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nolita-fairytale · 10 months

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burn your life down | chef luca x fem!reader | chapter one

summary: leaving your old life behind, you move to copenhagen to follow your dream of opening a restaurant. almost a year after opening, luca's quest for inspiration brings him right to your doorstep.

warnings: fluff, eventual smut, eventual angst not use of y/n, second person pov, swearing, danish inaccuracies, very little connection to the world of the bear.

word count: 2500

a/n: remember when i said we'd get pastry chef luca fanfic whether we liked it or not? well, it seems i can't be normal about anything bc i have an outline of (potentially) 10 chapters right now based on this headcanon. while i try to keep reader characters pretty neutral so that you can picture yourself, i have this reader creating food from her own life experiences/cultures so do what you will with that. also, i tagged some peeps from my headcanon post, but please let me know if you'd like to be removed.

masterlist | part two

He’s in search of inspiration when he finds the restaurant – your restaurant.

It’s an American stagiaire and a single conversation that makes him realize that he’s missing something – that he’s been in need of something fresh, a new perspective– setting him on his quest.

The best things are inspired.

Luca stares at a blank piece of paper for what feels like hours, writing a few things down, sketching up an idea, before viciously crossing them out, hopelessly stuck on new ideas for the new menu. After a few half-baked ideas that go nowhere, It occurs to him that he may be in need of a little inspiration himself. He can’t think of the last time he’s taken his own advice, mulling over the carefully-chosen words of wisdom imparted to Marcus a couple of weeks ago, and he’s determined to change that.

A review in the paper, an old colleague’s recent trip there, and a glowing recommendation from a close friend are what bring him to the restaurant.

He’s not sure what to expect – having forgone any interest in cuisine described with the words trendy or fusion a long time ago – but Luca reminds himself that it’s the writer’s word choice, not the chef’s, when writing the article.

When Luca steps into the small home-turned-restaurant, he’s immediately inundated with a warmth, a homeyness, that takes him by surprise. From the open kitchen, to the golden lighting, it feels vastly different from the classic Danish-style, fine dining establishments that have swept the country.

But Luca reminds himself that the announcement of noma’s 2024 closure, has shifted the conversation around dining culture in Denmark, and already, he can feel that this is the breath of fresh air that he’s been looking for.

Luca’s seated quickly with care and hospitality by a highly-attentive host, which he only assumes is a symptom of the fact that he read somewhere that you’re an American. While Danish, the host is boisterous, as if he’s known Luca since childhood. Luca smiles politely in response, graciously thanking the man and his chocolate brown curls.

The menu is small, indicating that each dish receives enough care to be excellent and he likes that, despite being described as trendy and fusion-focused, your menu is creative. It’s different. It’s inspired.

He chooses the special of the day: the mapo tofu bolognese – a traditionally Italian concept done from an Asian perspective – and the suggested wine pairing.

It doesn’t take long for him to receive his glass of wine, or his food, and he’s pleasantly surprised by how efficient service seems. Stealing glances through the open kitchen, he watches as you and your sous lead dinner service with a kind of compassionate leadership and playfulness that warms him from the inside out.

“We recommend mixing the whipped tofu into the dish for a creamier sauce. Skal,” his waitress greets, with a warm smile on her face as she sets down the bowl of noodles.

“Cheers,” Luca replies, his eyes savoring every single detail of the dish.

It’s somehow elevated, thoughtful, and elegant, yet comforting all at once.

Luca picks up his fork, using it to collect a little bit of everything – a perfect noodle twirl with just enough sauce, and ground pork before running his fork the whipped topping – raising the fork to his lips for his first bite.

As the flavors hit his tongue, he closes his eyes, and it’s as if time has stopped, just for a moment.

The wheat noodles are perfectly al dente while the whipped tofu is almost ricotta-like, transforming into a silky smooth addition to the dish, cutting the tingle and heat of the Sichuan chili peppercorn-based sauce.

The corners of his lips turn up as he takes a breath, opening his eyes as he savors the delicate layers of flavors. With a crooked smile on his face, he decides that he’ll most certainly be back next week.

-------------------------------

You make peace with the fact that tonight is one of those nights – a slow night – as you finish washing your hands. It being a slow night, you’d encouraged your staff to up the hospitality at the pre-shift meeting. Treating guests with the utmost personal touches in an effort to build genuine connections would be the focus of tonight’s slow service. In fact, you and Mathilde, your sous chef, had been running dishes out this evening – something you rarely had the luxury to do.

“You should go say hello,” your sous encourages, nodding towards the dining room through the expansive window of the open kitchen.

“Thought it was your turn,” you reply in a casual tone, paying no attention to who she’s referencing.

