#swann arlaud fanfiction

[euphoriaslux]

we can’t be friends

summary: you hate vincent. vincent hates you. and yet somehow you end up in his bedroom.

word count: 4262( i… am so sorry.)

warnings: fem reader, smut(f oral receiving) vincent being a meanie, drinking and smoking, disrespect of the french justice system (désolé) me making head canons about vincent’s family life, some mischaracterization of sandra (ily sandra huller)

a/n: folks i was locked in when i was writing this, can you tell because it’s autocapitalized? i was Serious! this was supposed to be like a thousand words and ended up being 4k… i apologize i have to spread my illness (being my obsession with swann). i had SO much fun writing this i hope yall enjoy, all the reblogs on my first post make me all warm and fuzzy. drop some requests if you’d like, and im going to make a masterpost of all the fictional characters im obsessed with bc i’m chronically online. i’ve reread this like a million times so if there are any spelling errors i simply do not see. enjoy!!! <3

You cannot fucking believe you’re going to be late to trial.

Well, actually, you can believe it. Somehow, during the two hours of sleep you got last night, you managed to unplug both your alarm clock and your phone charger, leaving you to blissfully sleep through the multiple alarms you had set the night before. It was only when your cat sprawled across your face, her paws tickling your eyelashes as she eagerly awaited her breakfast, that your body decided to wake you up. An hour after you were supposed to.

Your methodically planned out morning routine for the indictment today was quickly replaced by you sprinting around your apartment muttering curse words under your breath and trying not to trip over the copious amounts of documents on your floor. You nearly cried when your tangled hair would not cooperate with you, but somehow managed to make yourself look halfway presentable. You didn’t have the time to be stressed today, especially because of the attention you know this case is going to get.

And because you knew you were going to see him.

After driving like a bat out of hell in the Parisian rain, violating multiple traffic laws, you somehow make it to the courthouse only one minute late. Jogging up the steps, you push the door open and yell out apologies to the bewildered lawyers and judges in the courthouse as you sprint against the browned hardwood floor, your briefcase thumping against your side in tandem with your heartbeat. Your eyes scan the chamber numbers and you breathe a sigh of relief once you find the one that matched the summons notice, pausing to smooth down your pantsuit set and pat the beads of sweat off of your forehead.

You push open the chamber doors as gently as you can, but you quickly realize there is no use as every head in the room turns towards you, gawking at you. Some have a slight frown on their face, looking at you with thinly veiled pity, but most have a clear show of annoyance. With your head down you speedwalk over to your team’s side of the chambers, pulling out a few labeled folders before you place your briefcase next to your seat. You take a deep breath and force yourself to look up, and right across from you is the defendant’s lawyer.

Vincent is wearing a black turtleneck and a matching black blazer, with effortlessly swooped gray hair and his arms crossed over his chest. He looks perfect, too perfect, in a way that pisses you off. He’s already staring at you when you glance at him, his mouth slightly turned upward as he leans over to talk to his client Sandra, maintining eye contact with you as his whispers in her ear.

“Glad you made time to join us Mademoiselle,” the judge says as she shuffles some papers around, using a few fingers to wave over a magistrate to her right, ostensibly for the indictment sheets.

“I am so, so sorry I-” you start before the judge moves her hand to wave you off, finally sparing you a sharp glance.

“Enough time has been wasted. Let us proceed, yes?” she asks, and you almost start to answer before you realize it was rhetorical. There are a few quiet laughs in the courtroom and you fix your eyes on your folder, feeling like a child who was just scolded in class for sneaking a cookie from the lunchroom. You feel Vincent’s eyes on you but you don’t dare to look up. You won’t give him the satisfaction.

Sandra was indicted, of course. This case was going to be a media circus because of her literary career, and you knew this was not going to be an open-and-shut case. Part of you hated trials like these - when the media would decide an angle that they found the most titillating and not leave a single person involved alone until they got a headline that matched their narrative. Another part of you, a massive part of you, hated working with Vincent. You could just constantly feel the smugness dripping off of him, and with every snarky comment and reply you could sense the anger just drilling deeper and deeper into you. Each interaction you had with him managed to make you even more and more mad. At least you’d hopefully only see him for another couple of months.

five months later

Like clockwork, you stepped out of your taxi to be bombarded by reporters with an endless sea of microphones and cameras, a cacophony of aggressive voices yelling your way. You keep your head down and try to push through the crowd, noticing Vincent talking to a reporter with Sandra to his side. You hear a few words, noticeably about Sandra’s innocence and the ignorance of the defense, and that word makes you stop in your tracks. Reporters are asking you questions but you look for the first microphone you can find and start to talk, making sure to project your voice.

