bortoletog

[bortoletog]

gabi's first points right after i make this blog congrats bortoletog you are now a lucky charm lets go team

[bortoletog]

ok... listen to me... a franco colapinto enemies to lovers but it is just him following gabriel's group of friends in the world cup and reader just trashes argentina's national team and he quips back saying that brazil last hope was a decrepit neymar

[bortoletog]

GABRIEL BORTOLETO SAYS: VAMOS, PORRA!

thea, 20+, brasil (gabi's neighbor!) / this is a side blog (!) — inbox status: open

Q3: control, verb — oscar piastri (teaser) Q2: franco colapinto and brazilian reader world cup au

[bortoletog]

control, verb [ T ] - teaser

PAIRING: Oscar Piastri x F!Reader.

GENRE: workplace romance, character study (?), smut.

FINAL WORD COUNT: unknown.

AUTHOR'S NOTE: This is my first formula 1 work so I'm testing the waters, and i'm posting a teaser to hold myself accountable and actually finish this.

Control.

If the world had dictionaries with people's names in it, the word control would follow right after Oscar's name.

Followed by synonyms like: Discipline. Restraint. Composure.

And all the people around him would agree. 

ok easy. And to a certain point, it was. Until you.

IT STARTED ON THE PRE SEASON, he was checking his phone between his ungodly meetings with aerodynamics and electronics engineers, when you approached him carrying a load of paperwork.

“Thank God I found you,” you let slip out of your mouth before you went into your working mode. You extended your hand to him, said your name and started rummaging through the files, “I am in the logistics team by the way. I tried to have a one on one with you but the team said you were all scheduled, even if I told them that this might all go to waste if you sit out on 8 races because you don't have a visa.”

Oscar's mind went into overload. At first he thought it was the amount of information he had been hand fed by engineers.

He forgot the bigger picture and focused on the details - the way you moved your mouth with every syllables, the curve of your hair against your neck and how that traitorous hair always moved back even though you pushed out off the way, the way there was a single drop of sweat making its way to your collarbone, how soft your hand felt when you handled him a copy of the needed documents and deadlines. 

It shifted something inside him. And for the first time in his life he thought about being reckless.