“No, I think you should take this one,” Mathilde nudges you, causing you to look up. You shoot her a funny look, your eyes flickering over the mischievous expression she has on her face, to where she’s gestured towards.

“To-?” you begin to ask, before seeing exactly who she’s talking about.

“Ehm. Tall, blonde, and tatted!” she emphasizes in a whisper yell.

You don’t really need the description as you glance over at the dining room, easily spotting the man seated at a two-seater near the front window.

“You’re right. He’s become a bit of a regular,” you agree with a curt nod that means all business, no pleasure, as you move a few things as you walk and talk around the kitchen, tidying up.

“That’s not what I meant,” she scoffs with a playful eye roll.

“You know, Jesper thought he was Swedish because… look at him… but he’s apparently a Brit,” she gossips with you, her eyes stealing a glance his way. “We’re slow tonight. He’s here every week. Sure he’d appreciate a direct thank you from the chef!”

“I-,” you hesitate, wondering why she’s so damn insistent on this. “... yeah, alright. I’ll go.”

“That’s my girl!” Mathilde cheers, in a sing-song voice, she hands you the beautifully plated bowl of pasta to take out to the dining room.

As you walk over towards his table, you make a note that it seems as if the mystery man has made this a bit of a routine. He shows every Saturday at exactly 7 pm, week after week, for the past month or so, as if it’s a standing date he has with himself. After his first visit, you half-expected him to bring a date when he returned, or bring a group of friends, or for something different to happen.

But it hadn’t and you’ve watched him come in, week after week, with a different book each time. He always orders the special of the day and whatever suggested wine pairing Jesper’s recommended that week.

Most Saturday nights you're busy leading a kitchen or cooking on the line – having little to no time to fixate or wonder curiously over your weekly diner – but tonight’s pace affords you the luxury to spend more time at the front of house. Truthfully, you know it’s the thing that sets you apart. Sure, the hospitality here in Copenhagen is excellent, but you bring an American hospitality-style to this restaurant – and above and beyond mentality – that feels welcoming, personal, even, as if your restaurant itself is just an extension of your home.

You’ve heard your staff – front of house and back of house – whispering about him, all seemingly enamored and enchanted by the charming Brit. All any of you knew about him was that his name was Luca and that he’s always more than kind to your front of house staff.

He doesn’t say much when he comes in, you’ve noticed, but every Saturday at 7 pm, he’s pushing his way through the front door with punctuality and a gentle ease.

The whisperings from your staff had all revolved around who your mysterious regular must be: whether he was Danish or Swedish, that someone that good looking must already have a partner, that he doesn’t wear a ring.

You hadn’t paid much attention to the gossip (or at least that’s what you’ve told yourself) more focused on running dinner service then trying to piece together the story of your handsome, mysterious regular.

“Hello,” you greet him warmly. “I just wanted to come introduce myself and say thank you for becoming one of our regulars. Your support means a lot to all of us.”

“Hi, I’m Luca.”

You share your name with a smile as he shakes your hand.

Luca turns his attention down to the bowl you’ve put in front of him, his eyes taking in the beautiful presentation hungrily.

“Wow, this looks… incredible,” he marvels, returning his gaze back to you.

“Thank you. I’m sure my front of house already walked you through this but if you’d like for me to-,” you begin.

“Yes, that’d be great, thanks,” he interjects, a crooked smile on his face that makes your heart skip a beat.

You have to pull your attention away from him, hoping he doesn’t notice that you’re quite possibly gawking at him.

He’s kind, charming, and he’s easy on the eyes (easy on the eyes, really being an understatement here).

“Today’s special was inspired by a childhood favorite of mine,” you begin, walking him through each component of the dish.

Crispy Rice. Caramelized marinated trumpet mushrooms and charred broccolini. Your mom’s sauce approached with classic French techniques, courtesy of your sous, Mathilde, a classically French-trained chef.

It’s a marriage of your story. Of the people around you. It’s your heart and theirs, put into a dish.

“You’re the chef?” he asks, unable to hide the surprise in his voice.

“Yes,” you answer, trying your best to get a read on him.

He balks, and you’re unsure of how you’re supposed to respond. Was he surprised that you’re a woman? That he’s been eating your food the whole time and expected a male chef? Before you can overthink it, Luca clarifies with:

“I’m sorry. It’s just-, I can't think of the last time I saw a head chef work front of house, let alone with this much care.”

Oh.

You let down your guard, wondering why you’d assumed the worst when the man’s been nothing but kind to you and your staff so far.

