Hii babies I'm not actually back but I just need to say something....... what an ugly game between Seattle and Chicago omfg sending love to my boy bedard cause wtf is this team doing like CAN WE GET A GOOD GAME ONCE IN A WHILE OR IS IT TOO MUCH TOO ASK
Summary: Carlos is a pro at building snowmen and at loving his girlfriend.
Notes: Just a little blurb to warm your hearts!! Hope you enjoy!! Lots of loveeeee
The snow had barely touched the ground properly and I was already begging my boyfriend to teach me how to build a snowman. It was my first winter Christmas, and I was determined to get the full experience.
As always, Carlos made a tiny drama for about two minutes. ¹“Mi amor, por qué…” And right after that, he became the most proactive boyfriend on Earth. He grabbed the snow clothes from the back of the closet and laid out exactly what we needed to wear.
— Are you sure we need this many… layers? — I complain, standing by the door, looking like a penguin and barely able to walk straight. — And these gloves? How am I supposed to make a professional snowman with these things?
— Mi amor, we’re going to spend a long time out there if you want to learn from the best. — He steps closer and, with his cold nose, gives me a little Eskimo kiss. — And I don’t want you catching a cold because then I’ll end up catching one too. ²Vamos?
I had never been near a real snowman before, but somehow I was still fully convinced I knew better than Carlos, who awas used to skiing. So I decide to leave the gloves on the counter and head toward the freezing wind with my chin held high.
When Carlos finds a spot with snow good enough to build the snowman, he starts explaining how we should shape everything so it stays firm and doesn’t topple over with the first gust of wind.
I can’t pay attention to a single word. My hands are burning, but I’d rather suffer than admit I was wrong. Luckily for me, Carlos looks over. And, as always, he knows.
— Oh, mi vida. You’re shaking. — The mischievous smile gives away the “I told you so” he doesn’t say out loud. He pulls the gloves from his own pockets and slides them gently onto my hands, like he’s handling something precious. — Here, mi testaruda³.
Once properly warmed up, we finally start building the long-awaited snowman. Carlos takes it way too seriously, insisting that ours needs to be better than the neighbor’s.
— You look like you’ve got a huge ass in those pants, you know? — I tease, and as I walk past him, I give his behind a playful smack. He’s in charge of the base, I’m in charge of the head.
— Hey! Focus on your part, ⁴boba. — He gives me a smack back, and the competitive tone can’t hide the silly smile on his face.
The process is funny and… in a certain way, warm. Warm in a way only Sainz knows how to be.
— Carlos! You’re going to drop that thing! — I practically scream, covering my eyes so I don’t have to witness the horror of my boyfriend dropping the enormous snowball that was supposed to be the snowman’s body. — Let me help you.
— No way! I’ve got this. — There isn’t a single drop of confidence in his voice, but he still tries to push it. After three attempts, he flashes me a sheepish smile. — Maybe a little push, mi amor?
Once we finish the body, Carlos stands with his hands on his hips, analyzing everything like an engineer.
— Perfect. Pass me the carrot for the nose, cariño?
— Carrot…? Was I supposed to bring a carrot?
— ⁵¡Dios mío! ¿Cómo va a tener nariz sin la zanahoria, mi amor? — He looks genuinely distressed, waving his snow-covered hands around.
— I’m kidding, you dummy! — I say, laughing as I pull the carrot from my pocket. — Here.
I hand it to him, and we both lean forward to place it. Our fingers brush, our breath spills into little white clouds… and for a moment, the snowman is no longer the focus.
— You’re freezing! — He widens his eyes and grabs my hands, blowing warm air onto them. My lips are trembling, and without thinking twice, Carlos takes off his own scarf to wrap it around my neck. — There. Much better.
— Babe! But now you’ll get cold.
— Oh, please. I’m naturally warm.
Which is a complete lie, because the two of us end up catching colds anyway. Curled up together under countless blankets, sipping hot chocolate, cuddling… but sick. Together.
¹ - Baby, why
² - Shall we?
³ - stubborn
⁴ - silly
⁵ - Oh my God! How is he going to have a nose without the carrot, baby?
Summary: Daniel gets a surprise when he shows up at his girlfriend’s Christmas special.
