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#the bear luca
mod-doodles · 8 months
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The Sydcarmy + Lucus parallels
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words-4u · 10 months
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right person (2/3)
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pairing: luca x reader
wc: 3.3k
a/n: part two is hereee! i took the conversation that marcus and luca had while chopping/folding dough and revamped it for this fic <3 hope yall like it
warnings: 18+ SMUT, swearing
part 1 / part 3
as it turns out making shiso gelee wasn't as complicated as it sounds but it also helped massively that chef luca is always near to correct any mistakes.
the kitchen is silent besides the sounds of pots and smacking of dough from marcus' station.
luca is drying some tupperware at the table behind you while you whisk some liquid gelatin.
"that's a little bit too thick," he says peering over. "so just add some more pineapple juice."
you caught a whiff of his aftershave which made you want to lose your mind. "yes, chef."
doing as he instructed, you add more juice. "just to know for the future, can i ask why?"
he glances at you before going back to his task at hand. "uh, the thicker it is, the stronger it is. so too thick and it overpowers the other components."
"good to know... and what do you serve this with exactly?"
"uh, we do that with a thin slice of marzipan and a caramel cracker," luca answers.
"damn, that sounds good," you say.
"yeah, it's a nice dish," he comes over to your side and puts away some freshly dried containers.
"uh you're good to go on your break, by the way. we can pick this up in 15,"
"are you sure?"
"yes. the gel needs to set anyways."
"thank you, chef," you smile and make your way to an area behind the restaurant for a smoke break. lucky for you, that area had a nice wooden bench. you take a seat and place a cigarette between your lips, lighting it.
taking your first drag, you shut your eyes and lean your head against the exposed brick of the building.
"i, uh, i don't suppose i could use your lighter, chef," a voice asks. the accent is instantly recognizable.
"oh, sure," you go over to where he's standing and close the distance between you as you light his bud.
you stuff your lighter back into your pocket but don't return to the bench.
"y/n," you say after a few moments.
"sorry?"
"it's just, uh, when we aren't in the kitchen, you can call me y/n,"
he nods.
"so tell me y/n," he says. "how do you like you copenhagen so far?"
"well, considering i've been in the city less than 48 hours, i have no complaints. the scenery is beautiful. food is pretty good and the people..." you look up at him. "i'm still getting to know the people."
he holds your gaze before letting out a cloud of smoke. "hmm."
if you didn't think there was a weird tension between you earlier, you definitely feel it now.
“if you, uh, ever want a proper tour, let me know,” luca says.
it takes everything you have to not breakout into a massive smile. “thanks, chef.”
“outside the kitchen, luca,”
this time you nod. “luca.”
he clears throat and steps on his cigarette. “well, we’d better get back inside and check on the gelee,”
“of course, how could we forget about the gelee,” you say following him back in and you swear you hear him chuckle.
when you got back to your station, you began blanching some large green leaves first by boiling it in hot water and then immediately dumping it in a metal bowl filled with ice water so it doesn't lose its colour.
luca took the metal bowl and brought it to the table behind you where the blender was. he takes a clump of the leaves and then adds water.
"start off low," luca says as he turns on the blender.
the loud noise jolts you a bit.
"you can see the colour change," he says as you move closer. "you see it starting to get brighter?"
"gorgeous colour," you say.
"yeah, it is."
luca pours the green liquid into a sifter and hands you the purified liquid.
he watches as you pour the liquid into a new bowl and asks you to to bloom the gelatin with the cold green liquid to prevent potential clumps.
the second half of your shift flew by because before you knew it, it was time to clock out of the day.
in the change room, you removed your apron and since you were alone you removed your shirt as well quickly sliding on the grey sweatshirt you came with.
just as you brought your sweatshirt down, luca walked in and stood at his locker across from you.
turning your head slightly to peek at him, you caught him pulling off his shirt and since his back was turned towards you, he couldn't see you drinking in the sight of him.
you turned back around and pressed your lips.
"uh, luca," you say.
"yeah?" he says.
"about that, uh, personal tour? is now a good time?" you slowly turn his way.
he cracked the faintest smile. "sure. anywhere particular in mind?"
you shake your head. "wherever you wanna show me,"
"in that case, might i suggest some sustenance first? does coffee sound good?"
"coffee sounds fucking great," you sigh and follow him out the door and on to the sidewalk.
"there's this cafe that i love just up the road," he says.
walking alongside him, you take in your height difference. he's probably 6'2" to your 5'7" so it was perfect.
when you arrive at a hole-in-the-wall cafe, that had blue painted bricks and picture frames of happy looking folks. probably customers or family members.
"hi," luca says going up to the old woman behind the counter. "can i get a medium black coffee and...." he looks to you to say your coffee of choice.
"just a caramel latte please,"
"a caramel latte," he repeats "and two snegls please,"
you grab a table for the two of you near the window so you can people watch while luca gets your order. it's midday now and you watch as people in their own little lives pass by the window.
luca makes his way to you holding two coffee cups and clutching two bags of pastries.
"okay now can i ask what the hell a snegl is?" you say once he's seated.
"sure. it's cinnamon roll style pastry but shaped like a snails shell if that makes sense," he explains.
"so a cinnamon bun?"
he was going to refute your statement but upon seeing the look on your face, he concedes. "yeah, it's a cinnamon bun,"
you guys shard a small laugh.
"so long have you been a cook?" he asks taking a sip of his hot drink.
"about six years now. i went to university for psychology but didn't really feel like it was my thing," you answer.
"so you dropped out?"
"no. after all the hard work my parents did to raise me, dropping out, no matter how disengaged i was, was not an option. so i got that degree but i did tell them the truth. that my heart wasn't in it for that right reasons."
"so how did you fall into cooking?" luca sat up ready to hear your story.
"my dad taught me everything i know," you say a lump started to form in your throat. "i swear his favourite place besides his bed was the kitchen."
luca stayed silent and let you collect yourself. "he passed recently... but he was the best mentor i could have asked for."
"i'm sure he's proud," luca said with sincerity.
you give him a small smile.
"what about you?" you say ready to move on before you start crying in front of your hot co-worker. "how long have you been doing this?"
"uh, fourteen years now..."
"oh, so you started when you were three?" you ask deadpanned.
he chuckles. "close enough, yeah."
"and with that accent i'm guessing you're from london."
"you'd be correct. and you're from chicago?"
"born n raised," you confirm. "so did you go to culinary school?"
"i didn't. no. i didn't do too well in school. got in quite a bit of trouble. ditched the check. they caught me. made me wash dishes, and, uh, i loved it."
"wow, you might be the only person i know that loves washing dishes,"
he shrugs. "it gives me time to reflect."
"fair enough," you hold your hands up. "i can't argue with that."
"so, uh, you said your dad passed recently, but how recent? if you don't mind me asking?"
"no, not at all. i love talking about him," you say. "he died a little over a year ago and not gonna lie... i didn't handle it too well. it was sudden. in his sleep. so i had no chance to say goodbye and i think that's what still hurts more than anything."
you let a tear fall but quickly wiped it away. "i'm sorry."
"you never have to apologize to me. ever. and especially for crying," he hands you a tissue that came with the pastries.
"you're an only child?" he asks taking out a snegl and placing one in front of you.
"i have two brothers. and you?"
"uh, yeah. i have a younger sister somewhere... yeah,"
"somewhere?" you echo taking slow bites of your snegl.
he clears his throat. "half-sister, i have to clarify. my parents separated when i young and my mum quickly found someone new. then my sister came along and then one day... my mum just left. no goodbye or anything just a note saying she wanted to focus on herself... my step-dad got custody of my sister and well i was 18 by that time so i moved out and moved on."
you stay silent for a few seconds. you couldn't believe a mother could abandoned her kids like that, especially someone as great as luca.
"she's missing out... your mom."
"yeah," he sighs.
you were starting to see luca in a different light. after telling him your story and you his, all you wanted to do was hold him and hope to ease his pain and loss. but you couldn't do that so you opted for something safer. kind of...
"hey, want to come back to mine and i can cook us a meal or something?"
"you still wanna cook after today?"
"you can take the cook out of the kitchen, but you can’t take the kitchen out of the cook."
he laughs at that. "okay, let's go."
you and luca talk some more on the way to your place. he makes you laugh telling stories of his younger rugrat days in london and when you're talking, he hangs on to your every word.
"you... live on a boat?" he says when you arrive.
you look back opening the door. "cool, huh?"
"very."
you turn to luca as you place your bag on a hook at the front door. "can i get you anything?"
"water is fine," he says taking a seat the dining table. you get his water and tell him to make himself comfortable as you went up stairs to change into a t-shirt and loose jeans.
it's only when you make your way back down and see luca sitting at the table, that you've realized how small your space and intimate your living space was.
"what's on the menu for tonight, chef?" luca asks as he spots you coming down the steps.
"home made pizza, if your elegant taste buds can handle that?" you reply.
"i can never turn down a pizza,"
you got started on the dough and soon enough luca is by your side helping. what was supposed to be you cooking for him, turned to him taking over and doing all the work which you let him happily.
"how did you get good at this?" you ask as you finished with your slice.
he exhales. "honestly, i made a lot of mistakes."
"so that's the secret then? just fuck up?"
he smiles. "it might be, you know, fuck up."
"i think 'cause i started early, i got my skill set up really quick and then started to feel like i was really the best, you know, like at all these really good places. i really was the best cook. and then i started at this really great place as a commis. and this other chef started the same day as me, and..." he sighs.
"i thought we were competition, um, but really we weren't. he was better than me. much, much better than me. he worked harder and faster than i ever could. and it was the first time i realized that i wasn't the best," he confides.
"and i was never gonna be the best. so i started looking at it like it was a good thing. like, at least i knew who the best was now, and i could take that pressure off myself. and the only logical thing to do was to try and keep up with him. so i never left this guy's side."
"and you got better," you say.
