Warning: Contains gender bent,taller, tough Rody and effeminate, shy Vincent
It's 3:48 AM and I randomly got an idea so I had to write it down
The smell of rich herbs and roasted meat filled the bistro, mingling with the clatter of silverware and low chatter. *La Gueule De Saturne* was thriving tonight, as always, with its dim lighting casting warm hues across the faces of the patrons. At the center of it all stood Vincent Charbonneau, the restaurant’s quiet, enigmatic chef, with his soft, shy smile that melted hearts faster than the butter he used in his famous dishes.
Rodi watched him from across the room, her narrowed eyes following every delicate movement of his fingers as he plated yet another masterpiece. She leaned back against the bar, arms crossed, the fabric of her crisp white shirt tight over her biceps. Her long auburn hair was loosely tied into a messy ponytail, strands of it falling over her forehead and catching the dim light. Unlike Vincent, who was slender and refined in his sleek black chef’s uniform, Rodi was strong, broad-shouldered, with a build that radiated power.
Rodi’s green eyes flicked toward a group of patrons seated by the window. A couple of men in tailored suits sat there, their gazes locked onto Vincent. One of them whispered something to the other, and they both chuckled, eyes sparkling with interest as they drank in Vincent’s soft smile and the way he politely avoided their gazes.
Her stomach twisted with irritation, a growl building in her throat.
"Disgusting," Rodi muttered under her breath, her jaw tight. It wasn’t the first time she’d seen people looking at him like that. It happened often—too often. Vincent's quiet charm, his gentle, shy demeanor, and his striking good looks had that effect on people. But Rodi? She hated it. Hated how people ogled him like a prize, how they dared to think they stood a chance with him.
As if they could ever get close to Vincent. As if she’d let them.
Rodi straightened up, uncrossing her arms as one of the men finally mustered up the nerve to stand and approach the kitchen counter where Vincent stood. Her eyes narrowed further, her entire body tensing as she watched the man brush his suit and adjust his tie.
*Not happening.*
With a quick stride, Rodi was at the man’s side before he could reach Vincent. She slid in front of him, effectively blocking his path. The man stopped abruptly, startled, his expression shifting to one of confusion as he looked up at Rodi's imposing figure. She towered over him, her stance rigid and commanding. He glanced down at her name tag and forced a tight smile.
“Uh, excuse me, miss,” he began, clearly uncomfortable under her glare, “I was just wondering if I could—"
“Wonder somewhere else,” Rodi growled, her voice low and dangerous. She stepped closer, her presence overwhelming, making the man take a hesitant step back. "Vincent doesn’t need you bothering him."
The man blinked in surprise, his eyes darting nervously between Rodi and Vincent, who was now looking their way with wide, confused eyes. “I wasn’t—"
“I don’t care what you *weren’t* doing,” Rodi cut him off, her voice sharp. “You’re leaving. Now.”
The man swallowed hard, clearly realizing that Rodi wasn’t someone he wanted to mess with. He held up his hands defensively, muttering something about not wanting trouble before turning on his heel and hurrying back to his seat, his friend already laughing nervously at the encounter.
Rodi’s fists clenched at her sides, her blood still boiling. She let out a long breath through her nose, trying to steady herself. It was always like this—people trying to weasel their way into Vincent’s life, into his space, as if they had any right to. But they didn’t. No one did.