Notes: God, I love Daniel and pop singer!reader!!!! In my first post, Daniel had to sit through her singing All Too Well, so I decided to give my favorite Aussie a little joy. Hope you like it, and don’t forget to read the first story in the Christmas saga!!
Your POV:
It was my first time hosting a Christmas special, and I had so many things planned I wanted everything to be perfect. But apparently, I was on the naughty list, because absolutely nothing seemed to go right.
The sole of my favorite boot came off during rehearsals, the lights decorating the stage stairs burned out, my idea to make fake snow fall during the last song got shut down, and to top it all off, my boyfriend’s flight had been cancelled.
It was Daniel’s first show after we got back together. I was more mature, he was more aware of how I felt… which, honestly, was expected after receiving a ten-minute song.
The fans took it pretty well, but they still seemed suspicious about the Aussie’s intentions. I grounded myself when I saw a tweet theorizing whether he’d actually show up, and suddenly I was questioning it right along with them.
Of course he’d come! Right…? He knew how important this was to me, he wouldn’t leave me hanging. I wouldn’t survive writing a twenty-minute song if he did and-
— Baby? I’m so sorry, I swear it wasn’t my fault, the plane just refused to take off. — A familiar voice fills the dressing room and I smile, so, so relieved my paranoia was wrong. When I stand up from the makeup chair, I almost trip on the heel of my white boot. — Wow! No, seriously, wow. Fuck, look at you! You’re the hottest Mrs. Claus I’ve ever seen. Do we have a few minutes before the show?
— Daniel! — I scold him, but the heat running through my body makes it impossible to pretend I didn’t like the compliment. — No, we don’t.
— Ah, no worries. With you looking like this, I don’t need much time anyway. — He jokes, pulling me into a tight hug. His cologne is everything I need to relax. — Y You’re gonna smash it out there, as always, you know that.
— I just… I’m happy you’re here. — I tilt my face up for a soft kiss, and that’s all we have time for. My manager walks in right after, saying it’s time. — I have a surprise for you at the end of the show.
Daniel’s POV:
It was hard to split my attention between the gorgeous Christmas stage, my girl’s enchanting voice, and the way that Mrs. Claus outfit fit her like a fucking glove.
The show is almost over and my arms are covered in bracelets, some with her name, some with song lyrics, some referencing Formula 1. One of them even says “Mr fuck the patriarchy,” which makes me laugh.
— Well, New York, unfortunately we've reached our last song. — My girlfriend says, and the whole stadium groans in protest, including me. She smiles and walks toward the edge of the stage. — I know, I know. I don’t want it to end either. Let’s enjoy this last one together, okay? This is my new Christmas song, called Buy Me Presents.
I grin wide, instantly realizing this is my surprise.
I burst out laughing at the beginning when she cracks a joke about “dropping every other ho, ho, ho.” One of my favorite things about her has always been that sharp sense of humor. Some fans look at me and I just nod: yes, I ditched every other ho, ho, ho ages ago.
— Hе's a little bit older— my girlfriend starts singing, sitting at the edge of the stage and looking straight at me. The backing vocals follow… — Like, super old
Okay, I am older, but SUPER old? It was a bit dramatic, but all for the sake of art I guess…
— Got a bit of a dad bod…
Again, just rude!! Fine, I’m retired, but I still take care of myself! Was she mad at me or…?
— From a city that's colder… Brrr! But damn it, he's so hot.
Cold city?? I wasn’t understanding a single fucking thing. Until an idea popped into my head like a cartoon lightbulb. No way. Impossible.
— He knows when I'm sleepin' and he knows when I'm not — she keeps singing, glancing at me and laughing off-mic before finishing with the most innocent face I’ve ever seen. — I haven't, like, seen him in a while, he's probably just busy at his workshop.
It was possible. She was talking about Santa Claus. I’d spent half the song thinking how romantic it was to get a Christmas song written for me and she was actually singing about fucking Santa. I have to sit down because I can’t stop laughing.
When the show ends, I run backstage and find my girlfriend slightly out of breath, hair a little messy.
— Right, so you really picked some old, chubby, bearded bloke as the muse for your Christmas song? — I ask, and before she can defend herself, I grab her waist and lift her off the ground — Don’t worry, bae. I’ll buy you every present in the world, and that old lad from the North Pole won’t even know what hit him
Summary: Sebastian Vettel is very, very specific about his Christmas cookies. What does that process look like?
