It's Still Friday, Do Not Chase Each Other Just Yet😭 Sticking Together For WHAT?!?!

You can’t just say this and not give fic recs😭

https://www.tumblr.com/oscarloscarr/762774396754657280/f1-ships-that-have-the-best-author-is-around

I'M SORRYY ANONN :")) but here are some Sebson and Webbonso fics from ao3 that I have read and I LOVE <3

Written In The Stars series by Tianvette : https://archiveofourown.org/series/1818706 LOML SOLAR FLARE, the most perfectly written fics I have ever read (and I have been reading fic since 10 years ago?)

another version of me by boredorphan : https://archiveofourown.org/works/57898513 this is so sweet because oscar as mark's son, and fernando is there being fernando (i don't want to spoil the plot)

repeat by boredorphan : https://archiveofourown.org/works/52492912 i love it so much because i love f1 drivers with corporate background HAHA it felt like a slice of life + romcom

gossip girl by limabima : https://archiveofourown.org/works/50959876 F1 X GOSSIP GIRL??!! WHAT CAN YOU SAY? IM JUST A GIRL

Baby's First Apology by Tianvette : https://archiveofourown.org/works/46695679 ICONIC after solar flare, love it (18+++)

What are the odds by MsMirrorball21 : https://archiveofourown.org/works/46980796 this is so sweet, i love it so muchhh

Supernove by Tianvette : https://archiveofourown.org/works/40607403 BEST CHAPTER FICS AFTER SOLAR FLARE I LOVE IT

You Don't Remember Me by FormulaFerrari : https://archiveofourown.org/works/1140595 BEST WEBBONSO EVER (for me, this is my solar flare of webbonso) but tbh so much angst, but love it

Lonely This Christmas by SeafoamPearl : https://archiveofourown.org/works/43374037 webbonso and christmas could never go wrong!

The Sexy Accent Chalenge by SeafoamPearl : https://archiveofourown.org/works/49664959 webbonso and sebson in one place, im crashing when i read it at the first time

On The Subject Of Soulmarks by theianator : https://archiveofourown.org/works/7613863 it is simple but i love the idea of soulmarks

Summer Clementine by MsMirrorball21 : https://archiveofourown.org/works/46187125 one of the first sebson fics that i've read! love it <3

You Were There (please, say something love) by MsMirrorball21 : https://archiveofourown.org/works/44232736 one of the first sebson and webbonso i have read <3

When They Came And Took You In The Night by FormulaFerrari : https://archiveofourown.org/works/2689307 spy webbonso and sebson

Not How We Wanted, But What We Need by redpandabear : https://archiveofourown.org/works/53589154 SHAMLESSLY RECOMMENDING MY OWN FIC HEHEHE

so there are some my favorite sebson and webbonso fics! thanks for the question anon <3

curated by oscarloscarr!

i have never read a versainz fics/au :p any recommendation?

carcar podium when?

This weekend was meh for me even before the race with my router failing me I should have taken that as a sign that Carlos would get P5 but some ups about it.

He was able to keep oscar behind him for 20 laps if not for that shit strategy he would have been P4, good on him as the minister of defence.

His competitor for the seat he wants is dropping in the standings.

Seen with that racist bag of meat that can't shut his yap to save his life.

Stake F1 team team representative | Alessandro Alunni Bravi denying that Audi has given him a deadline and seems like they are begging him to go there tbh.

