#it may or may not be... carcar...

[wisteriagoesvroom]

4.5k words on mystery christmas fic, no idea if it's coherent, haven't even read it back yet and it's 3am, and i doubt i will post it on the 25th, but. we are here. and we have 4.5k words of mystery christmas fic...

[81-piastri]

CARLOS SAINZ AND OSCAR PIASTRI: when the ache of hatred is so nauseating it shifts into desire

Fornight, Taylor Swift // normal-horoscopes // Belgian GP: Carlos Sainz blames Oscar Piastri's lack of experience for first corner collision, SkySports // An Ideal Husband, Oscar Wilde // In the Cut, Susanna Moore // Twin Size Mattress by The Front Bottoms // 2024 Monaco - Carlos Sainz Interview // Oscar Piastri Irritatedly Calls Out Carlos Sainz for "Dangerous" Driving at Abu Dhabi GP FP1, Essentailly Sports // UNKNOWN // A Fortune For Your Disaster, Hanif Abdurraqib

[randomfingthings]

Ooooo I think I have an idea!! (A rare event for someone such as myself 😩✌)

I'm not participating in the boopening, but I have the strong urge to procrastinate and doodle!! Soooo Im drawing chibi drivers getting booped! (will take requests/ideas lol, give me a reason to procrastinate!!?)

first victim (sorry charles 😙):

[iamred-iamyellow]

Ok so after folklore and Romeo & Juliet I’m gonna write a carcar ballet au @liamlawsonlesbian

I don’t even have a teaser I just needed to announce this lmao 😭

[oscarpiastriwdc]

we'll meet again when both our cars collide

[roramble]

if perhaps i said yoga instructor carlos and oscar, an attendee who isn’t quite getting his stretches right…..

[theemporium]

[smau] the f1 rumour mill is spinning and whispers are breaking out around the paddock. the biggest one this season? carlos sainz and oscar piastri may be being played by the same girl

note: ignore the dates on the tweets. i am too lazy to change them :)

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liked by oscarpiastri, carlossainz55 and 262,377 others

yourusername my boyfriend loves my other boyfriend and i love them too<3

view all 23,378 comments

user WHAT THE FUCK????

user oh my god

user did NOT see that one coming

user ????????

carlossainz55 mis amores🧡

user NOT HIM USING AN ORANGE HEART

user what the fuck is happening right now

oscarpiastri this is cute but you still owe me

yourusername promise i'll stay in the mclaren garage next time, baby

oscarpiastri ❤️❤️❤️

user FUCK OFF HE USED RED HEARTS

user i can't believe carcar actually did end up becoming enemies to lovers

landonorris you stole my boyfriends :(

yourusername sucks to suck, norris xoxo

user i need to know how many people in the paddock knew because i have never felt stupider

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[themultifanshipper]

Can you write a fluffy carcar fic where imagine carlos trying to get oscar into golf? I saw oscar say somewhere that golf is frustrating- but carlos tells him "it's not frustrating, it's about patience" or something like that

He went to the golf course bc lando actually invited him after the wcc and all, and since lando was really insistent and he had time to kill, and he was like sure one afternoon won't hurt. So he goes, there by genuine accident they bump into carlos, and lando didn't think carlos was even back home so he was just as surprised to see him and then carlos ofc joins them but then lando has to leave (how convenient) so oscars suddenly all awkward

BUT THEN CARLOS IS LIKE ITS OK ILL TEACH YOU, ILL MAKE YOU LIKE GOLF

And suddenly oscars all flustered and both of them in their heads are all like "this is nice, omg this is really nice, why is this so nice!?"

Or something along those lines??

Oscar’s mind was going at a million miles an hour.

How he got into this predicament, with Carlos' strong arms wrapped around him while he shivered from the contact, was a mystery.

Warnings: smut, ass eating, inappropriate use of golfing equipment, public sex, kinda wild, i'll be honest there is not much fluff, asking me for fluff is like asking Fernando to retire, it ain't happening.

Lando. This was all Lando's fault.

He'd suggested going out for golf, which he knew Oscar wasn't particularly fond of.

And he was the one that had lost track of time and forgotten that he had a meeting to go to.

He'd also been the one to suggest Carlos join them, after running into the Spaniard by accident.

“It’s december!” he’d said. “We'll be the only ones on the golf course! It'll be fun!” he said. Well that was a fucking lie.