Notes: I love Seb so much that it’s honestly hard to write anything about him!! Hope you enjoy these hcs and don’t forget to check my Christmas saga!
You do try convincing him to make a regular American cookie, saying the recipe would be easier, but Seb is way too confident to accept that.
— Seb, that’s not even a word. There’s no way! Pifefernossi!? What is that?
— Pfeffernüsse, my love. Pfeffernüsse. — He repeats, smiling patiently, showing you exactly how each part is supposed to sound. With Sebastian speaking, it actually seems easy. — And the recipe only looks complicated because it’s in German. But it’s delicious, trust me.
Sebastian takes on the role of your personal Google Translate. Between every step, he pauses to press soft kisses on you. Your forehead, your cheek, your lips.
During the process, you try giving a few suggestions here and there. Maybe add less black pepper? A little more cinnamon?
— No, sweetheart. We have to follow my grandma’s recipe or it won’t turn out as good. — That’s what he says every time before giving you another gentle kiss. By the fourth time, you realize he’s doing it on purpose, trying to distract you from the fact that he’s rejecting every single idea you have.
You two roll the dough together, and of course it turns into a competition. Seb remakes the same little ball three times until it’s absolutely perfect and definitely better than yours.
In response, you toss flour right at your fiancé’s face, and with wide eyes, he squishes one of your dough balls. You both end up leaning over the kitchen counter, laughing so hard you nearly pee yourselves.
The worst part is the waiting. While the dough chills in the fridge, you can’t help yourself every five minutes you open it to check if it’s ready yet. Seb scolds you, going into long lectures about the “chemical processes of baking.”
When he says he’s going to the bathroom, you use the chance to peek at the dough only to find Sebastian doing the exact same thing.
— Oh! So YOU can?!
— Well… it’s not exactly like that! I just wanted a tiny peek.
Decorating is Seb’s personal hell. He takes it way too seriously, wanting every cookie to turn out perfect.
You tell him they look beautiful, but he’s wearing the most frustrated expression.
— No, no. It didn’t turn out the way it should have.
But when you suggest looking for inspiration on TikTok, he looks at you like you just slapped him.
— TikTok is NOT a reliable cookie source, love!
You both sit on the couch in front of the fireplace to eat. He runs his fingers through your hair and pulls you closer.
— Thank you for doing this with me. It feels good to share my childhood memories with you… and make new ones in our home.
Summary: Oscar Piastri wants to prove he’s a very proud boyfriend.
Notes: Did you catch the reference to how you get the girl?? I hope you enjoy it. Love you all, and don’t forget to check out my other Christmas stories!!
Ps: I'm posting a bit earlier to try and give my oscar girlies a sweet time after the championship cause God knows they need it
Your pov:
While my friends were celebrating with their boyfriends, I was sitting on the dorm couch, my phone propped up on several pillows so it would be at eye level.
Dating a Formula 1 driver wasn’t easy, especially around the holidays. Oscar already spent most of the year away from his family, and I just didn’t have the heart to ask him to stay out of Australia during Christmas… and I also wanted to spend the holiday with my family.
Since we wouldn’t be able to celebrate together, Piastri suggested an early gift exchange. We shipped everything through the mail and, with glasses of wine, created our own little holiday.
— Ladies first. — my boyfriend says, and even through the screen I can see how eager he is to know whether I’ll like his present.
I open the box carefully, trying not to rip the Christmas wrapping. Beside a letter, there’s a framed drawing of us in São Paulo, where we had our first kiss. Tears sting my eyes immediately, my voice cracking when I try to thank him.
Along with the frame, Oscar also sent me a bracelet and a blue dress.
— For you to wear on New Year’s with me. — he explains, and I turn into a complete mess: smiling, crying, trying to breathe. — You liked it, love?
— Of course I liked it, Osc! I loved it. — I take the framed drawing and, with the camera turned so he can see, I put it on the living room wall. — Your turn! I’m sure you’ll love it.
The very moment Oscar starts opening the gift… my battery dies. The screen goes black.
Oscar pov:
A sweater… well, it was different. A lot of red and green, Christmas trees and snowflakes everywhere. In the center, it said “Merry Christmas ya filthy animal.”
