mdynotes: i wrote this after brazil's defeat in the world cup, and initially I wasn't going to post it, but it ended up being quite nice to share! 🇧🇷
Lamine was training for a few extra hours today, but he promised to get there as soon as possible to watch the game with you.
And he managed to arrive 15 minutes before the game started.
This game was very important; if Brazil lost, they would have to go back home, and that made your heart tremble and ache inside.
Even though Spain was in the World Cup, he would still have cheered along with you. He's your boyfriend after all.
Time was passing very quickly, it was already the second half and your hopes were lost. It was 2-0 for Norway.
You with your obviously sad and disappointed expression, saw at the last minute the referee award a penalty to Brazil.
Your heart was practically leaping out of his chest, Neymar prepared for the goal and scored. But unfortunately, it was all for nothing; Brazil had been eliminated.
Your throat was ached from shouting so much; the game was over, and so was your joy.
Seeing your country eliminated in such a humiliating way was such a terrible feeling.
The atmosphere was tense, Lamine didn't know how to comfort you after all this, but he was already thinking of a thousand ways to cheer you up. He quickly turns off the TV, drawing your attention.
"mi amor" ("my love") He says, standing up quickly and going over to you to hold your hands. You remained silent the whole time, you didn't want to talk, you didn't feel like it.
"i can imagine how sad you must be right now, i'm so sorry." he says in his soft, comforting voice.
You swallow hard, feeling your throat burn.
"but let's do something to cheer you up, shall we?" he says, holding your hands firmly and forcefully lifting you up.
"i'm not really in the mood…" you say in a dejected tone, letting go of his hand.
"por favor, mi amor" ("please, my love.") He pleads softly while clasping his hands together and making a "please" gesture, which warms your heart.
You sigh "okay." trying to cheer yourself up.
"great!" he says with a broad smile.
The first thing he decided to do was order one of your favorite desserts.
While the order was being placed, he went to your room and chose two warm and comfortable pajamas (one of the tackiest ones you two had).
"are you really going to want to wear these pajamas?" you ask suspiciously, laughing at your boyfriend's face as he holds the hanger that holds the pajamas.
"¿no es obvio?" (isn't it obvious?) he says ironically, making you roll your eyes.
You both change clothes and you feel more cheerful while Lamine laughs in disbelief that he was actually wearing that.
"kenye would love these pajamas," you comment, chuckling softly.
"let's take a picture to show him later!" he says, grabbing his phone. He adjusts his phone to the best angle of the two of you (not that it was hard to find), and the photo turns out super cute with you both smiling in your matching pajamas.
"it turned out really good!" you say, looking at the photo.
"of course it did, with a girl as beautiful as you in it." he said, kissing your cheeks several times making you laugh softly.
"stop, it tickles, bebé!" You spoke while still laughing as he kissed your cheeks and stole a quick kiss.
"no pude contenerme" (i couldn't hold back). The doorbell rings, signifying that the desserts have arrived.
"i'll answer the door, can you choose a movie for us to watch?" he asks more as a suggestion than a request, quickly going to the door to receive the sweets.
You quickly sit down on the sofa and turn on the TV to choose a movie to watch. He quickly returns and sits down with the heavy bag.
"wow, that was quite a lot" you say.
"all to please you, babe" he says, giving you a quick peck. You laugh shyly and press play on the movie.
"people say this one is really good!" Lamine comments while tasting some of the cake.
"i hope so!" you say excitedly, choosing which dessert you're going to get.
However, you ended up falling asleep halfway through the end of the movie.
Lamine laughed, knowing this would happen sooner or later, and kissed your forehead and stroked your hair, making you hug him so both of you could cuddle.
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wc: 1k | brazilian!reader | nasty language barrier | timeskip!hinata | heavy petting | oiled up massage | PDA | tan lines | mention of blackmail | consent king | begging for the tip | mutually horny strangers | Ი𐑼 i hope this finds the right freaks
"ahhhh... so hottt ! "
you melt right into your favorite beach chair, chin kicked back as you adjust a pair of thin sunglasses to cover your wandering gaze.
that delicious pro volleyball player from japan is out here once again. without fail he is always sweating on your private beach, hitting a ball with his tall friends. night and day. no matter the weather.
that bright-haired vixen has served as your guilty pleasure on your after-work decompression time for weeks now. sometimes, when the sun isn't out, you even watch him play from your window.
it feels dirty, sometimes, as you set up in a spot just right for staring. but you gotta keep the tan up, after all. he just happens to practice on your family's property (blissfully unaware) and you just happen to keep a close eye on him. in case he's not so clueless and tries to leave trash or loiter in a less sexy, productive way.
you didn't know who he was at first, but after posting a pic online, you got a shocking amount of fans asking where you were- how you knew the professional athlete- when it was taken- you quickly deleted it and didn't bother anymore with your socials.
you wanted him all to yourself, and you had a sneaking suspicion this was the only way to do it.
when they take their break, you approach him as he's digging around in their cooler.
when he looks up at you, he quickly looks right back down, bright red. he puts his hand on his neck, sheepish, at your string bikini. it was easier when you were far away, watching their skirmishes, but even that was distracting.
you laugh, and call him adorable, but he doesn't speak your language at all.
he notices what your holding and tries to speak some English as a middle-ground.
"ton-mm- tan- lines," he motions to all of you, your skin, and your eyes widen. you understood that! you laugh, nodding.
you pose and tell him you work hard for it, like he does with his precious volleyball.
his curious eyes roam ravenously over your body. you take the attention well-- it's cute that he's not as accustomed to it as you are.
of course, you simplify anything you say.
because there's nothing better than what you can communicate with your hands. you shake your homemade tanning oil and motion to yourself, then back to your flattened chair.
he hasn't stopped gawking at you, so it's no surprise that he goes right along with it.
his arm flexes as he flips his sunglasses back over his eyes and takes your bottle carefully. he calls something back to his group and they continue their game without him.
he tilts his head at the hypnotic way you walk on the sand, studying how you stretch onto your belly, and trust him -a total stranger- to help you out. he stumbles a little and fiddles with the cap. some of it spills prematurely onto your back.
you tense and give him a look as he -probably- apologizes.
but, he figures it out. soon you're humming, as his muscular hands spread warmth all over your shoulders.
"mmm..." you smile, eyes closed. his shorts are already straining.
he tests exactly how much you're asking for by teasing the tips of his fingers under those skinny, flimsy straps.
you give him a beautiful, giggly grin in return.
wet fingers start slipping into all the right places. your heartbeat pulses hard between your thighs as his thick fingertips sweep once again under your bikini strings.
the pads of his thumbs massage and work the stress out of your lower back. just a fraction of his strength is making your heart flutter, reminding you why you want him so bad.
it's full-on massage as he takes the oil down your legs in long, strong strokes. minutes later, when he's gripping and groping back up, he straddles you to get both sides evenly. he takes his time, but he's greedy, and doesn't shy away from fully oiling up your ass.
you mutter whiny profanities under your breath, and all it does is make him rougher, muttering back at you through heavy, dreamy, sighs.
you don't give a damn that you can't understand his words.
as he disregards your top, in its totality, and swipes the sides of your breasts, down your ribs, and takes all the weight of your heavy hips upwards-- you gasp and bite the towel you're using as a pillow.
he's pushing, pulling at your tender hips, thumbs working into the hard and muscled flesh of your ass. it's one thing short of what you need.
you're already coiled up so tight with barely any stimulation.
"just the tip--," you gasp, "just the tip, please-"
you tell him this, but he doesn't give it to you. you can feel his thick cock through his shorts, getting jammed between your ass. you arch into him, soaking wet at this point from way too much body oil and your own overactive lust.
you look back at him, eyes pleading, to fuck you right here. on your private beach. you were willing to blackmail him at this point if only he'd understand it.
you can't tell if he even sees you through his sunglasses-- and as you realize he won't pull it out, your heart sinks.
you had to de-escalate.
"mm-!" unable to take it anymore, you push yourself up to flip over.
he retracts right away and stands up on the sand instead. intimidated and apologetic at your sudden movement.
"hurry up," you relax onto your back with a little chuckle.
he doesn't understand. he keeps his head ducked toward you. his hands are stained sparkly and dark from your shimmery oil - along with the front of his briefs.
you click your tongue at him, cooing, and motion with your palms to come forward. you guide his hands and slide them all down your tummy.