It may not have been high golfing season or whatever, but they ran into two people Lando knew from around Monaco, and Carlos.

The entire situation felt like the setup for a joke, and Oscar felt like he was the absolute butt of it.

Celebrating the WCC? Great idea. Golfing with Lando? Fine, why not. Golfing with Carlos? Not something he wanted to be doing in a million years.

He didn't not like Carlos, but every interaction they'd ever had could be summarised with two words: forced proximity.

Either they came together on track, or they were forced to interact by their mutual friends, namely Lando.

So he wasn't exactly fond of the man, but he tolerated him enough to be civil. And the less time he spent talking to him, the more time he had to check him out from afar.

Bexause he was hot as fuck, Oscar couldn't deny that. He'd caught himself checking his fellow drivers out on multiple occasions, but there were no cameras around now, so he could let his gaze wander a bit more freely.

As soon as Carlos agreed to go along with them, he knew this was going to be a long afternoon.

Golf just wasn't his thing. He’d tried. He'd really tried, he would do anything to please Lando.

But he thought it was a sport for pompous rich pricks who had absolutely nothing better to do with their time and money. He'd never had lessons, and Lando wasn't exactly a great teacher, so his form was shit, and to make matters worse, Lando and Carlos made fun of him for it.

Well excuse him for not growing up fucking rich!

“This is a shit sport!” he raged after missing yet another swing. “I just don’t get why you like it, it's so frustrating!”

Lando was too busy wheezing to reply.

“It is not frustrating, it is about patience. Observe”  Carlos put a ball on his tee, and positioned himself as if he was going to swing.

“You need to shift your weight as you swing, and don't aim for the ball, aim a few inches after the ball. And don't forget the position of your arms, the left one is straight while the right one is at a right angle, otherwise your aim will be all over the place…”

Carlos showed him the movement as he explained it, but Oscar had stopped listening entirely.

His eyes had zoned in on Carlos' arms. He knew the guy was fit, they were athletes after all, but he was absolutely astounded by how fucking enormous Carlos’ biceps were.

They were glistening with sweat under the sunlight as he flexed them. Then his eyes went to Carlos' pecs, which were also flexing, and looked like they were about to pop out of his polo shirt.

He was brought out of his reverie by Lando cursing loudly next to him.

“Shit! Guys I have to run, I completely forgot I have a meeting with my publicist in fifteen minutes!”

He left his stuff with them and sprinted away, promising to be back soon (they both knew he wouldn't, and one of them would inevitably have to drop his stuff off at his apartment).

Oscar was relieved, he could finally be out of this hell hole.

But as he picked up his bag of rented clubs to make his way back to the golf cart, Carlos put a hand on his shoulder to stop him.

“Oh no, Cabrón. We are not done here. I am going to make you a professional if it is the last thing I do.”

Carlos teaching him golf sounded like the last thing he wanted to do, and the older man was smirking infuriatingly, as if torturing Oscar into liking golf was the most fun he could have.

But a part of Oscar was curious. Maybe he could have some fun of his own. He knew Carlos wasn't a particularly patient man. Maybe he could rile Carlos up enough for him to give up.

Making an F1 driver give up on anything was a hard feat, but Oscar liked a challenge.

It was a bit awkward at first, Carlos made him get into position, which he did very wrong on purpose, to try and frustrate Carlos.

But the man didn't even sigh, he just started explaining all about how the handle had to be pointing at his belly button, and his knees needed to be bent, and he needed to twist his shoulders while lifting the club while still looking at the ball, and then he had to-

Oscar had stopped listening again.

While explaining each action, Carlos' hands were moving Oscar's body around like a puppet.

His skin burned wherever Carlos' hands made contact.

And after a while it started getting to him. Carlos' touches were getting rougher, like he was getting sick of explaining and repositioning him over and over again.

But instead of chanting victory, Oscar's brain was slowly frying at the harsh grip Carlos had on his flesh.

They were both sweating in the sun, and Carlos was damp.

He was plastered to Oscar's back, his arms around Oscar's arms, hands gripping the handle over Oscar's hands as he tried his best to explain… whatever it is he was trying to explain.

Oscar’s brain was on one thing only: the hard planes of Carlos' body pressed against his.

The Spaniards breath smelled like the minty gum he'd been chewing earlier, and his mouth was so close to Oscar's cheek he could feel the heat of his breath as he spoke.