"oh, i got better than i ever thought i possibly could be just from trying to keep up with him."
"that's incredible, honestly," you say putting the dirty dishes in the sink and hopping on the counter.
"thanks but i think at a certain stage it becomes less about skill and it's more about being open."
"open?" you echo.
"yeah. to-to the world, to yourself, to other people. you know, most of the incredible things that i've eaten haven't been because the skill level is exceptionally high or there's loads of mad fancy techniques. it's because it's been really inspired, you know." he says.
"i like that," you say softly.
"you can spend all the time in the world in the kitchen, but if you don't spend enough time out there..." he trails off but you understood what he meant.
"right," you nod.
luca lifts his gaze to you. "it helps to have good people around you, too."
"is what i am? good people?" you smile coyly.
he gets up and walks over to you, placing his hands on either side of the counter in front of you. "honestly? i really think so."
a few moments go by where luca just studies your face and you can feel your heart beating a million miles per hour.
"you are so fucking beautiful," he finally says. his voice barely above a whisper.
those words set your body aflame. you parted your lips and he leaned. "may i?"
"please," was all you managed to get out before luca held your chin and guided your lips to his. he was taking things slow, trying to sus your level of comfortability and giving you the chance to pull away if you wanted but you didn't want that. ever.
you brought your arms around his neck pushing him closer to you. the kiss got heavier and you moaned as he bit your lip. "i have been wanting to do this since i first saw you,"
"good because i've wanted this too," you say as luca starts to kiss your neck and moves his hands under your top.
he slides his hand up and down your back and then around to your boobs to start playing with your nipples. you lean your head back and revel in his affection.
you were desperate to get his hands on him as well so you lifted the black hoodie he adorned wanting to see his chest that you caught just a glimpse of earlier.
"wow," you say as you running both hands across his pecs and abs. you trail your fingers down south before you cup him through his jeans. "is this okay?" you whisper.
"more than okay," he lets out as you message him through his jeans.
he moves to take off your top next and you help, revealing your bare chest to him. luca looks at you in awe and immediately attaches his lips to your nipple while still playing with other.
you unbutton your jeans and luca helps you shimmy out of them.
"fuck," he whispered at the sight of you sitting completely naked and ready for him. he slides two fingers up and down your slit. "you're so wet, is this all for me?"
you whimper at his touch, spreading your legs wider. "all for you, luca."
he brings his fingers to his lips to taste you. "just like i imagined, you taste so sweet" he says as he gets on his knees and slides you to the edge of the counter.
the first lick was heaven. you couldn't help but throw your head back and moan. luca doesn't waste anytime, eating you like your his last meal.
"l-luca," you whine as he sucks on your clit. you grab his golden locks as he laps at your cunt.
"you're the best thing i've ever tasted," luca says in between licks. coming from a chef, that was the highest praise a girl could get.
he detaches himself from your cunt, his nose, lips and chin covered in your juices. he stands and holds your face in his hands and kisses you. you taste yourself on his tongue as he slipped it down your mouth.
"i need to fuck you or else i'm gonna lose my mind," he says in breathy whispers.
"upstairs," is all you said before he carries you in that direction and up the stairs to your bed.
luca drops you on the bed and you lay on your forearms and watch as him takes off his jeans and then his boxers. as he pulls that down, he watches you watch him.
your eyes go wide at the sight of his hard, and rather large, dick. you reach to wipe the pre-cum leaking from his tip, pressing it to your lips. he groans and climbs on top of you. "condom?"
"i'm on the pill," you say caressing his hair back and bringing his lips back to yours.
luca takes his aching dick and rubs it against your slit. "are you ready?"
"mmhm," you say as he wraps your legs around his waist as he sinks into you.
muffled moans are exchanged between the two of you as your mouths clashed hungrily.
"you're so big, luca" you say, squeezing down on his eliciting a hiss from him.
"y-yes squeeze me like that again... fuck," he thrusts his hip into you at a steady pace as you scratched your nails across his muscled back.
"this feels so good," he murmurs.
you gasp as he pulls out almost all the way only to push back int you again. you pull your knees up so he can reach deeper inside you. you could feel him stretching you and filling you up, his beautiful face inches away from yours as he peppers your neck with sloppy kisses.
the sounds falling from your lips are incoherent, his pace moving at a high speed as he wants to get you off. it didn't take long for you to gain the warm sensation in the pit of your stomach. "i'm so c-close,"
"yeah? cum for me, darling," he moans keeping that speed that he's at, his dick throbbing inside you as well signalling he was gonna cum soon.
luca let out a throaty groan before he snaps his hips into you, feeling his first load release into your cunt. you follow close behind as you cover his dick with your wetness but he stills fucks you through your high.
as you catch your breaths, he leans his forehead against your collarbone before he pulls out.
"wait there," he says and goes downstairs and comes back up just as quickly carrying paper towels. he smiles to himself seeing you in your current position all fucked out, liking the effect he had on you.
the bed dips as luca makes his way to you and cleans you up.
you slide under the covers, and when he discards the paper towels, he joins you.
"that was good," you say as he brings you into his chest.
his fingers trail up and down your arm softly while he lays his head on top of yours.
"it was," he says planting a kiss on your head.
"can we stay like this for a bit?" you ask not wanting this moment to end.
"yeah, i'm not going anywhere," he says.
between the day that you had and luca caressing you, you let tiredness wash over you.
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tags: @leopard-skin-pillbox-hat-ok, @eddiemunsonreader, @sodapop182, @haydensith, @inpraizeof, @thecraziestcrayon, @zeeader, @tiana76, @jackierose902109
hope you guys enjoyed part two and thank you for all the support on the first part! part three is coming soon <3
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ay0nha · 10 months
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Boiling Point | Chef Luca (Prologue)
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(working) SUMMARY: A well- known food critic is retiring. Apart of this condition is that you continue writing on his behalf as if he hadn’t. To show you the ropes, he implores Luca to teach you what it takes to enter the culinary world.
There he was. His pristine white jacket contrasted perfectly against the warm ambiance of the evening. The distance was covered within a few long strides and once at the table, his charmed smile made you nauseous. He played his part better than you had that night
PAIRING: Chef!Luca x f!reader (food journalist/critic)
WORD COUNT: 1.4K
WARNINGS: smoking, drinking, canon-typical things, future enemies to lovers sort of, mutual pining, inspiration from Kitchen Confidential and the movie Boiling Point, etc.
A/N: Just a little sneak peek/intro to this request. Might do a short series (three/four parts)...stay tuned. It’s a little choppy at the moment, so I hope it makes sense. Let me know if you’d like to be tagged. Comments are always appreciated! Enjoy.
Deep breaths helped.
The nicotine’s warmth sparked excitement in your veins. It made a tedious night seem just bearable with each inhale. You eyed the falling ash as if it were tea leaves promising your near future. Yet, when your eyes surveyed the crowd within the restaurant, it cemented the dull company you’d join.
Excusing yourself was easy. Slipping away wasn’t the issue; it was expected as the call for a cigarette completed your image. The cliché of it made your mouth pucker with your final drag.
“There you are...” A hand settled on your shoulder. Ryan. “They’re ordering another bottle as we speak.” Lighting her own cigarette, she cursed. “We better fucking land this deal—I’m about to max out the company card.”
Flicking your roach under the point of your heel, you scoffed, “Please, if I have to hear that man say heavenly one more time, I’ll—
“You’ll smile.” She reminded you. It was an instruction, really. “Nod your head, agree with anything—Everything.”
“He said supposebly.” You tutted. “I can’t take him seriously.”
“He’s ancient. Cut him some slack!” She laughed. Charm came second nature to Ryan; you weren’t convinced she even knew its effect on people. “He’s sweet on you.”
“Right…” You tried to make out the stars, but the light pollution fought against you. “So, what? I marry him for the life insurance?”
“Let’s just make it through dessert,” Ryan spoke definitively, always cutting through. Yet, room always remained to entertain you. “Then we can talk wedding plans.”
The man that waited for you was Avery Sinclair—world-renowned something. You had listened, but the information had already left you. Those around you, though, knew who sat across from you well. They were almost as good as you hiding their discomfort. Eyes were always on him, knowing his thoughts before he could form them. New forks were laid after the slightest touch, napkin splayed on his lap before he could lift it himself, and every meal came with the chef that made it.
He was respected.
Yet, all you saw was his brittle and thin mustache, sitting upon his lip like forgotten food. The comb-over was just as wirey and pulled kindness to his cheeks. They flushed now as he flirted with another glass of wine.
“There you are!” He bubbled. With a wave of his hand, your diligent waitress returned with the Italian bottle. “I ordered the oak-aged white. It has a buttery note that is just heavenly with the gelée.”
You smiled.
“I cannot believe our night is coming to an end.” Ryan charmed. She held her nose to the glass, listening intently as Mr. Sinclair explained each technique to her. The slurping was a bit much.
“My dear, this is just a start.” The deal was confirmed with those words alone. A part of you wished the promise had a false bottom. “We can draft up something agreeable, I’m sure?”
He looked at you. You had that feeling like you’d forgotten to walk. Each step felt forced and off. You played off your misstep cleverly, your glass raising to the center, “I look forward to working together.”
Ryan was impressed, pride swelling in her chest. She and you were an unmistakable duo. Angel and devil. Thelma and Louise. Introvert and extrovert.  Fill in any this and that, and there you two were. Most importantly, she was the publicist, and you were the writer.
“Under one condition…” Mr. Sinclair smiled, far too tickled by your toast. He leaned in, elbows brushing the circular table. “Do you know why I chose this place tonight?”
You hadn’t expected the question. Your answer came out blunt. “Favoritism.”
“You’re sharp.” He smiled broadly, wagging his manicured finger at you. “Exactly that. Look around you…”
You took a genuine moment.  The perception of fine dining was all theatrics. It was a large show that ran every night of the week. Even those who dined were an unassuming audience. Those swiveling doors may as well be the curtain line to backstage. The kitchen, the dressing room. The dripping alleyway, the green room.
