*****
"Y/n? I'm home!" George called from the door, shutting it behind him. He walked towards the laundry room and left his gym bag at the threshold to not forget it later.
"Y/n?" he called again, taking off his shoes and leaving them by the bag.
"Terrace!" he heard his favourite voice echo back. His smile immediately grew back as he rushed up the stairs into their shared bedroom, over to the now-closed, winter terrace.
It had glass walls and a roof, allowing more light to enter than a regular window.
"Hi sweetie," she greeted her boyfriend, who couldn't stop smiling. He leaned down to where she was sitting on a comfortably decorated sofa and pecked her lips.
"What are you making?" he asked when he saw she had paused knitting.
She only grinned: "Just a little something."
"A little something?" George smirked, "and what's that little something?"
She smiled, kissing his cheek: "Something that will be ready when you finish showering because you smell."
He laughed: "Rude."
She chuckled: "Just stating the truth."
He smiled again, kissing her softer this time. She stroked his cheek before pulling back.
"Go on then," she said, "a prize cannot be won without some work beforehand."
He smiled as he stood straight again: "All right, I'm on my way then."
She smiled as he turned and walked away. She returned to her knitting, continuing her work on a large piece of art. It was a brown sweater with a red heart on the left side of the chest.
She had designed it, especially for George and was hoping he would like it. The last thing left to do was tie the heart to the sweater itself.
It took a good while, but she successfully finished the sweater. She was proud of herself and packed everything together before leaving the cosy terrace and going downstairs into the kitchen.
She carefully folded the sweater and placed it on the kitchen counter before beginning to make dinner.
*****
"Ooh, it smells good down here," George announced as he stepped down the stairs into the kitchen.
He pecked her lips before taking a seat on the other side of the counter and watching her finish cooking.
"How was the gym?" she asked, stirring the contents in her large pan.
George sighed: "Great, I mean for training but bloody hell it killed me."
She chuckled: "Who else went?"
George sat up and grabbed a water bottle, taking a sip: "Lewis and Lando, it was just us British lads."
"Sounds fun," she smiled, turning off the stove and grabbing two plates. She served George his meal and then herself before grabbing a stool to sit opposite him.
They ate their dinner quietly, George was absolutely broken from working hard all day and she enjoyed the silence.
"Hold on," George suddenly said, " where's the project you were working one before?"
She chuckled at his curiosity and stood up to walk to the end of the kitchen counter and picked up the folded sweater.
George wiped his hands on a napkin before carefully receiving the knitted project. He stood up and unfolded it, examining her work.
"Y/n, you made this?" he asked. She nodded. George immediately put the sweater on over his head and pulled it to the right position on his body. It fit him perfectly.
He admired the fabric: "This is absolutely amazing, Y/n."
He stepped to the other side of the kitchen counter and kissed her cheek: "Thank you, darling. I love it."
She blushed hearing his remarks. Her feelings took over as she placed her arms around his neck to pull him in closer.
He pecked her lips: "I love you."
She smiled: "I love you, too, George."
*****
"And here is the man of the hour, George Russell, arriving at the paddock this morning-"
"That sweater looks incredible on the Englishman as he steps through the crowds-"
"Here he comes hand in hand with his girlfriend, Y/n Y/l/n, who apparently also made the sweater the Mercedes driver is wearing right now-"
"George, George! How are you feeling this morning?" an interviewer stepped towards him and he slowed down his walk to answer a couple of questions.
"Great, I mean the sun is shining, the weather looks good for the day and you know, it's Friday," he chuckles. The interviewer smiled and agreed.
"Yes, and we have to know, for the sake of the fans, where did you get that amazing sweater from?" the interviewer asked and I only felt George squeezing my hand. He looked down at me, making the interviewer revert his gaze to me.
"I'm afraid it's one of a kind," George grinned, hinting towards the truth of the situation.
"Are you telling us Y/n knitted the sweater herself?" the interviewer got interested.
He was looking at me and I nodded: "I did, yes."
"That's absolutely incredible!" the interviewer remarked, "you are one lucky guy, George."
"Indeed, I am," George answered confidently and slowly began to walk towards the Mercedes garage, the interviewer walking with us to ask one last question:
"What's the thing you look forward to most this weekend?"
George smiled: "A great race and spending time with Y/n."
"Thanks, George, have a great day," the interviewer said as he walked away towards the next driver.
I smiled to myself: "Spending time with me, huh?"
"Of course," George said, "how else am I going to show you and the sweater off to everyone?"
I laughed and George pulled my hand up to kiss my knuckles. We entered the garage to find Lewis talking to a couple of the engineers. We went straight to George's changing room and put our bags down.
He went to change into his attire and I put on my VIP and paddock pass, walking out to the garage.
"Hey, Y/n," Lewis said hi, hugging me gently.
"Hi, Lewis. How's it all going?" I asked.
"Not bad, the car looks like it's in good shape, so we're hoping for a good weekend."
"Oh I doubt it would be anything else than that," I said. Lewis chuckled.
After a while, George came out and started talking to the engineers.
"What's this I hear about a hand-made sweater George was wearing this morning?" Lewis leaned down to my ear and I laughed.
"Is it that famous already?" I chuckled.
"You know, I'll be asking for one soon," Lewis said, making me chuckle.
"All right," I said, "I'll see what I can do."
"Do about what?" we heard. George stood next to us.
"Lewis wants his own sweater," I explained. George glared at his teammate with a slight grin on his face.
"No way, mate, the sweaters are mine."
We all laughed, George, kissing my cheek. It was going to be a good weekend.
*****
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F1 oneshots
Fanfiction"It's lights out and away we go!" ≪◦ ❈ ◦≫ Welcome to my humble collection of Formula One oneshots :) This is a safe space for all the Formula One girls out there, joining whether to watch the races for the race itself, or even just for the plot. (yo...