"ahh- sorry, sorry," he nods quickly, relieved, and realizing what you want at last.
he never gets as rough as he was. you figured he was maybe an ass-guy. or that he never recovered from the shock of simply considering you might've been turned off.
by the end, he's squatting beside you and giving the last of a lovely forearm massage. you smile, a little shy now, at each other.
"good?" he gives a thumbs up, cocking his head at you.
you grin, nodding along, and giving a thumbs up, "good!"
before he can turn to go, you beckon him closer.
you sit up, just to meet him halfway. you know he won't comprehend a word of what you say, but you take your sweet time to whisper many dirty confessions in his ear.
every hair of his stands up- his grip on your hand tightens, his breath again becoming uneven.
then, while he's shivering, and a total lust-drunken mess -staring at your mouth and getting closer to your lips, you shove your phone into his chest and knock him on his butt, back into the sand with another playful giggle.
links. my masterlist. more haikyuu. my inbox.
taglist. @thisiswhereishitpostalot @megapteraurelia @integers @babybird-meena
Ი𐑼 postnote. experimenting with format :P
gata, vc faria uma história do 81 com uma namorada brasileira? pode ser em inglês mesmo, na linguagem q te deixar mais confortável. talvez filha de algum engenheiro de corrida ou algo assim, jornalista talvez? vc que sabe. perdão se a req em português for chata, mas é mt legal ver outra brasileira por aq hahaha
Oii, seu pedido é uma ordem🫡 hahaha. Tudo bem, pode fazer o pedido em qualquer das duas línguas e obrigada por confiar em mim para pedir uma história. Não sei como você queria que eu conduzisse a história, espero que goste e tenha uma boa leitura, docinho🍬🇧🇷
I'M BRAZILIAN TOO
Oscar Piastri X Brazilian!fem!reader
Summary: All five times Oscar fell even more in love with Brazilian culture and his girlfriend, despite them having been together for years.
Words: 5.4K+
Warnings: Relationship established, Y/n is half British and half Brazilian, Y/n is also an intern at McLaren headquarters, mention of separated parents (but no trauma), british father and engineer, brazilian mother, many references to Brazilian culture (food, words in Portuguese, music, clothes and customs), cute, romantic, Oscar is such a sweet and caring boyfriend, happy, sweet and romantic.
Author: English is not my first language (🇧🇷🫡🩷), so please excuse any spelling, grammar, or slang errors that may appear in the story. My profile is always open for story requests, either individual or for my universes. 🇧🇷🩷
MASTERLIST
Long before the weight of an official commitment or the glare of the Formula 1 spotlight shone on the couple, Oscar Piastri was already submerged in a silent enchantment with Y/n.
Getting to know Y/n was like reading a book whose pages became more beautiful each day.
Oscar admired the way she genuinely gave of herself; she was the kind of person who, even on her most chaotic and lost days, would reach out to guide someone else. There was a practical gentleness in her gestures, an altruism that didn't seek camera flashes or paddock recognition, but simply sprang from her very essence.
To the world, they might have been mere favors; to Oscar, they were extraordinary acts of rare humanity.
Although the father's surname and British heritage were present, it was the mother's Brazilian DNA that pulsed most strongly in Y/n.
Oscar saw Brazil in her through signs that needed no translation: in her attentive listening, in the light and welcoming touch on her arm, and in that smile that began in her eyes, illuminating her face long before it reached her lips.
Inside the technological and sometimes cold headquarters of McLaren, Y/n was the splash of color for the Australian. For Oscar, being there brought a curious feeling of "home," a concept he was still defining, but which certainly bore her mark.
He didn't love a stereotype, but rather the intense and welcoming woman who taught him, every day, the beauty of experiencing the world in a Brazilian way.
1- Brazilian food
At least once a week, the apartment was filled with aromas that transported Oscar to the other side of the ocean. That night, he was finishing setting the table, casting curious glances into the kitchen, trying to guess what the culinary surprise of the week would be.
Y/n was focused by the stove, the ingredients scattered across the counter as she mixed something with absolute dedication.
Oscar approached silently and peered over her shoulder. He noticed her eyebrows slightly furrowed in concentration and the adorable detail of one foot resting on the calf of the other leg as she stirred the pot.
He let out a low laugh and went back to the counter.
"Can I know now what my Brazilian girlfriend is cooking?"
Y/n chuckled, without taking her eyes off the rice she was stirring carefully to prevent it from sticking.
"Arroz carreteiro." She replied matter-of-factly.
Oscar wrinkled his nose, his brain processing the unfamiliar phonemes. "Arroz... what?"
She laughed, finally looking at him for a second. "Car-re-tei-ro."
"Arroooz..." Oscar repeated the first part, but froze on the second, trying to mentally organize the words in the Portuguese language.
Her laughter echoed through the room.
"Okay, you got half the word right," she said, smiling tenderly as she watched him persist in pronouncing it.
Y/n repeated the name slowly, separating each syllable as if giving a valuable lesson. Oscar followed suit, as if memorizing important telemetry.
"It's a very traditional recipe from southern Brazil," she explained, turning her attention back to the fire. "It was made by the carreteiros, people who traveled long distances carrying goods in carts pulled by oxen. They used what they had: dried meat, rice, simple seasonings... It fed everyone around the table."
Oscar remained silent, but not out of lack of interest. At that moment, he thought about how incredibly lucky he was to be the recipient of so much love translated into food.
When Y/n turned off the stove, she tilted her head in a silent invitation. Oscar approached and put his arm around her waist, leaning in to see the result. Hot steam rose, carrying an intense aroma of spices and meat that made him inhale deeply and excessively.
Y/n turned her face to him, laughing sweetly at his reaction. "Do you think this is good?"
"The smell tells me so." Oscar replied with a knowing smile, winking at her.
She shook her head, amused, as Oscar carried the heavy pot to the table. Y/n served the dishes and Oscar opened the wine he had chosen especially for the occasion, sealing their weekly ritual.
As soon as they sat down, Oscar took his first bite. Y/n watched him over her wine glass. The effect was immediate: the pilot's shoulders relaxed instantly, his eyes closed in pure pleasure, and he chewed slowly, letting the flavors reveal themselves.
It was his classic reaction of surrendering to her cooking.
"So? How's it going?"
Oscar opened his eyes, covering his mouth with his hand for a moment before looking at Y/n.
"Are you kidding? It's wonderful!" His eyes sparkled. "I know I always say this, but arroz carreteiro is definitely my favorite Brazilian dish!"
His effort to speak slowly made Y/n laugh, but a warm feeling spread through her chest when she saw how much he valued her culture.
"My mother would love to hear you say that. To say that finally someone understood her food... even without ever having eaten it."
"So, does that mean I'm officially approved by my Brazilian mother?"
"Yes! And with respect." She replied promptly. "But only because you make an effort to pronounce the recipe's name."
"That takes courage." Oscar joked.
Her laughter filled the comfortable silence that followed. Oscar savored each bite as if he wanted that moment to last forever.
"When I was little..." Y/n continued after a while, her voice soft. "My mother never let Brazil get too far away. Even living here in England, she would make these dishes on random days to ease her homesickness. My father always had that same satisfied look on his face that you just had."
"So this is a standard reaction?"
"Perhaps for those who truly like it." Y/n smiled. "The silence, the closed eyes... it was exactly like that."
"I'm honored to be a part of this legacy." Oscar dramatically placed his hand on his chest, making her laugh again.
"She used to say that culture isn't just where you come from. It's what you insist on carrying within yourself."
Oscar nodded, his gaze deep. "Now it makes sense that you're like this."
"Like what, love?"
"Hot. Present. Intense." He replied with a simplicity that disarmed her. "Even far from Brazil, you never let him leave you."
Y/n felt her eyes welling up slightly with happiness. "Maybe that's why I make a point of taking you there whenever we can."
"And I would do it all again. Including learning how to pronounce the name of that recipe in front of your mother without sounding like I'm begging for help."
Y/n took a sip of wine, looking at him with all the love she felt. "One day you'll get there."
After dinner, there was also a Brazilian dessert, a typical sweet that made Oscar exclaim in surprise and delight, eliciting more laughter from Y/n.
And while he praised the dessert with youthful enthusiasm, Oscar realized that his journey wasn't just about falling in love with a new culture or exotic flavors. It was about falling in love, repeatedly and ever more deeply, with the woman who made his world so much more colorful and full of life.
