#carcar snippet

[f1amboyant]

Will you by any chance write a carcar fic? 😗 I just recently read your girl!carlos fic and I CANNOT help but imagine CARCAR in that kind of sitation or any situation really but just girl carlos.

I’ve been lurking at ao3 but it is so rare 😔

Hi anon!

First, thank you for reading my latest unhinged fic (girl!carlos x reader truly wasn't on my bingo card of what i would write for 2024 but here we are) 😘

Second, you have put an idea in my head and just 😮‍💨🫠🥵 As I said in the previous ask (the one that inspired that last fic), a character turned into a girl is not usually my fave trope. But girl!carlos?? With Oscar??? Yes??? Why does this work so well?? I can't get it out of my head. This is TOO GOOD. It's going straight to the 'to write' folder.

Please, feel free to share more ideas about this anon! 🧡

And also. Maybe I started writing a little something. A teaser maybe? 🤭

"You're a girl," Oscar deadpanned, arching both eyebrows high on his forehead.

Oscar wasn't sure he imagined the faint blush on Carlos' cheeks (his perfectly shaven cheeks). No, not shaven. Hairless. Smooth.

"No, I'm a man," Carlos protested with a deep frown. "I'm just… You know." He gestured vaguely at his whole body, forcing Oscar to look (as if he wasn't looking already).

Carlos' brows were just as dark and thick as before, his eyes just as wide and brown, his lips just as plush. Why would Oscar notice such details, that was a mystery to him. But he noticed the differences even more. The hairless cheeks unnerved him for no reason. Too slim limbs poked from the too big shirt and oversized shorts. The clothes dwarfed Carlos in a way that was impossible usually and completely irked Oscar's mind, but they bore the characteristic 55, meaning they truly were Carlos' clothes, it was just that Carlos was… Well. He was…

"You're a girl," Oscar repeated because there was no other way to put it.

The clothes also displayed the iconic Ferrari logo and there was no mistaking the swelling curve just underneath it, distorting the sponsors' logo and that little point that… Nope. Not happening. Oscar wasn't going to look at Carlos' chest.

At his breasts.

"You have boobs, mate," Oscar deadpanned, as if it wasn't obvious and as if he just hadn't forced himself not to look. "You're a girl."

"I'm still me," Carlos grumbled, threading his fingers through his hair. Longer hair. Black as always. Falling beautifully under his shoulders.

Beautifully? Really? Get a grip, Osc.

"Like," Carlos continued, searching for the right words he couldn't find. "I'm still me, a man. But just my body is… You know."

Oscar thought hard not to roll his eyes.

"Yeah, okay, sure. Gender and sex are different things," he shrugged. "It doesn't change the fact that this kind of things happen. You're a…"

"Don't say it again," Carlos hissed.

He plopped down on the bed, sitting at the edge of the mattress and crossing his arms and legs. Oscar didn't notice how that made the swell of his breast even more visible through the Ferrari t-shirt and he didn't notice how the already short shorts rode up even higher on Carlos' thigh. Nope. He didn't notice at all. Not at all.

Was it getting hotter in there? And why was he in Carlos' hotel room again? He never should have come in there. No. More importantly, why had Carlos texted him to come over? That didn't make any sense.

"I know it happens and believe it or not, it happened to me before but just," Carlos was saying, looking everywhere but at Oscar. "You don't have to say it. Just. Can you help me?"

Oscar's brain froze.

What?

He heard wrong, right?

Carlos couldn't be asking him what he was asking.

Right?

"Sorry?"

"Can you help me?"

"Why me?" Oscar looked around the room like he would find someone else hiding there and could push that person into Carlos' arms. Anyone else but him. "Why don't you ask Lando?"

The disgust on Carlos' face was telling, no matter what his face looked like at the moment.

"Lando is like a little brother to me. I can't do that with him."

"Charles then," Oscar decided more than he suggested.

Carlos looked back at him with eyes so wide and so still it was almost scary.

"I can't let Charles see me like this."

"Why not?"

And why was Oscar asking truly? Why was he still here? He should have left a long time ago. He should have left when Carlos had opened the door, half hidden in the shadows of the hallway and refused to show his face until he had closed the door securely. He should have left the moment he had laid eyes on Carlos and almost lost all sense of reason.

He shouldn't have come at all.

"Me and Charles, it's… It's complicated. I just can't, okay?"

"Okay."

It wasn't okay.

"You realize what you're asking me, right?" Oscar said, taking a step forward, like it could prove his point. What was his point, again? "Because this?" He gestured to Carlos' body, the body of a woman, no doubt about that. "There's truly only one way I can help you with this. You know that, right?"

Carlos softly bit his lip for a brief second, immediately followed by his tongue wetting the invisible indentation left there. Oscar was looking. He was looking so bad.

"I'm aware," Carlos said.

"And you're still asking me?"

"Yes," Carlos huffed. Like he was asking something so trivial and Oscar was being difficult about it. The nerve of this guy truly. This woman. Man. Whatever. "Stop stalling, Oscar." The r rolled on Carlos' tongue, unusual for Oscar's name. "What do you say?"

Truly, Oscar should have left a long time ago. Truly, he never should have come at all. Because now. Now this was an opportunity he couldn't pass. Now, he was tempted to say…

"Yes."