“Judicial integrity is what’s most important to me. Not a narrative, not a story. I took an oath to protect this country. Some people don’t take that seriously, but I do, and that’s what I am focused on.”

There is a sea of follow-up questions but you weave through the hoard of people to the top steps of the courtroom, making your way inside. You arrived a bit early to trial today because you knew Daniel, Sandra’s son, was testifying today. You couldn’t shake the unease you’d had all week knowing you had to cross-examine him, seeing his grief-stricken face as he heard the prosecution and defense make a myriad of accusations about the one parent he had left.

“Were you talking about me?”

Vincent’s voice makes you jump, and you turn around to see him staring at you from behind the court pew. You must’ve had a look of confusion on your face because he then clarifies:

“Outside, when you were talking to the reporter from Euronews. Are you implying that I don’t have judicial integrity?” he cocks his head at you, his eyebrows slightly raised. You shrug, grabbing the manila folders with notes from your bag and putting them in front of your seat.

“If the shoe fits, I suppose,” you say with a tight smile as you sling your bag from your shoulder to under your chair. Vincent scoffs, lightly brushing his hair out of his face.

“Right, I should have looked to the attorney who walks in late smelling like cheap wine for… integrity,” he emphasizes that last word, each letter feeling incredibly loud in the silent courtroom. You feel the heat rise from the back of your neck, both in embarrassment and fury. You take a step towards him and he doesn’t move, your faces only a few inches apart.

“Do you think you’re any better? You took this case because you are plagued with this superiority complex that you have to subject everyone to.”

“Hm, so being a good lawyer makes you think I have a superiority complex, good to know,” Vincent says, touching his chin in mock curiosity. Jesus Christ, this guy irritates you.

“No actually, I think I figured it out,” you say with a laugh, poking your finger at his chest.

“Is it because you used to fuck Sandra, and this is some weird fucked up sort of foreplay that you’re forcing us to watch? I wonder if there’s a tape in evidence, of Sandra telling her now-dead husband how many times you two had shitty sex.”

Your sentence sits in the air as the smirk falls from Vincent’s face.

“Do not project whatever bullshit you’ve created in your mind onto me,” he says, staring at you with an intensity that makes you start to squirm.

“You don’t know me, Vincent,” you turn to end the conversation but Vincent grabs your arm, turning you back around to look at him.

“But I think I do,” he says, and you are so close that you can make out the pack of cigarettes in his jean pocket through his cloak is what’s pressing against your thigh.

“I think you put on this show, that you are meek and timid, but it is all an act. Every movement of yours is calculated. Nothing you do has any underpinning of integrity.”

You feel tears well in your eyes and you quickly wipe them away, opening your mouth to speak as the chamber doors open and members of the jury begin to walk in.

“Fuck you,” you tear your arm away from his grip and walk back to your seat.

four months later

It’s been two weeks since the trial ended. The chaotic hustle and attention has died and reporters are gone, with no more requests for comment or interviews on morning TV filling up your inbox. You were called to the courthouse to go over some documentation that the court needed to provide a final report on the case, arriving late on a Saturday night. You shudder as you get out of the taxi, the chill of Paris air sparing no part of your body. You wrap your jacket around yourself and sit on the sidewalk, taking a deep breath as you prepare to go into that same courtroom. You put your head in your hands and sit in silence for what feels like forever until a familiar voice breaks the stillness.

“Hey.”

You don’t move a muscle when you hear Vincent’s voice, hoping that somehow if you stayed completely still he’d believe you were a figment of his imagination and he’d leave you alone. Instead, he takes a seat next to you, the corduroy fabric of his trousers very gently grazing your skirt.

