#PR Media Coordination

[hsdigitalmedia]

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[gayferrari]

you once said that charles uses fans parasocial relationships with him in a much more careful (not verbatim but I think you said something similar) manner as compared to the whole nicole piastri podcast thing, could you elaborate? I just thought it was interesting

obv most teams go for the parasocial angle now but what are the different ways they go about it do you think, and would you say some are more, or less good at it, or into it at all?

thank you your brain is very big I want to unspool it

Ok I think I remember the post you were talking about! I thini I joked in tags like "Oscar should take lessons from Charles on how to involve his family in his personal image for parasocial purposes without going overboard" and I was mostly kidding except. not really.

To me. Like I just said, I think Charles is really good at cultivating a connection with his fans that feels very personal, while still keeping a big part of his private life under wraps. He folds bits and pieces of his personality and genuine interests into his #brand, and his communication with his fans feels very earnest as a result, but it's still very much a brand. Rissa was joking the other day that "Leclercs have managed to literally corporatize their brotherhood" and I laughed for five minutes but like, it's true. We know the names of Charles's entire friend group but we have no idea what his personality is like when the cameras are turned off. I have seen his carefully selected family holiday dump and have no inkling about how he and his girlfriend spend their days. I just think it's a very smart way to establish a fanbase in a way that 1) makes your fans feel close to you and motivates them to keep being your fans (worked on me!) 2) holds back core parts of your life that you don't want to share and 3) is true to reality so you don't have to keep up a media façade all the time and it "looks real." Again!! I think it's pretty impressive. He's a guy who enjoys being famous but on his own terms. Hashtag good for him!

The Nicole comment iirc is like... I don't actually follow Oscar closely enough to know what the level of engagement with his family is among his fans, but I AM aware of Nicole publicly engaging with her son's fan accounts just because it's very hard not to. I know general reception so far is positive, but from what I see... I get the vibe she's putting herself out there in a way that could backfire. Beyond whether you personally vibe with the kind of persona she's putting out, I just don't think it's great in the long term for the family of a driver to be THAT accessible to the public. Like, sports fans aren't nice! I hope she keeps having fun making #boymom jokes on twitter and doesn't have to be confronted with people in the replies wishing crashes on her son to the point where it becomes draining. I just think there are better, smoother ways to involve your family in your brand than what the Piastris are currently doing. So this is what made me go "You should ask Charles for tips". But it was mostly a joke, like, I don't think it's something Oscar NEEDS to do. I just think Charles is much better

Anyway! I'm not a social media image PR person so these are just my own gut feelings. I also don't think I know enough about how different teams go about social media engagement, except that I feel vaguely that they all could do better tbh. From glimpses I've seen around I think Mclaren are the ones doing The Most with the social media engagement angle and it feels very #zillennial. But in general, I think social media engagement is a good thing for teams to cultivate, but they don't care nearly as much as some people seem to believe. Teams' PR care way more about sponsors and F1 press than they do about clicks on their bromance videos and podium edits. It's nice to have but I doubt it's a priority.

(MY dream team social media content would be an equal mix of the Ferrari queerbait videos based on bad acting and chemistry and the Merc videos showcasing the team + factory personnel, but I fear nobody will give me exactly what I want :/)

[fishtank32]

instagram is wild bcs WHO ARE THESE PPL FOLLOWING ME. WHAT.

[little-pondhead]

DP x DC idea:

Paulina Sanchez becomes the Wayne family's new PR manager. She works hand-in-hand with Alfred and Tim's secretary (maybe another Amity Parker?) to coordinate meetings with the press and keeps a lid on the family's more unique civilian adventures.

Everything is going well until she suddenly comes onto the comm system late at night, startling Nightwing so badly that he almost misses his next flip.

"Robin, don't forget to assist the civilian. They're recording the fight and will probably post it on their Instagram later."

"Batman, turn to the left a little bit. The street lamp is casting an ugly shadow; you need to seem more mysterious."

"Red Hood, don't forget to return the heads of the gang leaders in a canvas bag this time, not polyester. It'll add to the ambiance of the situation."

Little snippets like these filled their ears each and every night, despite all surveillance indicating that Miss Sanchez was home asleep in her bed. Was someone copying the manager's voice on purpose? Why couldn't they trace where the extra comm signal was coming from? Was Paulina Sanchez a spy sent to rattle their resolve? What was going on???

It was a lot more innocent than the paranoid-stricken Waynes thought. Paulina was simply doing her job according to Amity Park's logic.

Most people didn't have some weird lair in their basement, usually filled with world-ending secrets. But 9/10 Amity Parkers did, so it was a cinch to find the entrance to the Batcave on her first day. And when Paulina signed on as a manager, she didn't realize that the job did not extend to the family's nightlife. Nor did she realize that no one else knew who the Batfamily were since Amity Parkers could clock secret identities in an instant. (Thanks for that wish, Wes.)

So while the Waynes are freaking out about the breach in their system, Paulina is mentally patting herself on the back for being so good at her job. She even utilized her hard-earned sneaking-out and liminal skills to create a fake body double to confuse any aggressive intruders that crept into her apartment while she was gone. And honestly, the Bats have never had such a positive online reputation! Getting Tucker to encrypt her secondary social medias was the right call. Now she can post about her bosses without anything being traced back to her.

Paulina is a little peeved about her overtime pay not showing up on her paychecks, however. Maybe she'll bring that up to Mr. Wayne the next time she sees him.

[arieslost]

reader and little leclerc meeting at a karting comp when they were tiny and growing up charles developed the fattest crush on the reader but only later in his f1 career does she find out. not from charles himself but from carlos who ‘accidentally’ slips up and mentions it

i’m assuming by little leclerc u meant arthur so i hope i was correct 🤞🏼🤞🏼

© arieslost 2024. DO NOT REPOST WITHOUT PERMISSION.

crush | cl16

you always thought charles leclerc had some sort of underlying hatred for you, even though he was nothing but kind to you every time you interacted. maybe it was the way he’d always look at you with what you could only describe as a pained expression, like it hurt to even be in your presence.

not that he had much choice, considering you’d been racing with his brother arthur since the beginning of time.

it never evolved into a career for you, but having formed such a close bond with arthur, as well as the rest of the leclercs, you stuck around. you remained a close friend even after arthur was promoted to single seater racing and you never left karting, not until their father passed and you dedicated all of your time and effort to comforting the family and helping however you could. eventually, that evolved into you working for ferrari in pr and other various communications a year after charles signed to ferrari.

wherever a leclerc was, you were bound to follow.

which leads you to now, having landed in imola a few days before most of the team (including the drivers) to coordinate interviews, filming, photography… the list is endless sometimes, but you love your job. even more so when you’re given the privilege of briefing the drivers on what to expect for the day.

except for the fact that charles comes in and sits down without sparing you so much as a fleeting glance.

that’s how your suspicions had started— when he stopped looking you in the eye. it used to be you who was intimidated by eye contact, those green eyes of his never failing to make your cheeks heat up. but eventually you got over it, and one day you fixed him with a brave stare that left him unable to mask his surprise. and then he stopped looking at you. then the incoherent mumbling started, then the abrupt “i have to go” in the middle of a conversation. you never understood why he was acting the way he was. you still don’t.

“good morning, querida,” carlos greets you smoothly as he enters the room, and you swear you see charles’ brows furrow for a split second.

“good morning,” you smile at him, chancing a look at charles, who is still deeply engrossed in whatever’s on his phone. “there’s a decent amount of things i want to go over with you guys, so i really need you to pay attention.”

you went through the itinerary, pausing every now and then to make sure both drivers were paying attention. charles had shut off his phone, but he was still looking anywhere else but at you. when you caught his eye upon glancing upwards, he looked down at his lap like you had told him he massively screwed something up.

you’ve often thought about confronting him, but to be honest, you could never really come up with a solid reason to do so. if he didn’t want to look at you, that was more his problem than it was yours.

“okay, i think that’s all i have for—” you’re not even finished with your sentence before charles is uttering a hasty “thanks” and rushing out the door.

“you’d think he would’ve caved and told you by now,” carlos muses when the door clicks shut, shaking his head.

“told me what?”

“you know,” carlos begins, rising from his seat, “that he’s madly in love with you.”

“what?!” you exclaim.

“oh, dear,” he continues dryly. “did i say that out loud?”

“carlos sainz, so help me—”

“you’ll have to excuse me, i don’t want to be late to the media pen,” he interrupts, making to leave as well. “i suggest confronting him, that’s probably the only way to get him to talk.”

your opportunity comes after the free practice sessions the next day, where you manage to corner charles as he’s leaving his driver room.

“is it true? do you—” you want to say love me, but the words just won’t come out. they feel too intimate. “do you have feelings for me, charles?”

he opens his mouth, but you don’t give him the chance to respond. “you won’t look at me, you barely talk to me anymore, and it feels like you hate me. so honestly, just tell me anything other than saying you hate me.”

“i don’t hate you,” he says immediately. “not at all— why don’t you come in so we can talk? i don’t want to have this conversation knowing someone with a camera could come around the corner.”

fair point. you allow him to guide you into his driver room, watching as he shuts the door behind him.

“who told you?” he asks.

“carlos. in a weird, unnecessarily cryptic way.”

“classic carlos,” charles huffs, raking a hand through his hair.

“is it true?” you repeat quietly, beginning to fear his answer.

he looks at you. “what if it was?”

“charles—”

he interrupts you now. “i can’t look at you because every time i do i think about how much i want you. i look at you and i wish more than anything that i could hold you, kiss you, make you laugh. things just haven’t been the same since… since papa.”

you reach for his hand, squeezing it tightly in your own.

“and eventually i just couldn’t talk to you, because if i did, everything i want to say would come out… like it is right now,” he smiles shyly.

you never thought you could make charles leclerc shy.

“anyway, i like you. a lot.” he declares, taking on a confident tone. “i’ve had a crush on you for a while, and i’m sorry that it manifested as something else. i don’t expect you to forgive me.”

“maybe…” you begin slowly, watching his eyes light up. “maybe you could take me out.”

he smiles widely, squeezing your hand. “i think i can make that happen.”

