#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."

[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.

[1425fivefive]

tagged by my beloved @utopiastri and the lovely @wanderingblindly for the last line game 💕

i just posted my choscar fic (everybody wants to love you) last night and need a few days off from writing, but i'll share the last lines i wrote for part 3 of the sexy to someone series (carlos/oscar with non-traditional a/b/o dynamics)

this is nsfw (i promise one day i'll write something without smut), so posting below the cut!

“Sí”—Carlos paused to press another kiss to Oscar’s neck, and Oscar couldn’t help a soft smile at the feeling—“I dreamt about you.”

Oscar flushed. No one had ever dreamt about him before, or if they had, they’d certainly never told him. It felt—intimate. “What was it, uh, about?”

Carlos chucked softly. “I think it would be easier if I showed you.”

With that, Carlos pushed at Oscar’s shoulder, urging Oscar onto his stomach. Oscar went easily, pillowing his head on his hands, tilting his arse up out of instinct, parting his thighs to make room for Carlos.

“So good, precioso,” Carlos murmured, and Oscar flushed at the praise.

The mattress shifted and Oscar could feel Carlos between his legs, Carlos’s hands coming up to dig into the meat of Oscar’s arse, spreading Oscar’s cheeks and letting out a low moan at the sight.

“So pretty here,” Carlos murmured, running a thumb over Oscar’s hole.

Oscar whined, even as he spread his thighs further apart, trying to silently beg Carlos to keep going, to keep making him feel tender and exposed.

Carlos took Oscar’s movement for what it was—an invitation. “This is what I dreamt about,” Carlos breathed, thumb still brushing back and forth over Oscar’s rim, drawing desperate, helpless noises from him.

--

tagging (no pressure as always) @wedriftlikelonelyplanets, @disarmd, and @bumblewyn 🫶

[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.

[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..."

[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.

[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.

[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

[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.

[wisteriagoesvroom]

all of us, merely players

🟠 a carcar oneshot (with background implied landoscarcar, if you squint) ✏️ 2.2k words 🎭 theatre au 🍳rated T for the inherenT homoeroTicism of a workplace Throuple that oscar is trying to deny 🔗 read on ao3

snippet:

Oscar only remembers where Carlos’s hands go, the way they trail on Lando’s waist, for the purposes of stage blocking. Out of pure professional obligation. He is not starstruck by either actor or the way they recite their lines. He does not care that Lando sometimes makes calf eyes at Carlos out of sheer exhilaration from being around the Spanish nepo son. He is not jealous of the strange costar bond that they share. Or the communication they seem to exchange in silence, the rapport they’ve built where there was subtext in a single look. An unsaid cigarette break? in a single gesture, and the two of them would wander off to talk about god knows what gossip and vape flavour of the month. Oscar doesn’t need that distraction. Besides, there wasn’t production budget to hire a cast therapist for Oscar’s particular affliction anyway.

thank you @maaxverstappen for prompting this literally weeks ago, and @jusst-you-race for the once-over!

[beabnormal24]

I just saw that you’re writing Carcar fic, a snippet pls 🙏

I love your stories so much so I’m really excited ❤️

This is the first thing that I read when I wake up, thank you so much anon because this means a lot to me, so I'll do it.

(I edited this post, 'cause I had a bit of trouble publishing it)

Soo, a not-so-little snippet for you!

“Mate, I honestly think you’re just exaggerating. It doesn’t sound like that big of a deal to me, really.” Logan stretches his legs out, knocking his feet right against Oscar’s knee. 

Oscar grumbles in lieu of an answer, lowering his head until he can hide his gaze in the bottom of his pint. 

“Don’t know why you hate the guy so much; he seems alright to me.” 

The thing is, Oscar Piastri does not hate Carlos Sainz.

Hate is too strong of a word for an individual with whom Oscar tends to have zero to no interaction whatsoever, except for forced polite greetings in the elevator and those rare times when Carlos decides that going out with Lando is worth his time. 

Oscar sincerely thinks that only pretentious people claim to be as busy as Carlos does, so much so that he never seems able to find an evening to spend an ounce of time with his best friend. 

So, no, Oscar does not hate him. He just can’t stand him, which is a big difference and Logan should note that. 