[piastrw]

my boy love some pats

[wisteriagoesvroom]

a couple of people have asked for a carlos POV of in theory and actually. thinking about it. it's pretty funny. imagine being carlos, carlos who gets everything in his life he's ever wanted carlos, carlos who feels he has nothing further to prove to anyone carlos (this is a lie btw), carlos who gets saddled with OSCAR, who barely tolerates him, as an executive assistant.

oscar who shows few emotions. doesn't give a f about seniority. thinks carlos is incredibly arrogant (he's not wrong here but, like recognises like.) oscar who knows carlos can't even do his own expenses without having an emotional support espresso or spending half an hour whining to oscar even though he did it himself years before oscar even joined, etc etc.

and carlos has to. endure it. while oscar blatantly ignores his charm offensive and his attempts at being jovial and his bad bilingual puns and carlos, because everyone usually loves carlos, and he-- he just. he cannot for the life of him figure out why he's also so compelled by this australian dude. doesn't know what to do with himself. just keeps interactions to a transactional minimum and puts up a front like he is soooo curt and uncaring about everything but. the warmth seeps through anyway, a vine that's destined to grow despite his attempts not to let it.

so what, if carlos lies awake in bed with racing thoughts too late at night thinking of revenues and EBITDA and platinum tiers and air miles. so what, if this sometimes bleeds into thoughts regarding his work-life balance or lack thereof, and therefore, oscar's stupid little hair swoop, his frown. his insane excel sheet formulas that even carlos, MBA graduate, takes a second to understand. oscar and his indifference and his scary efficiency and the way he talks a bit too fast when he's tipsy and his ice cold hands.

(at the christmas party with yuki. carlos pretends not to listen but hears every word. why would oscar tell yuki all that, and not him, when he’s tried to ask about oscar's interests before? anyway.)

and then. the christmas gifts happen and carlos thinks he's crossed a line. was the terrarium too far, he wonders. normally people love it when carlos is thoughtful like that. his exes even said so. but no! oscar takes the terrarium, the one carlos made a specific detour for on an airline that he couldn't even get miles on!

and oscar just. stares, and stares at the terrarium. then he gives carlos this...look. and it gets embarrassingly intimate and carlos "really does have to go take his call" even though the client did say it is fine to switch to email because, christmas. yeah. and then he's thinking about it the whole way back to madrid too.

then oscar QUITS on CHRISTMAS DAY (rude) for no explainable reason and carlos is like oh my god is it really ME. how can anybody not like ME ? reddit, AITA???

so carlos mulls on it. carlos wants to atone. just maybe. set things straight. let oscar know that. actually. all feelings aside, he was really an excellent EA and carlos wishes him the best with everything. he maybe sends a text to thank him with those very words. but christmas eve comes and goes, and so does christmas day, and there's no reply at all from oscar. what the hell, carlos thinks. no i can't have him leave and there's so much in my email that i – i didn't even say. he just. needs to let oscar know that he appreciated it.

(he doesn't know what "it" is per se. just that. he feels strongly. so he needs to do something about that.)

soooooo then carlos, who values for family more than anything in the world, spends christmas day just only half paying attention to things going on and thinking jesus, what did i do. and his sisters are like, hermano, please just. get it together and sort this out if you care so much. we'll be fine with mamá and papá and piñón okay there's roast ham for days. and his ma is like: "if you are visiting someone at least pack some dessert. where are your manners". and carlos is like "what". and his mum is like: "did i not teach you anything at all. are you or are you not a sainz". so carlos just takes his tiramisu and his sister's teasing and. he goes. might even try to pull a favour from a client to use a private jet and get there in time.

he flies back to the city in a fit of possible stupidity to try and clarify... his feelings for oscar his professional record and integrity.

and then. oscar is. actually HAPPY he is there.

(carlos knows he's happy, not because oscar's face changes. but because oscar puts his actual plant shears down in order to talk to him. which in oscar-world is a very big deal really. before, oscar always used to look like he wanted to stab carlos with a pen when carlos spoke to him. and if carlos were truly honest with himself, and hindsight being 50/50, well– he'd say that actually, the times oscar looked like he wanted to stab him were actually some of the moments he felt most alive.)

and the rest is... well.

you know how it ends.

[jusst-you-race]

I basically eat breathe and live carcar, not only as a romantic pairing but also as a purely petty beef pairing so would be fun to read something about them!

And maybe brocedes👀 totally up to you if you want them to be exes or just work enemies

Love the fic!���

thank you carcar anons don't you worry i too am fully on board and have been for a while so i give you the gift of carcar if it was canon in ccc mwah (also here is some brocedes) for the ccc snippet prompts

Oscar did you leave in the middle of the night?

Carlos We do not normally stay over 

Oscar yeah but I said you could sleep here 

Carlos And I did 

Oscar it’s not even 7am and your side of the bed is cold 

what fucking time did you leave?

Carlos I didn’t look 

Oscar sure 

I thought we were finally getting somewhere

Carlos What is that supposed to mean?

Oscar I dunno 

Carlos Where is there to get to?

Oscar what so you’re happy with how things are?

just having sex whenever you’re in the mood?

and maybe an argument if we’re lucky?

Carlos You initiate sex too

Oscar wow 

literally not the point 

Carlos Well you are not making it very clear to me that you are wanting more!

How am I supposed to guess this?

Oscar I told you to sleep here last night 

Carlos And this is supposed to be what? A declaration of love?

Oscar no what the fuck 

stop being an asshole 

I just thought maybe we could stop awkwardly leaving immediately afterwards like it’s some kind of 

transaction 

Carlos But it is a transaction 

Oscar right 

cool 

well at least I know where I stand I guess

Carlos Why are you upset I thought this is what you wanted?

You were the one who said we could just “help each other out” when we wanted to 

Oscar yeah four months ago 

I thought that maybe in all that time

well I guess it doesn’t matter 

clearly we’re not on the same page

Carlos Ay maybe if you use your words sometimes I will know what it is you are thinking 

You want this to stop? 

You are not happy with what we are doing?

Oscar no! 

Carlos No what?

Oscar no I don’t want to stop 

I want more!

fuck Carlos 

when someone asks you to stay the night it normally means they want to 

fucking 

I dunno cuddle in the morning or something 

Carlos You want to cuddle?

Oscar maybe! 

but you’ve never stayed to find out!