“good. i’ll be waiting for your call.” you lean up, pressing a brave kiss to his cheek before exiting the room.

the blush creeping over his cheeks stays imprinted on your mind for the rest of the day. it won’t be the last time you see him that way.

word count: 1,041

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note: this was such a cute request. i hate the ending (when do i not, honestly) so if this flops it’s fully my fault

my inbox is always open for comments, criticism, and conversation! feel free to pop in!

reblogs are greatly appreciated <33

dividers by @/saradika

tags: @venusacrossthestars @67-angelofthelordme-67 @emails-i-can-send @nelly187 @cixrosie @fangirl-dot-com @sainzluvrr @imheretoread @mellowarcadefun @yourbane @monsieurbacteria6 @c-losur3 @papayatori @ssprayberrythings @namgification @maih23 @evlkking @witchycarmen @ilovethispookie @maxverstappenfan79 @sya-skies @sweatrevenge5436-blog @kimis-gloves @mia-rrrs @decafmickey @customsbyjcg-blog @bigheartsthings @tania2748 @scuderiadevils @iloveyou3000morgan @ctrlyomomma @hiireadstuff @daemyratwst @arian-directioner @evelyn-ny @avg-golden-retriever @likedbygaslyy @vintagefucksstuff @piastorys @jisungstuff @personwhoisther @bernelflo @ahgase99 @ferrarisfailedstrats @levidazai @brune77e @watersquirtpewpewboomm

[ohbueckers]

HEART OF A WOMAN. we ain’t spoke in so long, probably put me in the past. i can still get you wet, and i can still make you laugh.

01, CHAPTER ONE. OLD SPARKS.

ju speaks. who’s catching my word play for this chapter ooouuu.. i’m having so much fun writing them already and yes, maya’s gonna be a problem (i am just so predictable). pairing. wnba!paige bueckers x fem!oc. warnings. sexual innuendos. kinda content too? idk this fic feeds you all.

present day, may, 2025.

los angeles still doesn’t feel real.

it’s like a whole new game out here, and i’ve been telling myself i can handle it. going first in the draft was wild—i’d dreamt of that moment since i was a kid, but hearing my name called, realizing it was real, felt different. la’s been something else too, this city that’s both too big and somehow feels small once you’re in it. i’ve got an apartment with this insane view too. floor to ceiling windows, sunlight flooding in every morning, palm trees out front like something off a postcard, but it doesn’t quite feel like home yet. i guess i thought maybe it would by now.

the team’s been great, though. down to the vets, the coaching staff, the media team… every single one of them welcomed me like i’ve always belonged here, and that makes things easier. cam threw this party tonight to really celebrate me being here, not just another pr event, but like… i don’t know, like they actually wanted to get to know me better. her backyard’s all polished up. the gates hold up some fairy lights, and the smell of barbecue just tops it all off.

maya’s been around since day one, practically the second i landed here. she’s one of our coordinators—smart, organized, and just enough older than me. stanford grad, of course, which she’s mentioned just enough times that i know she’s proud of it. there’s something good about her. yeah, she’s good. she knows how to handle herself, that’s for sure.

nailea hasn’t been around. i thought i’d see her by now, maybe even catch lurking during one of my practices or just… run into her somewhere. i mean, i’m sure she wouldn’t quit her job because of me. she’s been quiet, out of sight. which is fine. we haven’t really talked since before the draft—if that’s what you’d call it. it’s probably for the best. i don’t think she really wants to talk anyway.

i’m mid-sentence, talking to rae and rickea about their pregame rituals when maya steps up, her manicured hand resting casually on my slouched shoulder like it belongs there. she laughs at something rae says, smiling, and i feel myself ease into the conversation a little more.

rae’s all animated, talking about how she won’t step onto the court without this neon scrunchie she swears by. i’m leaning in to give her grief for it when i catch something in my periphery—someone, actually.

nailea’s here. at my welcome to the league party, maybe just coming by to say she showed up. i’m sure cam would kill her if she didn’t, they got pretty close last year. she looks like she just stepped out of my memories, if you think about that memory everyday.

i suck in, turning in attempt to not make myself seen. then, rae, three jell-o shots deep and definitely feeling it, pats my thigh in excitement and grins wide. “nai! c’mere!” she calls her over, completely missing how i’m trying not to look too invested.

i bite my lip, turning my head back over. i see how she hesitates, and then she looks at me. there’s no emotion, not a single ounce of longing or surprise. she looks at me like i’m nothing. it hurts more than i’d ever admit, but at the same time, i get it. i don’t exactly have the right to expect anything else.

her eyes shift to the others, weighing her options, probably playing out how the entire encounter would go in her head, but rae’s insistence doesn’t really give her much of a choice. she flashes us a grin, though i’m sure it isn’t for me, before she slowly waltzes over.

my eyes follow her like some unconscious habit until she’s almost in reach. as she comes closer, i find myself sizing her up, cataloging the way her hair falls just right, how her shirt hangs off her shoulders. then, out of nowhere, rickea shoves a finger into my ear from my left, and i flinch, turning to see her arched eyebrows silently demanding that i lock in. i don’t question it—i do. a little bit.

“nai handles a good chunk of our pr. she’s doing game day operations this year too,” rae cuts through. she was on some paid internship last year, testing out every role the sparks had to offer to see what she liked. she moved up. got the job.

i don’t know why it stings that she’s doing good without me.

“we know each—“ i begin.

“we went to high school to—“ nai says at the same time as me, and i look at her. rickea is stifling back a laugh beside me, and nai finishes her sentence.

“paige and i went to high school together.” she says, and i stay silent. high school? is that all i am now? a high school buddy?

rae’s grin grows wider, and she’s so excited about it i can barely make out her words. “she’s so great, and basically our backbone now,” she says, nudging nailea’s shoulder. “if it weren’t for her, i’d be late to half my interviews, right?” she laughs, a little too loud.

“guess you owe her then,” i say simply, forcing a grin. nai’s eyes flash to mine, but they’re off me just as quick. i let mine stay, squinting as maya begins to ramble.

“and she makes my job way easier.” maya’s fingers tap against my shoulder, almost like she’s staking a claim. “you ever need someone to keep you in line, paige, she’s your girl,” she adds, smiling at nai, though there’s some unfamiliarity to it. i can tell that they know each other, just not well enough i’m assuming.

nai’s eyes drop to maya’s hand, just a quick glance, but it’s enough to make me hyper-aware of the touch. her gaze returns to my face, a single eyebrow raised in that subtle way that’s more telling than words. like she’s already put it all together, and she doesn’t need to say a thing. instinctively, i shift, shrugging maya’s hand off with a casual roll of my shoulder, trying to mask it as if i’m just adjusting my posture.

nai doesn’t react, but her mouth twitches, a hint of a smirk, there and gone.

she lets out a soft laugh as i lean more against the table now, and i caught the way maya dropped her hand to her side. “i think paige has got it handled.”

i raise an eyebrow, leaning back just a little. “could always use the backup.”

nai’s eyes flash with a quick, knowing glint as she tilts her head, that slight smirk of hers appearing like she’s been waiting for an opening. “backup?” she repeats, nearly cheerful. i hated her tone. “thought you were more into… side options than backups, paige.”

it’s subtle, just low enough that only i catch the full weight of it, but it lands. i let out a low chuckle, stroking my chin and licking my lips. “aight,” i say, swallowing down any reaction, “i set myself up for that.”

maya gives me a sidelong look, sensing the tension but probably not quite getting it. nai laughs softly, a quick, dismissive sound that shouldn’t hit as hard as it does. it’s almost like she’s proud of getting that dig in. i cross my arms over my chest, and for some reason, i can’t contain my own smile.

rickea jumps in then, catching the vibe—or maybe just rescuing me. “anyway!” she says, her voice bright, easing into some story about some mascot switch-up from last year nai had to handle. i nod along, pretending i’m invested, though every part of me is still reeling from nai’s words, her laugh, the way she looked at me like she had me all figured out.

but maybe that’s what she wants me to think.

the backyard’s emptied out now, save for a few stray bottles and a couple of plastic jello cups scattered across the tables. i slide the glass door open and step inside, the house now filled with some low music from a record player. i was planning to find cam, to thank her for throwing this whole thing together. but when i come into the kitchen, it’s nai i see, her sleeves rolled up, forearms wet, scrubbing out a vase under the sink.

she’s focused, eyebrows furrowed just slightly, and i catch myself looking just a second too long before she looks up herself, catching me in the act. she pauses for a moment, her hands stilled under the water before she continues.

“didn’t take you for the clean up crew,” she mumbles, a little low that i almost don’t hear it over the running water.

i shrug, poking my bottom lip out. “figured i owed cam for putting this together,” i say, eyes still fixed on her. “nothin’ like a little gratitude, right?”

she lets out a little scoff, eyes still on the vase, fingers working over the smooth glass, rinsing it under the stream. “cam’s got enough gratitude coming her way,” she murmurs, and i can’t really read the implication. “she doesn’t need more from you.”

the words are light, almost casual, but they land with an edge that sticks. i take a slow step closer, letting the sliding door click shut behind me as i stand by it, almost like i’m stuck.

“well,” i start, beginning to stroll closer with my hands tucked in my pockets, “maybe i’m here because i wanted to check in. see how you’re doing.”

her eyes cut to me briefly, unimpressed. “i’m good, paige,” she says, letting the vase drip dry on a towel, and turning her attention to the next one. “never been better, actually.”

“great,” i say, not breaking eye contact, even as she keeps hers on the dishes, hands slowing just slightly. “then you won’t mind the company.”

she lifts an eyebrow, smirking, and i feel my pulse spike. “company?” she repeats, cocking her head as she pauses, hands resting on the edge of the sink, she says, “i think i’ve had enough of yours for a lifetime.”

i wiggle my eyebrows at her. “aw, don’t be like that, nai.” i can’t help the laugh that slips out, soft and a little cocky. “where’d you pick up all this lil’ attitude at?” i manage to get a little closer with each word until i’m rounding the island. she knows i’m there, close, and trying to ignore it probably.

she sighs, setting the vase down with a clink that sounds just a little too deliberate before picking up the last one. “life has a way of teaching you things. people, too.” she cuts her eyes my way, just barely, still trying to act like i’m not right in her space.

“oh, so now i’m a life lesson?” i murmur, stepping so that i’m almost right beside her, leaning on the counter. “but you’re still here. helpin’ clean up my party.”

she hesitates, and i can see her jaw tense just slightly. “i’m here for cam.”

“cam, huh?” i murmur, my eyes never leaving her. “and what about me?”

she laughs, a little breathless, and it’s the first real sign of her softening. i’ll take whatever i can get. “you’re somethin’ else. you know that?”

of course i know that. she knows i know that, she used to tell me it all the time. she reaches to cut the water off, flipping the vase over on the counter to dry. “good somethin’ or bad somethin’?” i ask, inching just a little closer as i tuck my bottom lip between my teeth.