He was sweating, and not just from the sun, his body was on fire, and he could feel his blood rushing down from his brain to his nether regions.

Carlos hadn't noticed at first, fully absorbed in his long winded explanation of the subtleties of hip movements to emphasize striking power.

But when he grabbed Oscar's stiff hips to twist and move them the correct way, the younger man gasped out the tiniest of whimpers.

That made Carlos freeze. “Are you okay?”

His hands hadn't moved from Oscar's waist though, and that fact was making his head spin.

Carlos’ eyes followed the movement of Oscar's Adam’s apple as he swallowed before nodding shyly.

The flush creeping up the younger man's neck was enough for Carlos to understand what was happening.

He gave his hips another squeeze. “Oscar…”

The Aussie let out a shaky breath, the way Carlos whispered his name made him close his eyes in embarrassment.

“Yes?” his voice cracked and he closed his eyes, waiting for Carlos to yell at him for being inappropriate, or uninterested in golf, or gay… or something.

But the yelling never came, instead Carlos chuckled darkly and squeezed the flesh of his hips.

“Is my lesson making you too horny to think properly? Pathetic… And ironic given how you seem to be the one trying to distract me with these shorts” he spat, pulling at the hem of the offending shorts, which would be considered indecent to anyone who wasn't Oscar.

But Oscar had a habit of not realising how he looked, and today Carlos was having trouble not ogling his body.

Carlos’ hand barely brushed his bulge, and Oscar whimpered again, looking down to see just how tented his shorts were.

He had no idea he felt this way about Carlos, but here he was, hard as a rock and secretly wishing that Carlos would touch him more.

“Maybe I need to teach you some discipline before you can learn to play properly…”

Carlos nosed at the back of his sweaty neck, pulling his hips back against his own.

Oscar gasped when he felt the hard press of Carlos' cock through his shorts.

“Do not worry, I can teach you everything you need to know” he growled into Oscar's skin, hand sliding around to cup Oscar over his shorts.

That's how Oscar ended up pressed against the front of the golf cart, leaning on his elbows, and doing his best to stay quiet as Carlos ripped his shorts down his legs.

“If I didn't know any better, I would think you were hoping this would happen, given how slutty these shorts are.”

Oscar wanted to protest. They were practical! It was 25 degrees out and excuse him for not wanting to wear fucking chinos to golf.

“They're not sl-” he tried to argue but Carlos landed a harsh spank to the back of his thigh.

He yelped but Carlos scolded him.

“First lesson, no arguing with the teacher.”

He hooked his fingers in the waistband of Oscar's boxers and peeled them off, groaning at the plumpness of the flesh in front of him.

“My god, it's a miracle your ass fits in those shorts at all…” Oscar blushed at the compliment, he knew what his body looked like, he knew he was gifted in that department, but Carlos praising him was turning his brain to mush.

He let out a surprised half-moan half-whine when Carlos spread his cheeks and spat, right on his twitching hole.

The act was so dirty, they were out in the open but Oscar no longer cared, he needed more.

He could feel the cool material of Carlos' leather glove against his overheated skin.

Carlos rubbed the pad of his thumb over Oscar's slick rim, making him keen.

“Lesson two: you have to be quiet or we are going to get caught. Do you want this to be our last lesson?”

Oscar was trembling with need, and his legs were seconds away from giving out if Carlos didn't get on with it soon.

“No! Please…” he whined pathetically and Carlos laughed.

He crouched behind down, spreading Oscar open.

“Then keep your mouth shut”

He licked a stripe from his balls up to his crack, and it took everything Oscar had in him not to moan.

“Good boy” Carlos praised, and dove in, licking and prodding at his tight rim.

Oscar could feel the strong wet muscle opening him up, it was obscene.

He bit his hand to avoid making a noise , he didn't really care about being kicked off the course, but he would rather avoid getting caught, with Carlos of all people. He'd never hear the end of it.

The repetitive feeling of Carlos' tongue breaching him had him gasping into his hand.

He pushed his hips back, his back arching as he fucked himself on Carlos' tongue, and the older man moaned at how quickly Oscar's body was betraying his need to be fucked.

He pulled away to suck a couple of fingers into his mouth, wetting them thoroughly before pressing them into Oscar's slick hole.

Oscar was on fire. Carlos was using his gloved fingers to open him up, and the slick leather sliding into him made him want to rip his own hair out.

