarky remark.

"Fine, I'll come clean." said the German's voice from behind.

Mark stopped the retreat, waiting for the whole context to fill in within him.

"You and I were having a fight, you ran away in the middle of it, and boy, did you change. I left the house too, so you wouldn't have to confront me when you're back. But I guess I ran too far and ended up here."

As if hit by lightning, Mark was reminded of the night when they were having one of the worst fights.

They were so smitten with each other that the tension on the track could be easily forgotten afterward. But being older never equates to being wiser. One minute he was intimidated by the German on track, an epitome of feral and ruthless, one overtake after another, the next he crowded him in the most secluded corner possible on the paddock, devouring the blond's mouth like viaticum, hands roaming up and down inside his fireproof, however, the touch alone could never satiate both of them. He was somehow twisted, as the stronger the urge to curse the German's race being destroyed grew, the more sleepless nights Mark had spent, thrusting him like a lumberjack until his younger teammate ran out of voice begging for more fullness, satisfied and ruined all at once.

He can't remember how many times he wanted to choke him, hands already wrapping around that slender neck, one more squeeze he'll suffer. Underneath him, Seb looked deliciously wrecked, casting him the dreamy look he couldn't stand for a second. Their eyes met as he was thinking that dark thought, he wondered how he had kept his sanity at bay.

On the track, they've been fighting over the team's favorite. Off the track, he wondered whether he was Seb's favorite. Yet he cannot decide the one he saw in Seb's eyes was himself, or the lover figure Seb had hoped he was.

He wanted to become the latter, to seamlessly slide in the projection, to satisfy Seb's need whatsoever. But he also wanted him to have a taste of the disappointment he'd been bitterly swallowing, race after race, and to shatter every anticipation Seb and he had envisioned when they started everything.

This love-hate relationship began tearing him into halves, yet neither of which he could afford to separate from his teammate. Because the harder he had tried to distance himself, the more pieces he would break into.

Mark had mulled over night after night, finally pulling the trigger, for the sake of his sanity.

Surprisingly, Seb accepted the decision in a calm and peaceful manner. "No hard feelings." He reassured Mark with his signature smile, all teeth and bright as sunshine.

Mark, almost brittle for the outcome, read into the rationality and deluded himself into believing that he was the one who devoted more to this relationship, as the pain he imposed on himself can testify. Seb stared at him as though he had grown a second head, amused by the accusation. Adding one more layer to Mark's devastation, he didn't use this as the last opportunity to let Mark in, disclose a peek inside his mind, or defend himself in any form, which can be a comfort for Mark's own good. That "I don't give a fuck" attitude can sometimes build up around as an armor, shielding irrelevant people's irrelevant thoughts from getting into his own head, but right then and there it pierced through the older man's heart, pumping, draining, until the last droplet of whatever kept the love flooding over his veins dried out.

The lull must have been extended during his track of rewind, that or both younger drivers didn't expect him to say anything to supplement. He glanced at Oscar, who was still quietly fidgeting about whether to stay or go, then at Sebastian, the exact person emerging out of nowhere, just to help him relive a painful phase of his life where he'd been agonizing over losses that he deemed insurmountable in every aspect.

"Yeah, I do remember." His eyes fixed back on the blonde, voice trembling from the tumultuous memory where he almost sent a search party for the missing blonde, while the same person was having a reminiscing conversation with his older self in the presence of the latter's younger boyfriend. The absurdity of how his past and present collided has never crossed his mind. Now that it unraveled in front of him, Mark felt like he was witnessing a track wreck: nothing he could do to prevent it from happening, nor could he look away. The cruelty has made his past efforts of healing and remaking in vain. How he wished he woke up and found himself in a fever dream.

"Honestly, I don't wannna go back." The blonde hung his head, frustrated, "the mind game, or whatever we were playing, was sick. I hate it as much I hate it tormenting you, us."

"Go home, Seb." Mark pressed him, voice gentle and soft, as if pampering a wounded puppy.