Of course his heart is still in Ferrari but as we're nearing the middle of the season his eyes are also set on his next contract with both Papa Sainz and Caco being around and reports of the being seen with some teams, negotiations would be escalating and I'm ready for the future after that sad banner yesterday. Glad he was able to enjoy his time with tifosi today but that banner is stuck in my brain. That all for my yap sesh x.

i've been in a low situation from saturday. but it's becoming lower because someone DECIDED to edit oscar with the winner takes it all (oscar is not the winner in this edit)

what should i do when both of my favorite drivers are already associated with that song? depressed.

carlos corporate!guy x oscar f1!driver

thinking about corporate man carlos who casually has a paddock ticket because of his friends (lando/charles/max). carlos had to pick either mclaren/ferrari/redbull facility each time he could watch the race. and when he chooses mclaren after 3 times at ferrari and 5 times at redbull, carlos bumps into the younger driver of the team, aka mr. oscar piastri.

awkward and very cold, but after one time at the mclaren facility, carlos somehow got oscar's phone number.

there's where all it started✨️

*oscar has already noticed on carlos after 4 races as a rookie, and lando being lando, of course he cried to oscar about how his friend doesn't want to stay at mclaren paddock. but in his second year as a driver, the handsome man stayed at the papaya garage and asked for his phone number. the waiting is worth it🤭 and carlos is wearing either his button-up baby blue shirts (sometimes he came straight from his offline/online meetings, and for once it's pink) or his polo shirts.

re-reading grill the grid, and probably solar flare too

this is so endearing...

You can tell he has both the papaya cats wrapped around his finger

Fernando and Mark interview from the 2013 Bahrain gp drivers parade

I randomly came across this and I have to say personal space just isn’t a thing for these two 💕

owh... im happy. im not crying while reading this...

I wrote a little bonus epilogue for You'll Just Have to Remind Me :-) (1K, probably doesn’t make sense if you haven’t read the fic.)

...

Carlos wakes up smiling. He was dreaming of something good—something warm, something right. He tries to hold onto the details, but nothing sticks, everything slipping away like water through his fingertips. All he’s left with is the feeling of sunshine spreading through his body. He wants to bask in it.

But as he rolls over to stretch, that sunny feeling swiftly fades into confusion. Something’s off. The curtains are a deep blue instead of his classic red ones. There’s a leatherbound journal on the bedside table where his copy of Cold Mountain usually sits. The covers are tossed back on the other side of the bed, revealing a well-worn dip in the mattress.

This isn’t his bed. This isn’t his room.

Carlos groans, sitting up. He doesn’t do one-night stands—not anymore. That was something he firmly left in his twenties. And he definitely doesn’t do one-night stands he can’t remember at all. He couldn’t have been blackout drunk last night- there’s not even a wisp of a hangover.

He’s got to be missing something. Closing his eyes, Carlos retraces his steps from the day before. 

He had brunch with Charles at the cafe across from their flat— he had the blueberry pancakes while Charles ordered an omelet. 

He went for a run in the park— his pace was better than usual, but had to end his route prematurely because it started raining. 

He stopped by the video store to pick up a rental in advance for roommate movie night. This week, they’ll be watching Alien 3. Impulsively, he also threw in a pack of Mike & Ikes that he ate on the way home.

When he got back to his flat, he found Charles face-down on the couch, moping that he was about to do a load of laundry but realized they were out of dryer sheets. Carlos had promised him that tomorrow he’d pick some up.

Carlos remembers tucking himself into bed, reading a chapter of Cold Mountain, and turning in at around 11:00 p.m. 

And that’s it. No going out, no meeting anyone, no late-night tryst. He’s thirty- his memory can’t be fading like this yet. There’s got to be something he’s missing here. A crucial piece to the puzzle he’s just… overlooking for some reason.

Before he can spiral too hard, he’s jolted from his thoughts by… is that singing? Yes, it’s barely audible at first, but when Carlos focuses, he can clearly hear muffled, off-key singing from the other side of his door. Lovely, his hookup wants to make him breakfast and Carlos can’t even remember his name.

Creeping out of bed, Carlos spots his old grey sweatshirt draped over the dresser. He pulls it on carefully. It’s definitely his, but it feels more worn than it was the last time he put it on. He’s not sure how it got here either. He wasn’t wearing it when he went to bed last night.

He just needs to get out of here. He’ll slip out, call Charles to come pick him up, and then book an appointment to make sure he hasn’t developed some insane sleepwalking disorder. 