Carlos stood up and put a hand on Oscar's lower back to make him arch more, which he did gladly.

Carlos was surprised at how needy Oscar was under him, writhing and gasping every time his fingers brushed his prostate.

Suddenly he had an idea on how to keep Oscar's mouth occupied.

He reached into his pocket, where he had one of those extra large golf balls used for training, and tapped it against Oscar's lower lip.

“Open up, Oscar. You can suck on this to stop yourself making too much noise” and Oscar opened his mouth immediately and stuck out his tongue, taking the ball in his mouth almost too eagerly.

He was submitting beautifully, and Carlos had to unbutton his pants and pull them down, just to take some pressure off his now aching cock.

Once he deemed Oscar ready, he spit on his hand, slicking himself up and pushed in slowly.

Oscar couldn’t hold it in anymore, despite the ball gag, he moaned loud.

“Shit” Carlos hissed, slapping a hand over Oscar's mouth. “You need to be quiet”

Oscar was unable to respond, he was too busy drooling over how well Carlos' cock was stretching him out.

So Carlos took the ball out, accidentally shifting his hips which made Oscar’s eyes roll back and he let out a high pitched squeak.

Carlos then took his glove off, baled it up and shoved it into Oscar's mouth.

He then thrust into him hard enough to make him moan loudly again, and was satisfied when the glove successfully muffled the noise.

Or at least enough so that they couldn't be heard within a few hundred feet.

He kicked Oscars feet apart to spread him further, and slammed into him again.

Oscar was sure he could feel Carlos all the way up to his fucking throat with how deep he was inside him.

The sound of Carlos' hips slapping against Oscar's plump flesh made the two men wild as their bodies made contact over and over again, pushing and pulling against each other.

Oscar was doing his best to push back against the onslaught of Carlos' savage thrusts, but his body was slowly giving up on him.

His knees buckled, and Carlos wrapped his arms around him, pushing him harder against the now searing metal of the front of the cart.

He reached a hand down to wrap around Oscar's leaking cock, squeezing rythmically with each thrust and Oscar was a goner, he came with a muffled wail, painting Carlos' hand white, along with the front of the cart.

Carlos followed quickly after, hips stuttering as he filled the younger driver up, biting his lip to muffle his deep groan.

After a few seconds of trying to regain his sanity, he pulled his glove out of Oscars mouth and pulled his softening cock out of him.

Oscar sighed, leaning his head against the surface with his eyes closed in bliss.

He didn't register Carlos moving around until he felt him lick up the cum that was seeping out of his used hole.

He jolted, gasping as Carlos cleaned him up, lapping up his own cum and overstimulating Oscar to the point where he started wriggling and the Spaniard had to hold him in place.

The lewd slurping sounds were almost humiliating, and he was suddenly acutely aware of how exposed he was.

But that just served to turn him on again, and if Carlos had carried on for much longer, he would have definitely been up for another round.

Thankfully though, he soon deemed Oscar cleaned up of his cum, and helped him pull his underwear and those goddamn shorts back up.

He turned Oscar around and grabbed the back of his neck to press their lips together in a kiss that very quickly turned filthy and they made out for a few minutes, until they were in desperate need of air.

As they panted into each other's mouths, Carlos grinned.

“Rule number three: one lesson is never enough”

Needless to say, Oscar got a membership at that club. And he met up with Carlos every week for lessons, which they did not invite Lando to.

 Lando found that a bit strange, but he wasn't going to complain, he was just happy his two friends were finally getting along.

[beabnormal24]

Your dog ~ carcar, angst

Piñon still bites him when he sees him. He's a distrustful dog, Oscar has learned.

He doesn't like it when Oscar sits on the left side of the couch, pushes his nose against his calf until he's shuffling to the right. He doesn't sit on that side either, though, and curls up under his feet.

He doesn't like it when Oscar looks at the coats hanging nearby the entrance, he doesn't like it when Oscar puts his hand in the biscuits jar, he doesn't like it when Oscar uses the body-wash in the shower and smells of musky pinecones.

He doesn't like a whole lot of things that Oscar does, truthfully, and even though he does try not to show it, sometimes it really hits close to home, where it already hurts the most.

And yet, he still gets up at eight sharp in the morning to take him out for a walk.