“If you’ve come to gloat, I’m truly not in the mood,” your say, your voice muffled by your hands over your mouth. Vincent says nothing but you hear him rustling through his pants and then the familiar click of a lighter, and you bring your face up to see Vincent taking a drag of a cigarette. He breathes out wafts of smoke, and after a beat, extends his hand towards you. You glance down at the cigarette and then back at him, and he is still looking forward at the architecture across from you. Plucking the cigarette from between his fingers you inhale deeply, tilting your head up to blow the smoke into the sky. You both sit in the quiet for a few moments as you smoke about half of the cigarette. He doesn’t seem to mind, or at least doesn’t say anything.

“How do you feel?” he finally asks, and you chuckle as you take another inhale.

“How do you think I feel?” you look to him and he nods, taking the cigarette from you. You try and ignore the tingly feeling in your stomach when his lips touch the same part of the cigarette that yours did, with no hesitation.

“Did you genuinely believe she was guilty?”

The question throws you off guard.

“I don’t know.” you answer honestly, bringing your knees up to rest your hands on top of them.

“I don’t often think anything is too personal in a court of law, but that phone call with Sandra and Samuel felt, invasive?”

“It didn’t seem like you had any qualms when you were questioning about it,” he questions.

“Well of course not. I wanted to win.”

Vincent laughs, a real deep laugh, and you can’t help but crack a small smile at the noise. You realize you hadn’t heard it before, at least not before it preceded an insult hurled your way.

“What do you mean, invasive?”

It’s hard to collect your thoughts on his question, and you are suddenly transported back into that courtroom, listening to that call.

“It was like I felt every molecule of anger, resentment, disappointment. I just felt like I was right there in the middle, taking both of their punches. Like,” you take a beat, trying to formulate your words.

“Like I was their son, with no vision of what was happening but so desperately aware of the anger in the air. And feeling guilty that I caused it, somehow.”

Vincent hums.

“I’m sorry with how often I pried, about you and Sandra,” your voice is quiet, and you pick at the straps of your heels.

“It’s okay. It was a long time ago. The feelings I have for her have changed.”

This time you hum, unsure of what to say. For the first time in your years of knowing him, you feel bad about possibly making Vincent uncomfortable. You’re not sure why. You sit in awkward silence for a couple of minutes before you stand up, brushing the stray tufts of cigarette ash that stuck to your skirt.

“Well, I won’t keep you, I have to go turn in evidence of my defeat” you gesture towards the papers in your hands. “And you have to go celebrate, I presume.”

Vincent stands up as well, flicking the cigarette onto the floor and stomping it out with his boot.

“No celebrating for me,” he says with his hands raised. You smile, and he does the same.

“How will you be … coping?” he asks and you roll your eyes.

“Not sure, probably at home with a really cheap bottle of wine.”

His lips purse as he puts his hands into his pockets. “I guess I deserve that.”

You rock slightly on your balls and feet, not sure if you should walk away from him or not. You’re just about to step out of his way when he starts talking.

“I have a nice Pinot Grigio I’ve been waiting to open, if you’d, you know, like to … join,” Vincent’s voice gets quieter as he keeps talking, and you swear you can see a soft pink hue on his cheeks, but perhaps that was the night playing tricks on you.

“I don’t want to impose-”

“You wouldn’t be,” he cuts you off. “I’ll wait for you out here?”

-

Vincent’s house - not apartment - was somehow exactly and nothing like what you would have imagined. It’s a one-story Victorian-style home with a dark exterior, but the inside is painted a warm yellow with tons of books littering the floors and walls and miscellanous trinkets and birthday cards tucked in between. There’s empty pizza boxes and wine bottles on the kitchen floor, and through his tall back window you can see a mini garden in his backyard, with vines of tomatoes and bushels of leafy greens sprawled amongst the grass. It looks very lived in - you can imagine Vincent waltzing around in the morning, reading his big law books with big glasses of wine, like the one you have in your hand right now.

The two of you are currently halfway deep into a bottle, talking about nothing and everything. The case, bad clients you’ve had before, your favorite pastry shops in Paris, the funny face that one of the Magistrates makes every time the Judge looked at him.

“Thank you for the wine monsieur,” you say with a dip of your head and an exaggerated bow.

Vincent shakes his head before taking a sip of wine, and you notice how the soft pink you thought you had noticed before has turned into a deep red from his forehead to his chest. Vincent being tipsy was such an odd thought to you that you couldn’t control your laughter, your hand flying up to cover your mouth as you started to giggle incessantly.

“What? Is there something on my face?” Vincent giggles alongside you, and you shake your head no.

