MASTERLIST
taglist
formula 1:
lando norris
charles leclerc
football:
mason mount
jude bellingham
gio reyna
gavi
joão félix
marvel:
tom holland
let's talk about Bridgerton tea, my ask is open
Claire Keane

#extradirty

Andulka

Origami Around
Misplaced Lens Cap
Aqua Utopia|海の底で記憶を紡ぐ

tannertan36

Kaledo Art

blake kathryn

PR's Tumblrdome
sheepfilms

⁂
d e v o n

No title available
almost home

Kiana Khansmith

titsay

★
todays bird

seen from United States
seen from United States

seen from Kazakhstan
seen from Sri Lanka

seen from Malaysia

seen from United States

seen from Poland
seen from Germany
seen from Malaysia

seen from United Kingdom
seen from United States

seen from Malaysia

seen from Germany

seen from Malaysia
seen from Brazil
seen from Poland
seen from United States
seen from United States

seen from Malta

seen from United States
@lqvesoph
MASTERLIST
taglist
formula 1:
lando norris
charles leclerc
football:
mason mount
jude bellingham
gio reyna
gavi
joão félix
marvel:
tom holland
Off Season Trouble || MC71
macklin celebrini x bu!reader
summary: You‘re attending BU and your boyfriend has come back into town just in time for Marmon which ends with a little tipsy Macklin
warnings: underaged drinking ig but cmon he‘s canadian…
masterlist
The music is loud enough that it sort of blurs into the background, bass thumping through the floorboards of the frat house while sunlight pours in through half-open windows. It’s too early in the day for this level of chaos, but it’s Boston Marathon Monday, which means nobody cares.
You’re wedged between your friends in the kitchen, red cup in hand, laughing at something that probably isn’t even that funny anymore. The air smells like cheap beer and sweat and something citrusy someone spilled twenty minutes ago. Every few seconds, someone shouts, someone stumbles, someone starts chanting for no reason.
Mack had been fine earlier.
Macklin Celebrini || MC71
The In Between
macklin celebrini x hughes!sister at the olympic final
Off Season Trouble
macklin celebrini x bu!reader at a frat party
3 times, back to back to back, World Champion
Cr.GettyImages (Annice Lyn), edited by me
The In between || MC71
macklin celebrini x hughes!sister
summary: your brother scores the olympic winning goal and while you feel elevated, a part of your heart shatters when you see mack across the ice and you want nothing more than to grab some ice cream and hold him until the hurt disappears
The arena is still roaring when it happens, the kind of sound that feels like it lives inside your chest instead of just around you, your hands pressed over your mouth as you watch the replay flash across the screens again and again, Jack’s overtime goal sealing it, gold for Team USA.
You don’t even remember moving at first, just suddenly you’re on your feet with everyone else, screaming, laughing, your heart racing so fast it almost hurts. The jersey on your back feels heavier now, your last name stretched across it, and the thin chain around your neck shifts when you move, the little “M” pendant resting right against the fabric like it belongs there.
After the Storm || LN4
landonorris x piastri!reader
summary: The aftermath of the Canadian Grand Prix, Lando thinks you surly must be on your brother side, turns out it‘s him you’re seeking out.
a/n: This wad requested but I honestly wanted to write something as well…
word count: 1.2k
The paddock was unusually quiet for a post-race Sunday. Reporters milled around, whispering into microphones and waiting for soundbites—headlines already half-written in their heads.
You’d seen it all from the McLaren hospitality suite. The attempted overtake. The slight misjudgment. The carbon fiber shower as Lando’s front wing made contact with Oscar’s rear tire. Oscar had somehow stayed in the race. Lando hadn’t.
Your stomach was still knotted.
You knew this wasn’t just any DNF. This was a mistake—on the record, and in front of the world. And worse, it was between teammates. One of whom was your brother. The other, your boyfriend.
You slipped past the usual bustle, ducking your McLaren pass into view to avoid the questions and curious glances. Drivers and engineers brushed past you like ghosts. The race was over, but no one was relaxed. Not after that incident.
You stopped outside Lando’s driver room, hesitating for just a second before raising your hand.
A soft knock echoed off the narrow corridor walls.
No answer.
You knocked again.
“Occupied,” came Lando’s voice, clipped, defensive. You could hear the zip of his race suit being peeled down. “If you’re here for Oscar’s damage report, you can save it.”
“I‘m not,” you said gently.
There was a pause. Then the door creaked open.