2- Teaching how to dance forró
The late afternoon sun tinged Oscar's apartment with shades of amber and peach.
Y/n was comfortably sprawled on the sofa, her feet resting on Oscar's lap. He, in turn, kept one hand on her ankles, gently stroking them slowly and rhythmically, while the other held a management book that Mark had recommended to him.
Oscar had a slightly distressed expression; the book was terribly boring, but he felt a professional obligation to finish it.
Y/n was distractedly browsing TikTok when a video caught her attention: an older couple dancing forró, gliding across the floor with enviable ease. She smiled, her eyes sparkling with a sudden idea.
Looking up, she saw Oscar massaging his temple, clearly exhausted from the technical reading. She stifled a giggle and stood up abruptly, causing him to look at her over his glasses, confused but immediately intrigued by her movement.
"Come here, you need to rest a little." Y/n stopped in front of him, stretching out her arms in an invitation.
"I'm resting." Oscar pointed to the book, but the grimace he made next betrayed him.
"No, I know this book is boring!" Y/n exclaimed. Oscar laughed, closing the book with a snap of relief. "Come here!"
Oscar stood up and paused before her, his hands finding their natural way to Y/n's waist.
"What are you doing, darling?" he asked, watching her pick up her phone and quickly open YouTube.
"Let's dance!" Y/n flashed a radiant smile.
Oscar nearly choked, letting out an incredulous laugh. "What?"
"I'm going to teach you how to dance forró."
"I'm the worst guy you could ask that of. I'm not a proper dancer." He laughed, but didn't back away; on the contrary, he moved closer, driven by curiosity and the sparkle in her eyes.
"I'm not a professional either, I'm just going to teach you what I learned on TikTok two minutes ago." Y/n pressed play on the music and pressed her body against his.
"Okay, I trust you, Brazilian girl! But... if I step on your foot, do you promise not to break up with me?" Oscar asked, feeling her hands patiently adjusting his.
"I promise, love." Y/n replied, suppressing a laugh. "But only if you listen to me."
"I always listen to you." he stated promptly.
Y/n rolled her eyes in amusement, but moved even closer. She guided one of his hands to the center of her back, while the other remained intertwined with hers, palm to palm.
Oscar's body, accustomed to the tension of the cockpits, relaxed instantly. That chest-to-chest fit felt more natural than he could ever have anticipated.
"Take it slow, okay? Forró isn't about rushing. It's about feeling." Y/n began to guide the first steps, a gentle side sway.
Oscar took a deep breath, concentrating. "Okay... I know how to feel."
She let out a loud laugh, throwing her head back, but didn't stop moving, maintaining the rhythmic pace of her feet.
At first, the movements were timid and somewhat mechanical. A short step to the left, another to the right. Oscar looked at his feet for a second, trying to decipher the logic, but soon gave up on the technique. As soon as he fixed his gaze on Y/n's face, the connection flowed.
The dance started to go well, and her very Brazilian smile made Oscar's heart skip a beat.
"You're doing great!" Y/n praised sincerely. Oscar raised his hand and twirled it, a little awkwardly.
"Is that you being politely Brazilian or just British?" he teased.
"Gently Brazilian." Y/n replied without hesitation, taking advantage of the moment he pulled her back to steal a quick kiss.
Excited by the success of the spin, Oscar attempted a bolder step. His foot slipped and ended up hitting Y/n's toe. She let out a little laugh, more from surprise than from the impact, and quickly adjusted her posture.
A few seconds later, clunk...another light stomp.
Y/n laughed again, a sweet sound without any trace of judgment, while Oscar grimaced with pure guilt.
"Okay, statistically, this has become a problem. I can't take a step without stepping on you," Oscar commented, laughing and looking at the floor as if apologizing to her feet. "I swear I'm not trying to sabotage the dance."
Y/n squeezed his hand affectionately. "It's okay, love, it's always like this at the beginning."
"You say that very calmly to someone who just had their foot crushed twice."
"It's because you're learning." she said sweetly. "Now, pay attention to me..."
Y/n paused for a moment, rearranging their positions. The music was ending, but she didn't even bother to restart it now; the silence only made the moment more focused.
"Follow my body, not my feet." she explained, starting the movement again. "One... two... sway. Now switch."
Oscar followed along, chuckling softly each time he nearly lost his balance, but quickly correcting himself. "So it's less about thinking... and more about feeling?"
"Exactly, love!"
Y/n guided the step and at the right moment, commanded: "Now turn!"
Oscar executed the movement and pulled her back firmly, bringing her very close. Y/n laughed happily, and Oscar felt he could stay there forever.
Gradually, Oscar's mental counting faded. The rhythm ceased to be a rule and became something lived. He no longer stepped on it; their bodies began to understand the tempo of the music, the natural sway. Oscar spun it again, this time with impressive fluidity, following the Y/n axis as if he were a veteran of the dance floor.
Upon bringing her back, he intuitively took the wheel.
Oscar moved his body in sync with hers, adjusting the pressure of the embrace when he felt her breath against his neck. Y/n smiled, a calm and proud smile.
The music stopped. Oscar, in a playful impulse, spun Y/n toward the sofa so she could reach her phone. She let out a loud laugh, surprised by the maneuver, and looked at him before choosing the next track.
"Do you want to continue?"
"Obviously!" Oscar smiled, pushing his glasses onto the top of his head, completely forgetting that he could simply take them off.
Y/n pressed play on another song, and this time, Oscar didn't wait. He immediately started leading her around the room.
"I like this..." He murmured close to her ear. "It doesn't feel like dancing. It feels... like home."
Y/n raised her eyebrows, amused. "See? Dancing can be deceiving."
"Everything that comes from Brazil is deceiving," Oscar replied, smiling slightly. "It seems simple, but it completely captivates you."
"Oh, really?" Y/n chuckled softly, tilting her head and letting herself be carried away. "Careful, soon you'll want to learn how to dance at a June Festival."
"I don't know what that is, but I think we should put it on the team's next dinner menu!"
Y/n laughed, throwing her head back.
They spun around in an improvised way, and when Oscar exaggerated his step and almost tripped, the laughter was mutual. The fear of making a mistake had been replaced by the joy of being together.
Y/n hummed a line of the song in Portuguese. Oscar spun her around again, and when they were facing each other again, she touched his cheek affectionately.
"Thank you for trusting me."
"I would trust you with my eyes closed," Oscar replied sincerely. "Even if I danced something I learned five minutes ago."
"You're doing great, really. Next time we go to Brazil, you can dance with my grandma!"
"Sure, thanks! I'll practice my stomps until then." He winked, making her smile.
Without saying anything more, Oscar rested his forehead against hers. Y/n closed her eyes, a smile still playing on her lips, and adjusted her rhythm to something almost imperceptible. Her feet barely left the ground now; it was just a sweet sway, an endless back and forth, as if the rest of the world didn't exist outside that embrace.
3- Brazilian stereotypes
The sun in Woking seemed to have taken the day off, hidden behind a thick layer of grey clouds that made the afternoon typically languid.
During a strategic break between technical meetings, Oscar, Lando, Y/n, and some other interns sought refuge on one of the spacious sofas on the upper floor of McLaren. The atmosphere was one of total relaxation; bodies sprawled out casually while the conversation drifted to the cultural peculiarities of the countries they visited throughout the Formula 1 season.
"I really miss the simple things." Lando commented, sinking further into the armchair. "Like a decent cup of tea. No matter where I am, I always end up making it the way my mother used to."
One of Y/n's fellow interns chuckled. "That's very British coming from you."
"I grew up like this." Lando shrugged, unfazed by the teasing. "Even traveling the world, some things just stay with you."
"I understand perfectly..." Y/n smiled, joining the conversation. "I also really like Italian culture, for example. The way everything revolves around family, food, vineyards... People are extremely kind. It seems like nobody is afraid to live life intensely."
"You always notice these things, don't you?" Lando observed, genuinely interested in her perception.
"Because that's what culture is. Specifically, it's how people connect," Y/n explained. Beside her, Oscar simply nodded in silence.
He was in a state of near lethargy. Leaning back on the sofa, his heavy eyes fighting sleep, he let himself be carried away by the touch of Y/n's fingers. She was slowly and absentmindedly caressing the back of his neck, in such an automatic way that he barely noticed she was doing it.