Is the prospect of working alongside him on his most important project of his entire career going to deepen that grudge? Probably, surely. 

But Oscar is, in fact, a professional, no matter what Carlos thinks of him, and he knows how to work with people he would rather keep a safe distance from. Nail guy and Germophobic guy should be more than enough proof. 

“You don’t know him.” Oscar protests, sighing in frustration. Lando raises an unimpressed eyebrow next to him, tapping his chin. “Alright, sorry Lando. You do not know him in a working context.” 

“I mean, how different can that be?” Logan says doubtfully. “Lando said you don’t even work in the same department.” 

“Lando is just biased because Carlos got to him before us.” 

Lando snorts, shaking his head with an amused smile. “Wow, thanks Oscar, you make it sound like I can make my own decisions.” 

Oscar shrugs. “You’re welcome.” 

“Has he started complaining about being paired up with Carlos, yet?” Yuki asks just as he settles down two other pints on their booth’s table. 

Alex trails behind him, carefully balancing two portions of fries on each arm before sliding in the empty seat next to Logan. 

“Mate, you have no idea.” Logan groans, placing a sloppy kiss on Alex’s cheek as he steals a fry from his portion. 

Alex rolls his eyes, but still lets him with a fond smile. Oscar sincerely thinks he could puke. 

“I really don’t understand why you despise him so much. He seems alright to me.” Alex says, failing at hiding the curiosity behind his voice. 

“Babe! I said the same exact thing!” 

“And he’s a great golf player, honestly.” 

Oscar sighs, knowing that he’s left with his shoulders against the wall. 

It’s not like his friends would understand, anyway, since they do not have to walk in his shoes. 

Logan and Alex do not count, because they like everyone, and Yuki is one of the most unfazed people Oscar has ever met, Lando is just obsessed with Carlos for reasons Oscar will probably never fully comprehend. 

He’s left alone, on this matter, even when they all go out together and Charles and Carlos tag along, Carlos is the only one who seems to not have any joke or a single word to address to Oscar. 

Lando says that he’s probably the one actually ignoring him. Oscar thinks that Carlos is just plain out rude to him, and only him. 

But that’s a bit childish, so he’ll keep that thought to himself. 

Everyone starts focusing on their own food, and Oscar stupidly hopes that the topic must’ve finally been brought out of his last Saturday night as a free man before three months of utter nightmare. 

And then Yuki quips in and reduces his hopes to shreds. “On his first day, Carlos told Andrea that he thought Oscar was too young for that position, and that he would be inexperienced. Oscar heard him, and he’s totally convinced that Carlos knows that he heard him but he still never apologised and Oscar took that personally because he’s peevish.” 

“I am not peevish!” Oscar groans bumping his forehead against the table. 

“Yeah, Oscar, you are a bit peevish. Just a tiny bit, though.” He feels Lando’s hand coming up to pat him on the back, sympathetic. “Come on mate, I’m pretty sure he didn’t mean it like that.” 

“Yeah, I mean, we say similar stuff about each other all the time at my workplace.” Alex offers, in an awful attempt at cheering him up. 

It doesn’t do any magic at all, because Alex works as a teacher and Oscar has gone to school for enough years to know that teachers are only capable of hating each other for stretching out their hours longer than they should and preferring different students. 

Well, unless they’re shagging like Alex and Logan, but they work in two different schools so that should not apply. 

“It’s not just that.” Oscar tries to defend himself. Because holding a grudge for something that happened three years ago does sound a bit childish, and he’s not. 

The rest of the table looks at him inquisitively, impatiently waiting for an answer, just the sound of the background music filling the silence that Oscar would so much prefer over having to talk about Carlos, of all people. 

The worst topic they could choose for a Saturday night out at the pub, really. 

“He’s just-“ he makes a vague gesture, hoping that they might understand it easily. Of course, everyone just blinks at him. “I mean, who goes around with only shirts that have his initials stitched on it? Who goes around acting like they know everything and they’re the best at it? And he says that Lando is his best mate, but I don’t see him hanging out with him that often, no? That’s just top dickhead behaviour, if you ask me.” 

