My Faves F1 And Harry In One Story Im Here For This And I LOVE It !!

My faves f1 and Harry in one story I’m here for this and I LOVE it !!💗💗

Keep Driving | H.S

Meet Formula 1 Harry

He knows he shouldn't be thinking about this. His mind is should be completely on the race. His mind on the course but he has almost two hours of this ahead of him. He can't stop his mind from wandering to her.

"You better not be wasting my fucking time," Harry says was he walks through McLaren's headquarters.

"Don't you think you're being kind of unreasonable, Styles?" Jeff Azoff, McLaren's Team Principal, quips.

"I lost in Silverstone because of a malfunction. It's not happening next this year.”

"You know the race was important to McLaren too.”

"I don't give a fuck! I won't be embarrassed in my own country again."

"Maybe this will give you some hope," Azoff opens the door to lab with flourish. There, on display, is one of the most beautiful engines Harry has ever seen. He's mesmerized by the working parts. It seems alive, drumming like a horse, then mechanical, a symphony of technology and mathematics. Azoff sees the intrigue on Harry's features and smiles, "This can keep you from leaving us next season."

A door opens from the other side of the garage and a girl strides in wearing a McLaren sweatshirt, head buried in papers. She bumps into table and apologizes with a small sorry. To. The. Table. She's alerted by Harry's chuckle.

"Oh," she says when she notices her boss and the champion racer of her team her sacred garage. "Hi."

Azoff wraps an arm around her, "And this is one of our new chief engineers, Y/n Lane." Harry holds his hand out to make an introduction. Y/n's hand shoots out and Harry looks down at it, amused. It's a few seconds later when she realizes she extended the wrong hand. To avoid further embarrassment she curls her fingers in to fist bump. She's mortified when she realizes she's only made it more awkward.

This one of coolest men in the world, 6 time Formula 1 World Champion and she just gave him a fist bump like one of the little kids he meets. It only gets worse when Jeff decided to leave her alone with Harry. "I'll leave you two to get acquainted."

"But uh, uh," she stutters, clearly uncomfortable, "I have specs to go over with you."

"We can go over them later," Jeff pats her back and saunters off. The door closes with finality. Y/n is quick to go back to her papers and her engine. Harry is quick to break the silence, "So what has you working in the engineering lab at McLaren?"

She pauses, her focus falling from the engine piston. "I worked at NASA as an aerospace engineer and they poached me." A rocket scientist. Literally.

"NASA! A big jump to Formula 1." Harry sounds impressed but she gives a quick glance with a nod, acknowledging his comments. He presses, "Why F1?"

"They pay a lot," she says matter of factly, searching for something.

“Is that all?” He questions, trailing her through the lab.

Her attention turns back to him when she finds what she's looking for. "I like those fast and furious movies enough.” Harry clamps his jaw down so it doesn't drop to the floor. Those movies are a joke.

Harry shakes his head, “Ludicrous.”

"Yeah, he was in it!"

His mind should be totally on the track. His mind should be focused on every turn in Monza but he's on autopilot, trusting his mental map to guide him. He should be thinking about the present but his mind exist in the past.

Harry's just finished washing the sweat and champagne out of his hair when he hears knocking on his door. He quickly pulls on his briefs and opens the door expecting members from the team congratulating him for his win at Monza, the 8th one of the season.

He's already turning down booze when he opens the door. His mouth clamps closed when he's greeted by the eccentric engineer he met last week in a Darth Vader pajama set. His eyebrow quirks up, "So you went to work with NASA because of Star Wars?" She stares blankly at him, unamused by his quip. He clears his throat, "What do you need?"

"It's long story," she squirms under his gaze, "but I need to get in your bed."

"Uh," Harry pauses, yes, she's cute but he can't just go around sleeping with every cute girl he meets. Imagine the infections he would have; his junk itches just thinking about it. He doesn't do casual hookups.