"We're a little short staffed tonight. And I love getting to talk to diners… especially on nights like this,” you explain, trying your best to sound like you hadn’t just assumed that he was a sexist asshole.

He shakes his head in disbelief, looking down at the picturesque bowl, then back to you.

Luca is impressed, and he has no intention of hiding it.

He picks up his wine glass by the stem, raising it to you.

"Cheers,” he says. “And thank you. This is a really beautiful dish.”

“Of course. Enjoy,” you reply, giving him a polite smile, before heading back into the kitchen.

-------------------------------

“Good service tonight, everybody!” Jesper, your front of house manager, announces while clapping a few times to signal to staff that it’s time for a post shift meeting.

As you all gather in the pristine front of house space. Some of your cooks have taken their aprons off, others haven’t had a moment to unwind from the shift yet – business picking up in the last hour or so of service.

Jesper goes through his nightly wrap-up notes, celebrating the wins of tonight, and making sure to celebrate how everyone rallied to pick up pace when business spiked. He’s gregarious, larger-than-life, the kind of person who can talk to anyone about anything, making him an excellent front of house manager, and even better sommelier. You really lucked out with the twins, you think to yourself – with Jesper and Mathilde – when they were more than eager to work with you on opening this restaurant.

“Oh, and before we go, a client left a gift… table number four,” Jesper says, in reference to Luca’s table. He pulls a tan-colored pastry box from another table, setting it down on a table where everyone can take a look.

“As a thank you. He requested for me to share. So have it and let’s make a note next time he’s in to really treat him like a VIP.”

One of your most-talented servers opens the box, eliciting a chorus of gasps, giggles, and excited whispers as soon as the assortment of croissants and pastries are revealed.

You and Mathilde exchange a look as everyone else busy themselves with unpacking the pastry box. Mathilde raises an eyebrow and you’re not sure what to say. Witnessing your silent exchange, Jesper makes his way over to the both of you, before extending his arm to reveal the card he’s holding.

“And this, my dear…” he begins, exchanging a look with his sister. “...is for you.”

“What do you-, just me?” you ask as you take it, hesitantly.

“I think so, yeah,” he nods, confidently.

To the Chef, the front of the card reads.

“Jesper, let’s check out some of these pastries, yeah?” Mathilde suggests, not so subtly hinting towards her brother.

He nods, giving you a little space so that you can read the card Luca’s left for you.

As your staff divvy up the box of laminated pastries, sighing with joy as they taste the decadent, hand-crafted sweets, you take a few steps away to open the note. His handwriting is pristine – perfectly neat in every way, like he’s written over carefully measured invisible lines.

Chef,

Thank you for all of the great meals. I'd like to return the favor, that is, if you're open to it.

Tomorrow. 5 pm. Dronningens Tværgade 2, 1302

While Luca’s gift has been more-than-generous, you find yourself overwhelmed by questions. Was he a chef too? And why had he not said anything? And what was this gesture all about anyways?

You read the card a few more times, turning the words over in your head as you try to make sense of it.

Mathilde can see your overwhelm, your eyebrows knitted into one confused expression as she saunters back over to you.

“What does it say?” she asks, curiously. “A love confession perhaps?”

“Mathilde, you really have to stop reading all of those French romance novels!” you tease her. “It’s giving you too many ideas.”

“It’s the only way I keep up with my French!” she defends herself with a lackadaisical shrug, earning a laugh from you.

“Uh no… it’s actually a thank you card… only I think he… wants to feed me,” you share with her, holding the card out so that she can take a look.

“He’s a chef too?” she asks, taking the card from your hands.

“I think so, yeah,” you reply, letting out an exasperated laugh.

“Oh shit!” Mathilde exclaims, as soon as she sees the address that Luca’s written down.

“What?” you ask her, wondering if there’s something you missed.

“The address… that’s AOC. I think he’s a chef at AOC, babe,” she gasps, shaking her head as she hands the card back to you, sending a ‘you lucky, bitch’ look your way.

Oh shit, is right.

#chef luca #will poulter #luca the bear #the bear season 2 #the bear headcanon #luca x reader #the bear hulu #the bear fx #the bear fanfiction #chef luca x reader #pastry chef luca #burn your life down

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queenalexandraofdenmark · 5 days

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𝙲𝚑𝚘𝚌𝚘𝚕𝚊𝚝𝚎 𝚌𝚊𝚛𝚍𝚜 𝚘𝚏 𝚁𝚘𝚢𝚊𝚕 𝚠𝚘𝚖𝚎𝚗 👑✨🍫

(𝙿𝚊𝚛𝚝 𝟷 𝚘𝚞𝚝 𝚘𝚏 𝟺)

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Queen Lovisa of Denmark, née Princess Lovisa of Sweden.