Not exactly my style, but the letter said my girlfriend had made it with a lot of love, and that was all that mattered. I’d wear it proudly absolutely.
I send a huge message saying I loved it.
[…]
— Fuck me, that’s the ugliest thing I’ve ever seen in my life. — is the first thing Lando says when he sees me in the paddock.
— Not even a ‘Good morning, Oscar, how are you?’ first? — I roll my eyes, and we bump fists.
Okay, yeah, I had noticed the looks. All of them. But I wanted my girlfriend to know I loved the gift, even if… maybe I didn’t love it that much.
I’d been messaging her since morning, but she hadn’t answered me since asking, last night, if I’d wear the present for today’s media day. Had she figured something out?
— I’m being serious. What on earth are you wearing? — Norris continues, staring at me like I showed up dressed as a clown.
— My girlfriend made it, alright? And she gave it to me for Christmas. — In a very childish attempt to clap back, I look him up and down trying to find something to criticize. I find nothing, so I just straighten my posture and change the subject immediately. — Have you seen Mark? He told me to meet him before interviews.
As Lando leads me to the room where Webber’s waiting, I try contacting my girlfriend again.
— Oscar! How are you, kid? — Mark gets up when he sees me walking in. His open arms and bright smile drop the moment his eyes land on my sweater. — You’re wearing that to the interviews?
— Yeah! My girlfriend made it, and I’m a good partner, alright? I’m proud of everything she makes. — I have to raise my voice to be heard over Norris’ hysterical laughter. — Can we talk about things that actually matter? And Lando, shouldn’t you be at the press conference in… two minutes?
Thankfully, that’s enough to send him running while swearing at himself.
My talk with Mark ends up being way longer than usual. He reviews every single detail, even things we’d settled weeks ago. I’m confused and, honestly, frustrated, because every phantom vibration in my pocket makes me want to check if it’s her replying.
When I’m about to stand up and ask what the hell is wrong with my manager, two hands suddenly cover my eyes.
I know exactly who it is. Her sweet perfume, soft hands, and quiet giggle give her away instantly.
— Surprise! — My girlfriend says, and I jump out of my chair, practically throwing myself into her arms. Webber steps out to give us space. She laughs at my enthusiasm and cups my face. — Mark had to stall you because my flight was delayed and- wait. What? What are you doing wearing that sweater?
— What do you mean what am I doing? I loved it, babe. — I steal a quick kiss, trying to hide how my eye twitches when I lie. — It was the best Christmas present I’ve ever gotten.
— Oscar! That isn’t your Christmas present. I must’ve sent the wrong package. That sweater is for a joke exchange between Alex, Reb, Kika and me. We’re doing an ugly Christmas sweater swap, babe. — She can barely speak because she’s laughing so hard she has to sit down. She holds her stomach and throws her head back. I can’t help laughing too. — Honey, what kind of girlfriend do you think I am?
— I thought you made it for me! And I love everything you make, so… — I shrug. — And you asked if I’d wear it today!
— Oh, sweetheart. I love you so much. — She covers me in kisses, and I ignore the hint of pity in her voice. She only steps back to grab a package from her suitcase. — I realized it was too heavy to be a sweater, but thought maybe it was just the wrapping… Anyway, here’s your real Christmas present.
A watch, a Christmas card with pictures of us as kids, and, to top it off, a personalized orange padel racket with OP81 on it.
— I was asking if you’d use the racket today to play with the boys. — my girlfriend says, looking very proud of herself.
— Thanks, love. — I caress her cheek and she sinks into my arms. — And you know I love you so much I’d wear the ugliest sweater on earth just to make you happy.
Summary: Charles finds himself torn between keeping the magic of Christmas alive and protecting his wife’s reputation.
Notes: Once again, a little reference to my other story!! I’m not sure if having Santa visit your house is common in other cultures, but in Brazil it was my favorite part. I hope you enjoy it!! Don’t forget to check out my other Christmas stories.
— You look strangely attractive with that beard, you know? At least now we’re sure you’re going to be a total dilf when you go gray. — That’s what you say once the living room, previously full of family and friends, finally empties out on Christmas night.
A week before Christmas, Charles had lost a bet to Lorenzo and ended up having to be Santa Claus on the holiday night.