You were all too aware of the communication chain. The insults were coded frustrations that later into the service would be water under the bridge. There was a reason for everyone being here just as you were.
“We’re all cut from the same cloth. You, me, dear Ryan.” Mr. Sinclair smiled at her. “We all express our passions differently, but we love just the same.”
He felt content. His body relaxed with his decision to hire you. Sinclair could see how you hadn’t quite trusted yourself with the responsibility that he was putting on your shoulders. But he was confident you’d grow into it perfectly.
“I hope you understand the reasons for my poetics—” The rumors and gossip about him failed to do his sincerity justice. “—as I’m trusting you with my legacy.”
“Of course.” You gave another smile; this time, it felt real.
“Excuse my sentimentality!” Mr. Sinclair clasped his hands together in a soft clap. You could almost see tears forming in the corner of his eyes.   “With that out of the way, dessert? The pastry chef here is—” His favoritism came into play. “—is something special.”
You could picture the chef now, cursing at the interruption. Hopefully, complaining about the big wig seated at table seven wasn’t worth his time. You waited for the rehearsed, polite decline.
Apologies, however, our chef is tied up between aeration.
But there he was, Chef Luca. His pristine white jacket contrasted perfectly against the warm ambiance of the evening. The distance was covered within a few long strides, and once at the table, his charmed smile made you nauseous. He played his part better than you had that night.
His features were tight, unwavering as the compliments poured. Your lips twitched down as you took him in. With his hands behind his back, his chest pulled broadly, but you could still make out the littered tattoos on his forearms. Typical.
Even with his eyes on you, you hadn’t shied from your judgment. You only stopped when you heard your name.
“Isn’t that right?” Ryan prompted you again, defined features expressing her sternness. Focus.  “You always talk about how much you love to bake.”
You don’t.
“Sure.” You nodded.
“A match made in heaven, then!” Mr. Sinclair exclaimed. “You must get to know Luca; he has the most interesting story!”
In your short assessment, you already disparaged his comment. To you, Luca was, like you, a walking cliché.
“I don’t doubt that…” Your sarcasm was palpable. Luca’s stoicism broke with a smirk of confusion. “Let me guess... You were a troublemaker?” Your tone was teasing but bordered something wicked.  “Cooking put you straight, and you owe your life to grease and adrenaline.”
“Forgot to mention that I’m a hard-partying criminal.” Luca didn’t waste a beat. Impressive.
“And when did the anger issues start?” You hummed. You played at every stereotype you knew. “Before or after your—
“I think what she means to say—” Ryan cut in seamlessly. She came prepared for your shenanigans. “—is that she admires the journey you’ve taken to get here.”
Luckily, Mr. Sinclair was far too enamored with the preciseness of the dessert to interpret the sudden banter.
“Of course.” Luca looked at you. Then as you had only moments ago, he pulled a practiced expression to address his loyal customer. “Mr. Sinclair, as always, it’s a pleasure to see you.”
“Unfortunately, I must savor tonight.” He spoke. “My home on the Amalfi coast has been quite lonely.” Sinclair let out a regretful sigh. “I trust you to keep this between us, yes?”
Luca nodded. “Of course.”
“You will be a very lucky man, son.” Sinclair further divulged the secrets behind his retirement. “I hope you heed my advice and get to know this young lady.”
All eyes were on you.
“She will continue to write for me. Use my name.” He explained your purpose. You weren’t ready to hear it aloud. “So treat her kindly, or you will have to answer to me.”
“I’m not sure I understand.” Luca almost protested. It seemed elaborate to allow someone so young—you— to take his place.
“Be open. Present.” Sinclair answered. He wasn’t a man of riddles, but you noticed that the more he spoke, the harder to understand. “You were once new. You had to figure it out on your own. Maybe you can help her, show her your world. Our world.”
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periprose · 10 months
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jesus christ why is Will Poulter so hot as a chef in the bear?
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cloveroctobers · 9 months
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LUCA — summer prompts 🍋
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A/N: taking a shot writing for Mr. Luca! Love when the bear gives us crumbs and I’m able to create/build more off what was given. Let’s give it up for Mr. Eyebrow king being in lurve 💛 also I promise this is the last time I’ll be using a song from this album but the entire album fits for the bear in my humble opinion, I’m not going to hold you!
WARNINGS: still trying to get a feel for Luca’s character so I hope I wasn’t too far off for him! Feels! A supportive partner! Mentions of mental health & dark thoughts that lead to dark actions—but not overly described but definitely hinted!
Added summer prompts from here & I’m using these two: “hey, you said to keep hydrated! i’m pretty sure there’s some water in this cocktail.” + “i’m not happy you’re sunburnt, but i am enjoying getting to be the one helping you put aloe vera on.”
*GIF BELONGS TO: @goodsirs
❛ ༉‧₊˚ - ̥۪͙۪˚ ┊ ˚ ̥۪͙۪◌ ❛ ༉‧₊˚ - ̥۪͙۪˚ ┊ ˚ ̥۪͙۪◌ ❛ ༉‧₊˚ - ̥۪͙۪˚ ┊ ˚ ̥۪͙۪◌ ❛ ༉‧₊˚
Being back in Copenhagen was a whirlwind of emotions but Peyton picked the very best one.
To tell you the truth, Peyton’s been away for about three months, and decided to take the trip back but not alone.
She’s the one leading the way, natural sway in her hips even beneath her cream shacket as she’s all smiles to the familiar workers who seem to be moving at ease. It’s a Sunday, a little after twelve and the restaurant isn’t as busy yet. In her mind, it’s the perfect time to show up, unannounced, although Sydney and Marcus were definitely questioning it.
Carmy doesn’t say much, deciding to take in the architecture of the dark painted walls and the industrial decor instead. He still follows behind as Peyton pushes the back doors open, holding it in place as she waves the three to where the real show is located.
The kitchen is louder and lively compared to the main floor: which is quiet with small chatter, cedar wood infused air, and the gentle splashing from the large stone water fountain, that’s tucked in the back of the main dining floor.
There’s at least six chefs moving around in the kitchen, handling different tasks and talking to each other in calm tones that aren’t as similar back in Chicago. It’s a whole different atmosphere, Carmy thinks and he knows his thoughts are matched as his round eyes peek over at Sydney’s while Marcus sends all split-tooth grins.
It doesn’t take long for Peyton’s eyes to find Luca’s frame, who has his back turned to the four, large hands tending to the dough on the counter that he’s kneading.
“Is that the guy?” Sydney asks, only hearing a few stories from Carmy and occasionally Marcus.
Carmy nods, “yeah, yeah. That’s Luca.”
Peyton continues holding the door for the chefs who start to leave the area, greeting Peyton on their way before she lets the door gently flap behind them after they take their exit. The woman with the hair full of volume takes a stand in between Marcus and Sydney.
“Welcome and welcome back to Brimstone’s Gate.” Peyton introduced the trio who further took in the environment of the kitchen.
Marcus took a deep inhale, “it’s nice to be back…after everything you know?”
A solemn mood is felt after his words.
“I absolutely get that,” Peyton comments as she rests a hand on his shoulder, “just consider this your second home. A place of comfort and to relax your mind.”
Marcus gives a small smile, “thanks, Peyton.”
“Of course.” Peyton moves to face the three again, smile on her glossed lips as she clasps her hands together while she begins walking backwards, “so brimstone’s gate is one of the popular restaurants here in Copenhagen just like the lovely owner and manager of this place that you just met, Ragmus previously said. It’s mainly known for its intricate desserts and quaint and savory cuisine.”
“You’re really selling it, Peyton.” Sydney tells with two thumbs up.
Peyton winks as she points out at the twenty-something year old, “thanks girl, it’s what I do.”
Peyton’s a successful Editorial Food Photographer and it became the best decision she’s made for her career.
“Should we be calling you presenter chef instead?” Carmy teases, “we could have used some of those skills at the bear.”
Peyton laughs as she rolls her thumb over her fingers, “where the money resides, honey.”
“Ah, and here I thought we were friends.” Carmy’s got a crooked smile playing on his lips while Peyton playfully scoffs.
They both know if Peyton was in Chicago on better terms, Peyton would definitely shoot some photos if that’s what Carmy really needed for The Bear. She met Carmy years ago, attending the same restaurant alongside Luca, until she decided creating food wasn’t her passion like her well-known food critic mother wanted it to be. Instead she liked seeing the visuals and telling hundreds of those stories through film.
“That’s a likely story,” she responds as she purposely bumps into Luca who hadn’t noticed they were here, “oh my apologies! Didn’t see you there, Chef.”
Both Marcus and Sydney both squinted and furrowed their brows at each other while Carmy folded his arms, waiting to see how this would play out.
Luca exhales, assuming it to be one of the new clumsy younger chef’s that just started here two weeks ago. He pulls some of the wet dough that sticks to his finger tips and barely glances upwards, a routine of words spewing from his lips, “t’alright chef, let’s just remind ourselves the notices we give out to one another when we cross around, yeah?”
“Sure thing,” Peyton says, “Mind telling us what you’re preparing?”
His arched brows immediately furrow before he focuses in on who exactly is speaking to him. There’s surprise written right on his face, brows raising while Peyton is still full of soft smiles that she sends his way. He’s grabbing a rag then, struggling to break his eyes away to see the other three faces.
“Hey man,” Marcus starts which makes a slow grin appear on Luca’s own face.
“Good to see you again, Chef.”
Luca’s eyes trail over the small group, his eyes then settling on Carmy’s who still looks the same as he leans from one foot to the other but he’s full of more tattoos. Which almost makes Luca want to glance down at his own filled arms but he decides against it. He still liked his own artwork better.
“Carmen Berzatto.”
“Luca Hodgson.”