The conversation continued smoothly until two of the interns exchanged a knowing glance and chuckled, making a comment that suddenly weighed on the air in the room.
"Ah, Brazil is basically all about beaches, carnival, and chaos, right?" one of them said.
"Yeah, that's true!" The other agreed, laughing lightly. "Everything's delayed, hot, and full of noisy people."
The atmosphere changed instantly. Lando, who had been almost lying down, leaned forward, his relaxed expression replaced by visible discomfort. Oscar opened his eyes at the same time, his body losing its limpness and becoming alert. Y/n raised her eyebrows, the caress of Oscar's hair stopping abruptly as she processed the level of rudeness she had just heard.
The two boys noticed the sudden, icy silence. "What? Did we say something wrong?"
"Yes..." Y/n replied, taking a deep breath to maintain her composure and elegance. "And you all know I'm Brazilian, right?"
They both froze, their faces losing color. "Oh, that's right."
"Sorry, we didn't mean to be rude -"
"But they were!" Y/n interrupted. Her voice wasn't loud or aggressive, but it possessed an unwavering firmness. "And Brazil isn't just what you described. Excuse the lecture, but perhaps you only know the most superficial and stereotypical version of it..."
With a pedagogical patience, Y/n began to describe her country, not as a tourist destination, but as one describes her own soul.
She spoke of the North, of the grandeur of the rivers that are veritable highways, and of the strength of the indigenous cultures that preserve the forest. She described the Northeast as a cradle of musicality and resilience, rich in history and unique cuisine. She passed through the Midwest, speaking of the connection with the land and the immensity of the horizons. She explained the accelerated diversity and vibrant contrasts of the Southeast, and concluded with the South, detailing its own traditions, the cold climate, and the European influences that shaped the region.
She presented a pluralistic Brazil, a continent disguised as a country that could never fit into a box of "mess and noise".
The two boys, now visibly embarrassed and remorseful, remained silent, absorbing the cultural lesson they had just received.
Oscar, however, was on another plane. He watched Y/n with a discreet smile and an uncontrollable glint of pride in his eyes.
He admired her demeanor, the way Y/n didn't need to shout to be heard, only to be herself: confident, intelligent, and passionate about her roots.
For him, seeing Y/n defend her identity with such class was one of the most romantic things he had ever witnessed.
Later, after work, the couple walked towards the parking lot. Oscar carried Y/n's bag, while she stared at the ground, her shoulders slightly slumped from the exhaustion of an intense day under the demanding supervision of her own father in engineering.
Once they were settled in and the engine was started, the comfortable silence was filled by his soft voice.
"You were amazing today."
Y/n turned her face away, surprised by his tone of voice, which mixed seriousness and tenderness.
"Amazing?"
"Yes! And I was very proud of you too."
"Why, love?"
"From the way you spoke," Oscar replied calmly, looking her in the eyes. "You didn't raise your voice. You didn't attack anyone. You just... explained with love."
Y/n sighed, resting her head on the seat. "I only told the truth."
"You defended your culture without turning it into a fight. You made them really think about what they said."
"But sometimes it gets tiring having to keep repeating the obvious to these people," she confessed quietly.
"I know!" Oscar said, lowering his voice even further, making the atmosphere more intimate. "If more people had the patience and firmness you had today, the world would be a very different place. And I would have a lot less work in the paddock."
Y/n laughed and looked at him, her eyes shining with the warmth of his words. "Do you really think so?"
"I'm sure of it! You talk about Brazil and it makes me want to be there."
She smiled sweetly and extended her hand to him. "Thank you for standing by my side."
"I always stay!" Oscar smiled, taking her hand and bringing it to his lips for a long kiss. "But today... I fell a little more in love, if that's even possible."
Y/n chuckled softly, shaking her head. "More in love? You're exaggerating, Oscar Piastri."
"I'm not! It's just that you always find a way to remind me exactly why I chose you."
Y/n squeezed his fingers, feeling her chest warm, as the car drove along the roads of Woking, transforming the grayness of the day into something much more vibrant and welcoming.
4) Homesickness
Inside the apartment, the only source of light was the soft glow of the TV, which was playing some random movie that neither of them was paying attention to.
Oscar and Y/n were intertwined on the sofa; she nestled between his legs, her head resting on his chest. Oscar's hand moved with hypnotic slowness, his fingers caressing strands of her hair, losing themselves in the locks in a gesture of pure comfort and presence.
Y/n remained silent for several minutes. Moments before, she had shown him a photo sent in the group chat: her maternal family gathered in Brazil, a lavish table, broad smiles, and arms linked at a birthday party that Y/n had been unable to attend due to the demands of the season at McLaren.
After putting her phone away, the sparkle in her eyes seemed to dim slightly, replaced by a gentle melancholy.
Oscar tilted his head, trying to catch her eye in the dim light. When Y/n finally looked up, their gazes met, bringing an instant, mutual smile to their faces.
"Hi!" Y/n whispered.
"Hi!" Oscar replied, nudging the tip of her nose as she turned to face him better. "You've been quiet... want to tell me what's going on in that little head of yours?"
"I just miss..."
"What, my dear?" Oscar asked, brushing a strand of hair that had fallen over her eyes.
"From my mother, from my grandmother... from everyone in Brazil." Y/n explained with a weak smile.
Oscar didn't rush the moment. He maintained the rhythmic caress, his fingers tracing invisible paths in her scalp, offering her a safe haven.
"I like it here." Y/n continued, her voice honest and low. "I always have. But since my parents divorced... it feels like my house has been split in two. And now neither is whole without the other." Oscar lowered his hand to her back, applying firm, comforting pressure to her sweatshirt. "Not because they fight or make me choose. They get along really well, they've never made me choose sides. But I... feel like there are two places where my heart wants to be at the same time. And no matter where I am, there's always someone missing."
Oscar tilted his face until their foreheads met. His nose brushed against hers in an intimate and tender caress.
"Do you know what I see when you talk about that?" Oscar asked in a whisper. "I see someone who loves deeply. And loving deeply sometimes hurts. It's not confusion, Y/n. It's depth." He smiled slightly.
Y/n let out a soft laugh, her eyes glistening with tears she wouldn't let fall. "You always manage to turn my emotional messes into something beautiful."
"Because they are beautiful in their own way," he replied without hesitation. "You are whole precisely because you feel this way. You're not half here and half there. You're everything, in two different places."
Y/n looked at him, absorbing those words as if they were a balm. "Even though I miss my 'almost home'... I feel safe here. In your arms."
Oscar felt a sweet tightness in his chest and held her tighter, as if he could protect her from any emptiness.
"Then stay..." He whispered against her hair. "Stay as long as you need. I can't physically take you to all the places you love right now... but I can be a place too."
Y/n closed her eyes, inhaling his scent. "You are one of the places where I rest."
Oscar kissed the top of her head for a long time.
"When homesickness gets too much, we'll find a way. We'll call, travel when we can, create new memories to add to the old ones. Your story doesn't need to fit into just one address."
She lifted her face, her expression lighter. "Look at you, talking as if you'd planned everything."
He chuckled softly. "I just... like the idea of being in the important chapters. Even the difficult ones."
"Thank you for not trying to fix it," Y/n said, stroking his arm. "Just for staying."
"I don't want to fix you. I want to accompany you."
Y/n approached, sealing the conversation with a kiss. It was a kiss that started slowly, full of gratitude, but soon became intense and deep.
Y/n's hands moved up to the nape of his neck, her fingers getting lost in Oscar's short hair, while his hands moved firmly down to her waist, pulling her closer, eliminating any remaining space between them.
When the lack of air finally separated them, Oscar smiled, his eyes shining, brushing the hair away from her face with his thumb. Y/n rested back on his chest, listening to his heartbeat, while Oscar resumed stroking her back.
"My mom just texted the family group chat," Y/n commented, her voice regaining its playful tone. "She asked about you."
Oscar raised an eyebrow. "He just asked?"
She laughed.
"She said she misses you at parties too. That the house is quieter without you." Y/n paused dramatically. "And my grandma sent an audio message saying you need to come back to Brazil soon because she says you still haven't finished eating everything she knows how to cook."
Oscar let out a loud laugh that vibrated against Y/n's back. "I was always the favorite."
"Oh, sure!" She rolled her eyes. "My aunt even added that you're too polite to be real and that I need to be careful not to let you get away."