“Aw, Osc!” Lando exclaims, and in a matter of second, Oscar finds himself with his head caged under Lando’s elbow, the Brit’s hand mussing his hair. “You’re so cute, defending my honour.” 

“You never did that for me.” Logan protests, and then more quietly to Alex. “Babe, he never did that for me.” 

Alex smiles, patting his back lightly. “Do not worry, Lo, I’ll do it for you.” 

“I’m not defending anybody’s honour.” Oscar splutters out, his cheeks growing hot, heart thumping in his chest, wild – a dangerous zone. He slaps Lando’s hands away from his hair, trying to ruffle them to some kind of order, but it’s no use, they’ll never make sense. 

Carlos’ hair is always perfectly styled and composed. What a dickhead, indeed. 

“I’m just stating the obvious.” 

“Still, I can guarantee you that you do not need to worry about that.” Lando assures him, trying to reach back for his head, but Oscar is quicker this time, leaving him to poke Yuki’s cheek with a finger, instead. “He’s got other things to do on Saturday, usually.” 

Oscar takes a sip of his beer to cover his snort. 

He doesn’t trust Lando’s words, he’s probably just too biased by having been Carlos’ friend for such a long time. 

Someone who’s not even married and who earns as much as Carlos does surely should not have that many things to do instead of hanging out with his friends. 

But anyway, it’s none of his business. Rather, he should be glad he can at least escape him on Saturday. 

“Sure.” 

— 

On Monday morning, Oscar clocks into work on time, his jacket is completely dry, his hair kind of makes sense and there’s a spring in his step, and he just feels good overall. 

He has spent most of his Sunday sitting on the couch binge watching the entire final season of Brooklyn 99 and he’s convinced himself that whatever mind games Carlos might want to play with him, Oscar is stronger and smarter, and he won’t let himself get squashed. 

Logan kind of fuelled his confidence, as well, with his usual monologues about the importance of believing in himself and remembering all the sweat and tears he put in to reach the place he’s in now, though Oscar is pretty sure he only comes up with them to exercise for his drama kids. 

But the point is that he knows that it’s his job, that it’s his career, and even if he would probably get the promotion either way, he still wants to earn it. If not for Andrea, then for himself. 

The fact that it’s his biggest project ever, just motivates him more. 

He plops down on his office chair with a smile that must be breaking his face if the way Yuki glances at him curiously from the other side is anything to go by. But he just shrugs it off, playing dumb. 

He’s just in a good mood, is that illegal? 

“It is if you’re called Oscar Piastri.” Yuki tells him, no hair on his tongue. “You always look like-“ he makes a serious face, his lips closed into straight line, one eyebrow raised, sceptical. Oscar does not look like that, he thinks (he hopes). “Like those statues from Christmas Island.” 

“I do not look like that at all.” Oscar glares at him, turning his computer on. “And it’s Easter Island.” 

“Yeah, whatever.” 

He spends the morning going through Andrea’s instructions over and over again until he can exactly tell the position of every single letter, and then he spends the rest of it making a first draft for a spreadsheet with all the products they will probably need to change a million times. 

Carlos does not write him, nor does he come around to ask for him, either, but Oscar doesn’t question it that much. God knows he has his own side-projects, although minor, to care about but he guesses that spending some time to start brainstorming over this new one it’s not entirely a bad idea. 

He’ll just email the file Excel to Carlos once it’s done, and then maybe they’ll shortly discuss about it, Oscar will even accept some suggestions because, against all odds, he is ready to work as a team. Besides, his creativity is pretty close to a zero percentage, but he has heard that Carlos knows how to do a mean presentation, and that’s how teams work, right? 

Combine your best skills and all that stuff about sharing each other’s strengths. Oscar wouldn’t know about that, really, since he’s always preferred the solitary work, but he doesn’t have that much of a choice right now. 

Yuki asks for poke at lunch, and Oscar is a man of his word, so as soon as the clock strikes half past twelve, they’re already out the door chattering about the latest apex legends’ update. 

The guy behind the cash register smiles at him sweetly when he pays, and Oscar swears he winks at him as he slides the receipt over the counter, and sure enough when he looks at it there is a phone number scribbled on the paper. 