The three are watching the pair as if this is a pickle ball match. Sydney’s holding a breath as Luca makes his way over to Carmy, towering over him and face not revealing any emotion while Marcus is sending glances to Peyton who is behind analyzing Luca’s dish.
Luca says, “Are you still a know it all prick?”
Marcus was not expecting this since it was Carmy who reached out to Luca in the first place for his experience here months ago. He figured they were on good terms if Carmy wanted Marcus to learn from Luca. What changed?
“Well that uh depends, you still a show off, jackass?” Carmy met Luca’s eyes, not backing down in the slightest.
They hold each other’s stares before Luca breaks off into a laugh, followed by Carmy as they briefly embrace, hands clapping each other on the back in greeting.
“Oh, okay then.” Sydney mutters as she gazed over at Marcus who is also confused with a shrug of his shoulders.
Carmy then does the honors of introducing Sydney and Luca, who immediately shakes his hand, despite the sticky and warm residue from the dough.
“Pleasure to meet you, Chef Sydney. You probably can’t say the same now with dough on your hand, I suppose. I’ll grab you a wet nap.” Luca tells as he moves around to grab the said item.
He leans against the opposite counter where he was previously working, now fully wiping his own hands, glancing over at Peyton who’s all up in his dish as he voices, “I wasn’t aware any of you were coming. A heads up would have been cool.”
“So you’re not a fan of surprises, noted.” Marcus says while Luca dips his head about in a sorta motion.
Carmy scratched at his brow then, “We were under the impression that Peyton had it all sorted.”
Luca’s eyes are back on Peyton who’s listening but doesn’t provide anything to the conversation, it’s not like Luca could do anything about it now since they were all here.
“Don’t touch the remonce.”
“It’s not remonce yet,” Peyton looks over her shoulder at Luca who rolls his eyes.
Luca then says, “nice of you to let me know you were bringing guests.”
“They’re not guests, they’re practically family.” Peyton fans her hand about while Luca just lets out a sigh.
Carmy cuts in, “we’re not trying to disrupt the flow you have goin’ on here by any means.”
Luca snorts, “uh huh. It’s slow right now, so you lot are lucky I don’t mind.”
Sydney awkwardly claps her hands together, “great! We’re also really curious to what you’re working on…here at work.”
“Smooth, Syd. Real smooth.” Marcus teases while Sydney tightens her eyes sarcastically.
Luca looks back at his dish where Peyton is ready to show it off, posing in front of it like they were on jeopardy. The man cant help but to shake his head at her antics but announces, “I’m making frøsnapper.”
“It’s a traditional dish here,” Peyton mentions, “frø is a danish word for seed and frog.”
Sydney jokes, “Is it also going to leap off the tray after you take it out of the oven?”
Luca blinks but says with a straight face, “maybe if I throw in a few drops of green food coloring.”
It took a few seconds for Sydney to get the joke back, breathing out some slow laughter, while Marcus shook his head at her and Carmy watched as Luca briefly touched Peyton’s hips to make more space for him to talk about the pastry.
“Yes so, frøsnapper. Also known as for the English, seed snapper or frog snapper. It’s got remonce filling and once it’s done baking, it’s sweet and savory while the texture falls between flaky and delicate.”
“Like a croissant.” Marcus pointed out.
Luca shook his head, “Not quite, Marcus. This is Denmark.”
Marcus paused as he picked up on Luca’s mannerisms, “…fucker.”
Which makes Luca grin again.
“How long is Prep time?” Carmy asks as he makes the first move to get closer, peering at all the ingredients.
“About 12 hours or so.”
Carmy let’s out a low-whistle, “Shit.”
“Shit’s right mate and I started yesterday. It’s a excellent breakfast or pick me up for the afternoon, which is why I planned for it to be done today.” Luca explained.
Peyton speaks up, “and it will be…how long for the oven?”
“Fifteen minutes.” Luca automatically answers as he looks at the clock on the wall behind them all.
“See…Patience.”
“Every second.” Luca moves his winter deep ocean eyes to her ink colored ones, the two holding each other’s stare before he turns back to the rest.
“Any of you have allergic reactions to sesame or poppy seeds?” He asks, watching their facial expressions.
Carmy shrugs while both Marcus and Sydney shake their heads, ‘no.’
“Great, grab some aprons by the door there while I roll out the dough.”
“Oh, we’re doing work too on this vacation. Okay, yeah! I’m down.” Sydney rubs her hands together in excitement as she elbows Carmy lightly, who twists a smile onto his own lips.
Marcus is the first to move while Sydney follows. Carmy stays behind with Luca and Peyton as he picks up on the end of their hushed conversation:
“…I’ll be much better when we have dinner?”
“Cant. Not sure how long I’ll be here tonight, we have a few summer birthday gatherings here later. What about breakfast? It’ll be my day off.”
“Early meeting for me, I’ll be at the office.
“Lunch then?”
“…That works.”
“Finally.” Luca mutters as he takes his time but adds just enough pressure to roll out the dough, which makes Peyton let out a small laugh.
Sydney comes back, handing Carmen a apron who was mostly in a trance watching the dough get flattened that he didn’t bother to interrupt the conversation between old friends. He silently thanks Sydney before securing it around his waist.
Peyton leaves room for Marcus and Sydney to take her spot on the left of Luca, “and this is where I leave you three in good hands.”
“Wait…you’re not gonna get in on this?” Sydney is surprised while a smile is still planted on Peyton’s lips.
She motions to her outfit, “Looking this good? Not today, girl.”
Sydney eyes Peyton’s outfit which consisted of her brown voluminous hair pulled back into a claw clip, a cream opened corduroy shacket and a orange and white floral mini dress, “…fair point. I’m sure if you really wanted to, you could button that thing up and throw a apron on. Doesn’t seem like something you’d want to miss.”
“Your concern is touching, sis. But I actually can’t wait to get home and I’m sure Luca will save me one to try.” Peyton says as Luca is back in his zone now, trimming the edges of the dough and slides off the ingredients of the remonce to Marcus to mix together by hand.
Luca is listening as he replies, “yeah I will, see you at home.”
“See you at home.” Peyton repeats before winking at Sydney who is gapping, Marcus widens his eyes a bit, and Carmy is covering his snickers with a balled up fist.
Sydney turns back to the dish after Peyton leaves and mumbles, “so yeah, next time I’ll shut the fuck up.”
Which earns a laugh from both Luca and Carmy.
“You could have told us, Carmy!” Sydney whisper yells at Carmy who shrugs his shoulders.
Marcus chuckles, “Hey don’t feel bad, Luca didn’t tell me shit either the last time I was here and I’m kinda feeling a way about it now.”
Luca instructs Marcus to spread half of the remonce on one side of the dough then says, “I didn’t think we needed to share love stories just yet, Chef. The love was already there in the pastries.”
“Booo, how corny of you. Where’s the tomatoes?” Marcus snorts which Luca can’t help but to chuckle back.
Luca jokes after he nods his head in approval at the amount of remonce, “Looks like all of us were left out of something, huh?”
“If you don’t mind me asking…how long…?” Sydney starts as Luca takes over after Marcus folded the dough again, slicing it into twelve rectangles before he shows Sydney what to do next.
“What? How long have we been in love and decided to get engaged?”
“This fucking guy, how did you deal with him?” Marcus laughs, asking Carmy.
Carmy says, “we handled our beef outside.”
“What?!” Sydney squawks, “there’s no way you two fought.”
Luca explains, “it happened only once not far from the restaurant we worked at. And I don’t really classify that as much of a fight.”
“A punch to the eye wasn’t good enough for you?” Carmy’s eyes are in slits at this.
Marcus comments, “Damn.”
Luca defends, “A sucker punch isn’t fair. But I got you back, we scrambled a bit and then moved passed it the next day, bruises, cuts and all.”
Marcus concludes, “Sometimes that’s just how it works.”
“It smells like too much testosterone in here for me.” Sydney cuts in.
“Not sugar?” Luca lightly questions as he starts with the egg wash before handing another brush over to Sydney to help finish the rest.
Sydney scowls, “Yeah dude, I don’t know if I like you.”
“Join the club,” Luca winks over at Carmy who rolls his eyes with a small smile.
“Are you serious?” Luca wants to know just what his soon to be wife thought she was doing.
He met up with her, right on time, finding her sitting on the stone wall with what looked like a bright Orange cocktail in a plastic cup decorated with a little umbrella and fruit jammed along the straw.
They’re at the beach, it’s mid seventies, and there’s not many people on the walkway that rests along the sand. Mostly everyone else is taking advantage of the comfortable warmth on the sand. Luca and Peyton weren’t really beach people, preferring a lake and cabin any day but it was Peyton who suggested they meet out here since it was closer to her job.
It was far from their detached home but Luca didn’t mind the drive. He loved sight seeing when he made the time for it and usually when he had the time off, which was rare, he tried to get out there and see the world since there was so much to offer. He also couldn’t wait to be in Peyton’s face again; he wouldn’t count spooning her last night either, considering his face was covered with her bonnet.
Which he missed.
Conversations were meant to be had so that they could continue on with their journey together. She had to step away from their relationship for a few months and Luca was nothing more than understanding…although it stung a bit. He even offered to pick up and go to Chicago with her but Peyton told him life couldn’t be put on pause for her low moments, yet she was appreciative.
She dressed in jeans today as she hops off the wall, a smile in her brown eyes as she holds out her arms innocently, “hey, you said to keep hydrated! i’m pretty sure there’s some water in this cocktail.”
She’s mentioning the text message Luca sent to her a few hours ago, after she announced a headache was coming on after her meeting with her pushy manager. He was just checking in as he did a bit of laundry around the house but that didn’t stop his concern at all.
“Give me that,” Luca plucks the drink from her fingertips, fast as he sniffs at it before placing his own lips right on the straw, “hmm and here I was expecting vodka.”