Lando stood there, shirtless, hair damp and curling around his forehead, cheeks flushed—not from the heat, but from something else. Frustration. Embarrassment. The way his eyes darted away from yours for a moment betrayed it. Like he wasn’t sure which version of you he was about to face—Oscar’s sister or his person.
You stepped in without waiting for an invitation, closing the door behind you.
“I thought you’d be with your brother,” he said quietly, turning his back to you as he pulled on a fresh shirt. He still didn’t look at you.
“I watched it happen,” you muttered, ignoring the question as you stepped closer, taking his arm with quiet insistence.
He gave a small laugh, one with no humor in it and pulled away from you. “Right. You watched me ruin both our races. DNF like a rookie. Get ready for the headlines: ‘Norris Cracks Under Pressure.’ ‘McLaren Civil War.’ ‘Lando vs Piastri: Round One.’”
You reached for his hand where it gripped the edge of the bench, knuckles white with tension. This time, he didn’t pull away, but he didn’t relax either. He just stood there, jaw tight, like he was waiting for a punch that never came.
“Hey,” you said, voice soft. “You didn’t ruin his race but I’m not here to talk about Oscar. I’m here for you.”
That made him look at you—really look at you. And what you saw there broke your heart a little. Hurt. Defensiveness. Self-doubt.
“You’re allowed to mess up, Lando,” you said. “You went for it. You thought you had the move. It happens. No one gets through a season clean—not even the championship contenders.”
“Except I wasn’t just fighting anyone,” he muttered. “I was fighting him. My teammate. Number one rule is not to crash and that’s what I did. What if he’s pissed? What if the team—hell, what if you—are pissed?” He broke off, jaw tightening. “The team’s probably annoyed as hell.”
You shook your head and gently cupped his cheek, your thumb brushing the still-damp edge of his hairline. His skin was cool against your touch, but the heat beneath it—his shame, his anger—was palpable.
“They’ll cool off,” you said. “Oscar’s okay. I talked to him, alright? He’s not mad, I promise. He gets it. He knows the margins are small out there. And I know you—this wasn’t some reckless ego move. You went for it. That’s what racers do.”
That finally earned a faint smirk from him. Barely there, but enough.
“He’s not made of glass, you know,” you added, your tone lightening just a little. “Though I wouldn’t mind if he started acting a bit more breakable sometimes. Would make family dinners more interesting.”
Lando let out a breath, and it sounded a little less heavy this time—like he’d let go of something he didn’t realize he was holding.
“Look,” you said, arms slipping around his waist as you rested your head against his chest. “The media will spin it. The fans will fight about it online. But that’s just noise. You know your intent. And I know you’d never do something like that out of spite.”
He rested his chin on your head, arms slowly circling your back.
“I just hate feeling like I messed everything up,” he mumbled. “Hate giving them something to rip apart.”
“Thanks,” he said against your hair. “For not making me feel like a total idiot.”
You smiled against his chest. “You’re not an idiot.”
“Debatable.”
“Shut up and hug me, Norris.”
Lando let out a quiet breath, the kind that sounded like it carried more than just exhaustion—relief, maybe, or something heavier that he didn’t know how to name. His arms tightened around you, pulling you close, anchoring himself in the only thing right in a day that had gone completely wrong.
He leaned back just slightly, just enough to see your face. His thumb brushed gently along your cheek, his touch featherlight. The look in his eyes was softer now—guard lowered, no cameras, no noise. Just you.
You reached up, fingertips resting at the base of his neck, and tilted your head.
He kissed you—slow, unhurried, like he needed to remember what it felt like to be okay. His lips moved against yours with quiet intention, not trying to prove anything or say too much—just asking for a moment of peace. A pause in the chaos. A second where it didn’t matter what the headlines said or how the race ended.
Just this.
Just you.
When you pulled away, barely an inch, he rested his forehead against yours, his breath mingling with yours in the space between.
“Do me a favor though? Next time you’re gonna crash into your championship rival, at least make sure he’s the one losing out.”
Lando laughed—really laughed this time. His eyes crinkled at the corners, and the tension finally seemed to bleed from his shoulders.
“You’re terrible,” he murmured. “You‘re talking about your brother here.“