“depends on the day,” she replies simply, and i can tell she’s trying to occupy herself as she rearranges the glasses.

i smile, facing her as i lean an arm on the counter. “that a challenge?” i lick my lips. “you know i love a good challenge.”

she scoffs lightly, rolling her eyes but staying put nonetheless. “don’t think you’re up for this one, bueckers.”

“oh, i’m up for it,” i counter, following her every move. “in fact, i thrive on it.” i’ve managed to get so close now that i can smell the scent of her shampoo mingling with the faint floral notes of soap. i can’t help but notice the newfound lightness to it too, and i realize she must’ve switched out some old with some new.

“mhm?” she asks, that smirk returning as she finally looks at me. i love when she hums like that, like i’ve got her at loss for words or something. her gaze flicks down to my lips for just a heartbeat, but i catch it.

“yeah,” i whisper, testing the waters. “and i’m pretty good at winning.”

i can see the shift in her expression—the way her breath hitches just a bit. “and what do you think you’re gonna win?” it’s like it took everything in her to say that as she exhales.

i lean back slightly, just enough to meet her eyes fully, but my focus has found her lips again. “you know what i want,” i say, and my voice is almost a whisper. “i think you know exactly what i want.”

there’s a faint smirk on her face as she grips the counter. “no.” she says, seemingly very aware of my intentions as she shakes her head, but doesn’t move an inch.

i let my tongue swarm my mouth hungrily. “just one.” i practically beg.

she leans in, leaving a soft, fast peck on my lips, and i’m afraid it isn’t enough for satisfaction. she’s back staring, and before i get the chance to say anything about it, it’s like she already fought the doubts in her mind as she throws herself into me, lips crashing.

my lips press against hers in that familiar, heady rush that i’d almost convinced myself i’d forgotten. she doesn’t pull away—instead, her hand slips up to my shoulder, the same one maya had her paws on just a couple hours ago, and fuck i can barely bring myself to think about that.

my hand finds her waist, gripping just enough to feel her press against me, her breaths shallow, matching mine. i want to rip her clothes off and take her here, no matter how uncordial that may be, but the universe seems to have other plans.

she tastes like everything i’ve had time to reflect on, every memory i know she tried to bury. i’m rough, hands squeezing her waist so tight like i’m scared she’ll slip away if i let go.

but just as i’m getting lost in her, we’re interrupted by the sound of footsteps. we break apart instantly, spinning toward the door just in time to see cam step in, her eyes widening as she stops short, eyebrows lifting as she takes in the scene.

my tongue darts to the corner of my mouth as i place my hands behind my back awkwardly, as if to keep them from wandering. nai is smoothing out her shirt (the most obvious thing you could do in a situation like this), that guarded look slipping right back into place as she clears her throat.

“paige was just leaving.”

[leclsrc]

wait and see ✴︎ cl16

genre: enemies to lovers, fluff, angst barely, other drivers appear

word count: 2.5k

The grid recounts the evolution, nature, and many ups and downs of your and Charles' vague relationship.

auds here... req'd, this was p fun to write i hope u guys like it! :) short bec if it was any longer it wouldnt have been as nice to read i think? anyway... i love u guys. title from this.

Lando takes a seat. “Is this the thingy for…? Yeah? Okay. What am I supposed to do again?”

“Just describe the two of them.”

“Easy. She was always pissing him off.” He rubs his chin, lost in thought. “But… in a good way?”

—

“I told you a hundred times I didn’t want this to be the soundbite you published.” Charles chases after you, his footsteps quickening like a lost puppy as you wrestle your way into the media pen. “A hundred times, and you said okay, and you still published it. Che succede?”

You turn, crossing your arms over your torso. “Look. I said yes, but when I looked it over, nothing else you said was really worth it. It was all just repetitions of the same PR bullshit that makes you look good on camera.”

He rakes a hand through his hair, exhaling with frustration, watching his biting comment on Iñaki rack up hundreds of thousands of views. “This was not a good idea!” He repeats, the same sentiment he’s been telling you in the half-hour he’s known of this video’s publicity.

“But it happened.” You adjust your mic and gesture to Lando, who’s awkwardly waiting for the cameras to roll so you can start the post-FP2 interview and he can talk about his shit car. “I’m busy, so deal with it. Your fans will appreciate you not riding Ferrari’s dick all the time.”

Charles opens his mouth to argue, but shuts it, shoving his way back outside and into the motorhome so he can cooperate in damage control. He doesn’t admit it—to you, to Carlos, to anyone—but the PR that comes of it is more good than it is bad in the end. He doesn’t admit it because it means admitting you’re right, and God if that’s the last thing he’ll ever do.

—

“They were always butting heads,” George says, laughing as he soaks in the memories of it. “Always fighting over something. Anything. Whatever there was that could be disagreed on—they’d be disagreeing.”

—

It started harmlessly enough. Seb walked in with two swatches of color—a blue and a purple—and addressed the room with a light tone, asking what color would best suit the tablecloths at his wedding. And then, as it always did with you and Charles, chaos ensued.

“Blue suits green better.” You wave the blue in his face. “You’re busy thinking of red all the time so you don’t understand color theory.”

“It’s not about coordination! It’s about creating a highlight!” He gestures with his hands, aggressively gesticulating to try and get his point across. “Highlight!”

“Oh, bullshit! Blue!”

“Purple!”

“Are you crazy?!”

Across the room, Seb and George watch in mild horror at the two figures caught in a needlessly intense argument over colors at a wedding that isn’t even theirs.

An AlphaTauri engineer comes in to refill his coffee for the third time, finds the two of you still fighting and is genuinely stupefied. He turns to the two onlookers, asks, “Bridezilla, huh? Happened to me once, too. I swear the grooms always try to weasel their way in to seem more involved but their choices never make sense.”

“Oh, no. They, uh, they’re not together.” George clarifies quickly.

“They’re not?!” The engineer and Seb ask at the same time.

They all watch the argument, bemused, but secretly they all wonder just how correct George is.

—

“We have a saying in Spanish. Del amor al odio hay un paso. Neither of them will understand it—it’s in Spanish, obviously—but I think that applies to them. One minute you think they hate each other, and the next…” Carlos lets himself taper into silence, smiling softly.

—

Being around Charles feels like karmic retribution, a constant eternal push and pull. But it makes the both of you better, even if neither of you admit it in the end. You can’t really grasp why, or how it started—it might take ages if you do so much as try—but you’re content with letting things happen the way they do.

Or maybe you’re not. “You ruined my fucking broadcast, dickhead!”

You toss your earpiece at his chest, body welling up with annoyance. Your segment was being casted live until Charles insisted he take up your airtime to do whatever-the-fuck, you honestly don’t care. And yeah, sure, he’s way more relevant, but the less airtime you get, the less easily you get the exposure you need.

“It happened one time.” He sounds amused, and it patronizes you, sets you on fire. He clutches your earpiece to his chest and hands it back to you.

“Fuck you.” You tug it toward yourself, and suddenly you’re closer, noses almost touching. You step back, but it’s not enough. “You have no idea how much that mattered to me.”

His eyes flit toward your lips, your bodies melting together. “If it really did…” he says, inhaling, “you would’ve just ignored me.” And damn, he’s right.

Charles does not like you. He just knows you well. But then one might argue—isn’t that the same thing?

—

“They have trouble not calling the shots, is the thing,” Lewis offers. “So put them in a team, in a room together, and boom.”

—

“…We didn’t agree on this script.” You underline the problematic lines and toss it onto Charles’ lap from where you stand in front of the sofa. “You want your fans to hate you?”

“The questions were clumsy. I asked you to reword them, but you didn’t.”

“You didn’t ask, to be clear. You demanded.” You click your tongue.

Lewis is in the middle of posting on Roscoe’s Instagram account and manually making typos, but he looks up, interest piqued by the increasingly heated conversation.

“I asked,” Charles insists stubbornly. “Plus, this is a Ferrari segment. You get hired to write on Ferrari, you follow Ferrari.” He points to the yellow logo on his shirt. Ferrari, he mouths. Lewis stifles a chuckle at the sarcastic exchange.

“Jesus.” You reread the script. “Fine. I’ll reword this and this.”

“And that.” He points, tapping the paper.

“Only if you edit this and this. Oh, God, and this.”

“Fine. Wait, that?”

“Are you serious? It’s the corniest statement ever. Edit that or I edit nothing.”

“Okay, bossy.”

Lewis exits Instagram in favor of texting Seb to ask if you two are dating. The response he receives is equally unhelpful: Nobody knows mate.

—

“You know, for all the disagreeing they did, they actually agreed on so much of the same stuff. If they stopped fighting for two seconds they would agree on most things.” Alex muses. “But they never did, so. Or maybe a few times.”

—

Media is a tricky thing. It’s either on your side, or it isn’t.

And this weekend, Charles has drawn the short straw, subjected to bouts of backhanded journalists and tweets for his strategy during quali. You know this especially well—you’re media, for Christ’s sake—and you’ve seen your colleagues hound Charles for how he chose to tackle the session.

Alex is in the middle of a FaceTime call with Lily when he hears it. “Wait—I think they’re talking,” he says to his girlfriend when he hears you approach him, carefully maneuvering himself into optimal eavesdropping position.

“Is this the right thing to do?” Lily’s voice comes through like static.

“I know it’s wrong,” Alex confesses. “But—”

“No, I meant I can’t hear properly. Move the phone closer, you dick.”

So he does, and the two of them listen intently to your talk. You go first, a few shuffling footsteps and an adjustment of your media pass, then. “Will’s been all over you today.”

“Yeah,” comes Charles’ voice, tired if anything. “I, uh… I just hope I can understand where I went wrong and, uh. Well, uh.”

“No, I…” There’s heavy silence. “I think you did the right thing. You didn’t get pole, but it was a good strategy. Better than what was being proposed, anyway. I think that would’ve landed you at the back of the grid, to be honest.”

You both laugh. “Thanks,” he croaks.

“You did great. Don’t, um… don’t let them tell you otherwise. I’m proud of you.”

Alex never tells anybody what he heard. But it inspires many long-winded conversations with Lily about the nature of your relationship. Each time, though, they never arrive to a solid answer.

—

“Hey, listen. I always knew something was there with those two. They had the kind of dynamic you only find once in, like, a million instances.” Daniel says firmly. “But I also kept thinking… poor Charlotte.”