“It’s not that kind of party, baby.” Peyton peers up at him as she locks her arms around his waist.
One hand comes up to palm her cheek, leaving Luca to take his time trailing his eyes all over her beautiful features, “So good to have you back.”
“Kiss me then.”
Luca snorts, “is this you asking for my consent?”
“Sure, uh huh.” She’s almost swooning in his eyes and Luca smirks as he leans closer to her lips.
“Eh, maybe later.”
“You asshole!” Peyton pushes at Luca’s back after he circled around her.
He’s laughing as he tosses a tatted arm over her shoulders, liking the feel of her being tucked right underneath his arm. She doesn’t miss how he’s holding onto her drink now, but she doesn’t mind it as long as she gets to keep him close.
They’re enjoying each other’s company again, almost as if the last three months didn’t happen but they both know it did.
“So…tell it to me straight. You’re back here with me now and I was left in the dark as soon as you were checked in.”
“I wanted to call rather than write you but I never had the words.” Peyton quietly says, “And I know you wouldn’t have minded if I just said a simple hello and we breathed on the phone for twenty minutes or whatever. I just didn’t want to make it worse for you.”
Luca hums, “Guess I can appreciate you taking my feelings into account but I can’t say I wouldn’t have rather talk to you than your mum, no disrespect.”
“Yes I know, she’s a lot.”
“Most families are.”
Peyton lays her head against Luca’s shoulder as they continue walking along the path, “Well you’re my family too and I’m sorry for handing over nothing but white noise to you while I was trying to get a better hold on this.”
It was extremely hard not knowing where exactly Peyton was and dealing with a mother like her’s.
“I don’t want you to apologize for doing what you thought was best for your mental health.”
“And I don’t want you to feel like I was shutting you out…you’re the last person I’d want to ever to do that to. I love you too much, to the point where I realized that I’d always want tomorrow’s with you.”
Luca felt his heart swell at that. It was always a good feeling to know that someone loves you just as much as you loved them. Luca was always known for his banter especially back when he worked at Noma years ago with both Carmy and Peyton but it seemed like Peyton’s energy meshed well with his.
He instantly thought Peyton was attractive and didn’t enjoy how she got on with Carmy equally at the start. Her approach to cooking wasn’t as serious as it was for him and Carmy but she was curious to learning. That’s something that was brought into their soon romantic relationship, they were open to go with the flow and it led them right to Luca putting a ring on it.
Peyton never had regrets about saying yes. She knew what she wanted with Luca and although the black parts of her brain gave her heavy blues, her heart still told her all that she needed to know.
Luca was patient, tender and he was still her man. They wanted forever and had to find balance even when it became shaky at times. They wanted to stick it out, be together and they lost touch once before when Peyton was the first to leave Denmark but somehow they always found their way back.
“I think that counts for a kiss, don’t you?” Luca whispers, stopping right in their path as he stares down at the dark umber skinned beauty.
Peyton almost pounces on her toes, “thank you! As if we haven’t deprived each other enough.”
“Gosh, so needy.” Luca teases, curling a finger underneath her chin to tilt her ready lips to meet his.
They both exhale as their lips touch after being away for quite some time. Her hand is resting against his clothed ribcage and their lips move together in sync as if there isn’t any limit to time. It’s when his tongue traces the outline of her full bottom lip that she pulls away, fanning herself.
“This man is trying to get me to buss it open in public on the beach, Chile. Relax yourself Hodgson, before we catch a charge.”
Luca’s nose crinkles at this as he chuckles, “fine…save it for the indoors, yeah?”
“Maybe even in the backyard?”
Luca raises his arched brows, actually considering it, “Nah, I don’t want to hear you yelling at me for messing up your edges in the grass. Mind you, that you’re probably allergic to.”
It wouldn’t be the first time he’s messed up Peyton’s edges.
However Peyton always appreciated the concern.
“What about the garden room on the side of the flat?” Luca soon suggested, leaving Peyton to also think about this before she eyed Luca up and down.
It must have still been empty since she left, that area of the home completely slipped her mind when she settled back in, even after leaving Brimstone’s gate yesterday afternoon.
“I think you forget how big you are sometimes.”
A smirk appeared on Luca’s lips then and before he could even open his mouth, Peyton was slapping her hand right over his lips.
“Don’t finish that sentence, there’s kids around.” Peyton warned.
Luca frowned as he muffled, “you started it!”
Peyton smiles at a father who is holding the bars of a tricycle of his toddler, leading them down the path, excusing them as they make their way by. Once they’re out of ear shot, Peyton lowers her hand from Luca’s lips until he pulls the sun glasses from her combed out pin-curled hair to place over his own eyes.
“You’re very handsy today.”
Luca’s arm drapes back over Peyton’s shoulder, pulling her into his side, then he presses a kiss to her temple, “I don’t see you complaining.”
“You’re right.” She pulls her cocktail back to take a sip, “why would I ever?”
“Exactly,” Luca speaks, “…going forward, whatever you need from me, don’t be afraid to let me know please, Mrs. Hodgson.”
Peyton places a kiss to Luca’s pink neck, “thank you baby.”
“Don’t start singing that pasta and lobster song please,” Luca groans after picking up on her tone.
Peyton sends him a look of innocence, “what do you mean? Are we not having that back at the house when the three bears come over?”
“What’d do you mean?”
“There’s no way we’re not inviting Carmy, Marcus, and Sydney over for dinner.”
Luca shrugs, “I didn’t know they were comin’ ‘round anyways.”
“Luca!”
“What? What if I wanted you all to myself first?”
“And you will, they’ll only be here for a week.”
“…A week too long.” Luca mutters making Peyton laugh as she shakes her head, shoving his shoulder.
“Stop it, Luca Lamar Hodgson.”
“No.” Luca chuckles as he points at the beaming woman, “Now you know that is not my middle name, at all.”
What do you have against Lamar’s Luca?
“I’ve talked to Lulu on my way here.”
Luca feels his eye twitch at the mention of his gossiping little sister, Luella. He of course loved her dearly but she could be a brat sometimes and when he misses her call, Peyton was next in line for her dramatics.
“The elevator doesn’t always go upstairs with that one. Especially with whatever she’s gone and said to you.”
“You are on a roll today,” Peyton laughed with her head thrown back, “and you’re not about to do my good sis like that either.”
“She’s my sister first and I know she didn’t say my middle name was that.”
“You don’t know our conversations.”
“Thank heavens for that.”
Peyton paused as she untangled herself from Luca who lifted up her shades to peer at her in question. She held her arms out as she says, “there’s space and opportunity if you wanna fight.”
Luca scans Peyton up and down, taking his time as he did and scoffs, “You don’t scare me, babe. I’ll have you over my shoulder like flour in seconds.”
Peyton cracks her neck and motions her hand, “come on then. Remind me, which one of us was the athlete here?”
Yeah Peyton was deeply invested in tennis once upon a time and originally that’s what Luca thought she wanted to make a profession. She still participated down at the court during the weekends and man was she fast along with those long arms that provided powerful swings. Luca couldn’t see her on the court when it came to tennis, he almost pulled a damn hamstring but he wouldn’t tell any of his mates that.
As for football and cycling…that was a different story.
“That was then and what year are we in now?” He tapped his apple-watch.
Peyton cupped her ear, “Do I hear shade?”
Luca looks around at the sky, “doesn’t appear to be partly cloudy at all. It’s actually very sunny.”
Peyton let out a whole karate sound and tried to strike one, which was humorous but Luca was swift as he easily gripped her thighs and lugged her right up onto his shoulder, holding her in place.
“I told you.” Luca said after awhile, causally walking down the path while Peyton attempted to wiggle around, “let me know when you’re done. I’m just enjoying the view.”
Peyton huffed, “now what if you made me drop my cocktail?”
“I’ve got actual water back in the car, love.”
Peyton mocked Luca who laughed and patted her backside, carrying on in Copenhagen’s sun.
Up in their bedroom, Peyton is lounging on the bed, phone raised up in the air browsing food TikTok’s until she hears Luca letting out a string of curses that sound heavy in his accent from their en suite bathroom.
“Luca, you good?” Peyton calls out to the man, breaking her eyes away from her screen.
“Y-Yup!”
That didn’t sound convincing at all.
So Peyton’s on her feet now, phone tossed to the side of her as she enters the bathroom. She gets a nice view of reddened skin that’s leading from Luca’s neck and down the upper part of his back.
“Ouch.” Peyton remarks, “I did not notice this earlier. I would have sprayed your ass down with my own sunscreen.”
Luca pinched at his skin and flinches a bit, “summer’s aren’t nearly as hot here. I don’t understand why I look like bloody salmon.”
Peyton covers her giggle, knowing why as she stands beside him, after eyeing the change in his skin tone. “I got you, don’t worry.”
There was no doubt in his mind.
Mintues later, Peyton’s retrieved the goo that she had mashed in the container, stored in the back of the fridge, knowing Luca wouldn’t have went searching through there since he tended to eat out at restaurants or order out majority of the time. He had a sweet tooth so she had to be the one to remind him to actually eat full meals instead of desserts from time to time. Which means they’ll have to go grocery shopping at some point, something Luca truly loathes. unbeknownst to him, his mother all the way out in London had grocery deliveries sent to his home, realizing that he didn’t keep his fridge stocked much after Peyton went back to the states.
Peyton first went off to California to visit her father and grandmother in search of different scenery, taking a break from the growing stress but that stress turned into something else. Luca looked back and saw the signs as they laid on the floor together in the dark, with her talking about the end but figured it was just conversation back then. It wasn’t until she went to Chicago to spend time with her controlling mother that she actually tried and it wasn’t just thoughts. Unperceived to Luca and that’s when Luca’s own mother came to be with her son during this difficult time, then he finally got the call that Peyton was being admitted, just to later learn Peyton’s mother called Luca’s first.