He creeps out of the room, tiptoeing through the space and desperately trying to find the door to get out of here. The flat—no, the house—was beautiful, with high ceilings and effortless room design. It felt lived-in, loved-in.

The mantlepiece in the living room was crowded with keepsakes and trinkets. A golden statue, scented candles, and tons of photos in frames. He’s too far away to clearly see, but some of those photos… looked like they could be of-

The terrible singing starts again and Carlos almost jumps out of his skin. His head snaps towards the source. There’s a man in the kitchen, his head buried in a thick cookbook. Carlos can't see his face, but something in his chest tightens anyway. The front door is straight ahead, away from the kitchen. He could leave. He should leave. Instead, he turns back and moves toward the singing.

The guy’s back is turned to Carlos and he’s now hunching over the stove, grumbling to himself as he tries to light the stovetop burner. Carlos’s heart has launched itself into overdrive, he’s sure it’s beating so loud this guy can hear it.

Because the guy turns around, giving him a warm smile and a soft, “Hey, love.” 

That’s Oscar

And the world goes blurry. Carlos’s breathing shallows. He’s never seen this guy before; he's sure would remember a face like that. But all his mind can think is that’s Oscar, over and over again- more and more insistent. Like this is the most important singular fact that Carlos will ever know.

He’s got pancake batter on his nose. Carlos can’t imagine how he managed to do that. But he’s smiling, at him, warm and genuine and beautiful. “Already done reading your…” he trails off, probably noticing that Carlos is barely holding it together. “Carlos?”

Oscar drinks his hot chocolate with an insane number of marshmallows. 

Oscar hates waking up early but gets up before you every day, just in case.

Oscar can name every player on the Australian national cricket team.

Oscar loves you.

“Oscar” is all he can get out. It feels well-worn on his tongue. His own voice surprises him. It’s raspy, filled with more emotions than he can parse out. He’s overwhelmed by so much new information. No, not new information- but information that has laid dormant, bubbling to the surface like freshly popped champagne. 

“Hey,” Oscar is at his side in an instant—close, but Carlos can tell he’s holding himself back from reaching out. “What do you remember, today?” He says it so softly, so patiently. It makes Carlos feel like he’s still wrapped in his duvet.

“I-I don’t…” He desperately tries to remember. Something happened. Obviously. Flashes of visions whip by in his brain like they’re passing in high speed: Lying on his back on wet pavement, harsh red and blue ambulance lights, Charles crying by his bedside. A small, red box on a countertop, singing along to Mariah Carey songs, kisses that taste like strawberries and sea salt. Any attempt to recollect further makes his head pound. 

“It’s okay,” Oscar says gently. Carlos swears Oscar deflates a bit, but covers it quickly with another soft smile. “It’s been a while since you’ve been back to October fifteenth, is all.”

Oscar moves to turn back toward the stovetop. “Pancakes are almost finished, then we can-”

Carlos doesn’t realize he’s hugging Oscar until his face is buried in his neck, breathing him in. Oscar doesn’t miss a beat, just wraps his arms around him like he’s done it a thousand times. He probably has. Oscar’s touch feels like home. Oscar’s touch is home.

As Carlos clings to him, more champagne bubbles float to the top, revealing sweet and simple truths he’s always known.

You watch Oscar’s video he made for you every morning. When he’s away on a shoot, you watch it to fall asleep, too.

You asked Charles to help you go ring shopping next week. Oscar doesn’t know- it’s a secret.

You love Oscar.

The sunshine is back, wrapping around his skin and flowing through his veins. He’s glowing, he’s sure he is. He wonders if Oscar can see it.

He’ll have pancakes today while he watches his video. He’ll read his journal, he’ll call Charles. Maybe he’ll go for a run in the park. But for now, he holds Oscar a little tighter, just a little while longer.

You love Oscar so much.