Carlos You have also never stayed

Oscar well you never asked me to 

Carlos I see

I think we are both stupid

Oscar what is that supposed to mean 

Carlos Open your door I am standing in the corridor 

Oscar ? 

why should I 

Carlos Because 

I also want to cuddle 

Or something 

Oscar oh 

Carlos Yes oh

Now open the door idiota 

[lovelylotusf1]

wanna tell us about your Carloscar brainrot plz…. — wiz

Absolutely! The ship has been stuck in my brain and it NEEDS TO GET OUT. It isn't paying rent🧡 For everyone who sees this: Please feel free to scream with me about this ship, in asks, dms or comments!

Currently writing something for the kinkmeme. The fic is now sitting at a comfortable 3k words and the end is finally in sight. Now how to write the last scene and an ending that fits, I don't know. I will figure it out.

For me, it boils down to: Oscar as ice and Carlos as fire in their contempt for the other. Oscar never knowing what Carlos is thinking, feigning confidence in a situation out of his control.

My favourite thing about it is playing with the difference between Oscar thinking about what Lando would do and the reality of what Carlos is doing. It's so fun. Ripping him out of his fantasy to focus on Carlos again (and maybe even realising that he likes what Carlos is doing better👀)

Three small snippets below the cut. Beware as the third one is nsfw!

Oscar turns around.

~

Once Oscar is in front of the bed, he stops. Takes a deep breath, stares at the pictures on his wall. One frame is a bit crooked, he notices. A small thing out of place, destroying the harmony of the image.

Carlos is standing in the doorframe.

~

Carlos brings his hand up to place it on Oscar's cheek. Caressing it. It would almost feel loving if it weren’t for Carlos’ short nails digging into his flesh, not drawing blood but showing that he could.

His thumb is running over Oscar's bottom lip. Poking, prodding, until Oscar gives in and opens his mouth. He knows why Carlos is here, after all.

~

Oscar whimpers at the wet noises filling the room. Thinks about Lando doing the same for him, preparing him for his cock. Thinks about lying on the soft bed instead of standing here with knees made of jelly, yet too proud to slump forward and let the strong body in front of him catch his fall.

“Dios, look at you. So desperate to please, right princessa?” The voice doesn't belong to Lando. It dismantles his fantasy piece by piece, reminds Oscar of who he is doing this with.

[rockyteriyaki]

i wasn’t quite able to finish my other halloween fic in time for the deadline, so i dragged out a carcar snippet and wrote a little bit for a tumblr fic! 1.5k words, guardian angel au 🪽 @motorsport-halloween

The first place they steer him after a race is the guardian angels tent.

It’s small, made of slippy plastic tarping and held up by thin aluminum, cheap like everything in F3. Water slides off the top and pours down the sides in a clear curtain. Today, there are more guardians than usual: a dense cube of feathers packed together to avoid the worsening storm. Probably because everyone and their mother was sliding around the track just now. Perilously.

Oscar stands on his tiptoes from his spot under an awning, trying to profile the crowd before running out in the downpour. He’s seen his angel exactly one time before- when he’d gotten into a particularly nasty collision and had to retire from a race. He remembers dark wings, dark eyebrows, dark eyes. An accented voice not that much older than his own.

“That was stupid. Do not- like that, you shouldn’t. Be smarter.”

Oscar had just stood there, gaping. Hadn’t closed his mouth until his angel had sort of huffed and turned away, back to the tent. The sparkling rip in the atmosphere was starting to stitch itself up, by then, swirling plastic cones into it like a vacuum. Saved by the bell. It hadn’t been until after he’d left that Oscar realized what he’d really wanted to say was fuck off.

Now, Oscar watches the rest of the grid flock to the tent, skittering in under the rain and finding their angels. He watches them idly recount their race stories to various levels of enthusiasm, subject themselves to pat-downs and wellness checks and lectures as needed. There’s genuine affection in their touches, especially in those whose drivers lost control of their cars or locked up in the rain. Who maybe got a little bit closer to the edge. When he gets to F1, this part won’t be televised, but it’ll be more thorough and more often. Because he’ll be closer to the edge, every single race.

But Oscar was pretty damn close today and his angel isn’t here, so. Maybe not.

Halfway through the F2 season, Oscar decides he officially hates his angel.

Whenever he feels his tires start to slip, whenever he clips the barrier or botches a turn, the adrenaline that rises in his throat is partially because he thinks that maybe his angel will have felt it. That he’ll be waiting for him under the tent or in the cooldown room, this time, and his dark eyes will be filled with something other than cool indifference. Like, a shred of concern for Oscar’s life, maybe. But he’s not, and he never is, and Oscar kind of really hates him.

The next time he sees him is in a bland conference room with Mark, his legal squadron and the team principal of Alpine who’s name Oscar can never remember. His black hair catches the shitty fluorescent-looking light of his halo and Oscar almost walks right back out.

“What is this,” he whispers to Mark. It’s not a hiss. “Why is he here.”

“I have to be here. To make sure your life is not ruined,” his angel says, at full volume. Oscar dislikes him so much.

“You are so—“ Oscar starts and doesn’t finish, which is a tactic he uses when he’d like to say something rude but shouldn’t. “Wait.” He turns to Mark. “Is my life about to be ruined?”

Mark inhales, reaching for his manila folder. The Alpine people wince. His angel waggles his incredibly thick eyebrows.

Oscar doesn’t sign with Alpine. He gets a text from an unknown number that says “See you should listen to me yes?” and he thinks about doing something crazy like throwing his phone against the wall. Instead, he shoves it under his sweatshirt and lets it rest against his stomach. It goes up and down as he breathes.

The issue is that his angel doesn’t leave.