He couldn’t lie and say he wasn’t a little irked that people were going behind his back when it came to Peyton. He should have been there…but he knew he couldn’t blame himself. He thought he was just sending his wife to be off for a simple get away…overall he was happy that she was still here fighting day by day.
He knows it’ll be tough but not everyday will be full of clouds.
“i’m not happy you’re sunburnt, but i am enjoying getting to be the one helping you put aloe vera on.” Peyton says as she’s on Luca’s back, knee’s on either side of him, lathering his back in the cold gel.
Her eyes observe the doodles of ink that decorated his arms and smiles at the sunflower on his shoulder, which he dedicated to her.
Luca exhales at the temperature as he continues resting his cheek against his arm, ready to doze off, “Why’s that?”
“I enjoy taking care of you too, duh.”
“I think you like to touch my body, Mariah Carey.”
“That tooooo-ooh,” she tries to belt out a whistle tone that sounds like a rooster being strangled—“but I also love you.”
“I love you lots too, even when you’re trying to make my eardrums bleed…but don’t ever forget that, yeah?” Luca says over his shoulder as he tries to ignore the sting in his skin but knowing that the comfort is coming from Peyton’s hands, he’ll survive.
Peyton leans forward again to place a kiss to the back of Luca’s head, “I won’t.”
Once enough of Luca’s back in covered in aloe, Peyton leaves to wash her hands and place the gel back into the fridge downstairs. When she comes back into the bedroom, Luca is still in the same position she left him in. Usually her side of the bed is closest to the door, which is something they deeply debated over, she climbs over him to tuck herself underneath his folded arm.
His lips press into her clothed shoulder, his t-shirt, before resting his nose against it later, breathing in her homey scent with his eyes closed. One hand goes to run through his sun lightened hair, further soothing him to sleep as she’s back on her phone now, letting him rest.
No more cold sides of the bed because Peyton was home with her warmth and Luca couldn’t wait for tomorrow.
And the next day after that.
And so on and so forth.
❛ ༉‧₊˚ - ̥۪͙۪˚ ┊ ˚ ̥۪͙۪◌ ❛ ༉‧₊˚ - ̥۪͙۪˚ ┊ ˚ ̥۪͙۪◌ ❛ ༉‧₊˚ - ̥۪͙۪˚ ┊ ˚ ̥۪͙۪◌ ❛ ༉‧₊˚
Go back and read my current flop summer prompt here.
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bleulone · 10 months
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TO BUILD AGAIN
a Chef Luca fanfiction | Fandom: The Bear. Rating: Mature/Explicit. Status: On going. Slow updates. Type: Multi-Chapters, Pre Canon. Tags: Chef Luca/Orginal Female Character, Disability, Angst and Feels, Character Study, Eventual Smut, Family and Friendship, Hurt/Comfort, Mature Themes, Mentions of Depression, Romance, Romantic and Sexual Tension, Romantic drama with a happy ending, Slow-burn, Strangers to Reluctant chef partners to Friends to Lovers, Sharing Cultures, Self-Love, Traveling.
SOFIA “WARDA” FILALI, a culinary superstar, conquered the hearts of many as the darling of a renowned French cooking reality show. Blessed with her distinct approach to molecular cuisine, adorned with a razor-sharp wit and a smile that could bewitch hearts, she seemed destined for a life of triumph and acclaim. However, tragedy struck when, almost a year after opening her celebrated Parisian restaurant, Radiance, a stroke left her with a devastating loss: the use of her left arm. Despite the hope of rehabilitation, Warda faced a daunting reality.
IN THE MIDST OF HER STRUGGLES, Warda discovered solace in her long-forgotten passions of writing and drawing. Setting off on a globe-trotting adventure to craft her upcoming book and explore the depths of her personal creativity, her journey led her to the enchanting city of Copenhagen—a place of significant memories from her youth.
LITTLE DID WARDA ANTICIPATES the reunion with Luca, the effortlessly cool and tattooed pastry chef with whom she had shared countless trials and joys during their time together in Cannes and Casablanca. Unforeseen was the rekindling of a distant yet familiar warmth, awakening something deep within her and resurrecting a unique flavor of solace she never thought possible.
• Read HERE on ao3 • Listen to the playlist HERE •
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beauspot · 10 months
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ok so like hear me out and you’re gonna have to stick with me for a minute. consider that next season sydney and marcus do get together right? and for a little they’re happy but then slowly realize something is off…marcus realizes that he actually doesn’t have feelings for her he likes syd as a friend and actually he liked luca. they eventually talk about that but it’s like well luca isn’t coming back right so they go back to being friends, but then oh wow luca shows up what a crazy turn of events (syd called him) and he’s also interested in marcus. then that leads to jealous carmy and gets the chefs kiss ball rolling mhm.
it’s possible! will said he wants to come back to the show! 😭😭😭
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inosan-13 · 7 months
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mariailoveyou-guerin · 8 months
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I need them back and here’s a way we can get Luca to be permanent main character for at least 2 full seasons
Obviously since the show is about loss trauma and how each characters deals with and we saw Marcus getting a call from his moms nurse and I think we all know how it’s gonna end because god forbid any of them have a happy life without losing someone that means a lot to them and since everyone have lost someone and Marcus is the only one ofc they gonna have him join the trauma pit of losing a loved one and that’s how Luca can come over being the great mentor he is by showing up and being there for his mentee in his time of need and obviously Marcus is dealing with alot and isn’t expected to be at the restaurant so the would need another chef since they can’t just cope with 2 main chefs and not one of them is a pastry chef/expert so who other then the 2nd best chef in the world and best pastry chef to help while Marcus deals with his loss and that way Luca is also there for Marcus physically but also helping by making sure his station is taken care off and in order and also helping carmy his friend with his newly opened restaurant and helping him get that Michelin maybe it’ll help both of them achieve what they wanted to achieve when they were competing with each other bur this time they are on same team so they’ll achieve it faster and better with both of them there and not having the other taking away from each others goals and achievement!
And this could also be a way for Marcus and Luca stuff to develop ofc it’ll be trauma bonding but who in that show or kitchen isn’t boding with the other because of trauma at least with Marcus and Luca both can heal each other or help heal each other in way they wouldn’t know how to if it wasn’t for the other and that could form a deeper bond relationship even you never know! and since he isn’t his underling or mentee it’s not morally wrong or does it have weird power dynamics just 2 colleagues working at the same restaurant nor would it feel like they are bonding or using Marcus trauma as way to make this character join the team or feel part of the show which I would/would’ve hate/d!
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riickgrimes · 10 months
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Carmy + Luca
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inklore · 10 months
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just a taste
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premise: meeting luca after work doesn't usually end up with the two of you in an intense lip lock, both of you knowing once you start it's hard to stop. but that's what offices are for, right?
pairing: luca x (f)reader
word count: 3.1k
contents: literally barely any plot here, oral (f rec), unprotected p in v, coming inside, established relationship, doing it at the workplace, teasing, dirty talk, pet names.
note: i know the bare minimum about this man because i’ve never seen the bear but those tattoos, the accent, the hair?? fill me like an eclair is all i have to say ok!
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The cool breeze of the night air almost makes you regret not just heading straight home and slipping under the steam of a nice long shower and grabbing the first blanket you see on the sofa and planting yourself there for the rest of the night. Await your boyfriend's arrival under the comfort of cotton and cushion that he’ll surely plop down next to you on after he’s kicked off his shoes. His cold fingers finding you under the blanket to pull you close to his side, a string of kisses pressed along the side of your neck before finding your lips. The smell of yeast and sugar—embedded in his skin at this point—making you bury your nose into his collarbone. 
But this was a ritual for the both of you. 
You finishing your studies and then meeting him after work. 
The two of you walking home together, barely making it through the threshold of your place before lips and clothes were being pressed together and thrown to the floor. Luca’s soft laugh at needing to shower. Thus always leading to your face pressed into the wall of the shower and Luca’s fingers digging into your hips as he thrust inside of you. 
So that nibble of regret doesn’t last long when you come to a stop in front of his work. The makings of anticipation pull at the corner of your mouth as you grab your phone from your bag and start to text him to let him know you’re out front. 
A text that’s barely on the last word when the breeze of the door is hitting you and making you look up, “you can go in. He's in the back.” a co-worker you’ve met a dozen times, but his name slips your mind as you give him an appreciative smile and thank him as you slip through the doors as he walks out. 
You could enter the kitchen a dozen times—a million, a billion—your nose filling with that sweet aroma, Luca bent over a table, a dish, fingers deep in a ball of dough, the monochromatic uniform making his tattoos stand out on his skin like the most beautiful canvas, and you’d never get over the view. 
Over how your insides react when you see him in his element.
See him doing what he loves. 
It’s like the first time every time. 
Just like the first time he dragged you into the kitchen after your tenth date. Showing you his own version of paradise. His love. His joy. The way his face lit up when your eyes brightened when you bit into the scone he had made—saved—for you. The euphoric sweetness a good dessert can do to one's brainstem is still a scientific mystery to you, but you’d gladly leave the research to the experts if you could experience it forever. 
Taste Luca’s creations forever. 
That memory seems like ages ago. Now well into two years of your relationship. 
Nothing seems to fade with Luca. 
Your first times feeling just as tortuous to your fluttering insides as the tenth or twentieth time around. 
It knocks you off kilter in the best way. 
And when you look over at Luca after dropping off your bag and sweater in an open chair, you can not help but laugh when he finally looks up from cleaning off the surfaces of the metal tables and that stone look of him being in chef mode falls from the creases of his face and his features melt into something soft. 
He doesn’t say anything until his arm is around your midsection, drawing you in. “Hi, beautiful.” He smiles as your lips meet in a long kiss. Kissing you as if he hasn’t seen you in days, as if he has spent the entire day waiting for this moment and this moment alone. “How was your day?” 
“Not as good as it is now,” you tease. Hand in the back of his hair, pulling his mouth back to yours. 