—

You’re half-sure Pierre was the one who bought you all shots. Or a quarter-sure. Okay, you’re not sure at all. Your mind’s cloudy, your inhibitions lowered, tongue loose and laugh contagious. Around the table everyone is laughing, some others have gotten up to dance, but you, Daniel, Lewis, and Charles are all conversing about work, albeit while drunk.

“Is… tequila… plant-based?” Lewis grimaces as he throws another shot back and you all laugh mindlessly.

“Danny,” you say, tapping his shoulder. “Any plans once you’re out of the paddock next season?”

“Ah,” he hums. “Self-discovery and a shit ton of shrooms.”

You all cheers to the epiphany, shots once again entering your system. “And a party again tomorrow!” Daniel adds half-jokingly, much to your delight. Charles, right beside you, throws an arm over your shoulder as he laughs. You’re unfazed.

Daniel’s gaze lingers on his arm a little too long, especially because your own hand reaches upward to wrap around his wrist, to make sure he doesn’t pull away. But you’re both drunk, he reasons. And plus, you can’t usually stand each other’s guts.

“I’ll pass, mate, if it happens,” Charles says, his tone clearly inebriated.

“You’re no fun,” you say lightly, laughing and turning to him. Your eyes are on the other’s, dark, lips almost touching as if you’ve forgotten Daniel and Lewis are even around (though the latter is as good as dead, honestly.)

“Invite Charlotte instead,” Daniel says with a smile, to try and test your reactions. “How long, now? Three months?”

You clear your throat, looking away with a faux smile.

“Oh. We’re not doing so well, to be honest.” Charles smiles, tight-lipped. He hopes Daniel doesn’t ask why. He can’t think of a lie quickly enough to cover how Charlotte told him I love you, Charles, but this is over. I hope you end up with her someday.

—

Seb takes some time to think about it. “Those two always fought. Everyone said that, didn’t they? All the time, disagreeing.” He hums. “I could tell very early, though, that they were also the only two who could truly understand the other. Figuratively, obviously—but as a result, also literally.”

“Elaborate?”

“When you understand someone that well, inside and out, you end up understanding everything they say.” Seb smiles. “That was them, I think.”

—

“It’s impossible to transcribe your interviews,” Will says to Charles. It’s that hour on the paddock where everyone’s waiting for the pre-race bustle to start, so small talk is what’s keeping them busy.

You’re reviewing a few clips from practice on your phone and Seb is chipping into the conversation, which has moved from Mick’s future to F1 into Sky Sports into this.

“What do you mean?” Charles asks.

“You’re always sliding in and out of your three languages!” The Englishman laughs. “I have to consult a native speaker of both Italian and French each time. And you’re always going I, I, I, or we, we, we… but hey, the fans dig it, innit?”

“I think I sound perfectly understandable.” Charles smiles. You’re still busy, unfocused on the conversation at present.

“Like, okay. Look at this.” Will retrieves his phone, opens his voice memos app, and plays one of the audio recordings there. It’s a scratchy one of Charles describing his quali session, and sure enough, even if he’s speaking straight English, the adrenaline and exhaustion have him sounding totally indecipherable.

We—we had gasjdhfhs and I, I, I… I think we need to rejshdhs and thijsjsh about the hsfhdh, yeah? And, and, uh, we ajhshajs. And

Will closes it. “Sebastian, can you tell me that said?”

He shrugs, amused. “Sorry, Charles. I genuinely can’t.”

“See?!” Will makes a voila motion. “Nobody understands this.”

“He said we had good traction and I think we need to recalibrate and think about the boxing strategy, yeah? And we need that mindset.” You’re still going over your phone, busy and not 100% invested. “You two just aren’t listening.”

Charles doesn’t take his eyes off you, or the smile off his face, the whole hour.

—

Pierre comes last, clearing his throat. He’s ready. He knows exactly what to say, so he says it. “Those two are fucking soulmates.”

—

It’s three-thirty when somebody knocks on your hotel room.

But your body still feels like it’s five in the evening, your brain’s stuck at two in the afternoon, and your sleep schedule thinks it’s nine in the morning, so you’re not asleep but instead rewriting notes from the weekend prior.

You’re horribly disoriented when you grab your pepper spray and unlatch the door, and even more disoriented when you see Charles on the other side of it.

“Am I crazy?” He asks, breathless, like he’s been waiting for you all his life. Maybe he has.

“You’re at my hotel room at three a.m., so… a bit.” You rub sleepiness and jetlag out of your eyes. “Charles, what’s going on?”

“I love you.” There it is. “It sounds so stupid. But I love you. And it’s almost—I can’t bear it. I woke up this morning? You, on my mind. Lights go off after a race? You. I go to sleep? You. It’s always you. And I know, I know it’s—I know, with Charlotte, and—but it’s true. I, I, I—I think about you every minute. And usually this happens accidentally. Nous sommes tous des idiots quand il s’agit d’amour... moi y compris.

“But this was… I knew I was falling in love and I let it happen. And so I thought, why keep waiting? Why let it drag on and on and fight over and over when I can just come and tell you how much I—and maybe, hopefully, see if you feel the same?”

He pants, tired from his clearly rambled and unplanned confession.

“I love you, too,” you say, struck. Oh God.

“Can I kiss you, then?”

“It’s may,” you breathe. “May I kiss you.”

“You may,” he whispers.

“Right now?”

“Anytime.”

“So now.”

“It’s now or next Tuesday,” he jokes.

“Now is… the best. Now would do.”

“Now would do.” So you cross the threshold and let him scoop you into his arms so he can well and truly kiss you.

—

“Is that all?” The interviewer asks Pierre. “Just… those words? We need a bit more for the article on this event.”

“Oh, yeah.” He gets up, straightens his tie. “Don’t worry. You’ll hear the rest during my best man speech.”

Del amor al odio hay un paso – From love to hate, there is one step.

Nous sommes tous des idiots quand il s'agit d'amour... moi y compris – We are all fools in love... me included.

[the-offside-rule]

Fernando Alonso (Aston Martin) - I Don't Wanna Live Forever

Requested: no

Swift Series

Warnings: age gap, cursing, forbidden love, cliffhanger

*he's fine asf in this gif*

Fernando sighed contently as he walked through the paddock, the all too familiar buzz of a new season on the horizon. The new season was about to begin, and with it came new challenges, new cars, and, as he had just been informed, a new assistant. His previous assistant had moved on, and Fernando was curious about the person who would now be helping him navigate the whirlwind of his career. He walked into the new hospitality, looking around at the slick interior design of the building. He looked over to see his PR manager stood up, waving towards him. He smiled, walking over towards him. "Alright Fernando, how's it going?" She asked as he hugged her. "Yeah, pretty good. Yourself?" She smiled. "I'm doing well. I actually wanted to introduce you to someone-" She paused, turning to the young woman stood behind her. "Fernando, meet Y/n. She'll be your new assistant."

Y/n extended a hand with a confident smile. "It's a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Alonso. I'm excited to work with you." Fernando shook her hand, noting her firm grip and steady gaze. "Please, call me Fernando. And welcome to the team." Y/n nodded, mentally noting the informal tone. "Thank you, Fernando. I've already familiarized myself with your schedule and preferences. If there's anything specific you need or any adjustments, just let me know." Fernando was impressed. "I appreciate that. It's a demanding job, but I'm sure you'll handle it well."

As the days went by, Y/n quickly adapted to the fast-paced environment of Formula 1. She managed Fernando's schedule with precision, coordinated media engagements seamlessly, and ensured he had everything he needed before and after races. Her efficiency and calm demeanor under pressure did not go unnoticed by Fernando. One afternoon, during a break between practice sessions, Fernando found Y/n in the team lounge, engrossed in her laptop. "How are you finding everything so far?" He asked, sitting down across from her. Y/n looked up, a hint of surprise in her eyes. "It's intense, but I love it. The energy, the speed, the team, it's all very exciting." Fernando smiled. "That's good to hear. It's important to have someone who enjoys the chaos as much as the rest of us."

♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡

While Fernando was no stranger to the hectic life of a racing driver, he found a peculiar comfort in the presence of his assistant, Y/n. She was efficient, calm under pressure, and always seemed to know exactly what he needed. Over time, Fernando had developed feelings for Y/n, but he kept them hidden, fearing it would complicate their professional relationship. Y/n, on the other hand, had admired Fernando since the day they started working together. His dedication, passion, and charisma made it hard not to fall for him. But, like Fernando, Y/n kept these feelings concealed, believing it was best to maintain their professional demeanor.

This particular day had been nothing short of exhausting with back-to-back media obligations. Interviews, photoshoots, and press conferences filled the schedule, leaving little time to breathe. Fernando signed the final cap and packed it off to the side. He looked out the window, the sun had set, and the team was packing up. "Finally." He sighed. "Y/n!" Fernando called out. Y/n peered in the door. "Done?" He nodded. "Perfect. You can leave them there, and I'll get them to marketing first thing tomorrow." She said walking towards him. His eyes wandered down her body. He stopped himself, feeling bad. "Stay back for a bit, would you? I think we both could use a drink."

"I can't. You have media day tomorrow, and I think a good nights sleep would do you best." Fernando sat back in the chair. "Come on. Just one." Surprised but curious, Y/n agreed. "Sure, Fernando. A drink sounds good." He smirked. "That didn't take too much convincing."

Fernando stood up and headed downstairs, grabbing a bottle of red wine and twk glasses before making his way back up to the office. "I hope you like wine." He chuckled. She sighed. "Not really, but it's a drink from the Fernando Alonso, so who can complain?" He closed the blinds, trying to block out the world, away from the prying eyes of fans and journalists. Fernando poured the glass and handed it to her, before taking his own. They sipped at their drinks, and for a while, they sat in comfortable silence, savouring the moment of peace. "Do you mind if I ask you something?" Y/n nodded. "Shoot."

"How did you end up in the world of Formula 1?" Fernando asked, genuinely interested. Y/n smiled, taking a sip of the drink. "It was a bit of a twist of fate, really. I always loved motorsports, and when the opportunity came up to work with a team, I took it. And here I am. I didn't think I'd be working for you, though." His brows furrowed. "How come?" She shrugged. "I always loved watching you growing up, so it just seems a bit surreal, I guess." He groaned. "What?" She chuckled. "You're making me sound old." He replied. "You're not that old."

"I am 43 years old. That's old." She eyed up his lips subtly, her finger tracing the rim of her glass. "I don't think so, but okay." Fernando nodded, his eyes never leaving Y/n's. "You're 25. You have no say in this."