Apparently he has to stick around until the ink is dry on Oscar’s contract, now that he’s waded into this whole mess. He has a little phone-like thing, sleek and rectangular, that lights up every once in awhile with indecipherable notifications about the state of Oscar’s life, or whatever. Oscar is 99% he has it on whatever the all-seeing equivalent of “do not disturb” is. He’s the worst.

“What’s his name again?” Oscar asks, around a mouthful of eggs.

“Carlos,” Mark says.

“Carlos,” Oscar seethes.

“You’re gonna have to nut up, mate,” Mark says. He sounds tired. “It’s standard procedure.”

Oscar wants to ask if it’s standard procedure to be concussed and have the doctors at the track refuse to take you to A&E without guardian angel signoff, and for that signoff to never arrive because your angel can’t be fucked, but he doesn’t.

Carlos is never around unless it’s to steer Oscar away from people and look smug. After the seventieth awkward handshake with the shadow of Carlos looming over his shoulder like an overgrown, disapproving hawk, he pulls him into a corner.

“Can you just tell me what I’m meant to do?”

“What do you mean,” Carlos says. It would have sounded sarcastic, if he hadn’t physically flopped his head to the side as he said it. Something evil settles around Oscar’s heart.

“My fate. My destiny, God’s plan, whatever the fuck, I just—I can do it myself. Please.” It comes out a little bit more desperate than he intends, but still north of begging, so he chalks it up as a point.

“No, I cannot,” Carlos says. “This is my job. Sorry,” he adds, because Oscar has the heels of his hands pressed over his eyes.

“Okay, so what if I—I dunno, disobey you?”

“Then you are making a big mistake,” Carlos says, so solemnly. His wings twitch a little bit, rising and flexing through his shoulder blades. Oscar swallows.

“You can’t stop me.”

“I can. This is my job,” Carlos repeats. His wings flare even further. The tips of the darker feathers almost block out the light, closing Oscar into the corner.

“I’ll sign with Alpine,” Oscar challenges. He doesn’t really want to do that, but there’s some kind of rabbity panic jumping around in his chest and making him stupid. “I could. They want me.”

“They don’t.” Carlos’ eyes are blazing the same neon as his halo. He could be seeing all possible futures right now, for all Oscar knows, and yet he still sounds like a moody toddler, shooting down everything Oscar says.

“I’ll show you the contract, mate, they definitely do.” Oscar is no better than him, apparently.

Except maybe he is, because Carlos steps forward until they’re practically chest-to-chest. All Oscar can see in his periphery are reflections of halo-light and Carlos’ heaving chest, his aquiline nose. “You don’t even—“

Somewhere, an alarm starts going off.

Carlos says something in Spanish, short and sharp. His eyes are wide. He fishes his angel-phone-thing out of his jeans. It’s angry red, flashing and beeping and buzzing all at once. An instinctive panic rockets through Oscar, far away from the warm anticipatory one from a few seconds ago.

“Isn’t that,” Oscar says. Clears his throat. “Um, is that bad?”

“Shit,” Carlos says in English. He does something weird, after that: like his whole body flickering, disappearing for a few milliseconds and then popping back in. “Shit. Oscar. We just—you just made a mistake.”

His accent makes it sound more deliberate. Mees-tek. “What? No, I didn’t.”

You’re not supposed to, like, try to kill your angel, but if Carlos thinks that’s what just happened then he’s even more delusional that Oscar had thought. Actually, it had been sort of exactly the opposite. Carlos had been so close, it was like—Oscar was worried he might—forget himself, or something. Try to do something crazy. Like grab Carlos’ hair and shove his head down and feel his nose against his throat.

Carlos shows him his phone screen. The text, in some archaic angel language, unscrambles before Oscar’s eyes. IMMEDIATE INTERVENTION REQUIRED, it says, scrolling across the top. Then, in bolded lettering in the middle: This message is for CARLOS SAINZ regarding OSCAR PIASTRI. Oscar’s eyes skip around the paragraph, can’t quite take any of it in. They’re not going to let Carlos leave. The angel system—fate, destiny, whatever—registered a god-tier fuckup on Oscar’s part, and they won’t let Carlos leave until he fixes it.

“What did you do?” Carlos asks, his voice annoyingly even as his phone wails and shakes in his hand. “Oscar, what did you do? Did you really sign with Alpine? You take it back and I will be gone, I promise.”

Oscar wants to say it’s just as much Carlos’ fault as it is his, but he can’t quite get the words out around the sudden, vicious longing to have Carlos squared up against him again, ready to fight, so he can watch it all drain out of him. He wants to take him apart, enact his revenge, put him back together again better and more tolerable than he was before.

MISTAKE, Carlos’ angel-cell cries. MISTAKE.

[lyslsstuff]

carcar vampirism u intrigue me...

hii!!!!!!!!!, Why of course !!! (ask is from this tag game)

This more of a vampire/vampire bat! Oscar, he and Carlos made a deal, Oscar can take Carlos Blood, while Oscar helps Carlos with his...frustrations.

Here's a snippet!!!