The hum that makes your lips buzz and that lands on your tongue as he backs you up so your back is pressed into the doorframe makes anything you could tell him about what happened in your day lackluster. Incomparable. How could you possibly think of anything worthwhile—how could anything be as worthwhile—as his tongue moving along your bottom lip, his hand at the side of your neck, his thumb rubbing a small circle into your skin? 
It couldn’t.
"Let me finish cleaning up," he smirks. Thumb and pointer reaching for your chin, squeezing it, luring you in for one last kiss before returning to cleaning and leaving you dazed in the doorway.  
And if you didn’t know how seriously Luca takes this, from the ritual of making pastries to maintaining a stern, clean kitchen, you would tell him to hurry. Complaining that it is not fair for him to kiss you like that and then make you wait for him to finish, but the payoff was always worth the wait. And you love Luca’s love for his craft. Love him in this element—watching him and seeing him go into that little part of his brain that makes him go into boss mode. 
The stern gentleness of it all. 
It’s breathtaking to watch.
It’s art.
He’s art. 
So that’s what you do. 
You push off the doorframe and enter further into the kitchen just to watch him. 
“How was your day?” You ask while watching him write on the white board in the corner. 
“Good. We got a new guy who came in.” 
“Is he any good?” 
“Better than he thinks he is.” 
“I bet you brought out his best. You always do.” You smile at him when you watch him shrug off the compliment, not missing the twitch of the corner of his mouth. Ever so modest. 
Wordlessly, he puts the cap back on the marker and sets it against the metal of the board, walking over to one of the refrigerators and pulling out a small bowl of something green and white. 
Something that looks too beautifully crafted to eat, let alone eaten by someone who might not fully understand what went into making something so decadent—something that looks like it would be served to someone with a gold card, not someone who eats boxed mac and cheese for dinner twice a week (which Luca always tries to make fancier than Kraft ever could). 
Luca hands you a spoon, “told him the only critic that mattered was sharing a bed with me.” You make a face, the both of you knowing how outlandish that sounds when the food genius himself is standing in front of you. The critic who mattered to a lot of people more than the girl who was sharing his bed. 
But it still brings a smile to your face. 
“Did he think you were utterly insane for such a statement? I think eating greasy takeout two nights in a row is five star dining.”
He chuckles, “you’re the only critic that matters to me.” His palms come down on the edge of the metal table between you as he leans against it. “The only important one at least. Try it.”
The swoop that runs through you from his words, from his eagerness to hear your thoughts on a dessert you do not even know the name of, but know you will appreciate more than anyone else because it came from someone he admires, makes your cheeks heat up. 
And when it touches your tongue, when that euphoric sweetness overcomes your tastebuds, you don’t think the English dictionary could come in handy with describing the taste. The goodness of it. Compliments, which you know Luca and his fellow chefs have heard many times before and then some. But still bring that artist's joy to their chests when your eyes widen and you look at them in something akin to shock. 
The moan you let out makes him grin.
“Good?”
“Is he single?” 
“Oh, that’s how it is, huh?” His arms cross over his chest, a playful brow raised.
You take another bite of the dessert, “I think you might want to start looking for another job.”
“And a girlfriend?”
You nod, “with something that tastes this good, I would give him my social security number easily. Oh my god.” You dramatically moan around the spoon, the action doing little to hide the simpering look on your face.
“Here I thought I was the only one who could make you spill such confidential secrets.” Luca strides across the table, coming to stand at your back. His lips pressing against the back of your neck and the top of your shoulder. 
Finding its home where your collarbone meets the junction of your throat, where he lets his warm breath blow against the known sensitivity there, then presses his lips to it. Making your back push into his front, your body melting against him. 
A soft noise lays dormant at the tail end  of your throat, making a ghost of a smirk etch against your skin from his mouth as he murmurs, “and the only one who can make those noises come out of you.”
Your voice is breathy when you say, “so much for being humble.”
"When it’s the truth, I do not need to be humble." His lips trailing to your ear, fingers running up the back of your exposed thighs, pulling up your skirt until they are at the apex of your hip, skating forward and close to your clothed mound. “Am I wrong? Should we see?” 
The spoon in your hand lucky you don’t have superhuman strength because it would be crushed in your grip right now. 
Luca’s fingers splay themselves across your pelvis, toying with the top of your underwear. “Hmm, awfully quiet now. Where’d my mouthy girl go?” An airy chuckle tickles your ear as he lets it out, “humbled are you?” 
There’s a teasing sneer forming on your mouth before it does a 180 and morphs into an ‘o’ as Luca’s fingers push into your underwear, the pad running through the clear as day arousal that’s been making your thighs clench uncomfortably since your kiss in the doorway. 
When the finger moves against your clit there's no covering up the gasps that fall from your lips. Or the way your ass grinds against the erection that’s pressing up against it. 
“Who’s humble now?” He teases. A cheeky grin on his face when he pulls his hand out from your underwear, bringing his finger to his lips and sucking it into his mouth. Making your cheeks heat even more when you turn to look at him. Your teasing turns needy as you give him that look, the one that always makes him drop whatever he is doing and have his body on yours within seconds. 
You both know that making it home now will feel ten times longer. Ten times more agonizing in the cool air with your warming bodies.
With you soaking your underwear and him hard against his zipper. 
So when he says “office”, all you can do is chew on your bottom lip in eagerness as you make a beeline towards it. Luca closer behind you than you expect when you hear the door shut seconds after you’ve entered and his mouth immediately on yours, your ass hoisted onto the nearest surface. 
Luca’s fingers making quick work to pull down your underwear, your skirt bunched at your hips. You fully expect him to pull himself up from his knees after slipping the lace from your ankle and tossing it to the floor. You expect him to come back up and slide inside of you quick and easy, but instead he’s trailing kisses and bites into your thighs. 
Blue eyes look up into yours, and he must see the need in them—that glint that tells him all you want is for him to be inside of you right now. The heady woes of foreplay just torture at this point. 
His teeth sink harder into your flesh, making you gasp. “I’ve worked hard all day; don’t I deserve a treat? A taste of the best dessert out there.” 
And how could you argue with that?
You can’t.
Not when his tongue runs from the bite mark in your skin to your wetness. Spreading you around him as he licks a stripe up your pussy. Your grip on the metal your ass is under hard and tight enough to leave marks against your palm. 
And as crude as it makes you sound, as obscene and cocky as it comes off your lips, you will never hold back from telling Luca that his talent as a chef will never outweigh how good he is with his mouth and cock. 
He’s multi-talented and it’s a blessing and a curse to your insides. 
“Oh, fuck. Luca,” your head hangs between your shoulders. Your fingers in his hair, the heel of your shoe pressed against his back—his apron long gone, leaving him in that navy blue—his fingers digging into the side of your thighs as he keeps you against his mouth. 
The mouth that’s switching between sucking your clit between his lips and rolling his tongue against it. Eating you like you’re the best dessert his tongue has ever had the pleasure of tasting. 
It never takes him long to get you there. To make your chest heave and your nerve endings light up, as if they are about to make you panic from the overwhelming feeling of pleasure that is completely taking over your body. 
His fingers have created beautiful, mouth watering food, just as they’ve made you completely lose your mind. Your legs shaking around his head. Your back involuntarily bows until it hits the metal surface of the desk you’re perched on. 
It’s when he slips two fingers inside of you that you completely lose it. The sob that pulls itself from your lungs feels red-hot in your throat as your fingers grip the strands of his blonde hair as you come against his mouth. Your hips riding out your high. Rolling against his tongue in a languid way, drawing out the aftershocks of your orgasm. 
Your body still reeling and alight with that desire-train that still has it wanting more. That heavy ache between your legs that wants to be filled. To be fucked by something bigger and thicker than a finger.
Your mouth comes down on the tabasco tattoo below Luca’s wrist in a gentle kiss, one of your favorites of his, when his hand comes to cup the back of your head to pull you up to him. 
His thumb runs from your cheek to your chin, where he pushes it up, so you’re looking up at him and he’s looking down at you as he stands between your legs. Your nails run along the tattoos along his arms, up his bicep, and to the nape of his neck. A fire burning in his eyes when your fingers run between the strands back there. 
“Tell me,” he says close to your lips. He’s checking in. Seeing if you’re too spent for his cock, seeing if there's more you want. If you want to wait until you get home. If you’re ready for him now. 
“It’d be cruel to not fuck me now.” You say it in a half-tease-half-serious tone. 
“Ooh,” he murmurs against your mouth, his tongue clicking against his teeth. “I don’t want to be cruel.” You can feel his other hand move between the two of you, undoing the button of his pants and messing with the zipper until he’s pulling himself out of them, hard and leaking. “What kind of boyfriend would I be if I didn’t give my girl what she so desperately needs?” 
Luca smirks when you laugh into his mouth, “the worst kind.”
With one last kiss, lick, and nip at your lower lip, he’s rubbing the tip of his cock against your clit, making your thighs shake. Nails dig into his skull as he soaks up your oversensitivity to coat himself before going lower and slipping inside of you in one slow, fluid motion. 
Your mouth hung open at the stretch, and your breath caught in your lungs. Your foreheads resting against each other as you let your walls accommodate his girth, both of your breaths heavy. The pounding you can feel between your legs—that you’re not sure is coming from him or you or something more poetic and overwhelming like your conjoined bodies aching as one, like a heartbeat aches for a chest cavity when it’s torn from a body. 
The two of you need this. 
Need each other. 
When Luca starts moving, you know the two of you are both completely fucked. Spent and so full of desire that you know your time in this office is just the start of a long night of tangled limbs and wet mouths. 
The sounds you are making against each other's mouth are breathy and intoxicating. His tongue in your mouth swallows every mewl and moan he coaxes from your body with each stroke of his cock. 
His fingers find the back of your head again, not allowing you to even think about leaving his mouth. 