As the night went on, the conversation flowed easily. They talked about their childhoods, their passions, and their dreams. The more they shared, the more they realized how much they had in common. "Sometimes, I wonder what life would be like if I hadn't decided to race." Fernando admitted, a rare moment of vulnerability. Y/n reached out, placing a hand on his. "I think you'd still be the same incredible person, just a little less stressed." Fernando's heart raced at the touch. "Yes, but I wouldn't have met all the people I have. We wouldn't have met." Y/n's breath caught. "You'd live without me." Fernando took a deep breath, his eyes locking with Y/n's. "I don't think I could." Y/n's heart swelled. "Fernando -" Fernando leaned in, his lips hovering dangerously close to hers. Their eyes scanned each other, both wondering if they should move closer or simply walk away and pretend it hadn't happened.

Y/n's eyes fluttered shut as Fernando's lips met theirs in a tender kiss. The world around them faded, leaving just the two of them in that moment. She set her glass to the side, her hand flying up to his face, pulling him in closer. He felt euphoric. She was everything he could have asked for and more. He deepened the kiss, pushing her back until she was laying on the couch. Her hands roamed under his Aston Martin shirt, trailing up his tone back. He loved it,every touch, every sound she made below him, he loved it all. That was, until Y/n came to her senses and pulled away. "Wait, stop!"

Fernando's heart sank as she pulled away. "We can't. I can't. It could ruin your career, and it could cost me my job. I've worked too hard for this job for it to be thrown away over a stupid kiss." His brows furrowed. "A stupid kiss?? Is that what you would call this?" She stood up, straightening her skirt out. "I say it as it is. It was a mistake, and it will remain that way. It has to." Fernando shook his head, his eyes pleading. "Y/n, listen. I like you, I like you a lot. I don't care about the risks. I care about you." Y/n looked at him, unsure. Unsure if he was telling the truth or if he was drunk. "I care about you too, but we have to be realistic. This-" She pointed between them both. "This could destroy everything we've worked for." Fernando took her hands in his, his grip firm but gentle. "I'm willing to do anything for you, Y/n. You're worth everything to me." She sighed, closing the door behind her and leaving the spaniard there, drunk, alone and pondering.

♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡

Y/n lay in bed, the soft glow of the city lights seeping through the curtains and casting delicate patterns on the walls. Despite the late hour, sleep eluded her. Her mind was consumed with thoughts of the kiss she shared with Fernando earlier that evening. She could still feel the warmth of his lips, the gentle yet passionate way he had held her. She sighed and turned onto her side, pulling the blankets tighter around her. But no matter how she tried, she couldn’t shake the image of his face, the intensity in his eyes as they parted. Tossing and turning, she fought against the whirlwind of emotions swirling within her.

Finally, unable to bear the restlessness any longer, Y/n sat up, her heart racing with indecision. Should she go to him? Confront these feelings head-on? She hesitated, her fingers gripping the edge of the blanket. But the pull was too strong, the need for clarity too overwhelming. Taking a deep breath, she threw the covers aside and slipped out of bed. She threw on her cardiganHer footsteps were light, almost silent, as she reached her door. Her heart pounded with every step, the anticipation building.

Reaching for her door, she paused, her hand hovering just inches from the wood. She closed her eyes, gathering her courage, then reached for the handle and opened it, her eyes widened in surprise. There stood Fernando. He was dressed as he was earlier, as if he had been up and about, unable to sleep just like her. For a moment, neither of them spoke, the air thick with unspoken words and emotions. “Y/n…” he breathed, taking a step closer. “I-"

It didnt take long for her to wrap her arms around his necl and lock her lips with his again. She had needed this. He pulled away first, looking deep into her eyes. "I need to tell you-"

"Tell me in the morning. I need you now."

[lokideservesahug]

Undescribed Avoidance

-°•°•°•°•--•°•°•°•°--°•°•°•°•--•°•°•°•°-

Pairing: Jenson Button x reader, Mark Webber x reader (implied)

Warnings: None that I can see?

Notes: Thank you so much for the support on this, I'm so glad you like it! Still not the big one but I think that'll come fairly soon... I really quite like the ending of this and please let me know what you think!

Summary: You just can't seem to get Mark's attention in the way you want... But poor Jenson is trying his hardest to just have a conversation with you.

Part 1

-°•°•°•°•--•°•°•°•°--°•°•°•°•--•°•°•°•°-

You're quite surprised with how different your rookie season is to your second season. Despite there still being low murmurs of doubt, you certainly proved to most that you are worthy of being here.

You walk into the paddock, head held high, ready for media day. You chose to coordinate your outfit with the car, half wanting to feel a connection to the team and half wanting to show everyone just how focused you are on the end goal this year; winning that world championship. Many would say that wearing white shoes and a white shirt is a recipe for disaster but you (and later the media agree with you) think that it not only creates a good tone for this year but also makes you look damn good.

You've ignored Jenson since the start of the season. Not deliberately per se but more so in an attempt to focus. You've fallen back into a routine not dissimilar to the one you had last year and Jenson wasn't in that routine last season, simple as. One person who was however was Mark. He was always there to congratulate you, looking out for you etc yet you cant help but notice that he seems a bit... distant? You shake your head. It's probably because of how busy the start of the season is. Ross manages his team very differently to how Frank did and goodness knows all eyes are on you. On all of you; Michael, Ross, the team and especially yourself. There have been a good number of articles stating how confident they are that you'll win the world championship this year... Not that you've looked (especially if your PR officer asks, she does not want you to read any articles about the team, something about being detrimental for your mental health or something like that...) You usualy space out during PR meetings so it should be no surprise that you don't remember every word said...

You break out from your thoughts as you hear a familiar laugh. Your head whips around and you see Mark stood outside of the red bull hospitality, talking to another red bull worker. You contemplate whether to approach him but all doubtful thoughts are pushed down as you approach him with a grin. "Hi Mark." He smiles back at you as your eyes meet and it feels as if you hadn't had any worries about growing distant. He appears to be the same old Mark that looked out for you at every turn last year. "Heya Y/L/N, how are you today?" You smile and continue to make small talk. And so what if you're a tiny bit late to hospitality, Mark is finally talking to you again so nothing else matters.

☆-☆-☆-☆-☆

The first race comes and goes in a flash of champagne, confetti and celebrations that follows into the second race as well. And now, you've currently started a winning streak by winning at Australia for the second year in a row.

A slightly overeager fan even approached you when you were walking with Michael and said in an excited voice "Gosh if you win next year, we might have to call you the Queen of Australia." You all just laughed at the awful pun, both signed their cap and continued walking. Which brings you to now, and once again, you can't seem to find Mark.

You laugh at the thought. If you weren't weren't busy you'd almost thing he was avoiding you... Yet before you can continue that thought, a flash of motion catches your attention. You look to your right with an unimpressed grin. "What if I was cooking up some amazing strategy and you just distracted me?" Michael throws his head back in laughter and pats you on the back. "Good one. Ross said he wanted a team meeting in a few minutes." You roll your eyes and stand up, your knees cracking beneath you. "He always wants a meeting. You'd think it's the only reason he does this." Michael just tilts his head and you give him a funny look. "Well he hasn't changed much since his Ferrari days." You exhale slightly as the two of you continue to walk in step. "Gosh, you've been dealing with this for years?" The German just gives you a small nod and you grin at his misfortune.

☆-☆-☆-☆-☆

Honestly, you blink for a moment and then suddenly Mark is racing away. It's the third race in the season and you can now confidently say, Mark Webber is in fact ignoring you. You place down the empty bottle down on the top step of the podium where you were standing moments ago and turn to race after a charging Mark. "Y/N?" You whip your head to meet Jenson's eyes as you finally reach the edge of the podium. "Sorry I've just got to chase something. Is it alright if I catch you later?" You leave Jenson no time to awnser as you're already walking off, desperate to find Mark, unknowingly also leaving a deflated looking Jenson behind you.

☆-☆-☆-☆-☆

You fall back on the sofa with a groan. When Michael invited you to have dinner with his family, you assume that he expected to moan about your problems. Well regardless, you're doing it. Your teammate just chuckles and sits at the armchair as his children scatter through the door. You move your legs slightly and Gina sits at your side and Mick at his father's and your feat on a precariously placed cushion on the floor.

Gina holds out her hairbrush and bobble and you take it in a wordless gesture, the routine coming naturally to you at this point. You continue to talk to Michael as you begin to brush Gina's hair. "I just don't get what I've done wrong. I've been friendly, kept in touch over the break, all of the normal things until he still ignores me. I thought that he was better than being bitter over someone else winning." Michael laughs as you begin to separate Gina's hair into three sections. "It's not that." You look up at him, briefly pausing from plaiting his daughter's hair. You groan "I hate when you get all cryptic." Michael just grins as you feel Gina's head shake slightly in a giggle, clearly used to her father's antics. "You'll understand eventually." You tie the end of the plait as you roll your eyes and see Corrina enter the room in your peripherals. She places a tender hand on her husband's shoulder and gives you a knowing look, clearly agreeing with Michael.

Gosh, you wish you could be so in love and in sync with someone like they are, one day.

Gina mutters a small thanks and she leans her head on your shoulder. "Well don't get too comfy because otherwise dessert will get cold." At Corinna's words, Mick bolts up and starts running towards with a happy exclamation. You all breathe out laughs and follow after him, but at a much more sensible pace.

☆-☆-☆-☆-☆

Silverstone. The heart of British Motorsport and one of the most iconic circuits in history. You take a deep breath, taking in the smells and sights of Thursday. A track untouched this weekend with a clear scent onto to be tarnished with burnt rubber and oil by the end of the weekend.

You meet the eyes of a young girl.

Her eyes dart around as if scared and you watch as the familiar back of Mark bends down to speak to her. You walk towards them to see if you can help the situation in any way (and you feel very thankful that you might finally be able to interact with Mark for the first time in what feels like forever). The girl backs up slightly but as you get closer, she looks up at you and meets your eyes. The girl looks to be about six and you wave at her now awestruck figure. Her mouth splits into a toothy grin and you slowly walk towards her. "Hi, I'm Y/N what's your name?" The girl giggles "I know you. I'm Charlotte." You give the small girl a smile. "That's a lovely name Charlotte. Is this your first time at Silverstone?" She nods her head and then furrows her brows as if suddenly coming to a realisation. "Yeah... my daddy wanted to take me." You smile at the girl. "Oh yeah. Is your daddy around here somewhere?" You lift your eyes and scan the surroundings. No sign of a spectator or even a frantic parent looking for a missing child.