“Oscar? Cariño, I’m home!” There was no response. The apartment was eerily still, as though no one had been there in days. Carlos checked the living room, the kitchen, the bedroom—every room was just as they had left it the last time they were together. No bags, no notes, no signs of Oscar. Carlos sank onto the couch, his heart sinking as a wave of unease washed over him. He reached for his phone and dialed Oscar’s number, praying this time it wouldn’t go straight to voicemail. But it did. Again. Something was wrong—Carlos could feel it in his gut. His chest tightened as questions swirled in his mind. Where was Oscar? Carlos walked into the bedroom, his suitcase dragging behind him as he let out a frustrated sigh. The silence of the apartment only deepened his anxiety. He tried to focus on something—anything—to keep his mind from spiraling further. Dropping his things at the foot of the bed, he started unpacking, but as he did, a faint sound caught his attention. It was subtle, almost imperceptible, like a weak rustling or a soft squeak. He froze, listening carefully. The sound was coming from the bed. His brows furrowed as he leaned closer, tilting his head. The noise seemed to come from under the neatly made sheets. Was it... breathing? Or movement? His heart skipped a beat, part of him half expecting to find something—or someone—hiding there. With a mixture of apprehension and curiosity, Carlos reached for the corner of the blanket and slowly pulled it back. His breath caught in his throat as his eyes fell upon a small, trembling figure nestled in the folds of the bed: a bat. But not just any bat. The tiny creature’s dark fur was disheveled, and its wings were curled tightly around its frail body. Its normally sharp, glimmering eyes were dull, and its movements were weak, barely noticeable. Carlos didn’t need a second guess to know who it was. “Oscar?” he whispered, his voice breaking slightly. The bat opened its eyes halfway, struggling to focus on Carlos. A faint chirp escaped its tiny mouth—an unmistakable sound of recognition. Carlos’ heart clenched. This wasn’t the usual, bright Oscar he knew. His fiancé looked utterly drained, like the life had been sapped out of him. Carlos gently scooped the bat into his hands, his touch careful and steady despite the panic rising in his chest. “What happened to you, mi amor?” he murmured, cradling Oscar close. The bat leaned weakly into his palm, its body trembling as if even this small movement took all the strength it had left.

[more-mara]

Is that? Another Carcar mafia AU snippet??

“Carlos,” Oscar hissed, swatting Carlos’ groping hands away from his ass as he tried to regain his composure. 

“What?” Carlos asked innocently, wrapping his arms around Oscar’s front and resting his chin on Oscar’s shoulder- a small smirk on his lips. 

“I am at work,” Oscar mumbled, trying to jostle out of Carlos’ hold which was proving a lot more difficult than expected. 

“Take a break,” Carlos said, starting to kiss along Oscar’s neck as he pushed his front flush against Oscar’s back. Oscar’s eyes went wide when he felt something against him. 

“You’re not seriously hard right now are you?” Oscar asked in disbelief as he turned around in Carlos’ hold only to immediately be pushed up against the nearest wall, Carlos’ hands gripping his hips as he sucked a hickey onto Oscar’s neck. Oscar moaned a little, fisting his hands in Carlos’ shirt. 

“Be a good boy, let me make you feel good,”

[mara-xx]

Another snippet from my unnamed Carcar Sugar Daddy AU because I simply can’t help myself :)

Carlos' hands were on him immediately- kneeding at his ass and hips through the thin fabric. Oscar hummed in satisfaction, bringing his arms to clasp against Carlos' biceps- shamelessly feeling him up.

"Do you work out?" Oscar asked, leaning forward a little. Carlos nodded at him with a hum.

"I can tell," Oscar said, pushing his body closer to Carlos.

"Is this your way of flirting?" Carlos asked, raising a questioning brow as he snuck one of his hands up Oscar's shirt.

"Maybe..."

[f1amboyant]

Hello, im not sure if this is the story the u meant but imma put the linkk.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/46344100

About the carcar tho, if its the same universe or not, im hoping for a happy ending for carcar. And shy carlos urif

Even if they do not like end up together, maybe it would result into a next step into their relationship. I dunno about the charlos issue, but im team carcar for now 🤭. And i dunno if they will be able to like overcome their ‘issues’ since they are both stubborn like bricks. And repressed feelings of course.

But i always see it that the attraction goes on both ways esp during these past races hence why carlos called oscar? Oscar seems like the type who is honest and I think that is what Carlos needs?

Srry im not able to properly link the fic because its anonymous, still kinda shy 😵‍💫. And SORRY for rambling hdid thank u

Hello anon! ✨

Don't apologize for rambling, I love it! Keep the asks coming 🥰

Yes! Thank you for the link, it's this charlos fic exactly!

As for this girl!carlos carcar, it's not in the same universe but you can imagine it is, if you want, anon! 🥰

Yes, it will be a happy ending for carcar! They are stubborn, that's true. But after Carlos being vulnerable with Oscar, and Oscar getting a taste of that sweet sweet 🍑, things are gonna get moving. I think, after they hook up and Oscar helps Carlos turn back into a man, Oscar is down down bad. So he avoids Carlos, until Carlos confronts him and he finally admits that wants him, right now, as a man too. And they kiss and they are happy, in their very very stubborn way.

And yes, you are so right anon, Oscar is very honest and that's exactly what Carlos needs. That's why he called him. And that's why he's attracted to him, even if he didn't admit it to himself yet.

Anyway, a little bit more? 🤭

Truly, Oscar should have left a long time ago. Truly, he never should have come at all. Because now. Now this was an opportunity he couldn't pass. Now, he was tempted to say…

"Yes."

Carlos did not smile or wink or anything. He nodded stiffly and stared at Oscar without another word, brown eyes blown so wide they practically took his whole face. Oscar shuffled awkwardly on his feet. He would have loved to look at anything but Carlos. Except his eyes didn't obey his mind anymore, wandering all other Carlos’ body. Carlos’ woman body. He noted new details he hadn't pay attention to before. Like how Carlos still had a lot of hair on his forearms and bare legs, black and almost shiny. It suited him.

He looked pretty.

And delicious.

And he was asking Oscar to…

“Just to be clear,” Oscar said when too much time had past for his comfort (and his pants were growing too tight just at the thought of what was about to happen).

He shuffled again, trying to adjust his crotch subtly but Carlos’ eyes zeroed in between his legs immediately. Well. So much for subtlety.

Oscar cleared his throat.

“Just to be clear,” he tried again, “you're asking me to have sex with you? To put my… hmm you know, inside your… inside you? To make you come and turn you back into a man? Is that it?”

“This guy,” Carlos huffed. "Do you have to spell everything out like that?"