Oscar isn’t exactly interested in dating as of now, but the guy was cute, and it did boost his ego a bit, and it might not be a bad idea to go out with someone that is not his roommate, his roommate’s boyfriend, his coworker and a weird friend from university. Maybe he could even get laid, which doesn’t seem like a bad prospect at all. 

It’s just the combination of all these tiny little things that makes him feel better, more confident, almost ready to let himself believe that he could change his mind about Carlos, like Lando has been trying to make him for years, now. 

Maybe he could actually reconsider him, even if just by stopping viewing him as a pretentious dickhead. 

But Carlos just makes it incredibly difficult, it seems. 

Oscar has just started settling back behind his desk when his attention gets caught by the new email in his inbox, that definitely was not there before. 

To: oscar.piastri@g...  From: carlos.sainz.vasq...  Sub: team project 

Hi Piastri,  attached you will find your part of the project.  Please, do not contact me on my lunch breaks, Friday nights and weekends. I will not respond.  I sincerely hope you do not need any clarification, but if you do, you can write to the email above.  Good work. 

[See more] 

“You have to be fucking kidding me.” He almost slams his laptop shut, feeling the rage bubbling up inside of him. Logan likes to say that he’s an emotionless human being, Yuki just compared him to a freaking statue, and yet Carlos Sainz is enough to make him doubt himself and his capability to have a decent control of his own emotions. 

He inhales deeply, nostrils flaring as he tries to calm himself down. Breath in, and breath out, it’s just the first day of three months. 

Which means that it can go even worse, fuck. 

“What is it?” Yuki asks, curiously peering over his screen to take a glance. 

Oscar had almost completely forgotten about his presence, and he just groans and turns the laptop around, not finding it in himself to explain without cursing one Spanish lineage or two. 

“Mh, okay, yes.” Yuki mumbles, nodding understandingly with his chin propped up on his palm. 

Oscar can see his eyes moving from one side to the other of the list, a list, of things that Oscar should do, that Carlos decided Oscar should do, just to prove himself once more as the biggest prick Oscar might’ve ever met in his life. 

“Well, I don’t see the problem here.” 

“You don’t- what?” Oscar splutters out, blinking once, twice. Yuki’s expression doesn’t change, it stays confused, amused even. “Isn’t it obvious? He gave me a list, Yuki, a list.” 

“Yes and?” Yuki asks, unsure. “I mean, I would kill to have a teammate who tells me what I have to do. Splitting parts is the worst step for a team project, in my opinion. You should be glad.” 

“I should be glad?” Oscar says, he almost feels crazy about it. “Yuki, can’t you see it? He’s doing it in purpose! He probably just decided what parts he didn’t want and gave them to me so I can, like, do his dirty laundry. I am almost 100% sure he’s going to take all the credit after and he just- ugh!” 

Yuki looks at him, unimpressed, standing in front of Oscar’s desk like he’s seconds away from giving him a slap on his head. When they’re like this and the height difference is completely reversed, Oscar remembers that Yuki can be incredibly frightening, too. 

“Oscar, listen to me.” Yuki says, gentle. Well, not really gentle, because Oscar is pretty sure that Yuki lacks that definition, but something akin to gentleness, surely. “I think you’re a bit stressed out right now, I get it, it’s an important project-“ 

“My most important project.” Oscar interrupts him. He feels compelled to remind that detail, which he doesn’t find small at all. 

It will dictate the rest of his career, his future, his curriculum, his self esteem. He might be exaggerating, but he’s used to take things seriously only when he manages to convince himself that they are, in fact, serious. 

But now that he thinks about it, he may just need a change of perspective:  maybe having to work alongside Carlos is just a challenge for himself, one last obstacle to overtake before he can finally make all his years of studying and working his back off worth it. 

He just needs to impose himself and he needs to show himself and to Carlos that he knows what he’s doing, and that it can easily be a 50/50 kind of work. 

Perfectly balanced, yeah. 

“- and I mean, anyway, if you’re not happy with whatever he decides, you can just go and talk to the guy.” 

“You know what, Yuki?” Oscar says, standing up as he shuts his laptop close, feeling thrilled about the prospect of taking reins between his hands, for once. It must feel amazing, to finally have control over something, and it only makes him want that promotion more. “I think I’m going to give him a little speech about respect.” 