Charlotte shakes her head and shrinks in on herself. You stand up and hold your hand out for the younger girl. "Well, shall we try and find him?" Charlotte just nods timidly and the two of you begin to look around for her father. "Can you tell me what your daddy looks like?"

You turn to Mark to ask of he'd seen the girl's father only for Charlotte to hide her face in your side and mutter something into your shirt. You gently lean away from the girl slightly and ask he to repeat myself. "My daddy said to not speak to strangers." She casts Mark a wary, almost scared look. You think for a moment and can't help but blurt out "But I'm a stranger?" Charlotte's eyes meet yours again and she shakes her head. "No you're not. You're Y/N from the racing at the weekend. I know you!" You give a soft smile at Charlotte, who is very quickly melting your heart. "Oh that's lovely. Charlotte but you can't always trust everyone you see even if they're on the telly." Charlotte pouts "But I want to be like you when I'm older. And my daddy has posters of you and that man in red in his office."

You're confused for a moment as to what she means by the 'man in red' until you draw the conclusion that she must be talking about Michael. So Charlotte's father must be a Mercedes fan then... At least that somewhat narrows it down you think?

You look around and hold your hand out again for Charlotte to take. "Well Miss Charlotte, what better way to find your father than give you a V.I.P tour of the paddock?" Charlotte's jaw drops in shock and you give a small nod to Mark who stands up and walks with the pair of you, keeping his distance to scan the surroundings for Charlotte's father. He just gives a small smile back and you feel your heart flutter at the small exchange. Charlotte clears her throat slightly and speaks in a quiet voice. "Who's that?" You tilt your head and point to Mark. "Who, him?" Charlotte nods and you can't stop yourself from smiling at the thought of the man. "That's Mark Webber, he drives for Red Bull."

Charlotte's lips form a tiny 'o' in realisation and she let's out a small exhale. She glances at Mark again and turns to you in a loud whisper (that probably seems quiet to a six year old). "Is he your boyfriend?" You feel your cheeks warm at the question and both you and Mark freeze for a moment. You refuse to meet his eyes and just the both of you splutter for a moment. You force out a small "No... no he's not." You try and shield your face from the red bull driver and you see Charlotte cast a wary glance at Mark again. She whispers to you again "My daddy said all Australians are upside down? Is he ok?" This time, Mark clearly overhears her and chuckles. You shake your head and when Charlotte catches sight of a food cart tucked to the side of the McLaren hospitality, she races towards it, pulling you along with her.

Mark trails behind and unbeknownst to you, stares at the two of you with a look of longing. A dream future suddenly flashing before his eyes, hitting him with yet another harsh realisation of his feelings. Mark continues to look ahead at the two of you. He can't help himself from grinning yet the domestic moment is quickly broken by a man's frantic shouts.

"Charlotte!" The younger girl, now with a muffin in hand turns and widens her eyes. "Daddy!" The man runs towards his daughter and scoops her up in a protective hug, hand resting on the back of your head. His eyes are shut in sheer happiness to have his daughter back and he finally meets your eyes. "Thank you so much..." He pauses, the weight of who exactly finally found his daughter finally sinking in. You just give him a smile. "Hey, no worries. It was a pleasure to have her." The man looks down at his daughter and grins. "I'm impressed by how quickly she found the two of you. I've heen looking all morning and haven't found a single driver." You chuckle at the man, understanding exactly how little most drivers want to stop and converse with fans so early in the morning.

"Well, Charlotte here was more than exemplar at seeking us out." You reach out and rub a hand over the top of her head, making her giggle. The interaction brings you such joy and as you come to the realisation that your little moment with her and Mark is coming to an end, an idea strikes you. "Hey, how would you like to come and sit in my garage for the weekend!" Charlotte's father's jaw just drops as the girl nods happily at you. "Please, please, please!" She tugs on her father's hand "Please daddy can we?" This clearly wakes the man from his shock and still speechless, he nods franticly and you. You laugh at the grown man, who is now reduced to simple cognitive behaviour and turn towards the Williams garage. You expect to see Mark at your side and at some point in the conversation you must have failed to see him leave as the Aussie is no longer at your side. You try and ignore the pang of emotion you feel as you begin to lead the father and daughter duo to the Williams hospitality.

☆-☆-☆-☆-☆

Silverstone brings yet another win and a healthy few points to add to your championship lead. And yes Sebastian Vettel is going to be a pain in your ass but when is he not...

But now is nit the time.to worry about that as you sit alone in a pub. The team had insisted on coming out and at first you'd enjoyed the evening, celebrating, singing along to your favourite songs etc. But now, you're sat alone in the corner of a dark room all alone. Your mind briefly flashes to last year at the end of the season and you try and push away the memory. At least then you were on civil terms with Mark. Now it seems like he can barely look at you. A cough makes you look up and you meet the familiar eyes of Jenson Button.

"We need to stop meeting like this." You roll your eyes at the cliché. And tilt your head "Well maybe you need to stop following me then." And for once in your life, Jenson Button makes you laugh because his dumbfounded look deserves to be placed in a museum. He grins at your laugher and quickly recovers, holding out a hand. "Well, we can't have our winner sulking in a corner. You need to celebrate!" You roll your eyes and take Jenson's hand, shaking your head as you speak "Just to clarify, this is because I have nothing beeter to do not because I want to spend the evening with you." Jenson grins. "Sure love, keep telling yourself that." And as you let Jenson lead to to the dance floor, you try and distract yourself from Mark and his recent behaviour and instead focus on Jenson. Someone who has tried to put in effort to cheer you up and be friendly towards you.

☆-☆-☆-☆-☆

You meet Jenson's lips in a sultry kiss. "Don't think this means anything Button." You pull aways lightly and are met with the sight of Jenson's signature grin. "Of course not love." You just shake your head and snake your arm around his shoulders. Jenson carries on kissing you as if it would win him the world championship a hundred times over. And depsite the fact that yourself a year ago would have a fit at the thought, you must admit. Jenson Button is a damn good kisser. The sound of a distant knock sounds and the two of you pull away, your lower lip dragging between Jenson's own as you distance your faces. "Who is it?"

A second passes until you hear the familiar sound of your teammate. "Just me, Hase. Is everything alright in there?" You hum in agreeance and push Jenson oit of sight from the door. You pull down the handle and stick the top half of your body out of the door and are careful to shield Jenson from sight. You give Michael a smile and he furrows his brows before giving you a grin back. "Ah." You tilt your head at his clear realisation. "What?" The German shakes his head and grins. "Nothing Hase, just glad to see that you're alright. Are you going to go to sleep soon then?" You nod your head. "Here abouts. The race was pretty tiring and you know and just want to be ready for all of the practise Ross will no doubt make us do." Michael laughs at your repsonse, clearly used to his Ross and his intensity. Jenson also snorts at your remark but fortunately enough, Michael must not hear him over his laugher. You walk the Brit slightly, makinghim quietly grunt at the impact. "Well keep youreslf rested. And see you tomorrow." You give the older man that has become not only your mentor, but near family a soft smile. "Night, Schumi and tell Corinna and the kids I said hi." Michael smiles and walks a few steps and then lingers. "Y/N?" "Yeah?" "Don't stay up too late hm?" You sharply inhale. "What do yo-" You cut yourself off ad you see Michael's knowing look. You go to string together a coherent thought to respond but he beats you to it. "I've been there once too. Just make sure you get some rest, it's the most important thing. The both of you." You feel your cheeks warm and you look down in embarrassment as the German bids you goodnight once more and finally leaves.

You step back and gently click the door closed. Suddenly, you feel warmth around your waist. Jenson enveloped you in his arms and you hum. "He's a perceptive one." You chuckle slightly and Jenson begins to leave open mouthed kisses on the expanse of your neck. "Yeah- well I suppose you don't get 7 world championships for nothing." Jenson pauses and meets your eyes with yet another grin. "Yeah, well I'd be well on my way if there wasn't such a gorgeous distraction on track." You roll your eyes but let yourself grin this time. "Don't be rude Jense, there are far nicer ways to talk about Fernando."

-°•°•°•°•--•°•°•°•°--°•°•°•°•--•°•°•°•°-

Thank you for reading, I hope you enjoyed!

As always, likes, reblogs and especially feedback is always welcome!

Taglist: @nikfigueiredo @mysoulispainted @leclercings @d3kstar @hiireadstuff @a-beaverhausen @nichmeddar @lozzamez3 @stinkyjax @marymustdie @littlesatanicassholebitch @mehrmonga @insanedeathwish @ems-alexandra @a-disturbing-self-reflection @cherry-piee @thatgirlmj

[brf-rumortrackinganon]

Dan Wootton

(The video and the substack article have the same information and graphics/visuals.)

Harry has several anonymous accounts on Twitter and other social media (that he reportedly hates) to monitor how he and Meghan are being covered and talked about.

The Sussexes are fully aware of what Sussex Squad does and directly feed into it. Scobie and Bouzy are in direct contact with the Sussexes. Bouzy and Meghan's PR teams are also in direct contact with many of the Sussex Squad accounts/users. Byline Times is one of Harry's partners.

Sussex Squad has been targeting Wootton since he published Megxit. Wootton's sources include people close to Harry and people close to Sussex Squad.

Sussex Squad created KateGate and began certain rumors about William. Wootton was able to identify the account responsible for starting #WhereisKate and alleging her disappearance is because of William's temper.

Bouzy is most likely the individual responsible for Getty's flagging of KP's pictures and Kate's video statement as being edited and inauthentic.

Wootton hints that Sussex Squad somehow found out about Kate's cancer diagnosis and/or their coordinated attacks on KP (probably via the KateGate hysteria) forced Kate to announce her cancer and treatment plan before she was ready and before she had fully come to grips with it.

Sussex Squad has been spooked off Twitter and now use Discord for their collaboration.

Wootton also identifies and discusses 3 Sussex trolls:

Troll 1 is a techy in NYC who is a close Bouzy collaborator. She is one of the main accounts that have harrassed and targeted Wootton and his partner because of Wootton's critical coverage of the Sussexes. She has publicly admitted to it. She is no longer trolling because it's toxic and allegedly has quit Twitter, though not before claiming that Wootton and his people were threatening to hurt her and her dog.

Troll 2 is a business dude in Tampa. He specifically targets Camilla and has claimed that she is Meghan's main bully and has enlisted Jeremy Clarkson and Piers Morgan in her bullying campaign. He also tries to keep connecting Charles to Germany, and specifically to N*zi Germany.

Troll 3 is a British advertising executive. This individual has alleged that Camilla is responsible for Charles's cancer, because she has been poisoning him since the coronation so she can retire "young."