"Wow, now I'm intimidated," Oscar joked, pulling her closer.
"They like you. Sometimes I think they like you more than they like me."
"Impossible!" he retorted promptly, his chin resting on the top of her head. "There's no way anyone could like me more when you're around. You're the center of everything there. I just... came along later."
Y/n smiled, that smile of complete peace. "Even so, they ask about you as if you were already part of the family."
"Maybe I already am..." He said, in a tone that hovered between jest and pure truth. "If they officially accept me, I promise to show up at all the lunches, birthdays, and noisy Sundays."
"I would love to!" Y/n adjusted herself, sighing with satisfaction.
He loved how Y/n carried entire worlds within her: the colors of Brazil, the precision of England, the passion of engineering, and yet, she chose to share the present moment with him.
5) How do I say it in Portuguese?
Oscar had planned every detail with a precision that surpassed any racing strategy.
His apartment had been transformed into a private sanctuary: the lighting was low and warm, and in the background, a playlist he had curated himself filled the space with Brazilian rhythms.
In the center of the room, the coffee table served as a support for dinner from their favorite restaurant and for the board of a word-forming game.
The rule of the game was clear: only words in Portuguese were valid.
Oscar, however, never missed a chance to test Y/n's patience and laughter, trying to piece together absurd sequences of letters and assuring her they were Australian-Brazilian slang terms he had just discovered.
"What? That word doesn't exist!" Y/n exclaimed, almost choking on her sip of wine when she saw the nonsensical combination Oscar had put together on the board.
"Yes, it exists, I just invented it here." He retorted with the utmost seriousness, stretching his leg under the table to provocatively touch her foot.
"That definitely doesn't exist!" Y/n insisted, laughing as she pushed his little pieces aside. "You can't just make up words in Portuguese. I'm the official inspector of that!"
Oscar shrugged, relaxed, with a mischievous glint in his eye.
"But it's such a beautiful language. I thought it deserved new words." He tilted his head, flirting openly.
Y/n felt her face heat up, an effect of the wine and especially his charm.
"That's not how it works. You need to learn the ones that already exist first." Y/n said, trying to regain authority.
"Then teach me." Oscar asked, leaning forward and resting his elbows on the table, closing the distance between them. "Loose words. The ones you like."
Y/n thought for a second, her eyes shining. "Okay... it starts easy. Co-ra-ção."
"Co...ra...ção" Oscar repeated slowly, savoring the vibration of the '-tion' as if it were something precious. "I already know this one."
"Of course you know! You're always calling me that!" Y/n teased, laughing.
"It's a beautiful word... Next."
"Saudade!" Y/n said, taking a sip of wine. "That word only exists in Portuguese. There's no exact translation. It's like... missing someone, but with a lot of love and a little bit of pain mixed in."
Oscar frowned, concentrating on the pronunciation and meaning. "Saudade... I feel that quite a lot when you spend a whole day in meetings and I don't see you."
"Funny!"
"Another one. One that you use a lot." He asked, smiling.
Y/n snapped her fingers. "There's one I say a lot at work: bagunça!"
"Ba... gun... ça." He messed up the first time, but Y/n patiently corrected him until he got the 'ç' sound right.
"That's it! You learned it." Y/n clapped lightly.
"I'm a great student!" Oscar said confidently. "I think we should switch to sentences. I learn quickly when the subject matter is important."
Y/n raised an eyebrow, amused. "Okay, impatient one. An easy sentence: Gosto de você."
Oscar repeated it without difficulty, his voice lowering slightly, his eyes fixed on hers with an intensity that made the air in the room seem thicker.
The atmosphere changed. It wasn't uncomfortable, but it was heavy with a feeling she could feel throbbing in her own chest.
Y/n chuckled softly, glancing away to organize the game pieces, trying to calm her racing heart.
"That was easy! How about a harder one then?" she asked, trying to regain her lighthearted tone.
"Maybe..." Oscar replied, helping to organize the pieces, but without taking his eyes off her. "I like listening to you talk. And I like it even more when I can understand what you're feeling."
Y/n bit her lip, touched by his dedication. "Okay... so you can choose the phrase this time and I'll tell you how to say it in Portuguese."
Oscar's smile widened, he took a long sip of wine to gather the courage he needed. He took a deep breath, mentally rehearsing the phrase he had been secretly practicing for weeks.
While Y/n was still fiddling with the board, distracted, he blurted out with near-perfect pronunciation.
"Você quer vir morar comigo?
Y/n lifted her head so quickly she almost felt her neck crack. Her eyes widened, the pieces of wood falling from her hands.
"O QUE?"
Oscar smiled, the nervousness now showing in his sweet gaze.
"Living with me. Me, you, just one apartment." He repeated in English, moving closer. "I know it sounds like it came out of nowhere, but I've been thinking about it for months."
Y/n stared at him, motionless, as tears began to blur her vision.
"We've already built so much together, Y/n. Routine, partnership, laughter, tough days in the paddock... You're already a part of my life in a way that doesn't fit in weekend suitcases anymore." Oscar chuckled softly, taking her hand. "I love how you feel everything so completely. How you carry two countries in your heart and make any place feel like home. I don't want you to stop being who you are... I just want to wake up with you more often than say goodbye... I want to share life, not just fit you into it."
He swallowed hard, his voice trembling slightly.
"So... I'll ask again. With less rehearsal and more honesty: do you want to come live with me?"
The world around Y/n simply stopped. Tears streamed down her face, but the smile that blossomed on her face was the most beautiful Oscar had ever seen.
She didn't need time to think. In one swift movement, Y/n threw herself into his arms, wrapping her arms tightly around Oscar's neck and burying her face in his shirt, letting out a sob of pure happiness.
"EU QUERO!" Her voice came out muffled. "Of course I want to live with you!"
Oscar pulled her close, burying his face in her neck, inhaling the scent of home that Y/n exuded, while one of his hands wandered through her hair in a protective gesture.
He stepped back just enough to look at her face, gently stroking her wet cheeks with his thumbs. There was immense pride in his smile.
"Eu te amo, garota brasileira!" Oscar said, his thick accent making the declaration even more special.
Y/n laughed through her tears, touching his face tenderly. "I love you, Australian."
summary: joe doesn't forget about valentine's day, but his brazilian girlfriend does, and it takes them a while to get on the same page about it.
a/n: this is based in me forgetting that today is valentine's day because in my country right now a lot of people are simply forgetting they are in relationships. it is kind of rushed :p
February 14th never rang any bells for you, this year it was Carnaval but every year something different was in your plans, sometimes it meant travelling with your friends or your family, others it meant going out with your friends, but others it was just an excuse to stay home and just do whatever it was that you wanted or needed to do.
So when the date came, it was hard not to notice the smell of pancakes waking you up. The opposite side of the bed was empty, Joe was already awake, and making breakfast. Weird. When the both of you were home together he used to just stay in bed with you until the two woke up, it was a habit he created without noticing, but you loved it.
You put on your flip flops and got out of bed, making a quick stop at the bathroom to wash your face and brush your teeth, before going to the kitchen, to find a shirtless Joe finishing to lay the table.
“Hey, you’re awake. Hope you’re hungry.” he came over with a smile so big, it made you wonder if something good happened, worth a breakfast celebration or something like this.
He pulled you tight against him and wrapped his arms around your body. Joe was really affectionate and had literally no shame in showing how much he loved you, be it through words, actions, or whatever was available. So again, nothing was ringing for you.
“Even if I wasn’t, there is no way I would decline your cooking.” you answered with a smile before showering his face with kisses.
“My cooking? Just wait for later tonight, I booked your favorite restaurant for dinner.” the smile on his face didn’t falter, in fact, it seemed to have grown after the kisses.
“I mean, I am more than happy to have my handsome boyfriend showering me with treats and all-” a peck on his lips “but, may I ask you what have I done to deserve all of this? Or have you just woken up in a specially good mood?”
“What do you mean babe? It’s February 14.” his voice dropped a tone, he sounded confused and your face probably looked just as confused “Have you forgotten? Valentine 's day.”
And there it was. It finally came to mind all those big pink and red balloons, cards and flowers that had been bombarding your face all week on the streets. The thing is, it had never occurred to you to celebrate the date someday. This was the first time you and Joe spent the date as a couple.