At first, you were a little reluctant about the idea. Wouldn’t it be too obvious for little Amelia? At four years old, your daughter would surely recognize her daddy even behind a Santa costume.
Eventually, you give in and start finding it funny, especially when the Amazon costume arrives and Charles tries it on for the first time. Leo hates it with every ounce of his tiny body. He barks so much he almost wakes the baby.
On Christmas night, Amelia is absolutely enchanted that Santa Claus is standing in her living room. As talkative as ever, she asks a thousand questions, things Charles doesn’t know how to answer, but he manages to dodge them well enough. Leo, however, stands firm in his opinion: he hates the bearded man who invaded his house.
— You think so? I think it suits me too. — Leclerc replies with a playful tone. From the corner of the room, the dog watches him suspiciously. — But I don’t think Leo could handle this much stress.
— True… Well, you can’t please everyone, right? — You say as you walk toward your husband with a plate of cookies and two cups of tea. — I didn’t imagine hosting would be this exhausting. I think I’ll need about three Christmases to recover.
— Ah, and please take me off Santa duties for the next few years. I’m melting inside this costume. We should have turned down the heater before my entrance. — Charles wipes his forehead with a handkerchief and pats his lap, inviting you to sit there. — And you, ma chérie? Did I grant all your Christmas wishes?
— Hm… let’s see. I have a gorgeous husband, a wonderful daughter, amazing friends, and the cutest dog in the world. Yeah, I think my wishes were granted. — You whisper, placing a soft kiss on the tip of your husband’s nose before starting a gentle, romantic kiss.
(...)
The next morning, you notice your daughter is acting strange. She doesn’t want to hug you when she wakes up and barely answers your good morning. Since she went to bed late last night, you just assume she’s cranky from the change in routine.
— Papa! — Amelia runs straight into Leclerc’s arms, clinging to his neck. The little girl looks at her mother, who is standing with her back turned, making pancakes, and leans closer to whisper into her father’s ear. — I have to tell you a ‘segwed’.
— A secret, hm? And what is this secret? — Charles settles his daughter in his lap, confused.
— Last night I woke up to call Leo to sleep with me, and I… — She looks at her mother again before continuing. — I saw mommy kissing Papa Noël!
Charles spits out the tea he was drinking. You drop a pancake on the floor as you turn around, cheeks burning.
— Sweetheart, you must have dreamed that. — The driver tries to break the silence once he notices you opening your mouth over and over, unable to form a single word.
— No, no! I’m sure. — Amelia insists, arms crossed. — I really saw it!
There’s a giant question mark on the parents’ faces. The two of you look at each other, completely lost. The responsibility of saving Christmas magic falls on Charles, who swallows hard.
— Oh, I know what happened. — Charles begins, sounding so unsure that you almost interrupt. He gently caresses the girl’s hair, clearly stalling. — You must have seen Mama Noël kissing Santa. It’s a bit of magic they use so that Mama Noël looks like the child’s mother to whoever sees her.
Amelia goes silent for a few seconds, as if deciding whether or not to believe her father’s explanation.
— Okay! — Just like that. She jumps out of her father’s lap, steals a pancake, and heads to the garden with Leo in her arms.
You two exchange a look, and a fit of laughter immediately takes over the house.
i speak a bit of french and am fluent in English and my native language lol
also at school i have mandatory latin so im learning four languages at the moment
-🖇️
Oh that's so cool!!!!!! I'd love to learn French but it's such a hard language to speak omg I can't with their R 😭😭 I know a bit of Spanish cause it's really similar to Portuguese, and Italian!! (And English ofc
What's your native language (if u don't mind telling!
Summary: Charles finds himself torn between keeping the magic of Christmas alive and protecting his wife’s reputation.
Notes: Once again, a little reference to my other story!! I’m not sure if having Santa visit your house is common in other cultures, but in Brazil it was my favorite part. I hope you enjoy it!! Don’t forget to check out my other Christmas stories.
— You look strangely attractive with that beard, you know? At least now we’re sure you’re going to be a total dilf when you go gray. — That’s what you say once the living room, previously full of family and friends, finally empties out on Christmas night.
A week before Christmas, Charles had lost a bet to Lorenzo and ended up having to be Santa Claus on the holiday night.
At first, you were a little reluctant about the idea. Wouldn’t it be too obvious for little Amelia? At four years old, your daughter would surely recognize her daddy even behind a Santa costume.