This time, Oscar rolled his eyes.

"Sorry for taking your full consent into consideration," he deadpanned in a tone that indicated very obviously he wasn't sorry at all. He almost regretted saying yes. Almost.

(He didn't regret it at all.)

"How do you wanna do this?" he asked, and cringed at his own words.

This was awkward and so weird and just… Why had Carlos asked for his help again?

"Don't make this weird," Carlos grumbled. "Just. Do like you do with girls," he said, shrugging.

There weren't many girls in Oscar's bed, but he wasn't about to say that.

"I thought you weren't a girl."

"Ah! Shut up, cabrón!"

Carlos put a foot on the mattress, curling an arm around his bent leg. The move revealed way too much from under his shorts. Oscar didn't look. He was a good boy, of course he didn't look. But still. He was pretty sure Carlos wasn't wearing any panties or boxers. Just nothing.

Not that Oscar had seen anything of course.

[piastrw]

carcar overstimulation please 🙏

wips

just a nasty one shot where carlos makes oscar cum at least five times

sorry to the masses but the only snippet i’ll have is the aftercare bc for some reason i started writing it from the end

Oscar is completely gone.

Carlos can see it in the way he lies there—wrecked, hazy, his lashes damp, lips parted, barely breathing properly.

His body is slack, heavy in the sheets, twitching every so often, little aftershocks rolling through him.

His poor, oversensitive cock gives a little twitch too, and Carlos can’t help but smirk.

Oscar is so quiet.

No biting little remarks, no complaints, no brusque, post-sex grumbling. Just deep, heavy-lidded blinks, the kind that barely stay open, body loose and pliant in the sheets.

Carlos smirks, brushing a hand down his chest, over his stomach, tracing the mess of cum and lube between his thighs.

Oscar flinches, a tiny whimper spilling from his lips, legs twitching like he wants to close them, but he’s too tired to move.

Carlos hums, amused, pressing kisses into the dip of Oscar’s collarbone. “Too much?”

Oscar makes a soft, strangled sound, blinking slowly.

Carlos slides his hand up, pressing at Oscar’s spent, sticky cock, feeling the way he shudders.

A little pinch to his thigh, then his hip, then the soft, over-sensitive head of his cock.

Oscar jerks, a tear slipping free, and he turns his face away into the pillow.

Carlos grins, shifting to kiss at his cheek, licking away the wetness.

“You’re so sensitive,” he murmurs, pinching again, watching Oscar tremble. “So cute like this, all soft for me.”

Oscar gasps, breath catching hard. It’s all too much.

His lip wobbles.

Carlos’s heart clenches.

“Hey,” he soothes, tilting Oscar’s chin up. “No tears, baby.”

Oscar sniffles, blinking rapidly, whole body too raw, too overwhelmed.

“You’re fine,” he soothes, shushing him, pulling him close, kissing at his hair, his cheeks, his swollen lips.

Oscar melts, a tiny relieved noise leaving him, pressing closer.

Carlos scoops him up, carrying him to the bathroom, getting him under the warm water, supporting his boneless weight.

Oscar lets him, eyes half-closed, sighing into every gentle touch.

Carlos kisses at his temple, at the corner of his mouth, whispering, “So good for me, cariño. Perfect.”

Oscar shivers, twitching his fingers, like he wants to hold on but doesn’t know how.

Carlos guides his hands to his own shoulders. “Just hold onto me, baby.”

Oscar does, clinging onto Carlos’s arms as Carlos washes him.

Once they’re clean, Carlos lifts him again, gets him bundled up in bed, tucking the blankets tight, wrapping him up warm.

Oscar shivers, eyes fluttering, barely able to stay awake, but his soft, round bum shifts under the covers, inviting, so Carlos cups it, kneads the plushness and pat it softly.

Oscar sighs, his lips parting around a tiny, pleased sound, fully relaxed now, safe in Carlos’s arms.

Carlos grins, pressing a last kiss to his ear.

“Sleep, baby,” he murmurs, holding him close, feeling the weight of Oscar finally falling into deep sleep.

[antimonyandthyme]

carcar the last of us au snippet

warnings: past character death, descriptions of the infected, descriptions of use of weapons and violence

What Carlos wants to say, in a way fashioned entirely after his father: That grave is about as deep as it needs to be. No one has the luxury to mourn. Stop fucking around and move on or die standing still.

What he actually says: “Do you need help?”

“No,” Oscar says, curt. “I should be the one to lay him to rest.”

“Okay,” Carlos says.

Maybe it’ll help Oscar, and Carlos shouldn’t begrudge him that. Help him avoid the scenario in which every infected thereafter shared facial characteristics with Charles. Max. A pretty mouth, a strong jaw. It’s his fault, after all. Carlos should have taken the time to bury all of that under the dirt. But all he could do was run.

There’s an almost relaxing rhythmic sound to the ground being hacked up, and a different kind of tanginess to the smell of fresh earth that lets him forget about blood for a moment.

He could be kind, sit at the foot of the grave and listen to Oscar talk about Logan. Why he thought coming back to where they grew up was a good idea. All these good ideas crumbling to dust, at every town they've witnessed that has eaten itself from the inside out.

Carlos closes his eyes. He doesn’t quite know what to do with another faceless loss, can’t add another number to his collection.

And anyway, Oscar's seen his fair share. He’s too good with the shovel for this to be his first.

Carlos clears his throat, when Oscar's finally done placing some leafy branch at the head of the grave. Flowers. On a grave. That’s some doe-eyed rose-tinted bullshit. There’s a strangled bird, caged somewhere to the left of Carlos’ chest. He doesn’t allow that bird any food or warmth or hope, for fear of softness. Can’t be soft if you want to survive.  

“We should move,” he says.