“Exactly which is why I‘m allowed to say it,” you said, reaching up on your toes and pressing a gentle kiss to his lips, “and you love me anyway.”
Another chuckle, softer now. He kissed you again, slower this time, and when he pulled you fully into his arms, it felt like the world outside the driver room didn’t exist.
Okay so now… I wanted to give you the opportunity to decide a part of the story as well (and partly bc i couldnt decide myself hihi)
For this story
Header??
1
2
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Girlieeee you are killing me, please give me the next part of keeping it professional😭😭, I NEED TO KNOW HOW THIS ENDSSSSSS
You might find out now🫣
New Story + Sneak Peak
Faking It || LN4
Lando Norris was always the definition of chaos—fast cars, faster nights, and flirty words that made headlines. But after a whirlwind summer filled with blurry club photos and mystery girls, McLaren’s golden boy had burned his halo.
His image was shattered. Sponsors pulled away. Commentators labeled him immature and unstable. The brand he’d built—charismatic, cheeky, adored—was crumbling into something else: a party boy who didn’t take his job seriously.
Across the globe, Y/n L/N was watching her carefully crafted legacy unravel as well. At only nineteen, she was already a living legend: two Golden Globes, one Emmy, and the youngest-ever Oscar winner.
But a single photograph—her leaving a restaurant late at night with the show’s 38-year-old married producer—sparked a fire she never saw coming.
The damage was done. And in Hollywood, gossip always travels faster than the truth.
Two PR nightmares. Two fading crowns.
One solution: date each other.
Publicly. Photogenically. Perfectly.
A clean, committed, headline-ready relationship, planned down to the finest detail.
The rules were simple:
Pap walks.
Subtle touches at race weekends or events.
And no real feelings.
Sneak Peak
You knew something was coming the moment your manager canceled your flight to Milan and booked a one-way ticket to London. No explanations, just a new itinerary and a three-word text: “It’s time. Emergency.”
And now here you are—on the 47th floor of a glass building that smells like money and panic—staring at a panel of lawyers, PR handlers, and your exhausted publicist.
You try to look composed. Polished. Innocent.
You’re wearing the blouse your stylist swore screamed “regretful but mature,” and you’ve been nodding along for the past twenty minutes, even though half of it makes your head spin.
But then they say it.
The actual plan.
And for a second, you genuinely think it’s a joke. A weird, late April Fools kind of thing. A bluff to make the real plan seem more reasonable.
“You want me to fake date…” You pause, blinking at the team of high-powered adults seated around you, “…a Formula One driver?”
You wait for someone to laugh. Or wince. Or clarify that they meant “someone from Formula One PR,” not one of the actual race-around-the-track boys. But no one does.
“Yes,” your PR head confirms with a tone that suggests she’s been up since 4 a.m. fielding firestorms about your reputation. “Lando Norris.”
You blink again. “Who?”
The reaction in the room is immediate. Someone coughs. Your manager looks mildly offended. Your assistant outright gawks like you just asked who Beyoncé is.
“British,” your assistant offers quickly, always eager to bridge the gap between your general indifference and the rest of the world’s obsessions. “Drives for McLaren. Millions of fans. Bit of a wild streak lately. Think… TikTok heartthrob meets sports headlines disaster.”
You frown, grabbing your phone from where it’s half-buried in the folds of your oversized sweater. A few quiet clicks, and you’ve got the search results.
Fast cars. Curly hair. A jawline that could cut glass.
Tabs full of him stumbling out of clubs and grinning like he owns the pavement.
There’s a smirk in almost every photo. Like he knows he’s getting away with something.
“He’s cute,” you murmur, more to yourself than anyone else.
“He’s a disaster,” your publicist snaps, cutting her eyes toward you. “Just like you, apparently.”
You look up slowly.
“The headlines aren’t kind. And we need something clean. Something controlled. Something that doesn’t involve married directors or shady dinner exits or—”
“And faking a relationship with a guy that a so called ‘disaster’ is clean?” you couldn’t help but ask. “That’s why we are the ones controlling the relationship,” your publicist snapped.
“I got it,” you say, holding up a hand. You already know the rest. You’ve been reading it for weeks now. Whispers turned wildfire. “Hollywood’s fallen angel. America’s sweetheart turned scandal.”