One of Wootton's bigger points is that if the Sussexes want to be taken seriously as advocates for internet reform/social media protections, then they must publicly disassociate from and condemn Sussex Squad's behavior and activities. He doesn't think they will.

*****************

First, I'm pleasantly surprised by this. I was expecting Wootton to be a little more sensational about his discoveries, but it's clear he's really done his homework and has really spent some time investigating this. If you're into this kind of thing, you might actually enjoy getting his updates so why not sign up for it. Use a burner email, though. You can never be too safe.

Second, I'm not really sure about using Wootton's reporting to validate some of the rumors and theories I'm tracking. On the one hand, Wootton has legit sources and a track record that makes him one of the more reliable reporters. But on the other hand, I like double-confirmation for my verification so I can be sure that it's the absolute truth.

What do y'all think?

[retroghouls-if]

THE STORY

Music has always been a part of you.

You could hold a bow (violin/viola/cello) before you could hold a pencil. Unfortunately, life has catapulted you into a downward spiral. Your college band disintegrates. A close friendship goes up in flames. You’re doing nothing with your life. Death and a personal betrayal have left you bereft. You have never felt more worthless. Everything culminates on the night of your sister’s wedding when you drunkenly form a Faustian contract with the entity that haunts your apartment.

For better and for worse, you are now destined for greatness.

The devil has but one thing to ask in return: absolute domination. You are to conquer anything and everything through the power of good ol’ fashioned rock n’ roll. And you’re not alone. Armed with friends (new and old), a new band, and quite literal hellspawn to help, you are going to conquer the world.

Not because it’s what you want, but because failure is not an option.

Not for any of you.

CONTENT WARNINGS

Retroghouls is intended for mature 18+ audiences for dark topics including abuse, violence, explicit language and sexual content, and more.

FEATURES

Customize your MC from their physical appearance, personality, sexuality to their musical background (violin, viola, or cello), familial relationships, and more.

Choose your band’s concept and determine its overarching message. Is your group activist, a sex symbol, or a harbinger of destruction? Will you tell your fans that they’re not alone? Will you challenge them to persevere no matter what? Or will you encourage them to burn it all down?

Manage your newfound inspiration and the cornucopia of side effects that come with it.

Protect the anonymity of you and your bandmates.

Outwit a demon or two – if you play your cards right.

Romance a cast of troubled individuals.

Make objectively terrible decisions! Ruin lives! Or don’t. You will face the consequences of your actions either way.

ROMANTIC INTERESTS

Camille ‘Ilim’ Vaughan [she/her or he/him] is the drummer of your new group. Having been involved in the music industry for over a decade, they are a person who invokes a myriad of opinions. Both beloved and reviled, Ilim themselves operate in extremes. They make no effort to hide their agenda. So the question follows – what part will you play in the reckoning? [MORE]

Tuesday ‘Needle’ Nelson [he/him or she/her] is the bass of your band’s guitar trio. So, whether it is during concerts, midnight comp sessions, or just casual riffing at hq, they are always close by. Music has always been their one true love and so they’re determined to pour their blood, sweat, and tears into this project. Tuesday has very little else otherwise. [MORE]

Micky Monroe [she/her or he/him] You two took orchestra together in high school and haven’t given a passing thought towards one another since your graduation performance. Now, courtesy your prodigious manager, Micky & Archangels are the feature on your upcoming album. Once the album is done, you’ll surely fade from one another’s lives just like before. Both of you agree, it’ll be just like before. [MORE]

Jack/Jackie Graves [he/him or she/her] is the heart of your PR team, coordinating with managers, publicists, and social media specialists to ensure no unnecessary information about the band leaks. Your privacy is their bread and butter. Your security pays their bills. Don’t mistake their friendliness. Don’t mistake their kindness. It’s just common business to look out for one’s best interests.

[hsdigitalmedia]

Why Choose HS Digital Media For PR Media And Coordination:

Proactive Media Outreach : We proactively shape opportunities, not merely wait for them. Our proactive media outreach ensures that your brand is consistently in the spotlight, reaching your audience through various channels.

Crisis Management : PR is not just about successes; it's also about managing challenges. Our crisis management expertise allows us to navigate through challenges, minimizing impact and maintaining brand integrity.

Comprehensive Reporting : Stay informed with our comprehensive reporting. We provide detailed analytics and insights, allowing you to track the success of your PR campaigns and make informed decisions for future strategies.

Event Coordination : From product launches to press conferences, our event coordination services ensure that every interaction with the media is strategic and contributes to your overall PR goals.

Amplify your brand presence with HS Digital Media's PR Media and Coordination Services. Contact us today to embark on a journey of strategic public relations and seamless brand coordination.

[princess-of-the-corner]

Touya comes out AU:

Reporter: Ms. Todoroki, are you aware of the rumours about your husbands affair with pro hero Selkie.

Rei, who knows the whole story: I have heard them actually. And I would like to put an end to the rumours once and for all.

Rei who is secretly a little shit: They are not having an affair. Affair implies that I am unaware and not encouraging it. I am perfectly ok with letting the boys have their alone time and the whole media circus painting me as some poor foolish woman is ridiculous.

Reporter: ...

Rei: If that is all, have a nice day.

Meanwhile, Endeavour's PR team gets a collective shiver down their backs and the horrible feeling that they are going to have a lot of work in the coming months.

I really need to tag these but also YEaH.

I think the funniest part is that none of them coordinated this they just roll with it

[thecrazygamingzombie]

Helluva Boss/Hazbin Hotel corporate AU:

Wrote this AU with some friends last night and it was too good not to share publically:

Hell is replaced with a massive afterlife based corporation called 'Hell Inc' that handles the production, distribution, and management of all the various types of evil in the world; while also acting as the largest employeer of damned souls in existence and a direct competitor to Heaven LLC.

The company is headed by it's Chief Pride Officer and founder, Lucifer Morningstar, beneath him is the company's Vice President Charlie Morningstar after the former VP retired and disappeared under odd circumstances. Charlie has been trying (and failing) to get the company in some semblance of order and addressing the horrible working conditions that arose as a result of her father's near endless apathy and depression stemming from a millennia of accumulated burnout.

Below them are the six members of Hell inc's board of directors who run the various company departments:

Mammon, Chief Greed Officer (CGRO) and head of the greed department. Which manages the company finances as well as several financial institutions on earth like Banks and Casinos

Beelzebub, Chief Gluttony Officer (CGLO) and head of the gluttony department. They run Hell Inc's marketing campaigns and manages several fast food chains in the human world such as Bee Burger

Asmodeus, Chief Lust Officer (CLO) and head of the lust department. They run Hell inc's production lines in the underworld and various media conglomerates on earth.

Satan, Chief Wrath Officer (CWO) and head of the wrath department. Which handles all security related matters along with war and conflict in the human world, primarily arms manufacturers

Leviathan, Chief Envy Officer (CEO) and head of the Envy department. Which runs Hell Inc's research and development and various construction ventures on earth

And Belphagor, Chief Sloth Officer (CSO) and head of the Sloth department. Which is in charge of all health related company matters along with various hospitals and insurance companies on earth.

Each has their own unique management problems and while they once worked in tandem, which has resulted in a slough of issues from a lack of individual oversight. Such as Greed's severe budget cuts, Envy's ridiculously long working hours coupled with high standards, and employees in Wrath that spend more time arguing than getting things done.

Beneath them are the middle managers, the Ars Goetia, but they're among some of the most useless members of the company. Holding nothing more than figurehead positions to create the illusion of a centralized hierarchy when in reality they just pass their work onto the various supervisors within each department. Recent hire Stella is particularly bad in this way as the only reason she has the position at all was due to the nepotism provided by her brother Andrephelus who works alongside her in the Envy department.

(the only exception is Lust's middle manager Stolas)

Then we have the supervisors, the actual managers of the department divisions who occupy the role of authority figure that the Ars Goetia fail to fill themselves. Notable supervisors include:

Crimson Knolastname: Greed department supervisor overseeing most organized crime with a focus on blackmail activities

Wally Wackford: Greed department supervisor in charge of scams and white collar crimes.

Verosika Mayday: Lust department supervisor and PR manager for the department

Fizzarolli: originally an intern in greed, he was later transferred over to Lust and supervises the roleplay and costume divisions of the lust department

Vortex: the primary event coordinator for the Gluttony department along with new employee orientation

Striker: Wrath department supervisor, handling any and all matters relating to mercenary work and assassinations

Joe and Lin: Wrath department supervisors, the former managing the hand to hand combat division while the latter runs the in house medical center and trains all Wrath Department employees in battlefield aid.

And last but not least are all the rank and file employees that makeup Hell inc's primary workforce. They're usually sorted by species: Baphomets work for the Sloth Department, Imps work for the Wrath department, Succubi and Incubi work for the Lust department, etc. However this is only for their initial probational period, if their skills prove to be more suitable elsewhere in the company then can be transferred into another department.

With one exception: Pride. The department in charge of processing all damned souls at the time of death and general evil relations in the human world

The Pride department is the largest and most chaotic of all of Hell Inc's departments, it's facing an ever increasing workload that it struggles to manage and even with the steady flow of Sinners rolling in to fill vacancies the department is constantly short staffed. So not only are sinners forbidden from being transferred to other departments, but any hellborn that get transferred in Never. Ever. Leave. Getting assigned to the Pride Department is basically a life sentence and it doesn't help that the department itself has basically gained a reputation as a dumping ground for misfit employees that can't properly function in any other department.

To make matters worse, while the other departments have some level of rules and standards when it comes to employee conduct. The Pride Department is left in almost total disarray thanks to every supervisor in the department being blood thirsty corporate climbers who are constantly screwing one another over to gain more recognition in the overall company. The supervisors affectionately nicknamed the Vees: Velvette (social media manager), Vox (IT supervisor), and Valentino (employee recruitment manager) are the absolute worst when it comes to this backstabbing.

However, the biggest problem facing the Pride department is none other than the man eaters in the Demon Resources division. Ran by two supervisors known as Rosie and Alastor, the former handling employee disputes while the later is in charge of terminating employee contracts...and employees. If you get called into Alastor's office, that's usually the last anyone hears of you. The rest of HR isn't much better either as they all tend to be of a similar temperament to their supervisors.

But for all it's mess, VP Charlie genuinely believes she can clean up the company one department at a time; starting with the Pride Department. With the backing of both her father and the HR rep Alastor, she's assembled a solid team of employees willing to help her with the task.

