Formula one imagines - part 2

Lewis Hamilton - The biggest asshole

Hey guys! Today has been such a long day yet I haven't done ANYTHING. I also checked my marks for two of my modules and I got two 90% for Communication Sciences and Psychology which is amazing. Hopefully I can get another scholarship for next year. Anyways, enjoy a Lewis imagine.
NB - this imagine was writing ages ago and was written for last season. Please when thinking of this imagine, think of the circumstances of last season. Thank you!
Stay safe lovies xx

*****

I pull into the garage, a smile on my face as I finished P1 in practice 3. "Nice work, y/n. Lets get these Mercedes." Max says to me as soon as I'm out of the car. "Lets get them." I say with a massive smile on my face. I walk to my engineer and get the final details before qualifying, knowing damn well we needed at least a P5 for me in order to keep as close to the Mercedes as possible.

"Ready?" Christian asks as I nod, "I am so ready." I say as he pats my shoulder. With in minutes, Q1 and Q2 pass by very quickly, my times looking great meaning I only needed to go out twice, once for each qualifying. "Right, lets get into top 5." I hear Christian in my ears as I'm about to start my fast lap.

I finish my first fast lap, coming 4th which was perfect, but I know I can do better. "Y/N, your pace is amazing this weekend. Lets get this P1 you deserve." My engineer says as I nod despite him not being able to see me. I go again once changing my tires, but as I'm about to start my fast lap, Lewis Hamilton pushes me wide as he also starts going fast for his fast lap.

He pushes me so far wide I end up on the grass, ultimately losing my back wheels causing me to spin around. As I spin, I turn into Lewis which breaks not just my front wing but also the side of his car, causing us to stop just at the beginning of the first corner. "What the fuck?!" I exclaim, trying to move again but being stuck as not only Lewis blocked me but also my front wing was under my tires and would easily puncture my tires.

"Switch the car off. Switch the car off. You're currently in P5. Lando qualified slightly ahead of you." My engineer states but I don't care. I get out of my car and walk over to Lewis, who was also getting out of his car. I shove Lewis almost making him fall. "What is wrong with you? Why are you such an asshole?" I ask, feeling my blood boil. "What do you mean? You got in my way." Lewis says as I can't help but scoff.

"Lewis, this track isn't just yours. Just because you're a seven time world champion doesn't mean you're a fucking god. You ruined my qualifying and my car. What is wrong with you?!" I exclaim, unable to contain myself as marshals rush over and pull us apart, worried either one of us would hit each other. I get onto the marshals scooter as we go back to the garage, not with Hamilton as they were worried about me pushing him off the bike, which I was close to doing to be fair.

I storm into the garage, a sympathetic smile on Max's face as I push past everyone and walk straight to my drivers room, slamming the door closed. "Ahh!" I exclaim, tears pricking my eyes, as I finally slump back into the couch, my chest heaving. I was more than just disappointed, beyond disappointed to be fair. For once, I have amazing pace and have a good chance of getting P1 and Lewis ruins it. A knock on the door catches my attention after awhile, but I say nothing, just wanting to be by myself and calm down before doing interviews.

The door opens to reveal Lewis who has a sympathetic smile on his face. He is about to speak but I cut him off, "Don't. I really don't wanna hear it." I say, my face red in anger, as he sighs, "I just wanna say I'm sorry." He says but I hold my hand up, "No, you're not. You're never sorry, Lewis. You such a cry baby when anything bad happens to you, but as soon as you do anyone else wrong you think a 'sorry' is going to fix everything!" I exclaim, standing up, and move towards the Brit.

"I'm not a cry baby-" "Yes you are! All you do is complain about everyone and everything. 'Nikita is getting in my way' 'Oh no, Bottas is taking my time and I need that extra point' 'The RedBull is so fast. They must be cheating' See? You're a fucking cry baby." I spit at him, my words harsh as his face softens in defeat. He is quiet as he looks down at me staring at me balling my eyes out.

I bite my lip, slowly realizing what I have said. As much as what I said is true, I know how much he hates being called a cry baby. All he is known for in F1 is either the legend or the crybaby and it's not fair. "I guess now I'm being a crybaby." I say after awhile of awkward silence. "I didn't mean-" "Yeah, you did, and you had every right to call me a crybaby. I am really sorry and I don't know how else I can say I'm sorry." He says as he scratches the back of his neck.

"I'm also sorry. It's just the emotions because of this sport. It's embarrassing." I say as I sit on my couch, a sigh leaving my lip as I rub my eyes dry. "It's okay. I get it. You know, this sport also makes me emotional. It's the reason why I'm 'a cry baby' to be completely honest with you." Lewis says as he sits next to me, still keeping his distance from me to ensure I'm not uncomfortable.

"What do you mean?" I ask as I look over at him. His face is soft and his eyes glossy. He wasn't about to cry, but anyone could tell that he wasn't exactly happy. "I'm stress out, y/n. You know, it's hard not being in the best car anymore and not being the best driver anymore. I kinda got used to always being first and here comes you and Max this season and it just freaked me out a bit." He says as I nod, "I get that." I say as he chuckles, "It's still no excuse to treat you the way I have. I apologize for the way I've treated both you and Max this season." He says as I smile over at him, "All is forgiven. I'm sorry too, I shouldn't have screamed at you the way I did." I say as he chuckles, "It's okay. It's kinda hot." He says as I laugh, my cheeks going bright red.

"How about dinner tonight to say sorry for ruining your qualifying." Lewis suggests as I smile over at him, "I'd love that. But where?" I ask as he shrugs, "To ensure that paparazzi don't see us, how about a room service dinner date?" He asks as I smile widely, "That sounds perfect."