“Shit. I’m sorry Joe, like really sorry, I just- I didn’t mean to forget it.” You started to ramble desperately. You hadn’t bought him anything, every restaurant would be booked for lunch and however, the damage was done.
This was something new to you, during past relationships the men were the ones who used to forget something important and had to deal with a sad or angry version of you. So being on the other side was weird.
“It’s okay, it’s not that big of a deal.” he said in a low voice.
It was a big deal for him.
The breakfast was a new kind of torture, you tried doing some small talk, complimenting his cooking, asking about his work schedule for the next week, commented a call you made with one of his sisters a few days ago, but was met with a few vague answers.
Joe was not one to be actually mad, but it was clear that he was sad, disappointed in how much effort he had put into a date that you didn’t even acknowledge.
The silence filled the room while getting ready for dinner. And it was something you couldn’t take anymore.
“Amor, please, I am really sorry for forgetting. I know it doesn’t change the way you feel but it hurts to be… ignored.”
He turned to you with a frown, and snapped. “It also hurts to be the only one caring enough to plan something for the both of us. Come on, the valentines is all over the place, how can someone forget it?”
“I- is not that I don’t care, it was a genuine mistake. And for the… fuck I don’t even know how to say it, but I am sorry, okay? I know it is all over the place, but it always was, even before coming to the U.S., and this is actually the first time I had to be a part of it.”
“Oh right. Because that actually makes a difference.” His tone was now full of irony, and your patience was getting thinner.
“Yes. It does. In Brazil right now is just another day in life, and it has been like this for me ever since-”
“Oh so now it is also just another day in life?”
“This is not what I meant."
“It is what you said.”
“That is also not-”
“Why don’t we do it like this: we also act like just another day in life at birthdays as well? ” Joe was now getting sassier.
“Joe-”
“Maybe Christmas is next, and-”
“When you want to have a proper conversation we can talk again.”
You cut him off grabbing your purse and the keys to your car before heading out of the shared room, and soon enough, the house as well. As soon as you get in the car, your head falls to the steering wheel, breathing in and out in an attempt to calm yourself down. Your hands were shaking out of nervousness and the tears were starting to form in your eyes.
Fuck. You never meant to forget any important dates with Joe, you were there and celebrated with him on the day he went touring as Djo last year, you celebrated the end of Stranger Things with him, his birthday was like a holiday for you. But this one time you fucked up, and Joe knew how to be mean whenever he felt mad at someone, you just never thought his next victim would be you.
After about ten minutes of calming down, the passenger door opening abruptly made you jump in your seat, before the very known bleached hair head got into the seat beside you.
“Fuck, you scared me.” you said feeling your heartbeat getting faster again.
“I’m sorry. For scaring… and being mean to you too.” he sighed “It was stupid of me to act like that towards you, really really stupid.”
His big doe eyes were looking directly to yours, with a little frown, accompanied by a soft look on his face this time. Joe’s eyes traveled through your whole face, noticing how you have been crying and the hurt expression you held.
“I felt hurt and hadn’t thought about it not being an important date all around the world. God it was so self-centered of me to not take that in consideration, guess I never felt so American as I do now.”
A strangled laugh left your mouth, but you were quick to recompose yourself with a mad expression.
“North-American.”
“Right, North-American.” he laughed “I am sorry, I get it that you didn’t mean to forget it, and if I am being honest, it doesn’t even bother me not having a gift from you or something like that. It just felt weird, because you are always there in every special moment… it should be enough, and it is. I’m sorry for being a dick.”
Your eyes softened now. The sincerity in his words did a really good job at easing the hurt.
“You are right, you were self-centered, and a dick as well.” you sighed “But I love you, a lot, and you better not be bringing all that sass around me again. So I forgive you.”
“Thank you, I promise to get better around you, miss.” he took your hand in his “And again I am sorry. I love you, and everything that represents you and your culture... gosh june really is for the lovers in Brazil, isn't it?"
"Wow, you made your homework."
"Yeah, and I saw you let it pass last year." you just shrugged "Won't let it happen again this year. I'm sorry for that one too. From now on, june 12, won't go blank at our household."
"Thank you for that. I will make sure to not forget again."
"You can forget whatever you want. I just need you by my side at the end of the day."
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SUMMARY :: where Y/N teaches Chris how to cook a typical sweet from her country.
FEATURING Chris Sturniolo x brazilian!reader REQUESTED? yes.
WARNINGS :: none.
AUTHOR'S NOTE :: that is my work, I DON'T authorize any form of plagiarism; copy, "inspiration" or translation! | english isn't my first language, so I'm sorry if there's any grammar error.
"Honey?" Y/N called in a low tone. Her steps were light and almost muted by the orange socks that reached up to her calf, which she had grabbed from Chris's drawer.
Her eyes darted around the kitchen briefly, before finally finding her boyfriend, who was standing between the dark brown table and the open refrigerator, his right hand holding the door while his left rested on his chin, a thoughtful look on his face.
"What are you doing?" The girl asked, approaching her boyfriend as she looked into the fridge, her brow furrowed in confusion.
"I wanted to make something different for us to eat." His arms fell over his body and hit his hips in frustration.
Chris and Y/N were getting ready to start a movie marathon. The two were already lying on the double bed, their bodies covered by the fluffy duvet. The lights were turned off, the television on being the only source of lighting between the four walls; when the boy had the idea of popping popcorn to accompany them.
About 15 minutes had passed and Chris still hadn't returned to the room with the snack, and Y/N had no choice but to see what he was up to. She knew that her boyfriend had a childish soul and that if he was left unsupervised for too long, he could destroy the whole house.
"Didn't you want popcorn, baby?" Y/N questioned, moving closer and closing the fridge door.
Chris turned to her with a sigh, shaking his head.
"I wanted to, but I'm hungry, and I want something sweet." The boy said, leaning on the table behind him and crossing his arms.
He didn't know exactly what he could have made for them to eat if Y/N hadn't shown up, he didn't know how to cook anything at all and he would have definitely burned any idea he had.
"You know bakeries can cook for us, right? I can order delivery, honey. That bakery you like is still open." Y/N informed, taking half of her phone out of her hoodie pocket and quickly looking at the time before putting it away again.
"No, I want something homemade." Chris continued, tapping his right foot lightly against the floor. He really could act like a child when he wanted to.
Y/N sighed as she looked around, her mind trying to come up with ideas of something they could cook that was sweet and got ready quickly.
She took a few steps towards the cabinet on the left side of the refrigerator, opening the doors with her hands and looking through the items, a smile appearing on her lips when she saw exactly what she was looking for.
"We're making brigadeiro." Y/N informed as she grabbed the ingredients she would need.
"Briga- what?" Chris tried to utter, moving closer to his girlfriend as he looked at the items in her hands curiously.
Y/N let out a laugh, placing the ingredients on the counter next to the stove, turning to her boyfriend.
"Brigadeiro." She spoke slowly and clearly. "It's a Brazilian sweet, I sent you a picture of it once when I was back in São Paulo, but you saw it in the birthday party format, which is a small ball with sprinkles."
"Oh, I remember!" The brunette spoke excitedly, nodding his head. "But are there other formats?"
"Yes, you can use brigadeiro in everything and in every way, literally. But the easiest and quickest is to make it in a pot, also known as spoon brigadeiro, which is what we're going to do right now." Y/N turned to face the ingredients, arranging them in order of use. "Get me a medium pot, baby. Please."
The girl took her phone out of her pocket, resting it on the counter behind where the ingredients were, so that the screen was staring back at her. Her fingers worked on opening the camera and going to the video tab, clicking the red button to start recording.
"What are you doing?" Chris asked after standing up again, having bent down to pick up a pot from the cupboards on the floor, placing the requested object on the stove while looking at her phone recording them in confusion.
"I need to record this moment. My boyfriend is going to learn how to make his first Brazilian cuisine, and it's my favorite sweet." Y/N smiled big, turning to her boyfriend and sealing his cheek with her lips, stroking the skin lightly with the tip of her nose.
Chris smiled back, pulling her by the waist and kissing her forehead softly, before releasing her so they could begin.
"Okay, for this recipe, we'll only need butter, chocolate powder, and condensed milk. Thank God I brought some condensed milk from Brazil when I went last time. The ones here don't turn out the same." The girl explained to Chris, who was watching her closely.
"Butter and chocolate?" He asked as he wrinkled his nose in discomfort.