You think you see stars when his palm finds the back of your thigh and pulls your leg higher on his hips. Think you could let this man completely consume you, and you’d still never be satisfied. Never get over how good it feels to feel his hips drive deeper into you, to feel the head of his cock hit that spot inside of you that makes his name roll off your tongue like a prayer. 
“Who’s pussy is it, baby?” 
"Mm'fuck," you are not sure if he is still playing the game of you leaving him for the new chef or if his filthy mouth is attempting to completely destroy you—which is nothing new when he has you coating and tightening around his cock like this. 
When you say his name, when you whine it into his mouth like a pathetic desperation, the erotic noise that it’s met with makes you cling to him tighter. Makes you press yourself closer to him. The movement makes the outside of his pants grind against your clit. 
“So beautiful,” Luca murmurs. The octave of his voice grows lower and choppy with heavy breaths the closer he gets. Neither of you lasts much longer when his pace picks up. The grip the two of you have on each other is hard and rough, enough to tear and leave marks that you’ll later kiss with gentle lips, unlike the passion that’s coming through with the hard kisses your mouths are giving as you both come. 
“How’d I get so lucky?” He breathes into your mouth, twisting your insides even more. 
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words-4u · 10 months
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right person (1/3)
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pairings: luca x reader, marcus x reader (platonic)
wc: 1.4k
a/n: immediately started planning a three part series on luca while watching the bear s2. that's what a tatted will poulter does to me (the bear is an incredible show btw pls watch if you don't)
warning: swearing
part 2 / part 3
"denmark?"
"yes! we are sending you and marcus to denmark for two weeks to stage at this really great restaurant. you're gonna learn to do three new desserts for us. carmy knows the head pastry chef. says he's really cool so it should be fun, right?" sydney explained.
"that does sound fun! i'm in!" you smile.
you look at marcus who was deep in thought. if you had to guess what he was thinking, his mind is probably on his mom who was currently bed ridden at a hospital.
you put a hand on marcus' shoulder. "you good with that?" you ask your co pastry chef.
he broke out of his thoughts and nods. "yeah, i-i'm great. i'd love to."
"great! cause you guys really didn't have a choice. your flights are already booked for tomorrow afternoon sooo thanks!" sydney offers two thumbs and an awkward smile before she leaves what used to be the kitchen.
"holy shit," you whisper in shock. "staging at a michelin star restaurant in a country i've always wanted to visit. could this be any better?"
"i have to go tell my mom but give me a call if you need a ride to the airport tomorrow. chester will probably take me and we can swing by your place if you want?"
"dude, yes! that'd save me a shit ton of money that i would've spent on uber."
"cool, see you," marcus grabs his bag and heads out the door.
after helping fak, riche and gary with fallen ceiling debris, you decide to leave a bit early to pack and clean your apartment before your travel.
it was noon on the dot the next day when marcus calls to check if you were ready for the airport. since you packed the night before, you had a rather peaceful morning. chester talks your ear off the whole way to the airport and you guys get there he demands to see your passports because he wants to make sure you and marcus actually had it on you.
"chester, can you do me a favour and check in on my ma when you get the time?" marcus asks.
"dude, i'm way ahead of you. gonna check on her every morning on my way to work,"
"i appreciate it."
chester looks at both you. "now, i want you take a deep breath and let the good in. you guys are gonna kill it."
you grin at marcus' friend. "thanks chester. okay we're gonna have to leave now before we miss our flight."
marcus says his farewell to his best friend and the two of you head to your gate.
the plane ride to copenhagen was smooth despite marcus' worries. you guys hop on a train to explore the city before heading to where you were staying.
"trains here are way cleaner than the ones in chicago," marcus leans over to whisper.
"waay cleaner," you agree.
the two of you exited the station and stood in awe of your view. clear blue skies. cool fresh air. colourful buildings. and the smell of hotdogs which was incredibly appealing after your long journey.
you and marcus lock eyes. "oh yeah."
marcus got a hotdog with dried onions and pickles on top while you had a plain jane moment with just ketchup.
"this is the best thing i've ever put in my mouth," you say with in between bites.
"just what i needed honestly," marcus says.
after your quick meal, the two of you continue to wander the city taking in the architecture most of all.
marcus was using the maps feature on his phone to find the place you were supposed to be staying at.
"uh i don't see any apartment buildings near," you say. "are you sure we are in the right place?"
marcus led you to a canal where some boats were docked. "i am 99.9% sure. you're staying in 286 and i'm in 287."
you glance at the boat in front of you and saw the gold numbers plaque on the side. "well, mystery solved. this is your place and i'm guessing this one is mine." you moved further down to the boat behind marcus' one.
"sick," he smiles.
"i'll see you tomorrow, yeah?"
"night, y/n!"
you walk down a couple of steps before unlocking a door that lead to a kitchen and dining room. it was spacious and you were grateful for the many windows it had. the stairs to the left led up to the bedroom which was a lot smaller than you anticipated having only space for your bed and a small cabinet for clothes.
you flop on your bed and exhaled. you didn't realize how tired you were until your head hit the soft mattress and while everything in you wanted to knock out, you knew you had to get up and unpack because you wouldn't have time tomorrow.
one thing you were not was a morning person and yes you should have gotten used to it by now working in the restaurant industry but getting up at 4 a.m. will never feel natural. regardless, you had a twinge of excitement for your new job and excited to learn under this new chef that carmy spoke so highly of.
once you got ready for the day, you hear three soft knocks.
"morning," you say. "you ready?"
"born ready," marcus says as you lock your door and head to the restaurant.
it was only a 15 minute walk from where you were staying so the two of you arrive with time to spare.
you walk into the bright kitchen and suck in a breath. the kitchen was stunning with it's high-end equipment, gorgeous green tiling and the young hot chef moving bags of flour from one table to another.
"chef. i'm marcus brooks and this is y/n y/l/n," marcus begins. "and we're from-"
the chef looks up for a quick second. "i know. i'm luca, pastry. we start at 5 a.m. your section's at the end of the bench."
the english accent takes you by surprise. your knees could have buckled right then and there.
"yes, chef," the two of you say in unison.
now your excitement turned into nervousness. not only were you to create three star-worthy desserts for the bear, you had to learn from someone who is so extremely good looking it hurts.
marcus and you head to the back to change into your uniforms which was a basic indigo t-shirt and a green apron like luca had.
when you went back out, you immediately wash your hands and got ready for whatever luca had in store for you guys.
luca had marcus rollout croissant pastry while he led you to a table where he had prepared a dessert. your task was to place pieces of peanuts at a certain angle as part of its presentation.
you study luca as he shows you what to do. he had small black tattoos scattered up and down his arms. that alone is having an effect on you.
"here, you try," he says passing the tweezers to you.
your fingers brush as you took the small tool from him. luca didn't make eye contact but you did notice his jaw clench.
"nuzzle that sliver into the pudding just to lock it in."
"yes, chef," you say.
taking one of the small nuts from the bowl, you place it on the pudding but it slipped last second.
"no. again, chef," he says in a calm yet assertive tone.
"sorry," you say and try again and it's worse which luca picks up on.
"hm, worse."
he takes the tweezers from you and picks up the piece. "don't be afraid to just stick it in there, you know," luca takes the nut and slides it in perfectly. "just be confident about it."
"don't second-guess yourself," he says finally locking eyes with you.
you nod. "yes, chef."
you took the tweezers back and third time was the charm because you placed the nut in the pudding just like he'd showed you. smiling to yourself, you put the tool down.
luca's face stays expressionless. he looks up from the dessert. "you know how to make shiso gelee?"
you absolutely do not know how to make whatever he just said but there was no way you were gonna let him know that.
"yes, chef."
"alright."
luca steps away to grab some ingredients which gives you the opportunity to whip your phone out and google the gelee. "dextrose? what the fuck is that?" you whisper to yourself.
luca came back and places a tray in front you. "recipe," he says tapping some blue index cards.
you felt your face burn. "thank you, chef."
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end of part 1 omggg. not much luca x reader but it’s warming up trust me. i already have ideas for part 2 and 3 with some potential alternate endings... stay tuned
if you enjoyed, please let me know (through my bio) if you have any the bear requests, send them my way!
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goodsirs · 10 months
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Will Poulter as Luca in The Bear — 2.04 "Honeydew"
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bleulone · 10 months
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TO BUILD AGAIN : ii. — En garde.
a Chef Luca fanfiction | Fandom: The Bear. Rating: Mature/Explicit. Status: On going. Slow updates. Type: Multi-Chapters, Pre Canon. Tags: Chef Luca/Orginal Female Character, Disability, Angst and Feels, Character Study, Eventual Smut, Family and Friendship, Hurt/Comfort, Mature Themes, Mentions of Depression, Romance, Romantic and Sexual Tension, Romantic drama with a happy ending, Slow-burn, Strangers to Reluctant chef partners to Friends to Lovers, Sharing Cultures, Self-Love, Traveling.
CHAPTER SUMMARY : Prior to her impending departure for Copenhagen, Warda elects to make a final visit to her restaurant.
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THE ATMOSPHERE AT RADIANCE seemed frozen in time, unchanged since her last visit. However, a persistent thought tugged at Warda's mind, urging her to seriously consider revamping the shopfront. Something about it didn't quite align with her vision. She struggled to pinpoint the exact source of her unease. Was it the stark shade of white, too clinical and lacking warmth? Or perhaps it was the font used for the restaurant's name, its rigid letters devoid of the graceful curves that mirrored her culinary philosophy. These elements seemed to fail to capture the essence of the cuisine she passionately championed—experimental, refined, and a vibrant fusion of Moroccan flavors with a new Nordic twist. (…)
• Read the rest HERE on ao3 (or click HERE to read from the beginning) • Listen to the playlist HERE •
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drrav3nb · 10 months
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MARCUS & LUCA | THE BEAR SEASON TWO
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inosan-13 · 9 days
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