"But how can I go back to the grumpy man who treated me rough and hostile when you are so sweet and nice now?" He cast a wistful look at Mark, and the young man unwillingly lurching behind, discreet as a shadow.

Before Mark made one more attempt to send Seb back, his fellow Aussie interjected, "Mark? I really gotta find Kim. It was nice meeting you, Sebastian." then he turned his heels around without Mark answering back, running in the biggest hurry of his life.

Seeing his mental anchor ditching him, Mark couldn't blame him. His number one priority right now was to transport the impulsive young German back to his past self, who must have been extremely concerned, regardless of the accusation of being schadenfreude.

"What if I told you we didn't break up that night?"

The German's eyes lit up like the tower at midnight, "Really? You mean that?"

Mark couldn't reel in the thought that he still found him endearing, a guilty but unchecked feeling gripping him tightly around the throat. He let out a deep breath, trying to get past the lump, "I do mean it, and please don't use my own words against me when we fight next time, but I've never been mad at you."

Like a heavy weight was lifted off Seb's shoulder, he visibly relaxed a bit, hands stretching out from both sides, "Will you forgive me and give me a hug, before I go back?"

"Is that the magic word to send you back, 'I forgive you'?" Mark dodged the reaching hands, making little quotation marks in the air, then giving the German's shoulder a friendly pat instead. If he lingered for slightly longer, no one mentioned about it. "You will get the hug from me tonight."

"Goodbye Mark, see you at home."

"Goodbye, Seb."

I miss you, but I don't miss holding you. He secretly thought to himself, glancing over his shoulder one last time, realizing that Seb was long gone, turning back for Oscar.

[l0vagrend]

i am currently working on an essay and i have an exam later today but when i'll take a break / have time to spare,, i will get smth going

i could draw driver/driver × driver nsfw

[throttledsnipe]

situationship so bad you go on to fall in love with their spiritual successor (sebmark -> oscarmark)

[meightyone]

markoscar, landoscar

ask game here and i answered oscarmark here! as for landoscar:

Why don't you ship it?

i don't like it as a normal cutefun ship because a) i just don't see it. i don't get the vibe from them, not even in the lowkeyhomophobic slagclaren way because i would LIKE that. b) i have evil (carlando) ingrained in my heart and cannot betray it. and c) i'm too much of a piastri fanatic and a norris disliker to rpf about it the actual sport poisons it for me. i'm more inclined to it when people try to add a little toxic flavouring but a) i don't like the way a lot of people do it. i mean even outside of rpf it annoys me so bad when they're compared to brocedes or prosenna or whatever they are NOT the same. even sebmark is pushing it i'll be real. b) lando is not really built for the toxic rivalry he's my sad little wet tissue whom i love to blow my nose on and he needs his friends to lovers slow burn or else he will crumple up and die ok. c) the toxic flavour of landoscar i AM inclined to is. how do i say this. i've said it before but i just don't think oscar is the right blade to be cutting lando with. he's not mean enough he's not cruel or calculating enough he's not callous enough. and good for him but it means any interest i have in their dynamic, it's not romantic. holy SHIT sorry for the rant

What would have made you like it?

if oscar was worse i guess. if he starts mind gaming or cussing this bitch out on tv then maybe i could make it work in my head but frankly i don't think all that's gonna happen. so realistic answer Uhhh if lando was mark or smth idfk

Despite not shipping it, do you have anything positive to say about it?

i think a drop of landoscar into other ships can be useful to enhancing flavour. like... mustard?

[mahkwibbah]

stumbling into background sebmark in my oscarmark fic again just like oh no...... how could this have happened............

[seb5star]

intro !

⛧ my name is Zero. im 21 and i use he/him pronouns.

⛧ i started writing fanfics in 2024

⛧ fandoms i write for : formula 1 rpf; the band ghost

⛧ find me on AO3 : seb5star

⛧ 18+; nsfw; violent themes, dead dove content

my works !

⛧ formula 1 rpf (5)

sebmark (2)

gax (1)

oscarmark (1)

other (1)

⛧ ghost (4)

copvia (4)

copiiia (1)

my mailbox/dms are always open !