Insyndiar
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you know that had it once (you know that you want it back) by Parallel_Mirrors
Fandoms: Formula 1 RPF
08 Jul 2025
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Summary
“Max offered me a seat on his plane,” Oscar shrugs, tone level, almost casual. “Said we might as well fly out together.”
Lando stiffens. Something catches in his throat.
“Max?” The name shoots out of him too sharply, too quickly—like it cuts on the way out, jagged and instinctive. His lips curl slightly before he can stop them, the disbelief flashing across his face unfiltered, “You’re leaving with Max?”
Bookmarked by Insyndiar
14 Jan 2026
Bookmarker's Notes
damn girl we messy 😮💨 loooooove the way you characterized them ... the relationships and interactions are all so compelling and work together so well
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Not just any stranger, either. Max Verstappen is standing in front of Oscar, holding the door open with one arm casually resting against it, a small, unnervingly knowing smile on his face as he seemingly waits for Oscar to say something.
“Uh,” is all Oscar can manage.
Max Verstappen laughs a bit, and Oscar is almost positive that he’s about to wake up in bed, with his mom knocking on his bedroom door and reminding him that despite the fact that he’s clearly sustained some kind of head injury, he’s not going to get out of doing his share of the chores for the day.
“You are here to clean the pool, you said?”
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Max notices it first on a Thursday.
Not because anything about Oscar usually draws attention — he’s quiet, reliable, neat, the sort of person who folds his race suit properly after every session — but because lately, he’s been hovering. Not in an annoying way, just… there. Always within a few feet. Always pretending to be busy with something that doesn’t need doing.
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breaker-breaker, break hearts by dizzyizzyhands for fiftyfivechillis (eeryels)
Fandoms: Formula 1 RPF
19 Dec 2025
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It’s not that Oscar minds not talking (in fact he prefers it) but Max has always unsettled him slightly. It’s not Max’s intensity that bothers Oscar, because he’s similarly intense, but just the legend of him; he’s got a lion on his helmet and five championships under his belt, and he can drive from the pit lane to the podium in under sixty laps.
So they just sit there in the quiet for a while.
Something prods at Oscar’s brain about ten minutes in. Poking curiosity. Like someone’s asking him how he feels, genuinely, not the press-ready answer, thanks. He looks at Max, who raises an eyebrow.
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Legendary music producer Lee Jihoon is absolutely done with people. Holed up in a mansion on a rural island, he lives by one rule: silence is sacred. So when a film crew led by his ridiculous best friend, Mingyu, invades his mansion, Jihoon's peaceful exile goes up in smoke.
"Please, Jihoon. Can't you spare your best friend six months of slight discomfort?"
Jihoon groaned. “No. Absolutely not. Fifty people? In my house?”
“Technically forty-eight. They’re super respectful! It’s just... temporary."
A vein throbbed in Jihoon’s forehead. He reached up to itch it, stomach gurgling unpleasantly with the remains of rice that had been happily swallowed by a peaceful, past version of himself, one who had been blissfully unaware of the impending trauma he was about to put himself through.
Bookmarked by Insyndiar
16 Nov 2025
Bookmarker's Notes
incredible fic to read at 5 in the morning when nothing feels real i thought i was losing my mind in the best way possible 10/10 everyones a little insane but in the perfect way