They stroll on the sidewalk for ten minutes, already with the easiness of a routine that doesn't feel like it belongs to him fully yet, and Oscar can almost say with certainty that it doesn't feel that gross to grab his poop from the ground.

Every morning they walk past a local bakery, just on the right side of the parallel road, and every single morning Piñon starts barking, perhaps out of familiarity, perhaps just out of curiosity, his vision zeroing on the bright yellow of the signs.

Oscar... he would rather not walk in, honestly. It's not even about avoiding falling into temptation, the smell of fresh baked goods always seeming to make his empty stomach grumble like a full engine.

It's more about the way the people around him seem to advert their gaze for a short second before actually meeting his eyes, it's about the way the woman behind the counter sharpens her grimace into a somewhat welcoming smile, as if all of a sudden she's not angry anymore at Oscar for only knowing how to utter a bunch of words in broken Spanish.

Even worse, though, it's the way they always sit on their calves and pat Piñon's head with a familiarity that Oscar is almost jealous of.

He may not understand a lot of the language, but still it's easy to make out the grand scheme of it all, how they sneak treats under the dog's mouth, how they whisper close to his ear.

"Has he been treating you good? How are you doing? How is him?"

Piñon never answers, and maybe that's exactly the reason why Oscar decided to take care of him.

When it came to deciding what should go to whom, he had almost fought tooth and nails to insist he would be the one getting the dog, in ways that he would probably be immensely embarrassed of if he thought about it now, lucid and the wound of it all less open and fresh.

But when Piñon tilts his head there's always the memory of something that tickles the back of Oscar's head, something that he's not exactly ready to let go of completely.

And when Oscar just needs to talk without the feeling of judgment and guilt clouding over him, Piñon just nudges his nose against his calf and sits at his feet and leaves him the benefit of self criticism that sometimes Oscar forgets he still has.

And other times, even, he looks up at Oscar with big brown eyes that hold a distant sentiment that Oscar can't face just yet.

He has read, somewhere in the middle of a late night binge search on how to get rid of it all as fast possible, that dogs are able to talk to spirits.

Oscar doesn't exactly believe it. Though it is true that Oscar doesn't believe in a lot of things that don't lie in the same Venn's diagram of a throttle and a brake.

He still doesn't know if he should believe in God or if it's God who should believe more in them, give them a bit more credit for all the things some people have to go through without even asking for them.

And Oscar also sincerely hopes Carlos has not gone and become a spirit, because that would imply that even the last shred of hope has to quietly die like a burnt candle.

Because that would mean Oscar would have to live the rest of his life looking for a metaphysical appearance that he knows will never come, that he would have to feel haunted, even.

And it's ridiculous to even think about believing in something like that, and yet at two in the morning on a Thursday night Oscar thinks that there can't be any damage to do if he just lets himself be ridiculous for a little while.

The corridor is bathed in moonlight when he walks through it, but Oscar still finds some difficulty in making his way through the rooms, leaning against the wall with a hand as he feels the quiet thrum of an empty house surrounding him.

He is careful with his steps as he reaches Piñon, sleeping soundly at the entrance where he had dragged his own bed a few days ago.

He thinks about it for a second, then two, watches little puff of air heaving Pinon's chest, his head resting on crossed paws, turned towards the door as if it could open from a second to another. Waiting.

He doesn't think about it more than three seconds, because Oscar has never had the privilege to make decisions in longer than that, so he kneels on the ground, passing a gentle hand through the longer fur on Piñon's back before ducking his head and pressing a kiss to the top of his head.

Piñon doesn't wake up, just scrunches his nose for a second before his breaths even out again, same rhythm as before, as if trying to fall back into a routine that doesn't quite fit right.

The sofa is soft under his legs when he sits on it, careful to not disrupt the untold equilibrium as he presses his feet to the left armrest and leans his chin over his bent knees. He is not going to sleep anytime soon, either way.

"I gave a kiss to your dog." Oscar chuckles, lets himself feel ridiculous for just a second before relaxing against the back of the couch. "I did it when he was asleep. He would've killed me if I had tried to do it when he was awake."

The only answer he gets is the eerily quiet and the muffled sounds of Piñon's breathing.

For the first time since he can remember, Oscar wishes there could be another voice coming from the right side of the couch.

