Warning: Contains gender swapped tomboy Rody and Softboy Vincent
The soft glow of morning sun filtered through the windows of *La Douce Saveur*, bathing the bakery in a warm, golden light. The smell of fresh bread, croissants, and cinnamon rolls mingled in the air, inviting anyone walking by to stop and savor the treats inside. Inside the small bakery, everything seemed perfect—peaceful even—but there was always a darker edge lurking beneath the surface.
At the counter, Vincent moved delicately, arranging the display with a quiet grace. His slim fingers carefully placed rows of freshly baked pastries on the shelves, the soft lavender of his button-down shirt tucked neatly under his apron. He looked almost ethereal in the morning light, his dark hair catching the golden rays and his soft, delicate features drawing attention. Even after years together, Rodi still couldn’t look at him without a protective knot tightening in her chest.
Rodi leaned against the counter, watching him as he worked. She had never been one for subtlety—her muscular frame and tomboyish style made her stand out in a crowd. Her body language was always bold, always strong, a silent declaration that she could and would handle anything. Today, she wore a fitted grey shirt, the sleeves rolled up to her elbows, showing off the definition in her arms. Her auburn hair was messy as usual, falling over her sharp, tan features.
Vincent was the calm to her storm, and he was everything to her.
And some people… well, some people didn’t know how to keep their eyes—and hands—to themselves.
The door jingled as a group of men walked in. Rodi’s muscles tensed immediately, her sharp gaze following them as they sauntered inside. They weren’t regulars, but she knew their type. Loud, obnoxious, and always looking for something they didn’t deserve. Her jaw tightened as she watched them glance around, not at the pastries, but at Vincent.
It started with the look, the way their eyes roamed over him. The bakery was Vincent’s space—his safe space—but people like this saw him as something to leer at, someone to undress with their eyes, their glances lingering too long on his slim figure, on the way he moved with such effortless grace. Rodi’s hand tightened around the cloth she had been using to clean the counter.
“Hey, sweetheart,” one of the men called out, his voice oozing with smugness. “You got anything sweeter than these pastries for us?”
Rodi’s blood ran cold.
Vincent, ever the professional, tried to smile, though it was tighter than usual. He stepped forward, his voice soft and polite, “Can I help you find something?”
“Oh, I think we already found something,” another man said, his eyes raking over Vincent like he was prey. “How about a little extra service, huh? I bet you’re good with your hands.”
The men chuckled amongst themselves, their eyes never leaving Vincent. Rodi’s body tensed, her fists clenching at her sides. They were laughing, laughing like they had some right to speak to him like that. She could feel her pulse in her ears, a burning rage swelling inside her chest.
Vincent shot her a glance—he could feel it too, the way her anger radiated from her. “Rodi, it’s fine,” he whispered, trying to de-escalate the situation as he had so many times before. “Let me handle this.”
But Rodi was already moving. She stepped in front of the counter, her height casting a shadow over the group of men. Her voice was low, quiet, but dripping with menace. “You need to leave. Now.”
The man in front sneered, looking Rodi up and down, clearly sizing her up, as if her muscular frame and cold gaze weren’t enough of a warning. “What, you his bodyguard or something? Relax. We’re just having a little fun.”
Rodi’s eyes darkened, a cold fury settling behind her gaze. “Get out. Before I make you.”
The laughter died down, the air suddenly thick with tension. One of the men, clearly trying to play tough, stepped forward, his smirk curling on his lips. “Or what? What are you gonna do, huh? Hit me?”
The bakery felt smaller now, the walls closing in as Rodi’s rage reached a boiling point. Her vision tunneled, everything narrowing down to that man and the smug look on his face. The look that told her he didn’t take her seriously, that he didn’t see Vincent as anything but something to toy with.
And she was done with it.
Without another word, Rodi’s fist shot out, catching the man square in the jaw with a sickening crack. He didn’t even have time to react before he crumpled to the floor, blood trickling from his lip where her fist had connected. The other men froze, staring at their friend, too stunned to move.
Rodi didn’t stop. She grabbed the man by his collar, yanking him up from the floor with ease, her eyes blazing with fury. She slammed him against the counter, his head snapping back with the force.
“Don’t ever come near him again,” Rodi growled, her voice low and venomous. “If you so much as look at him the wrong way, I will kill you.”
The man, dazed and bleeding, barely managed a whimper as Rodi released him, letting him slump to the floor. His friends scrambled to pull him up, their fear palpable as they quickly dragged him toward the door. “Let’s get out of here!” one of them muttered, his bravado shattered.
The bell jingled again as they stumbled out, leaving behind a tense silence.
Rodi stood still, her chest heaving with the remnants of her anger, her fists still clenched at her sides. She wanted to do more—she wanted to make sure those men never even thought of looking at Vincent again. But for now, the threat had passed.
Vincent stood behind the counter, his wide eyes fixed on Rodi, his expression a mix of concern and something else—something deeper. He stepped around the counter, reaching for her, his fingers brushing against her arm gently.
“Rodi,” he whispered, his voice soft, almost tentative. “You didn’t have to—”
“Yes, I did,” Rodi interrupted, turning to face him, her gaze softening only for him. “They don’t get to look at you like that. They don’t get to talk to you like that.”
Vincent’s eyes searched hers, his hand still resting on her arm, his touch grounding her. “But… you could’ve gotten in trouble. I don’t want you getting hurt because of me.”
Rodi let out a bitter laugh, shaking her head. “I don’t care. I’d hurt anyone who tries to mess with you, Vincent. They don’t deserve to breathe the same air as you.”
Vincent’s expression shifted, a flicker of something dark passing over his features. “I don’t want you to hurt yourself because of me.”
Rodi stepped closer, her hand reaching up to cradle his face, her thumb brushing over his cheek. “I’ll do whatever it takes to keep you safe. I love you, Vincent. You mean more to me than anything in this world, and I’ll kill anyone who tries to take you away from me.”
Vincent’s breath hitched at her words, his heart pounding in his chest. There was something terrifying and intoxicating about her intensity, the way her love for him consumed her. And, despite his better judgment, part of him liked it—liked the way she was willing to go to such dark lengths for him.
He leaned into her touch, his voice barely above a whisper. “I love you too, Rodi.”
Rodi pulled him into her arms, holding him tightly against her chest, her chin resting on top of his head. In her embrace, Vincent felt both protected and possessed, like he was something precious that she would never let go of. And in that moment, he knew—he would never be free of her, but he didn’t want to be.
Outside, the world went on, oblivious to the darkness that lingered inside *La Douce Saveur*. But inside, Rodi and Vincent were in their own world, bound together by love
And Rodi would protect that world, no matter the cost.