She's already imposed himself in his room by the time he stops thinking about making an exception to his rule. This girl who said sorry to a table is now suddenly stubborn. "My mattress sucks."

"So you knocked on my door rather than calling hotel management?"

"It's late and I have a flight to Russia tomorrow morning without the luxury of a private plane." She says opening and closing doors in his suite, "gosh, this place is big."

Harry muses that she must be delusional from the lack of sleep and walks to the bedroom door, opening it for her. "Why can't you sleep in your own bed?"

“There’s lumps in my mattress and I can’t sleep if I feel something under me." She strips the bed of its linen and sits down, bouncing a little and checking for lumps. Harry moves over to help her with the pillows, not yet implying that he wants her to leave.

“Like that children’s story? Princess and the Pea?”

“Yeah, something like that," she settles into the bed with a deep satisfied sigh and he smiles at her.

"Well, that's not a long story at all."

He's pulling his socks on and his body shudders when he gets flashes of doing this in the future, next to her, the domestic act of preparing for bed. "Goodnight, princess." He says and that feels familiar, too.

He’s missed the apex for a turn. It's too late. He'll have to make up for it later. With a couple laps left he can tell this is not going to be his best race. Nothing like his race in Silverstone two years ago. His mind attempts to focus on the checkered flag.

"Yes! Yes!" Harry cheers as he streams past the finish line. He can hear his team roaring in the radio and his fans screaming in the stands. "That was a good one boys! Thank you.”

A small voice on his radio says, “And girl.” She's right. The engine that is coming to a stop is one she designed.

He smiles under his helmet, “Yes, my girl. Thank you, princess." Harry's showered in the champagne and presents his trophy to his country. This is the first time McLaren, a British team, has won the British Grand Prix in years and he gave it to them. He holds his flag high, the whole country screaming for him.

When he sees her, looking over the car, despite their win, he can tell she knows ways for them to improve. He thanks everyone on his team before time stops moving so fast and she looks up and catches his eye.

"My girl!" He takes her hand and spins her around.

"Your one and only," she smiles, the only girl on the head engineer team. As he smiles down at her the rest of he team is painfully aware of Styles' crush.

"I'd like to take you out."

"Yeah, the team is going out tonight. I think we are pub hopping," her smile is so bright, "I-for one-- think all of our drinks will be free."

"No, I want to take you to a nice restaurant. Not on a shitty pub crawl. A date." He says more nervous than when he started the race.

"Oh," she says her lips curving in. Styles crush was obvious to everyone except himself and the girl he was pinning over. With her acceptance, their world begins.

She discovers not everything about him is speed. Off the track, Harry likes to live his life slowly, tenderly. He reads books that require deep thought. He takes long, long walks, preferring to stay off wheels in his spare time. He explores restaurants, savors food, asks questions, patiently waits for others to string together answers not in their native language. He makes love slowly.

The familiar adrenaline of moving 350 kilometers per hour is coursing through his veins. He's so close to the finish line. His heart rate should pick up when he thinks of the massive push he's going to have in his last lap. But tonight he is nervous for an entirely different reason.

He throws down his helmet, running to his girl once the race is over. She smiles because his grin in infectious, “You’re smiling real hard for someone who just lost the Italian Grand Prix.”

"I made podium; that's good enough."

"Good enough?," she crosses her arms, eyebrow rising, "Who are you and what have you done with my boyfriend?"

He picks her up, twirling her in the air. “I win everyday because of I have you.”

She hits his shoulder as he lets her down, “Shut up you sap!”

“I have a dinner for us planned.”

“You’re not going to go out with the team?”

“They are going to get sad drunk. We are going to get happy drunk.”

“But aren’t you just a little bummed?”

“There are other races, there aren’t other yous." He cups her face gently, "Look at those eyes.”

Her eyes reflect in his green, their relationship has always had the element to make time slow. She snaps out of it and shakes her head, "What?"

Just then team Ferrari starts singing. Their heads snap to watch their continued celebration. "They needed it more than me."