And by that I mean employees that were voluntold to help her:

Husk, former supervisor in charge of managing Hell inc's gambling holdings that had been partially outsourced from Greed's own workers. Alastor had personally handled his demotion after it was found the cat demon had been skimming off the top.

Vaggie, the head of the security division of the Pride Department and Charlie's girlfriend. The rumors of her rise to power via nepotism are matched only by the rumors that she transferred in from Hell inc's rival company, Heaven LLC

Angel, a rank and file employee of pride with no particular specialization who's working directly under Val. He claims he's only on board with Charlie's plan in hopes of getting a promotion, but it's rather obvious he really just wants to get away from his current boss by any means necessary

Sir Pentious, part of the R&D team and widely considered to be one of the worst researchers in the entire company due to the numerous cases of collateral damage he's caused. Charlie's project is not only his last chance to avoid getting a pink slip for both his job and his life, but also to get the professional recognition he so desperately craves

Niffty, once a member of the janitorial team. Nobody knows where she came from or how long she's been working her, only that she's some what of an oddity even by Hell inc standards. The only thing that's certain about her is that she's an employee you should give a wide berth to if you value your personal safety

Meanwhile in the Pride department, a small little clique has formed of low level demons that have transferred in from other departments and work in the revenge division:

Blitzo, the supervisor of the division who's quite skilled at falling upwards. He is completely and utterly incompetent at his job, choosing instead to slack off with the toy ponies he spends his salary on or flirt/sexually harass his coworkers rather than actually performing any administrative duties. The only reason he still has his job is likely due to a 'friend' he has in middle management that keeps covering for him.

Moxxie, an accounting intern that transferred in from greed after a disastrous project with now ex-employee Chaz that resulted in massive losses for the greed department, causing Mammon to dump the 'useless' imp into the Pride department. Usually the one doing Blitzo's job for him, very begrudgingly I might add, and frequently grumbles about his station but secretly enjoys the group he's found. Especially his wife...

Millie, a security guard transferred from Wrath after several complaints in regards to 'excessive force' were leveled against her. Luckily she's adjusted quite well to her new position in the Pride Department even if she tends to drift under the radar more often than not, but she remains optimistic that she'll get a worthwhile promotion someday. In the meantime, she makes use of her spare time tending to her weapon collection or having sexual encounters with her husband around the office; away from most prying eyes

Loona, one of Hell inc's newest hires. Originally slated to be an intern in the Gluttony department, her attitude problems forced Beelzebub to personally see to it that the hound was relocated to a position in the Pride Department for both her own safety and that of her coworkers. Takes after her supervisors slacker tendencies in an apathetic way, spending practically every waking moment glued to her phone, much to Moxxie's frustration.

And that's the lot of the company! We hope you enjoy your stay at Hell Inc! Remember: Today is the first day of your eternal life....

(P.S. you didn't hear this from me, but rumor has it that Heaven LLC has been experiencing plenty of problems of it's own. Such as poor leadership, communication issues, and nepotism even worse than anything seen at Hell Inc. And there's even a few sources that claim that former VP Lilith was seen on their board of directors, but you know how people like to talk.)

[hourcat]

31 for piarles pls 💙

(continued.)

Pierre's heart is in his throat as he stands in the Ferrari garage, fingers twisted in the VIP access badge hanging around his neck. He's been to Abu Dhabi before--training in the offseason, vacations with his influencer friends, even one time when he was a scraggly teenager invited to the Formula One World Championship over a decade and a half ago--but he's never been here. In the garage of the championship-leading F1 car, eyes glued to the screen playing the race out on track: the last two laps of the final race, the championship leader in the lead.

Charles is going to do it. He's going to win it all. Pierre swallows thickly at the sudden emotion that rises in his throat. He is going to win it all. Ten months ago, when he was sitting a good arms-length apart from Charles Leclerc in Fred Vasseur's office, he never imagined the contract he signed would lead him--them--here.

"Go on," he hears from somewhere beside him, and turns to see Silvia standing next to him. She's got a look in her eyes that makes Pierre shiver, some deeper level of knowledge that apparently comes with being the point person for Ferrari's biggest success on the racetrack in over a decade.

"What do you mean," he tries, but he knows what she's saying. The commentary box is going crazy as Charles starts on the last lap. Barring something absolutely disastrous, this is going to be what wins his boyfriend the world championship title.

Fake boyfriend, his brain corrects, and Pierre staggers a little at the reminder. Once the season ends, they're done with all of this--they can coordinate the break-up with the PR firm working overtime back in Maranello, and it'll be one last big cash grab news cycle before Pierre gets back to his bike and his own team and the knowledge that they'll probably have a fucking shot at success next year. The end is in sight.

Pierre's stomach flips at the thought.

"You should be running to parc ferme right now, Gasly," she says with a roll of her eyes, "because your partner is about to become the world champion and he'll be a journalist magnet for at least the next 96 hours."

She...knows. Silvia knows their relationship is for the media, knows that it's all been made up from the very beginning. But the look on her face...

"Shit." The Ferrari garage isn't that far away from where he needs to be, thank god, but the race is speeding to a close and she's right, he needs to get a move on if he's going to congratulate Charles, even just to kiss him one last time before their elaborate ruse ends. "Shit. Shit." Pierre turns on a heel and starts in a full sprint, only noting absentmindedly that he can hear her laughter as he goes.

It doesn't matter, really. All that matters is Charles. All that matters is Pierre being there, cutting through the chaos and the champagne and the confetti to get to his fake boyfriend before the rest of the world grabs hold of him. It's the only thing he wants right now: more than a new bike, more than another contract, more than anything he thinks he's ever wanted.

He skids to a halt at the barrier after colliding with about half of the press members and team staffers alike trying to reach this point. For a fleeting moment, he considers hopping over it--and then remembers the last time someone tried to go up against the unbelievably tight security here at the track and thinks, faintly, he'd prefer to be in one piece when Charles finds him. So he just...waits. Heart in his throat, breath half-frozen in his lungs, Pierre stands at the parc ferme barrier and waits for the eruption of joy and the fireworks to start.

There are no screens here, he realizes belatedly: anything could happen. Anything could be happening right now, without his eyes on it, a whole race of possibilities suddenly jumping to life in his traitorous brain, and he's never even cared about Formula One in his life before but the thought of anyone but Charles winning tonight, taking the championship home, is so nauseating that he has to grab the metal fencing more tightly to stay upright.

But victory comes. There's a flurry of sound all at once, as the world lights up with the victory apparently decided, and it only takes a few moments of listening to know that he'd been foolish to worry. Chants of IL PREDESTINATO rise high in the air from the stands, from the crowd around them, and that could be no one else. Charles did it. Charles won. There are tears on Pierre's face before he even registers he's crying.

"My champion," he says out loud, and remembers the conversation they'd had a lifetime ago, back when they were getting to know one another better--how this was Charles' biggest dream so far. To become champion of the world, if for no other reason than to honor his family name. His father, his grandmother, his godfather. Their old childhood friend who never mentioned a thing about knowing Charles. All people Charles considered family, all people he drives for every single weekend--and he's done it. Fuck, he's done it.

The podium cars pull up to their respective spots and all hop out, enthused enough about the stage and the end of the season to jump on their teams. Pierre watches as the three of them come together to shake hands, then split apart to celebrate with their engineers wildly, and it's so breathtakingly emotional that he chokes on his own breaths, drawn in hastily as he watches Charles get clutched by their beloved ensemble of red. Ferrari is for him. Ferrari has always been for him, but tonight, right now, it's more apparent than ever. As he stumbles away from their arms, unsteady on his feet from delight, Pierre watches as he tears his helmet away and shoves it into the arms of--one of the engineers hanging over the barrier, smile and tears both plastered onto her face. She nods at him. Charles turns, then, and catches sight of Pierre, and--

It's instinct that has Pierre thrust his arms out to grab him tight, tighter than he's ever held anyone before, and press his face into Charles' neck. He's soaked in sweat, he's trembling from exhaustion and emotion and adrenaline, and yet Pierre can't imagine an embrace that feels better than this. He could hold this man here for hours and it would be enough.

Charles pulls back first, though: his eyes are shining, mouth wet and red and trembling, and Pierre can't even think to say congratulations before he surges forward to catch the Frenchman in a full-on kiss. It's messy and formless and they're in front of the world but Pierre can't think to care. He can't be bothered to. It's easy to kiss him back fervently, hungrily, tenderly, because it's real. It's real to him, even if it's not real to the team or to Charles. Tonight, as the clock strikes 10, Pierre realizes that it's been real for a very long time.

When they part for a breath, Charles leans his forehead against Pierre's tiredly. "You're here," he manages, and laughs some soft and barely-there laugh. "Pierre, you're here."

It's almost incredulous sounding. "Of course I'm here," he answers, uncaring about the way his voice breaks on the words. "I love you, where else would I be?" And--well, he certainly hadn't meant for that to come out, but it's not untrue. In fact, he realizes with muted awe, it's truer than he'd even imagined it could be before now. "I love you, Charles." Repeated again, because it's true, it's true, it's true--

"You're stealing my moment," Charles responds with a choked laugh, but he doesn't move away. The hand he'd tangled in Pierre's hair gets firmer, keeps them pressed together for another long moment. "God dammit Pierre. I love you too. Christ, I've loved you longer than I think I even--"

Pierre won't let him finish that thought. Another searing kiss does the talking for him.

(from the i love you prompt meme)

[kayfabesource]

* BACKSTAGE ROLES MASTERLIST !

because there's so much more than photographers and makeup artists. jobs on this list can apply to most any wrestling promotion, so you can find something fun and unique for your oc. i found many of these by searching job titles on linkedin, so they're very much real! if you found this at all helpful, please reblog / like.

(keep in mind many of these titles can have intern, junior, associate, senior, & director titles ahead of them – based on experience. for example: associate producer, or senior producer)

creative.

art director

motion graphics designer

graphic designer

music producer

videographer

photo editor

photographer

costume / gear designer

marketing / pr.

project manager

marketing manager

marketer

social media specialist

social media manager

branding and communications specialist

content manager

media relations

public relations specialist

human resources / talent relations.

human resources coordinator

recruitment manager

hr operations specialist

talent operations

talent relations

travel and logistics coordinator

manager of talent appearances

payroll & benefits manager

personal assistant

production.

producer

production assistant

director

writer

live events.

athletic trainer

lighting designer

live event production specialist

retail

merchandise coordinator

carpenter

broadcast engineer

editor

sound/av engineer

administrative.

information technology (it)

logistics supervisor

administrative assistant

globals sales & partnerships

attorney