“We?” Oscar reels his head up. The loss carving its way down his cheeks haven’t fully dried, but he looks hopeful, almost like a lost dog. With how Carlos acts, he probably hadn't expected an offer like this. It should've been cut and dry. Getting you to your city, in exchange for a car battery.

“It’s a simple question,” Carlos says. “Are you coming?”

If he wasn’t already fucked all ways to Sunday, making his way along this forsaken earth with two rounds of ammunition and less than a quart tank of gas left, he’s definitely fucked now, adding a bleeding heart to their journey. But Carlos imagines Charles’ face if he were to leave a kid behind and—damn him for that. For being a ghost and still demanding good of him.

“Yes,” Oscar says.

Arguments and energy spent on arguments should be saved for the important things. Carlos throws what’s left of their shit into the back of the trunk, and wordlessly, gets into the driver’s seat.

--

“I’m just saying.” Oscar’s insistent. He’s spent the first half an hour of the journey staring vacantly out the window, but apparently, country music’s where he draws the line. “If for some reason this car caught on fire—”

“Don’t you even dare,” Carlos says. The thought of losing the Sienna makes him want to shrivel up and die. With luck, they managed to jack a vehicle with a working CD player. Tunes are a necessity in what is essentially a never-ending road trip. “I don’t want to think about it.”

“If it did,” Oscar says, “and I only had time to save one album—”

“Zach Bryan,” Carlos says.

“No,” Oscar says flatly.

“Dios mio. I should have left you back there.”

“You nearly did,” Oscar points out, but it doesn’t sound accusing. At Carlos’ furtive glance, he shrugs. “No hard feelings. I know what you’re doing.”

“Yeah?” Carlos doesn’t like the sound of that, gets his back all up. Ten and two on the wheel, lest he reaches for Oscar’s shirt to shake him until his teeth rattle. “What am I doing?”

“Self-defense,” Oscar says.

“I really should have left you.”

“I didn’t mean that in a bad way.” Seemingly chastised, Oscar digs his teeth into his lower lip. Charles used to do that too, before he acquired the ability to unhinge his jaw and take larger bites. “You look out for your own, right?”

Carlos wonders if Oscar can see his trauma for what it is. The way Carlos has been tuned toward Oscar in the passenger seat, as if an infected would crash through the windscreen at any second. The way he’d swerve right, driver’s seat to the road, without a second thought, if it meant his neck would be exposed instead of Oscar’s.

He’s got nothing to offer but his own body.

“I’m doing such a great job of it.”

“Mate,” Oscar says warily. If he could hedgehog his way any further into the car’s upholstery, he would be so far back he’d be invisible by now. Zach croons in the staticky background, There ain’t no world in which I am good for you. Ain’t no world, now or ever. “I wasn’t saying you weren’t.”

“No, really,” Carlos says, a little hysterically, “I’m doing such a great job—”

--

There were things in the world that should not have applied to Charles. Spend upwards of two months to four years with him and you’d start to imagine that his fingernails never got dirty, or that his smile never got ugly, or that his face never got bloodied.

But he turned like everyone else.

His skin bleached itself until every single vein was visible, and his eyes lost all recognition. He could still speak, for the first bit. Said their names in what was almost a parody. Cahlos. Cahhhlos.

“We have to,” Max couldn’t finish his sentence, though he kept trying. “We have to—”

Charles lunged for them like a rabid animal. They cringed, but the tire chains wound around Charles hold fast, and he shrunk back. Before lunging again, and again. If Carlos were a better man, he’d put Charles out of his misery. Too bad he was a big fucking coward.

“Don’t,” Carlos hissed, absolutely feral, when Max squared his shoulders and took a step forward. “Don’t touch him.”

Max’s chest rose and fall in rapid succession. His eyes were glassy and hollow. Max, who Carlos had never seen shed a tear once, who they all joked would survive them all. He looked a gentle tap away from breaking. “This isn’t about our stupid feelings, it’s about what Charles would have wanted.”

“Fuck you,” Carlos said, to nobody in particular. To maybe himself. Charles was his responsibility when they went on the raid for food, and Charles was still his responsibility now. Till the end. He’d shown Carlos the bite on his calf, almost guiltily, and remained docile and quiet when Carlos wrapped him in chains, while Carlos breathed through what was most definitely a panic attack.

Easy, Carlos. You’ve got to care of Max now. Easy, come on, breathe Carlos. It doesn’t hurt much, not now anyway. Just. Do me a favour. Make it quick, alright?

Cahhhhlos.

“I’ll take care of it,” Carlos said, because all of this was his fault. In the chaos at the grocery store, he got separated from Charles for a harrowing two and half minutes. That was all it took. “Just. Just give me a moment. Just give me a second, alright?”

Charles snarled, snapping his teeth against the metal biting into his skin. This couldn’t be how Carlos remembered him.

“I’ll do it in the morning,”Carlos promised. I’ll do it after sunrise, so he gets to see it one last time.

In the morning, this is what he found:

Charles, chest cavity open, lying still like he was peacefully asleep.

And Max, bleeding out from a bite wound in his forearm, the gun used to lay Charles to rest tucked at his feet. His skin was paper white, but his eyes were still bright.

“I fucked up,” Max said. It was the way he said it. Completely accepting and calm. It made Carlos drop to his knees and hack out the nothing he had left in his stomach. Bile burned his throat raw. “I thought I could do it, so you wouldn’t have to. Sorry.”

Carlos trembled, pushed his forehead into the ground. The entire world was bearing down on him like a magnifying glass on an ant. He didn’t want to look up. If he didn’t look up, then this didn’t have to be real.

“Carlos,” Max said, more gently than Carlos had ever heard him. By some magnetic, supernatural force, it lifted Carlos’ head from the dirt. Max had enough in him to kick the gun over to Carlos, and life in him yet for the corner of his mouth to twitch up. “You can do it.”