You sink deeper into the chair, feeling the plush leather swallow you up as you press your fingers against your temple.
A fake boyfriend.
A tabloid fantasy.
You’d really hoped you were past this kind of PR stunt — the fake romances, the media manipulation, the performative relationships designed to make your name trend for the right reasons. But the truth is, you’re nineteen with a career older than you are, and the sharks are still circling.
And you know exactly what this industry does to girls who become problems.
Keeping it Professional || LN4
Always [13]
landonorris x pr!manager
summary: After Lando's many escapes his team finally decides to get him a new pr manager or how he calls it a 'babysitter'. A relationship that's meant to be strictly professional but after a night out things happen that aren't to professional anymore
a/n: Final chapter!!
3.7k words
masterlist
Abu Dhabi - Final Race weekend
The paddock is tense in that eerie, electric way it only ever gets when something massive is at stake.
Championship weekend.
If Lando wins, he takes the whole thing. World Drivers’ Champion.
The kid who, just six months ago, everyone doubted—who posted shirtless photos from Monaco at 2AM, who laughed too loud, drove you mad with his moods and unpredictability, who sometimes felt like your biggest professional headache—
AHHHHHHHHHH😭😭😭😭😭😭✋🏽✋🏽✋🏽 tis is the first time I'm sending anon ask so sorry for being weird but just wanted to say I recently found your page and I'm so grateful that I did cuz I might be a Lil to obsessed with your writing style 😭😭😭😭 tqsm for the quality content author :)
Thank youuuz
Keeping it Professional || LN4
Out of Our Hands [12]
landonorris x pr!manager
summary: After Lando's many escapes his team finally decides to get him a new pr manager or how he calls it a 'babysitter'. A relationship that's meant to be strictly professional but after a night out things happen that aren't to professional anymore
a/n: This is NOT the epilouge, I promise. But I decided to split the last part because I‘m not completely done writing the rest of it but wanted to give you the first part.
2.6k words
masterlist
Abu Dhabi Grand Prix - Final Race weekend
The interview after FP2 is chaos—exactly the kind of mess you were hoping to avoid. Lando’s back to his old self, the one you spent weeks trying to manage, trying to smooth over. The guy who’d say anything to get a laugh, or a rise, or just to get the attention back on him.
You’re standing off to the side, arms crossed tightly, watching as he grins wide in front of the Sky Sports mic, tossing off jokes like they’re nothing, saying whatever comes to his head without a single filter.
how many chapters will "Keeping it Professional" have????
Will you be mad if I say this was possible the 2nd to last chapter🫣
Keeping it professional || LN4
The breaking point [11]
landonorris x pr!manager
summery: After Lando's many escapes his team finally decides to get him a new pr manager or how he calls it a 'babysitter'. A relationship that's meant to be strictly professional but after a night out things happen that aren't to professional anymore
a/n: Oh oh…
2.8k words
masterlist
Brazil Grand Prix - penultimate race weekend of the season
It’s supposed to be a standard post-quali interview. Lando’s second for the race, not pole, but still a strong result, still a solid position for the fight for the win tomorrow and the championship. He’s relaxed. Buzzed on adrenaline. Smiling the way he does when the race has taken the edge off.
You’re standing just off-camera, arms crossed, headset half-on, keeping one ear on the feed, the other on the room. Normal stuff. Routine.
hii love! loving the ‘keeping it professional’ series! can you please add me to the tag list
I will! And thank you so much, the new chapter is up
Keeping it professional || LN4
Live a little [10]
landonorris x pr!manager
summary: After Lando's many escapes his team finally decides to get him a new pr manager or how he calls it a 'babysitter'. A relationship that's meant to be strictly professional but after a night out things happen that aren't to professional anymore
a/n: the calm before the storm 🫣
3.9k words
masterlist
The heat of the Las Vegas desert clings to everything—your clothes, your hair, the air between breaths. But Lando’s already mid-smirk in front of the Sky mic, hands tucked into his fireproofs, looking a little too pleased with himself for someone still healing.
The reporter starts with the obvious.
“You took a bit of a hit last weekend—how are you feeling now? Back to full strength?”
Hii !! Can i please be added to the keep it professional taglist pleaasee ?? Love it by tha way 🫶🏻🫶🏻
Thank youuu!! And of course ☺️