Eventually, you give in and start finding it funny, especially when the Amazon costume arrives and Charles tries it on for the first time. Leo hates it with every ounce of his tiny body. He barks so much he almost wakes the baby.
On Christmas night, Amelia is absolutely enchanted that Santa Claus is standing in her living room. As talkative as ever, she asks a thousand questions, things Charles doesn’t know how to answer, but he manages to dodge them well enough. Leo, however, stands firm in his opinion: he hates the bearded man who invaded his house.
— You think so? I think it suits me too. — Leclerc replies with a playful tone. From the corner of the room, the dog watches him suspiciously. — But I don’t think Leo could handle this much stress.
— True… Well, you can’t please everyone, right? — You say as you walk toward your husband with a plate of cookies and two cups of tea. — I didn’t imagine hosting would be this exhausting. I think I’ll need about three Christmases to recover.
— Ah, and please take me off Santa duties for the next few years. I’m melting inside this costume. We should have turned down the heater before my entrance. — Charles wipes his forehead with a handkerchief and pats his lap, inviting you to sit there. — And you, ma chérie? Did I grant all your Christmas wishes?
— Hm… let’s see. I have a gorgeous husband, a wonderful daughter, amazing friends, and the cutest dog in the world. Yeah, I think my wishes were granted. — You whisper, placing a soft kiss on the tip of your husband’s nose before starting a gentle, romantic kiss.
(...)
The next morning, you notice your daughter is acting strange. She doesn’t want to hug you when she wakes up and barely answers your good morning. Since she went to bed late last night, you just assume she’s cranky from the change in routine.
— Papa! — Amelia runs straight into Leclerc’s arms, clinging to his neck. The little girl looks at her mother, who is standing with her back turned, making pancakes, and leans closer to whisper into her father’s ear. — I have to tell you a ‘segwed’.
— A secret, hm? And what is this secret? — Charles settles his daughter in his lap, confused.
— Last night I woke up to call Leo to sleep with me, and I… — She looks at her mother again before continuing. — I saw mommy kissing Papa Noël!
Charles spits out the tea he was drinking. You drop a pancake on the floor as you turn around, cheeks burning.
— Sweetheart, you must have dreamed that. — The driver tries to break the silence once he notices you opening your mouth over and over, unable to form a single word.
— No, no! I’m sure. — Amelia insists, arms crossed. — I really saw it!
There’s a giant question mark on the parents’ faces. The two of you look at each other, completely lost. The responsibility of saving Christmas magic falls on Charles, who swallows hard.
— Oh, I know what happened. — Charles begins, sounding so unsure that you almost interrupt. He gently caresses the girl’s hair, clearly stalling. — You must have seen Mama Noël kissing Santa. It’s a bit of magic they use so that Mama Noël looks like the child’s mother to whoever sees her.
Amelia goes silent for a few seconds, as if deciding whether or not to believe her father’s explanation.
— Okay! — Just like that. She jumps out of her father’s lap, steals a pancake, and heads to the garden with Leo in her arms.
You two exchange a look, and a fit of laughter immediately takes over the house.
Summary: Oscar Piastri wants to prove he’s a very proud boyfriend.
Notes: Did you catch the reference to how you get the girl?? I hope you enjoy it. Love you all, and don’t forget to check out my other Christmas stories!!
Ps: I'm posting a bit earlier to try and give my oscar girlies a sweet time after the championship cause God knows they need it
Your pov:
While my friends were celebrating with their boyfriends, I was sitting on the dorm couch, my phone propped up on several pillows so it would be at eye level.
Dating a Formula 1 driver wasn’t easy, especially around the holidays. Oscar already spent most of the year away from his family, and I just didn’t have the heart to ask him to stay out of Australia during Christmas… and I also wanted to spend the holiday with my family.
Since we wouldn’t be able to celebrate together, Piastri suggested an early gift exchange. We shipped everything through the mail and, with glasses of wine, created our own little holiday.
— Ladies first. — my boyfriend says, and even through the screen I can see how eager he is to know whether I’ll like his present.
I open the box carefully, trying not to rip the Christmas wrapping. Beside a letter, there’s a framed drawing of us in São Paulo, where we had our first kiss. Tears sting my eyes immediately, my voice cracking when I try to thank him.