“That’s not what I meant, but you do you.” Yuki shrugs before finally going back to his desk, sitting hunched over his screen and probably causing himself twenty different problems to his back. 

It’s a spur of the moment, Oscar is not used to get them often, he prefers to be more levelheaded, in a way, more rational, logical. 

But Carlos has always managed to get under his skin in a way that he never was able to point out, like he could just crawl inside and gnaw at it and smirk that too full grin of his that some would define as charming, Oscar just finds unappealing. 

If he were to admit it, he would probably find the reasons of their mutual grudge behind deeply buried thoughts that Oscar has long since tried to forget about. 

Like that time he had been scratching his own wrist with his nails, too long, too uneven, waiting for Lando to give him an ounce of his attention, just for Carlos to get it all with a bat of his eyelashes and a show of his straight teeth. 

And Oscar has thought that, well, he did not know how to style his hair and he had always had bunny teeth and he did not post shirtless selfies on his socials, and he did not like to hop from one club to another to spend the time on a Saturday night, so hoping that Lando could turn around and look at him and say ‘Oscar’ all British accented and tongue in the little gap was just- ridiculous. 

Rationally, that should not be considered as Carlos’ fault, but Oscar just knows that he knows. He swears he had seen him, winking at Oscar jokingly before taking Lando away by the hand, tilting his head to the side, curious, wicked, and then acting like Oscar wasn’t there, not even trying go engage him into conversations. 

At work, it’s quieter, at least. 

The only reason why Oscar still hasn’t spilled a hot coffee all over the front of his shirt is because Carlos kind of is his superior, after all, and people would surely almost immediately suspect of him if they were to find a distressed Carlos Sainz in sight. 

But they still work in different sections, and they never have to cross paths unless they happen to be in the same elevator at the same time, or by the same coffee machine at the same time. They never make small talks, sometimes Carlos just glances at him and nods his head and makes a half assed comment about his commitments for the week like he’s someone too important to be around Oscar. 

And Oscar wants to strangle him or scoff at him and give him a piece of his mind, but he does not, because he’s rational and levelheaded. 

On top of that, the inexperienced comment and the lack of apology thereof does still sting, though he’ll never admit it. 

The upper floor is a little bit nicer than the one his and Yuki’s office is, with longer corridors and opaque glass doors and plants that are actually alive. 

Well, he and Yuki had tried to keep one between their desks, but the attempt had failed after they had realised they had forgotten watering it for four weeks straight. But at least they had tried. 

Oscar doesn’t really think about what he’s going to say when he pushes the door open, nor does he when he strides into the office, basically uninvited. 

And then when he finally thinks about it, it’s just to remain utterly speechless at the sight of Charles half slumped down on the little couch in the corner, scrolling away on his phone. 

“Hi Oscar.” Charles says, enthusiastic as all the other times he and Oscar have interacted in the past. Oscar likes him, even though he can’t help but feel slightly intimidated by his attractiveness, but Charles has always been nice to him and when he goes out with them at the pub, he’s always asking Oscar about his day and appearing actually interested about it. 

Which doesn’t explain why he would be friends with such a douchebag like Carlos, but it’s not like it’s any of his business. 

“Hi Charles.” Oscar replies, unsurely taking a step forward. It doesn’t change the aspect of the situation, of course, what is supposed to be Carlos’ office chair is still as empty as the first time he laid eyes on it. “Am I in the wrong place?” 

“Were you looking for Carlos?” Charles asks with a strange lilt to his voice, one that is not just from his accent, Oscar can tell. 

“Uh, yes?” 

“Then yes you are in the right place.” Charles concludes. “But at the wrong time, he’s out for his lunch break.” 

Oscar checks his watch, then he checks it another time just to be sure. “But lunch break ended fift- twenty minutes ago.” 

“Yeah, but he has to do other things, so he asked for a later lunch break.” 

A later lunch break. 

What kind of immense prick asks for a different lunch break than all the other employees? Who does Carlos think he is? 

Oscar sincerely thinks he has never met someone as full of himself as Carlos in his life, not even that one guy at his high school that went around claiming to be able to get every single girl in his bed. 