"I think he doesn't like me a lot, you know? Sometimes it's like he wants to blame me and I- I get it, I want to blame myself, too." A knot rises in the middle of his throat, tight and uncomfortable. Oscar still talks past it. "But he is the closest thing to you that I could get, the closest thing that is alive and well. And when he glares at me he- he almost reminds me of you which is ridiculous because I can't even remember the last time you were actually angry at me but I think it's better for me to remember you that way than..."

He rubs a hand under his eyes, pretends like he can't feel the sudden wetness on the sleeves of his hoodie. He doesn't even think it's his own.

He doesn't even remember when the division line started to blur.

"I think that's what you would want me to do, if you could say it."

Lando hadn't been of the same opinion, looking at Oscar warily when he had suggested he would be the one taking Piñon for the first time. Now, he just looks at Oscar with his downturned eyes and tells him he wishes he could do more to help him.

Oscar doesn't think there's more to do, anyway.

"I read somewhere that dogs talk to spirits. I think it's the kind of shit you would yell at Lando for believing in it. You always d- do that." He caresses his own knees, seeking the comfort of a warm touch in his own coldness. "And trust me, I hope you are not a fucking spirit and that you won’t become one anytime soon. But if there is even a small- small possibility, I-" he closes his eyes for a second, lets the knot in his throat dissolve like salt in water, stinging on an open wound, where pulsing blood is still rushing to trail on his skin.

"If there is even a single possibility of it being true I- I gave him a kiss and I hope he can bring it to you. And then he can come back home if- I hope he thinks this is still home, even without-“

The light blue colour of the sleeves has tuned into a darker patch under his eyes, blurry from a lucidity that he can't make himself feel ashamed of.

As if on cue, the silence is broken by the ticking sound of Piñon's paws on the hardened wood floor. When Oscar manages to open his eyes again without wishing to disappear into the dark blue void outside the window, Piñon is looking up at him, curled under his feet with his head close to Oscar's shin.

The dog sighs, a shaky thing that sounds almost like a rumble and Oscar can only answer with a choked sob of his own that doesn't feel like it belongs to him at all, to his vocal cords that always found no use in crying.

Many things can change in the span of a few weeks: Oscar's beliefs and a dog's routine.

"But I- I think," he swallows around nothing, bending down to press a hand to the top of Piñon's head, caressing lightly. "We are not so different, me and Piñon."

The dog sighs again, almost sad. Oscar wonders if he is listening to what he is saying, if he can actually understand it all. Will he bring a kiss from him, then?

"We both miss you the most when the night comes."

—

This little story is heavily inspired by the song “your dog” by Pinguini Tattici Nucleari

[medium-sized-carlos]

Unhinged Carcar ideas: Scott Pilgrim AU

If we're going to date, you may need to defeat my Seven Evil Exes.

I'm just imagining an exasperated Oscar having to fend off like half the grid for manic pixie dream boy Carlos.

The Exes:

 • Max Verstappen

 • Fernando Alonso (the evilest ex)

 • Roberto Merhi

 • Pierre Gasly

 • Nico Hulkenberg

 • Lando Norris

 • Charles Leclerc

[drsbutmakeitspicy]

(Hello! Brie from the future here! This 'series now have 4 parts, since tumblr delivers them randomly have the links here: part1 - part2(this one) - part3 - part4 )

In most of the Carcar fics that are stuck in my brain I always like to make Sainz Sr. a good Dad that may take some time to really understand that Carlos like men but never treats him bad or gives him the silent treatment.

Like in the last drabble I wrote ("Am I a human chair?")

Sainz Sr. Always asking Carlos "Will Oscar come with us for this travel/flight/trip?" In a way to say he wants Oscar around, wants to know the person his son is in love with. To the point of trying to understand Cricket 🏏 and even tried to teach Oscar some Spanish words (although some very specific ones without Carlos being around but nothing bad)

"It's not a bad word, right?"

"No no no, it's good! You wait to call him that when Reyes is around, ok?"

"But when?"

"You will know"

And then while having dinner in the Sainz' villa, Carlos goes to get the tiramisu from the fridge tells them from the kitchen that he can't find (be it a special bowl or place or something)

Carlos Dad puts the missing thing in front of Oscar and makes an amused expression.

'Oh, it's the sign' Oscar thinks and proceeds to say/yell: "It's in the table, Lindo."