"Honey, butter is part of the ingredients of at least 80% of the cakes we eat anywhere." Y/N's tone was obvious, shaking her head in disbelief.
"Alright, chef." Chris raised his arms in surrender, earning a laugh from his girlfriend.
She opened one of the drawers on the counter and took out two tablespoons and a silicone spoon, which they would use to stir the brigadeiro over the heat, placing the three items on the counter before turning to Chris.
"What?" He asked, looking at her suspiciously.
"You will do it, and I will watch." Y/N replied, shrugging her shoulders and receiving wide eyes in response.
"Do you want to kill us both?"
"Don't be dramatic!" She smiled in amusement before pointing to the ingredients. "First, you'll need a tablespoon of butter."
Chris took the jar of butter and opened the lid carefully. His hand reached for one of the spoons and dipped it into the contents before looking at his girlfriend, waiting for the next step.
"You can put it in the pot." She indicated, pointing to the pot as she leaned her hips against the counter, watching him carefully.
Chris tapped the spoon on the edge of the pot a few times until all the butter contents were in before throwing the spoon into the sink.
"Perfect, now you're going to need four tablespoons of chocolate powder." The girl instructed, pushing the chocolate towards Chris.
"Four of chocolate for one of butter? Won't it be too thick?" The boy asked, wrinkling his nose as he lifted the chocolate powder packaging, looking briefly at the label.
"No, baby, there's still the condensed milk. I normally only add three tablespoons when I make it in Brazil, but because the one there has more sugar than the one here." She explained, waving her right hand for him to continue.
The boy raised his hands in surrender before opening the lid of the package, dipping the spoon into the brown powder and taking it out before throwing the contents into the pot. He repeated the action three more times, counting low each time so as not to get lost in the count, earning a laugh from Y/N.
"That's it. Now it's condensed milk." Y/N took the chocolate powder and the spoon from Chris's hands, throwing the spoon in the sink next to the other and closing the package before taking scissors. "You can cut off the top and throw everything into the pot."
"Everything? Do you want to give me diabetes?" Chris's blue eyes were wide as he stared at the condensed milk packaging as if it were a monster.
"Enough with the drama." The girl spoke with a smile in her voice, pushing the condensed milk and scissors into Chris's hands, who took them.
"If I die, it's her fault." The boy whispered to the phone's front camera, looking sideways at his girlfriend, who was rolling her eyes.
"Hurry up." She ordered, pushing the boy's hips with her own.
He sighed, cutting off the top edge of the package before returning the scissors to Y/N, turning it over the pot and squeezing the wrapper, watching the pasty liquid drain completely.
"That doesn't feel right." The boy muttered, placing the empty package on the counter next to him and staring at the ingredients together inside the pot, before grabbing the handles and turning it on its side, showing it to the camera. "It looks like-"
"If you drop it on the stove, you'll be the one cleaning it all up. This is full of sugar. Ants will come, and Matt will kill you." Y/N interrupted, slapping Chris on the shoulder and pulling his arms so he could put the pot right on the stove again.
"But it doesn't make any sense." He scratched the back of his head with his right hand, looking at his girlfriend with uncertainty in his eyes.
"When it's done, you'll see that it will look better than it does now." The girl spoke, dipping the index finger of her left hand into the condensed milk before taking it into her mouth, sucking out all the contents.
"Hey! Don't touch my work." He shouted, looking at Y/N with an offended look.
"If you don't turn on the heat and start stirring, it will never become a "work"." Y/N snorted while making quotation mark gestures with her fingers before pointing at the stove.
Chris rolled his eyes, turning to the stove again and turning on the heat under the pot before taking a step back and looking at it.
"Are you just going to watch and wait for it to be ready by itself?" Y/N's voice came out loud, her hand working on quickly grabbing the silicone spoon and placing it inside the pot, lowering the heat before it burned. "You have to stir constantly, baby. Otherwise, it will burn, and sugar burns very quickly." She informed, taking Chris' right hand and leading it to the spoon, before taking his left and bringing it to the left handle of the pot, keeping it steady there so that it didn't move with his movements.
"Ah, obviously, I already knew that." He said with a shrug, his cheeks turning red as a smile appeared on his face due to Y/N's laughter.
"Okay, that's it. Wait, you have to move it like this." Y/N murmured, positioning herself behind Chris and taking his right hand with her own, standing on tiptoe and placing her left hand on his waist to maintain her balance, starting to move the spoon with her boyfriend.
Her head was the only part of her that the camera captured, being shorter than Chris, his body covered her completely. She had her head tilted to their right side, next to his covered shoulder, looking intently at the stove.
Chris briefly looked at the phone screen that showed them back, letting out a laugh at their position.
"It seems the roles have changed." He teased, pushing his ass back so that it pushed Y/N's body slightly. She firmed her grip on her boyfriend's covered waist to keep from falling, pinching the skin lightly.
"Hey, if it burns, I won't do it again, and you'll eat it burnt!" She exclaimed, joining Chris in his laughter seconds later, rolling her eyes and turning her attention back to the pot.
It didn't take long, and soon the brigadeiro was at the right point. Y/N let go of Chris's right hand and turned off the heat, before starting to move away from his body, but her action was interrupted by him, who turned and pulled her back towards him, wrapping his arms around her waist and burying his head in the crook of her neck, exhaling the natural scent of her skin for a few seconds, before sealing the area momentarily.
"Thank you, baby."
The girl let out a laugh at the tickle that Chris's beard caused on her skin, wrapping her arms around his neck and kissing the top of his head, squeezing him lightly, before taking a step back.
"Come on, silly. Let's eat." She spoke, taking his right hand and making him stand next to the stove before picking up a round ceramic plate and two smaller bowls.
Y/N lifted the pot by one of the handles with her left hand while holding the silicone spoon with her right, turning it onto the plate.
"Hold the plate for me, baby. Please." She asked, and Chris didn't take long to do so, watching the way her tongue escaped between her lips in concentration, a smile appearing on his face as his blue eyes traveled over the features he loved so much. "If you keep looking at me like that, I'm going to drop it on the counter." The girl whispered, her cheeks taking on a red hue.
Chris let out a laugh, suppressing his desire to shower her with kisses.
Y/N tipped almost all of the brown content onto the plate with the help of the spoon before straightening the pot and taking it over the two bowls, dividing what was left inside each one.
"What are these for?" The boy asked, dropping the plate he still held on the counter and looking at the bowls in confusion.
"Nick and Matt." She responded simply, finishing all the contents of the sweet before placing the pot in the sink, filling it with water and making a mental note to wash it before going to sleep, so as not to get ants from the sugar. "Would you like to taste it?" The girl asked, bringing the spoon closer to Chris's face, who had a soft smile on his face.
Chris felt himself falling in love with Y/N all over again every time she remembered her brothers when they were doing something, including them even if they weren't there; he loved the way she took care of the three of them with so much love and affection, like a family.
The boy nodded, opening his mouth slightly and bringing his face closer to Y/N's hand, wrapping his lips around the silicone spoon and licking the contents. His blue eyes instantly widened at the taste. It wasn't extremely sugary like he thought it would be. It was just the right amount of sweet.
His hand quickly took the spoon from Y/N's hand and finished licking it all, as if it was the most delicious thing he had ever tasted - and maybe it really was.
The girl leaned over the counter and took her phone back, waving at the camera before stopping the recording, making a mental note to rewatch it the next day and, perhaps, post a snippet for the fans who loved seeing videos of the two of them together.
"I told you it was good." Y/N spoke as she laughed at his reaction, putting her cell in the pocket of her hoodie and opening the cutlery drawer, taking out four small spoons and placing one in each bowl and two on the plate. "Now, help me take this to your brothers."
"Yes, ma'am."
extra - comments:
"I'm so happy she posted this moment for us all to see together 😭"
"chris is such a drama queen 💀"
"omg that must have been so good 😫"
"Y/N separating a little for Nick and Matt, this is so sweet 🥺"
"Y/N standing behind Chris to help him make the brigadeiro LMAO that's so cute"
"Chris counting the spoonfuls of chocolate so he doesn't lose the count 😭😔"
"they are so beautiful together omg"
"I want what these bitches have 😔"
"petition for Y/N to make TikToks of her teaching Chris how to cook different things ✏️📄"
There's actually a tradition about birthday cakes back where the Prefect comes from.