Which Oscar knew for sure was a big load of bullshit because he had watched Lauren Smith reject him at their final year’s party, and Oscar had given him a drunken blowjob in a bathroom on the same night. 

And still, Carlos managed to top that off. 

“Alright.” Oscar says calmly. “Then I guess I can come back later.” He finishes, already turning around to get out of this office as soon as possible and go back to lament on Yuki. 

But Charles doesn’t seem to be of the same opinion, clearing his throat to get his attention back on him. “Uh, we will be in a meeting later.” He says sheepishly, and then adding, “I’m sorry I didn’t know you needed him so soon.” 

It’s not Charles’ fault that Carlos is a douchebag, really, and Oscar is not that immature to act like one. “Do not worry, I will come back tomorrow, then.” One deep breath, in and out. “Thanks Charles, I’ll see you around.” 

“Bye Oscar!” Charles waves at him, back to his enthusiastic self. 

Oscar can’t share even an ounce of that same giddiness, right now, so he just closes the door behind himself and curses the name tag on it, flipping the golden plate off. 

And then once again before getting inside the elevatore. 

It’s cathartic enough. 

__ 

To: carlos.sainz.vasq...  From: oscar.piastri@g...  Re: team project  Sub: adjustments 

Hi Sainz,  I was not able to find you and I would like to discuss the attachment of your last email.  As it is a team project, I think that we should work, in fact, as team, unless you might’ve missed Andrea’s directives, though I am pretty sure you were sitting next to me. I sincerely hope you do not need any clarification on that.  Good rest of the day. 

To: oscar.piastri@g...  From: carlos.sainz.vasq...  Re: adjustments  Sub: appointment 

Hi Piastri,  I guess I can concede you a talk face to face over the matter. You can meet me in my office tomorrow at half past ten.  Do not be late. 

To: carlos.sainz.vasq...  From: oscar.piastri@g...  Re: appointment 

I won’t. 

__ 

[drivestraight]

carcar soulmate fic chapter 3 snippet because i feel like it:

“OW! Oscar!” Carlos shouts, loudly enough that Max and Lando pause their conversation and turn their heads to see if everything’s alright. A couple of the other passengers turn their heads as well. Carlos is hugging his shin to his chest.

“Oscar,” Lando says, sounding shocked and confused. “Did you just… kick Carlos?”

Max looks amused, holding a hand over his mouth, clearly holding back laughter.

“No,” Oscar says, crossing his arms over his chest, feigning ignorance. “Carlos is just making a big deal out of nothing. Like usual.”

“You’re a child,” Carlos hisses, in pain.

Oscar bites back, “You’re a dick.”

[more-mara]

Almost caved and posted chapter one of my Carcar mafia au but convinced myself that posting a snippet would stop my urges lmao. I just can’t wait until I complete it and you guys get to read it!

Everything was blurry and Oscar didn’t know how long it took until he came around again, his vision clearing as he looked up to see Carlos, his hands bloody as he stood over four unconscious figures. Carlos was staring at him now and if Oscar didn’t know any better, he would say he looked concerned.

“Are you okay?” Carlos asked, feigning disinterest as he kneeled down in front of Oscar. Oscar nodded but he wasn’t entirely sure if he was telling the truth or not. Carlos’ blood stained hands were suddenly on his face, inspecting his eyes. Oscar tried to shake him away but his body was far too weak. Oscar could see Carlos’ mouth moving but he couldn’t hear or discern the words, his ears ringing a little.

“Are you injured?” Carlos asked again, holding Oscar’s head steady so that it didn’t lull to the side. Oscar frowned but shook his head anyway- to be totally honest, his previously injured shoulder was aching a little from being pinned to the wall but other than that, he felt fine.

[mara-xx]

Confirmation that my Carcar sugar daddy AU will be around 6 chapters and will potentially be called: The Price of Your Love

Tiiiiiny snippet to keep you going lol

“Wait- you gave him a blowie on a boat?!”

“It sounds a lot more glamorous than it was,” Oscar said as he reached over to save his essay, realising that he wasn’t about to get any more work done with Landos current line of questioning.