He fews a bit embarrassed not knowing if he said it right or not, Reyes is looking at him giggling, god he wants the earth to open and swallow him. Soon a Ferrari-Red faced Carlos walk in, putting the tiramisu on the table in such a way that the glass make a loud sound. He apologizes and grab Oscar wrist bringging him to the kitchen. Oscar is in trouble.

"Oh god I'm sorry, your dad refused to tell me what it means and asked me to-"

"No no no! It- it is a positive word, can you say it again?"

"...uh Lindo?" Carlos chuckles a bit at Oscars confused expression.

"Not like that! You make it sound like it's a question." He brings Oscar's wrist to his lips, kissing it.

"But what does it mean??? I don't want to keep saying, you're all red! Am I saying dick or something??" He whisper the last part, while pulling Carlos close to him with his free arm around his waist.

"Some couples use it as a petname. It means handsome." Carlos breaks eye contact "I didn't understand at first why couples did it, it sounded so dumb. But now I get it." Carlos looks beautiful in mix of the warm light from the dinning room and the neutral white from the kitchen. The pink on his cheeks, god he sure is Lindo.

"I really want to kiss you right now."

Carlos smiles as he pulls him in, they kiss slow and sweet, nothing too much, Oscar is still traumatized about last time they got caught making out, Reyes teased him for weeks, Sainz Sr kept making comments about wanting grandkids.

[wisteriagoesvroom]

me working on a carcar fic

[rayaskoalaland]

May I remind all my fellow carcar/carloscar stans that both Oscar n Carlos share the title of gtg champion 🤭🤭🤭

(Carlos won last year, Oscar this year)

[tiredwishes]

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

[antimonyandthyme]

my god your carcar tlou au still haunts me on my sleepless nights, carlos the old guy who's seen some shit, to put it mildly, forced to depend on himself to survive, knows he can't afford to be kind, to care, caring has already cost him so so much, but to hell with all that when he's just a man with a gentle heart, deeply buried may that heart be, he can't leave the kid behind, that's not even an option, there's something oddly sweet about carlos blaming his own softness on the ghost of charles, like he refuses to accept how much kindness there is locked in his own heart, and oscar, not exactly naive, but still with some of that youthful sincerity and hope to him, and carlos is so hungry for a little hope, and already a little insane about oscar, already prepared to throw his own body to the deadly horde if that kid will live another day... god i'm insane about them just as much as they are about each other

anon precisely precisely precisely he’ll never look at his own kindness in the eye he’ll blame the ghost of charles and max before he’ll acknowledge that he’s never been able to slam his heart shut

back when he travelled with charles and max he’d pick up stray dogs and people who needed help much to their chagrin and only stopped when what happened happened

then oscar happens and carlos goes absolutely not and then oscar buries a friend and carlos goes well i can’t leave him now can i charles would never forgive me

no lessons were learned! which becomes especially problematic if oscar carries the cure and everyone’s out to get him

[herasversion]

Carcar draft

No buzz, no crowds moving around, no screaming fans with friendship bracelets. No photographers trying to take pictures or reporters trying to stop him. No, the paddock is eerily quiet—not a single soul is walking around. Not even a sound bounces off the motorhomes.

Now, you would think that this would be Oscar's dream: a quiet day at work without anybody watching him and commenting that he has the personality of a paper bag or that he's in love with his teammate. Just a day to focus on racing.

But after the chaos of today and the eerie vibe around the paddock, Oscar would disagree—especially considering how tight his skin feels and how much he's sweating.Which is multiplied by the fact that he's missing a certain smell—yes, a smell—and each time he thinks about that person and that smell, he whimpers. Who whimpers? And although you may not see it on his face, he is panicking.

Although, positively speaking, he is handling it better than most people would in this situation. Not that he doesn’t want to join in with the craziness—because Lando seems crazy productive with the way he’s positioning all the pillows and blankets into a makeshift nest, and Oscar would love to join him.

Surprisingly, it’s Max who seems to be taking today’s events the worst. He’s curled up on the ground, whimpering and calling out for Charles. Oscar would help him if he could get up, if he had more control, and if he wouldn’t immediately walk to Carlos Sainz—the worst person alive—if he had the chance.

So right now, Oscar is lying on the couch, praying that today was just a dream and wishing he could smell that heavenly scent again. Because today has to be a dream. How else would you explain that during the drivers' parade, certain drivers got dizzy while others stormed at them? Oscar's got to admit, it was the happiest moment of his life to be cradled in Carlos's arms, surrounded by his scent.