Carlos shook his head mutely.

The expression on Max’s face morphed into something unfamiliar. Pleading. It would carry itself into Carlos’ nightmares and every single infected running after him after. “You can. Just don’t fuck it up this time.”

--

“I’m,” Oscar says. He sounds heartbroken for people he doesn’t even know. “I’m sorry about your friends.”

“You didn’t know,” Carlos says. He never should have said anything. Maybe it’s the kid, snapping, I should be the one to do it. Mirrors are a relic of the past, but Carlos looks at Oscar and sees the same jagged stubbornness lining all his edges. “I’m sorry about Logan.”

They pass the rest of the drive in silence.

[jusst-you-race]

all bite and no bark?

sounds smutty and cute!!

it is definitely smutty.... i dunno if i would say it's cute though

“It’s your attention I want, Carlos.” A guttural noise claws its way out of Carlos’ throat. His eyes widen like he’s surprised by his own reaction. Oscar is too. He figured playing into Carlos’ ego would be effective, but not that effective. He presses his advantage. “Is that what you want to hear? That you’re right? That I have thought about you?” Oscar’s prepared to keep going, but Carlos crosses to him in three long strides and suddenly Oscar’s mouth is busy with other things.  The kiss is shockingly chaste, Carlos simply presses his lips to Oscar’s hard enough to hurt, and Oscar can’t have that. He lets his mouth fall open, an invitation that Carlos takes with a groan. There’s no finesse when he licks into Oscar’s mouth, and it’s far from the best kiss he’s ever had, but there’s that telltale heat behind it, all passion and no tenderness, and embarrassingly Oscar feels himself getting hard in his shorts. He pushes off the wall he’s leaning on, fisting his hands into the front of Carlos’ shirt, who growls and presses back, leaning his weight forward until Oscar is forced to fall back onto the wall entirely. Carlos has the height advantage like this and he’s clearly enjoying it.  Oscar knows how Carlos thinks this encounter is going to go. Knows that in Carlos’ mind Oscar is just a brat, desperate to be tamed. Knows that Carlos is looking to totally dominate him and come out of this encounter feeling like a victor. Oscar is happy to play into this fantasy for a bit. He bites at Carlos’ lip hard enough to be just on the wrong side of playful. Carlos growls and pulls back from the kiss.

the vibes of this are a bit rancid lmao but i guess the ending is somewhat positive? this is my first attempt at proper smut though so it's taking me a while to actually write it because i keep second guessing myself

thank you anon for the ask though!! hopefully this is to your liking

[tiredwishes]

my beloved reverse stockholm-syndrome-esque carcar wip that may never see the light of day so here's a snippet i guess

[shineon3]

A snippet of my (wip) carcar fic (because they have taken over my brain and refuse to leave)

Oscar blames Charles for all of this, actually.

He had let the monegasque drag him to a party, and the older had generously bought him drinks before disappearing somewhere. Oscar had opted to stay at the bar, nursing some colorful cocktail, instead of mingling with the sweaty bodies on the floor. He had taken to slouch against the hardwood counter, trying to relieve his feet after standing for too long. Would it be rude to leave now, when Charles was nowhere to be seen? The aussie tries to think about it despite the alcohol, but the stroboscopic lights provide enough distraction for him to lose his train of thoughts every so often. And if that wasn’t enough, the body slamming against his side definitely made a jumbled mess of his brain. He was about to give the stranger a piece of his mind when he turned around to meet Carlos Sainz’ infuriatingly gorgeous doe eyes. He can see the moment Carlos realizes who he just bumped into, a smirk stretching his full, kissable lips, and-

The aussie blinks, failing to process the words for a moment, barely managing to string a reply together.

Wait, what?

“Didn’t think you were the party type, Oscar. What brings you here, hm? Looking for some nice lady to spend the night with?”

“No, no, ‘m just… partying.” He giggles. His voice is so slurred, and it sounds funny. “Charles invited me. He’s my dad now, ya know!”

“And you’re shitfaced too, joder. Come on, let’s get you out of here.”

Carlos doesn’t wait for a reply, just wrapping his big hand around Oscar’s bony wrist, pulling the younger away from the bar. Oscar stumbles as he tries to follow the spaniard’s ridiculously big strides, but the dance floor is so much more interesting to his cocktail muddled brain, and soon he’s the one pulling Carlos towards the middle of the room, ignoring the older driver’s protests. He doesn’t stop until they’re nestled in the mass of writhing bodies, the music feeling like it’s thrumming through their bones. Oscar doesn’t fight the urge to dance, moving along the rhythm, alcohol loosening him enough not to be self-conscious. Carlos studies him for a while, static point in the middle of the floor, until the aussie pulls him closer. The spaniard sighs before letting himself go, body swaying with the music. He chuckles at Oscar’s disastrous attempts at dancing, making the other pout, over exaggerated. Soon, his big arms find a way around Oscar’s waist, caging him against the other. Not that the aussie minds, actually. He’s pressed against Carlos’ broad chest, the spaniard’s cologne dizzying, and he’s having one hell of a good time.

[charleslelurk]

favorite carcar fics you read?

crashlanders is what got me into carcar and omegaverse (don't ask why I clicked on a fic that's a genre I didn't like with a ship I didn't like, not sure what compelled me but I am glad I was compelled)

The same author also wrote metaphysical solipsisma

OF COURSE I have to mention Happy Death Race (which is a WIP) but it's consumed me for weeks now, like Christmas Eve I was straight up telling my sister to leave me alone so I could read the update

And then I've read a lot of amazing carcar snippets on here:

This bodyswap one, and this one from someone's kink prompts, and this magical realism one.

And in general, I would just highly recommend following @janinaduszejko and @antimonyandthyme (who wrote 2/3 of the above) for tumblr fics and looking through their tags, they are a gold mine