Princess Henry of Prussia, née Princess Irene of Hesse.

Queen Olga of Greece, née Grand Duchess Olga Constantinovna.

Crown Princess Margaret of Sweden, née Princess Margaret of Connaught.

Empress Augusta Viktoria of Germany, née Princess Augusta Viktoria of Schleswig-Holstein.

Queen Mary 𝚘𝚏 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚄𝚗𝚒𝚝𝚎𝚍 𝙺𝚒𝚗𝚐𝚍𝚘𝚖, née Princess Victoria Mary of Teck.

Queen Maud of Norway, née Princess Maud of Wales.

Empress Elisabeth of Austria, née Duchess Elisabeth in Bavaria.

Queen Elena of Italy, née Princess Elena of Montenegro.

#queen lovisa of denmark #lovisa of sweden #princess irene of hesse #princess henry of prussia #queen olga of greece #olga constantinovna #princess margaret of connaught #crown princess margaret of sweden #empress augusta viktoria of germany #augusta viktoria of schleswig-holstein #queen mary #mary of teck #queen maud of norway #maud of wales #empress elisabeth of austria #empress sissi #queen elena of italy #elena of montenegro #chocolate cards

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woso-dreamzzz · 6 months

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Shirt Swap

Pernille Harder x Child!Reader

Aitana Bonmatí x Hardersson!Reader

Part of The Big Adventures Universe

Summary: Inspired by the fact that Aitana waited twenty minutes to exchange shirts with Pernille

There's a small girl in the mixed area, waiting by the doors of the Denmark side.

You wouldn't describe her as little because you're little but small seems suitable.

You watch her as she lingers by the door. She's dressed in the Spain kit and she looks a little anxious.

Momma let you go and get snacks from the vending machine so long as you came straight back, which you did, but you still find yourself staring at this little girl by the door.

You've got a packet of skildpadder in your hand. You've missed skildpadder so you're glad the vending machine had it.

The girl is still by your door so you huff and approach - adults are so weird sometimes.

"Hi."

She jolts in shock, looking down at you. "Hola."

You frown. You don't speak Spanish. Danish, yes. Swedish, yes. English when you absolutely have to and German when you want to annoy Morsa. So, you say again," Hi."

You blink up at her as she crouches in front of you. Finally, she says," Hello."

You grin. "Want one?" Because Morsa says it's good to share.

She looks at the packet in your hand, biting her lip as she glances back at the closed door and the even further away door of the locker room. "What is it?" Her accent is thick and rough but she's speaking English so at least you can understand her.

"Skildpadder," You say in awe," It's...er...chocolate and cream and caramel. It's very good." You open the packet and offer one to her. "My Momma and Morsa don't let me have them a lot but Momma let me get something from the vending machine."

The girl takes it. "Thank you. My name is Aitana."

"I'm y/n!" You grin and eat your own bite of chocolatey goodness. "Why are you waiting outside?"

Aitana's cheeks blush red and instead she fixes your Harder jersey from where it's gone askew. She notices the name on your back. "Do you like Pernille Harder?"

You frown. You're not sure what kind of question that is but you answer it anyway. "Uh-huh!"

Aitana smiles and says to you in barely a whisper. "She's my absolute favourite," She says," I look up to her a lot. I...I would like to swap my jersey for hers."

You nod along. It makes sense. Momma is one of the best in the world - you know that because she's got two trophies that say so - but Aitana seems pretty cool and you can't imagine someone as cool as Aitana wanting one of Momma's jerseys - the same as all the other ones you wear to bed.

You flick the thought away through because you give Aitana another skildpadder for being honest because that's what Morsa does for you and you take her hand.

She doesn't put up much for a fight as you walk her through the door and into the changing room. Lots of your aunties are changing and crying out words in Danish for you to come and cuddle them to console them after their loss but you ignore them all.

Instead, you go straight for Momma, dropping Aitana's hand to slam into her.

"Momma!" You cry in laughter as she lifts you easily onto her hip.

"Princesse! Did you get what you wanted?"

"Uh-huh!" You hold up your chosen snack triumphantly. You look back at Aitana, whose eyes dart between you and Momma in shock. "This is my new friend Aitana. She was waiting outside. She wants one of your shirts."

Momma places you back on the ground and walks closer to Aitana.

"You want to exchange shirts?"

Aitana nods. "Er...Por favor?"

Momma strips her shirt from her body and passes it to Aitana, who takes it after a moment of shock. Aitana repeats to gesture until they're both standing shirtless in the middle of the locker room.