She whispers, almost conspiratorially, "But we hate Ferrari. I, for one, never want to see them happy. Freaking tampons."

"It's okay," Harry links his pinky through hers, "but I'm going to kick Ferrari's ass in Imola." Their cheering crescendos so Harry raises his voice. "Embarrass them on the track they fucking built!"

He refocuses his attention on her, his grin returning.

“You need to look a bit sad. If they see that you don’t care about losing, they might replace you.”

“With who? Tell me who’s better.”

“Well,” she glances at the leaderboard.

“Don’t even say it.”

“There are people who want to see you,” she says motioning to reporters.

“Look sad!” She yells as he walks away. He turns and pouts dramatically before running off.

She pats her stomach as they walk through the streets of Italy, "That was some good pasta."

He shakes his head laughing, "We're in Italy."

"Yeah, but every time I get pasta here it's americanized. I don't know how you find these restaurants."

"I asked Leclerc."

Her brows furrow, "Leclerc isn't from Italy."

"He's from everywhere."

"But this restaurant was legit."

"And yet you still asked the waitress if there was fettuccine alfredo."

"It was a test! What slur do you think she called me in Italian?"

Harry knows but he doesn't want to tell her. It might ruin her night. Instead, he opens the door to their destination. As they are going up in the elevator she wraps her arms around Harry's neck. "You know this is the same hotel where I barged into your suite."

"Yeah," he smiles fondly, "I think I booked that same one."

"They let someone who got third place have the presidential suite," she teases with a smirk.

His jaw ticks, "I got it from Leclerc."

"What did you do? Beat him up?" She chuckles, kissing his frown before glancing at the elevator panel, "Well we were supposed to get off this elevator three floors ago."

The elevator pings and he leads her out, shrugging off his sports coat and giving it to her. "Thanks?" She accepts the jacket with quirked brow. He leads her through the roof entrance.

When the wind hits her, she holds the coat tighter. She gasps running to edge of the roof, "It's nice that they don't have the lights on up here. There's no light pollution, you can see everything."

Harry nods, arms encircling her.

"The city's so beautiful."

He looks down at her, "you look so beautiful." They stand in silence for a while before the lights that line the rooftop turn on. She sighs, "That was nice while it lasted." Harry steps away from her, she turns to comfort him, noticing how off he has been acting. He's not used to losing.

Her eyes shimmer under the lights of the roof, electric candles are placed strategically. It takes a couple of moments before she realizes that Harry has disappeared from her line of sight, it takes another couple moments for her to realize Harry's still in front of her. His height has been diminished because he's on his knees. One knee.

Her hand immediately flies to her mouth. She's speechless but he makes up for it.

“The day I met you I knew I would be in your life for the rest of mine. My job is nothing but adrenaline but I have never felt as high as when I’m in your arms. Will you marry me?”

"Yes."

Full Disclosure: I was not in love with MLB!Harry (especially the one I wrote) I felt like I was stealing a concept. When it didn't do well I wanted to move on. There was so much uncertainty around the MLB!Harry universe. This felt so much better. IM IN LOVE with this concept so show F1 Harry some love.

He’s so finee

LEWIS HAMILTON LOOKBOOK → bahrain gp 2023

Max: *puts his arm around Charles without looking*

Max: *has to search for his own teammate*

Max Verstappen & Charles Leclerc | post-qualifying | 2022 Bahrain Grand Prix 🎥: F1TV

Yeah, nothing to see here. Just our Bahrain race victor Max Verstappen spreading his pro-Charles Leclerc propaganda to every media outlet that's willing to listen to him.

OMGGG !!??? THIS IS FR FR NOT AN EDIT !! IDT ANY OF US HAD HARRY POSTING A STORY WEARING A 1D T-SHIRT ON HIS STORY ON OUR 2023 BINGO CARDS ! THIS MAKES ME SUPER HAPPY 😭💗💗🥰

BAHRAIN 2023; 📸: Glenn Dunbar