BOOK 1 of 2.
Angst, fluff, spicy & sad stories for my fave drivers 🏎
All stories are between 1,800-6,000 words or more. I do not do y/n stories.
Mature themes, warning provided ⚡
Author's note: This story was requested by- Oscars_Pastryy
Angsty and a longer one shot, enjoy! 🐨 ---------------------------------
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Zak barely had time to look up from his desk when the door to his office was flung open with great force. Oscar stormed in, his face filled with a mix of anger and disbelief. His PR manager, Lucia, chased after him, an apologetic look on her face as she tried to intercept him.
"Osc, wait-" Lucia started, but her words were drowned out by the venom in Oscar's voice.
"What the fuck, Zak?" Oscar yelled. He held up his tablet, the screen glowing with Ivy Sinclair's latest article plastered across it. "Have you seen this? Have you read what she's written about me?"
Zak put down his pen slowly. "Oscar, take a breath. Sit down-"
"I don't want to sit down!" Oscar snapped, slamming the tablet onto Zak's desk. "She's out there saying Lando deserved the win. That I was just handed my first victory like some charity case!"
Zak sighed, leaning back in his chair as Lucia nervously hovered by the door. "Oscar, I understand you're upset-"
"Upset? Are you kidding me?!" Oscar cut him off. "Do you know what this does to me? Every article, every commentator, they've already been picking apart everything I do since I joined McLaren. And now this? This is the cherry on top, Zak!"
Zak exchanged a quick glance with Lucia, who shrugged helplessly. "Oscar," he began carefully, "you need to understand that journalists like Ivy Sinclair-"
"Oh, don't even start with that 'she's just doing her job' crap," Oscar interrupted again. "This wasn't just some objective race analysis. She outright discredited my first win. Do you have any idea how much this means to me? How hard I've worked for this?"
"Look, I know how much you've put into this season, Oscar. Everyone in the garage does. And for what it's worth, I know you deserved that win."
"Then why isn't the team backing me publicly?" Oscar shot back, his hands clenched into fists. "Why is Ivy Sinclair even comfortable enough to write something like this without pushback? Do we not have a PR team for this exact reason?"
"Oscar, you're newer to this level of scrutiny. Lando's been in the sport longer, he has more fans, more...momentum behind his name. Ivy's just playing to that narrative because it gets clicks. It doesn't mean it's true."
Oscar stared at him in disbelief. "So, what? I'm just supposed to sit back and let everyone think I don't deserve to be here? Let people think I'm some second rate driver who doesn't compare to Lando?"
"No. What you're supposed to do is let your results speak for themselves. You don't fight this kind of thing with words, Oscar. You fight it by winning again. And again. Until no one can question your place here."