"Do you mind if I give your shirt to y/n?" Momma asks as you creep towards them, standing at her side. "She's got quite the collection of shirts from the greatest players in the world."

You nod. "I have Frido's, who plays with Morsa sometimes. And Viv and Daan and Jill for when they play for the Netherlands. And...And...Oh! And Caro from when Momma and I were at Wolfsburg. And Leah from Arsenal! She says she will get me a Keira Walsh shirt because she is friends with her!" You list off your other jerseys and Aitana nods along, although you're talking so quickly you're not entirely sure she's fully keeping up with you.

"Aitana plays with Frido and Keira in Barcelona," Momma tells you and instantly you gasp.

Aitana is very cool.

You give her another skildpadder.

Aitana takes the shirt she gave to Momma and places it on you.

You smile. "Thank you."

"You're welcome." She looks up at Momma and looks down again, blushing. "I...er...I didn't realise she was yours when we met."

"We keep her face out of the media most of the time," Pernille says as she watches you scamper off to Rikkie to brag about your new Bonmatí shirt. "But yes, she's mine and Magda's."

"She's very sweet."

"Yeah, she is."

There's silence for a moment and then," It's kind of inflating my ego a bit to know that someone like you wants my shirt."

"I appreciate the way you play," Aitana says, unable to make eye contact," And your dedication. You...er, what is the word? You are an idol of mine."

Pernille smiles softly and they both watch you munch on your skildpadder as the rest of the Danish team fuss over you.

"You must have made a good impression on her. She loves skildpadder. I'm surprised she's shared it. You've made her day, giving her the shirt."

Aitana's face reddens more with the amount of compliments she's being given. "I..." She takes out her phone and opens the notes app. "If you give me your address, I...I can get her the Keira jersey she wants. And if she's collecting world class players, I do not think Alexia or Patri will mind giving theirs up either."

#woso x reader #pernille harder x reader #pernille harder #aitana bonmati x reader #aitana bonmati #woso community #woso imagine #woso fanfics #woso #The Big Adventures Universe

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markscherz · 2 months

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Hello! Have you heard of the Australian dessert 'Frog in a Pond'? It is just a cup of jelly with a chocolate frog set into it. Mostly a staple of kids parties but sometimes you can get one from the children's menu at a pub. Just to be another stranger announcing misc frog related things to you in case you hadn't already heard of it! Have a good day! Thanks for the fun and interesting blog!

Umm no but this is spectacular. Here in Denmark there is the Kaj Cake, based on a television character.

[src]

#sadly I don't like them very much #but several people have brought them to my office before #I have a fun job #answers by Mark #frankenfossil

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calummss · 6 months

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Mads Mikkelsen Headcanon: Dating A Younger Woman Would Include

masterlist

the age gap i'm thinking of is 20-35 years, so if it makes you uncomfortable do not read!

you would probably meet randomly at a park, both of you walking alone and bumping into each other

let’s add the cliché where one of you is holding a cup of coffee and it goes everywhere, staining the two of you

instead of glares or words of anger, you both chuckle at each other and laugh, apologising with grins on your face

he offers you some money for new clothes but you deny

you start to talk and realise similar interest and it all kind of comes naturally

both of you had intentions of frienly acquaintances but slowly evolved into friends that went out for dinner or drink every couple of months

i feel like you would be the first to fall for him

you knew that he was significantly older than you but your heart saw right past that

mads never brought up the topic because he thought it would be weird and didn’t want to destroy the newly friendship

but one day you were bold enough to ask him if he thought of you more as a friend

he stumbled over his words a few times but ultimately admitted his affection for you

you kissed him to let him know you felt the same way

secretly knowing that mads was an actor, you approached the relationship carefully, always making sure that you were alone or not as seen to avoid paparazzi

which did not work because 5 months into the relationship a famous paparazzi released the pictures because he knew the age difference would cause a scandal

and you were right

newsites, twitter, every social media app was talking about it; his fans especially where halved. some backing up the relationship, others not

the two of you pulled away even more and stayed in his home in denmark

your parents contacted you after seeing you on the internet

they were weirded out who am i kidding?

they met him and talked

realised that you are in love and couldn’t really disagree because you’re both consenting adults but it took them a while to get adjusted

you spent the next couple of months doings various things:

baking (your mother’s blueberry and raspberry chocolate muffins)

walks in the park

snuggling up on the couch watching throwback movies

dancing to songs

your favourite being i wanna be yours by arctic monkey

and your favourite activity was mads bringing you breakfast to bed…

when everything died around your dating scandal, you slowly started to go out into the world again

mads bringing you as a date to an award show where he mentioned you in his winning speech

your relationship faces ups and downs but you know that it was meant to be

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