Along with the frame, Oscar also sent me a bracelet and a blue dress.
— For you to wear on New Year’s with me. — he explains, and I turn into a complete mess: smiling, crying, trying to breathe. — You liked it, love?
— Of course I liked it, Osc! I loved it. — I take the framed drawing and, with the camera turned so he can see, I put it on the living room wall. — Your turn! I’m sure you’ll love it.
The very moment Oscar starts opening the gift… my battery dies. The screen goes black.
Oscar pov:
A sweater… well, it was different. A lot of red and green, Christmas trees and snowflakes everywhere. In the center, it said “Merry Christmas ya filthy animal.”
Not exactly my style, but the letter said my girlfriend had made it with a lot of love, and that was all that mattered. I’d wear it proudly absolutely.
I send a huge message saying I loved it.
[…]
— Fuck me, that’s the ugliest thing I’ve ever seen in my life. — is the first thing Lando says when he sees me in the paddock.
— Not even a ‘Good morning, Oscar, how are you?’ first? — I roll my eyes, and we bump fists.
Okay, yeah, I had noticed the looks. All of them. But I wanted my girlfriend to know I loved the gift, even if… maybe I didn’t love it that much.
I’d been messaging her since morning, but she hadn’t answered me since asking, last night, if I’d use the present today. Had she figured something out?
— I’m being serious. What on earth are you wearing? — Norris continues, staring at me like I showed up dressed as a clown.
— My girlfriend made it, alright? And she gave it to me for Christmas. — In a very childish attempt to clap back, I look him up and down trying to find something to criticize. I find nothing, so I just straighten my posture and change the subject immediately. — Have you seen Mark? He told me to meet him before interviews.
As Lando leads me to the room where Webber’s waiting, I try contacting my girlfriend again.
— Oscar! How are you, kid? — Mark gets up when he sees me walking in. His open arms and bright smile drop the moment his eyes land on my sweater. — You’re wearing that to the interviews?
— Yeah! My girlfriend made it, and I’m a good partner, alright? I’m proud of everything she makes. — I have to raise my voice to be heard over Norris’ hysterical laughter. — Can we talk about things that actually matter? And Lando, shouldn’t you be at the press conference in… two minutes?
Thankfully, that’s enough to send him running while swearing at himself.
My talk with Mark ends up being way longer than usual. He reviews every single detail, even things we’d settled weeks ago. I’m confused and, honestly, frustrated, because every phantom vibration in my pocket makes me want to check if it’s her replying.
When I’m about to stand up and ask what the hell is wrong with my manager, two hands suddenly cover my eyes.
I know exactly who it is. Her sweet perfume, soft hands, and quiet giggle give her away instantly.
— Surprise! — My girlfriend says, and I jump out of my chair, practically throwing myself into her arms. Webber steps out to give us space. She laughs at my enthusiasm and cups my face. — Mark had to stall you because my flight was delayed and- wait. What? What are you doing wearing that sweater?
— What do you mean what am I doing? I loved it, babe. — I steal a quick kiss, trying to hide how my eye twitches when I lie. — It was the best Christmas present I’ve ever gotten.
— Oscar! That isn’t your Christmas present. I must’ve sent the wrong package. That sweater is for a joke exchange between Alex, Reb, Kika and me. We’re doing an ugly Christmas sweater swap, babe. — She can barely speak because she’s laughing so hard she has to sit down. She holds her stomach and throws her head back. I can’t help laughing too. — Honey, what kind of girlfriend do you think I am?
— I thought you made it for me! And I love everything you make, so… — I shrug. — And you asked if I’d wear it today!
— Oh, sweetheart. I love you so much. — She covers me in kisses, and I ignore the hint of pity in her voice. She only steps back to grab a package from her suitcase. — I realized it was too heavy to be a sweater, but thought maybe it was just the wrapping… Anyway, here’s your real Christmas present.
A watch, a Christmas card with pictures of us as kids, and, to top it off, a personalized orange padel racket with OP81 on it.
— I was asking if you’d use the racket today to play with the boys. — my girlfriend says, looking very proud of herself.
— Thanks, love. — I caress her cheek and she sinks into my arms. — And you know I love you so much I’d wear the ugliest sweater on earth just to make you happy.