Original idea by @strawberry-pie-thoughts
NOTE: I only write for female reader but everyone is welcome to read it!
— (*´ω｀*)
“This cake looks delicious, shame I couldn’t be there to make it.”
Lilia chuckles when Sebek hollers about surprises and traditions, as if Lilia didn’t know the exact day and hour they came up with the idea. Oh, well, it’d be sad to spoil their considerate surprise, so he won’t ever be telling them, though he thinks the Prefect might suspect, the smart darling she is.
“We don’t know your age, so we got a bat candle! Do you like it?” said girl asks, beaming from where she’s sitting.
“I do, it’s very cute and matches the cake.”
It’s true, the magenta bat candle fits very well within the cake's neon green covering, the cherries near the borders and the colorful sprinkles thrown on top. Kinda reminds Lilia of Henry the fruit bat. The fae chuckles again, happiness bubbling inside him, a type of happiness he once forgot amidst wars and calamities, but was restored when life brought him three sons and good friends. And a sweetheart, who seems way more excited about his birthday than he does.
Lilia prides himself in his cuteness, but his crush’s is far too overwhelming to be beaten.
He blows the candle with the wish of companionship, with the desire to always have people to love in his life, and with the surprisingly shy admittance that he needs to confess soon.
(Y/N) promptly takes the candle off the cake and hands him a knife, ready to help with the cake distribution. By now, everyone knows to just let her help so long she isn’t overworking herself; all of them witnesses and appreciators of her unending kindness. Lilia thanks her with a soft voice, cutting the first piece of cake with swift movements and placing it on the waiting plate.
“That’s yours, dear. Let Sebek help me instead and go enjoy the cake~”
(Y/N) gives him a very adorable stunned look, holding the plate in the air for a few seconds, before opening what he can only describe as the biggest smile he has ever seen on her face. She’s so happy she lets out a little squeal and leans forward and oh.
“That’s what I call a gift~”
“Thank you, Lilia!” she chirps, placing another soft kiss on his cheek before pulling the chair closest to him and plopping down to enjoy her cake.
“Do you like cake that much, Prefect?” Silver asks, surprisingly awake.
“Well, yeah, but also, this is the first slice!”
“... Yes?”
The Prefect tilts her head, cutely as everything she does, fork in her mouth as she frowns. Then a light bulb seemingly goes off inside her head and she grins.
“Where I come from, you give the first slice of your birthday cake to the person you love the most! Can be your mom, or your friend, or your partner, anyone! It’s tradition~” she takes another bite, squealing at the taste. “Like… you like that person so much, you want to share your cake with them first, y’know?”
Oh, yeah, Lilia knows very well.
That confession might come faster than he previously planned.
For the lovely Brazilian anon, really hope you enjoy. All credit for the gif goes to the owner. :)
The speakers blared, as your hips moved from side to side.
The cave laid empty before you, the boys having gone out. You had just been with them, playing games and eating so much candy that you could still taste the sweetness on your tongue. Placing the boombox down, the song had concluded and you searched around for any of your other cassettes. Your little collection was in your room, a small corner with a mattress and more pillows than you could count. Life was good in a cave, surprisingly enough.
The cassettes were laid on top of each other, divided haphazardly into English and portuguese. Taking one in your hands, you gave the label a quick read before popping it into your boombox. The sound that followed brought you back to the many nights you spent in Rio, dancing and hollering at the rock and roll that played. This song however, was pure Brazilian funk. The beat was rich and the lyrics even more so. American music had its moments, it was true, but nothing could beat the lyrical genius of Sandra Sa and Cristina Camargo.
You missed Brazil more and more when you listened to their music.
You had grown used to Santa Carla and its charming little secrets, but sometimes, during the most unexpected and possibly inconveniencing time, you remembered the beach back home. Your heart would sink, your mood would go down. You would begin to wish that you could just go back and stay forever. But once the high wore off, you came to realize that there was something for you in this beach side town after all. Well, more than just something.
David and his crew had shown you around when you first arrived and you had become inseparable ever since.
Each of them had a uniqueness to them, surprising you in so many ways. Dwayne was eager to learn about your culture, even going as far as to learn a little bit of portuguese. He urged the others to do the same, and while you loved Paul and Marko, they were too hyper to really commit to it. David was more adaptable, though he too had his own difficulties. Nevertheless, the effort was beyond appreciated. Music was the way in which Paul connected to you. He didn't have much to teach you about Rock n’ Roll,since you practically already knew everything, but he loved to talk your ear off about why these bands were the best in the world.
You, in turn, introduced the rocker to some of the many bands in your home country. “This shit’s amazing, babe!’’ He had said, before stealing your boombox and listening to any of the cassettes that contained rock and roll in your collection. Marko and you talked about art and how you would love for him to visit the museums in Rio with you. You compared taste and while not all of it was compatible, you and Marko made it work.
David was a bit different.
He wanted to know more about you.
About how you spent your time in Brazil. He wanted to know the raves and the parties that you had been to in Rio. It was like he wished to experience the contrasting nightlife, even if it was vicariously through you. This wasn’t a problem, especially since going back on those memories brought you nothing but happiness. David wouldn't say it, but sometimes he would only ask just so he could see that glint in your eyes. He knew a thing about missing home and being alive for eighty plus years doesn't do much to change that.
You had been so lost in the music, that you didn't feel the eyes on you.
The boys had returned to the cave and were greeted to a sight that none of them really minded in seeing. Paul had to restrain himself from joining in, his blue eyes following your hips as they swayed. Marko looked like a love-sick puppy, his face stretched in a wide grin, his eyes dreamy. David followed with a smirk, his eyes promising something more promiscuous than he cared to share. Dwayne was in the same throws as David, still his gaze held a certain appreciation for the music and the way you were dancing.
They could watch you dance all day.
Paul and Marko shared a look, Paul motioning toward you. Marko appeared to get the message, because soon, you were thrown onto the set of pillows. The scream that escaped you made David chuckle, as he and Dwayne moved closer to you. “You two idiotas scared the wits out of me!’’ You exclaimed harshly. “Sorry babe, we just couldn't resist.’’ Paul defended happily. “Yeah, you can’t just expect us not to rush you when you’re dancing like that, now can you?’’ Marko inquired, teasing. You rolled your eyes, making Marko and Paul stand up. Dwayne walked to you, outstretching his hand.
“Como estas?’’
“Tudo bem.’’ You answered, finding his accent rather adorable as he spoke the words. Dwayne had been getting better and better, more often than not speaking Portuguese to you. You rose, giving the vampire a peck on the nose. “I have to say, kitten you gave us quite the show there.’’ David said, his voice rather suggestive. “Glad you enjoyed it, querido.’’ You retorted. David playfully snapped his canines at you, moving toward his wheelchair at the center.
Marko moved over to your boombox, taking the cassette that stuck out into his hands. “What were you listening to anyways?’’ He asked, inquisitive eyes on the little device in his hands. “Its funk music, its pretty popular where I’m from.’’ You explained.
“You have to play it for us sometime.’’
“You think you’d like it, Paulie?’’
“I’ll like anything if it's yours baby.’’ The boy said, smiling when a blush rose to your cheeks. “Your dancing is beautiful, honey.’’ Dwayne said, probably being the only one without a double meaning to his words. You smiled, moving into the brunette's arms, slowly swaying to a small hum you were producing. The night was still young and the boys were far from tired.
“I’m guessing you boys still have plans?’’
“You know us so well.’’ David said. “There’s going to be a concert at the beach. Star says some pretty bitchin’ bands are gonna be playing.’’ the blonde informed. “What do you say, kitten? Will you do us the honor?’’ He teased, his ice blue eyes boring into yours. You felt a shiver run over you, as your heart quickened in pace. “Sounds like fun. Hope you can keep up.’’ You teased right back, earning an earnest hum from Marko and Paul. David jumped down from his chair, walking to you.
“Is that a challenge?’’
“I don’t know, is it?’’
The blonde growled, pulling you into a kiss.
You reciprocated almost immediately.
The night continued with you and the boys going to the concert, dancing the night away.
The music was amazing, sending your body into a trance like jive, as your boys surrounded you. From that night on, you decided that you should probably dance in the cave more often. Perhaps, home wasnt necessarily a place, but it was people. And as you moved from boy to boy, screaming and dancing and eyes filled with such life…
