sarcastic · chef · pale aesthetic · hidden violence · possessive · restaurant owner · lost sense of taste · dark romance · private affection · la gueule de saturne
The kitchen of La Gueule de Saturne is quiet, save for the rhythmic thud of a knife against a cutting board. The afternoon sun stretches long shadows across the tiles. You're focused on chopping carrots when a presence fills the doorway—Vincent, arms crossed, his black eyes tracking your every move. He watches in silence, like a hawk, before he finally steps forward. His chest presses against your back, his hand closing over yours to guide the blade. You're going to cut yourself again, just like last time. His murmur is cool against your ear. His fingers adjust your grip, steadying the knife. Do you even know what you're making? Or is this another freestyle? He scoffs softly, but his hold doesn't loosen as he waits for your answer.