“The serious, smart lawyer is wine-drunk with the person he probably hates the most. I could not have imagined ever being in this situation,” you manage to collect yourself, putting your hand over your chest as you take the final sip in your glass and wave off Vincent as he motions to pour you another one.

“I don’t hate you,” Vincent mutters as he pours himself another glass of wine.

“You’re pretty good at acting like you do.”

He just nods. Suddenly the air in the room has changed, and it feels constricting. Like all of the arguments and venomous insults you’ve thrown at each other has coagulated in this massive living room

“I actually, um, envy you a lot of the time.”

“Envy me?” you can’t help your incredulous tone after his sentence. “You don’t have to say things to pity me, you know,” you laugh, but Vincent’s face is still serious.

“You are just naturally someone people want to spend time with. Even when you annoy me beyond belief, some part of me is always, drawn to you, I suppose. And I envy that. I don’t really know who I am without doing things for others.

You furrow your brows at his sentence. “What do you mean?” you lean over your chair to be a bit closer to him. He plays with the silver ring on his index finger.

“Sometimes I feel like the people I’ve loved, only want me when I can do something for them, you know? I mean, even my own mother, I remember- ” he stops to take a large sip of wine.

“I was almost done with primary school, and my Dad was gone on some inane business trip. I told her I wanted to go to a birthday party downtown, and that I wouldn’t be able to make dinner that night. She got so mad at me that she threw the bottle of wine she’d nearly finished at my head.” He swirls his wine glass around staring into it.

You put your hand on top of his, and he looks up at you, staring into your eyes before clasping his hand arond yours.

“I’m really sorry,” you whisper. He shrugs, and before you can stop yourself, you bring his hand up to your mouth and press a featherlike kiss against his skin. Vincent’s eyes are glassy, and he separates his fingers from yours to place his hand against your face, his thumb gently caressing your jaw.

“Do you have more cigarettes?” you ask, softening into his touch.

“In my bedroom.”

His statement - his ask - reverberates through your head as you both stare at each other, trying to discern what will happen next. Your thoughts are so loud that you’ve afraid that somehow they’ll extend out into the room.

is he saying what i think he is?

And normally, you would say a snarky remark about how he wishes he could get you in his bedroom, and how you’d rather die than see where he sleeps, but the wine has made you slightly woozy and all you can think about is how good he looks with his hair gently sticking to his face and his t-shirt tight around his arms, and what it would feel like to fuck him.

So you say “okay”, and leave your phone on the dining room table.

Vincent opens his bedroom door, moving to let you walk in first before closing the door behind him. He opens his mouth to speak and before you can think your mouth is on his, and he’s shocked for a moment before he kisses you back, your lips melding together. You push your body into his as Vincent wraps his arms around your waist, his hands digging into your skin as he quietly moans into your mouth. Your intertwined bodies make it to the bed and he hovers on top of you, his hard cock pressing against your thigh and you reach down to touch him over his jeans, feeling him shudder against you. You pull away from him.

“You okay?”

“Yeah,” his voice is a little hoarser than it was before. “I’m okay.”

“Good,” you pull your shirt over your head and tug at the bottom of his and he laughs he does the same, and you admire his shirtless body as he reaches back down to kiss you again, but he’s not as gentle this time. He’s aggressive, dipping his tongue into your mouth and holding your face in his hands.

“So beautiful”, he murmurs, tilting your head so he can suck on your neck and graze his teeth against the bruises spot he left. “So much more beautiful than I imagined”.

Your head falls back on the pillow as you feel his hands reach behind your back and unclip the hooks on your bra, his mouth moving to your breasts and licking your nipples.

“You’ve imagined me?” you pretend to be bashful as your mouth falls into an o-shape, feeling Vincent’s mouth on your chest and his hands on . He moans and you can feel it throughout your whole body as you lean down to shimmy out of your skirt and underwear in one move.

“In every way possible,” he says as he dips a finger down, past your belly button and into your cunt. You’d feel embarrassed at how wet you are already if his hand didn’t feel so good inside of you.

“I’ve thought about what you would taste like, how you would sound when I first fuck you for the first time,” his mouth moves down from your chest, leaving a trail of wet kisses down your abdomen before he’s just above your heat and you sigh, involuntarily jerking your hips up. He puts his free hand around your lower stomach to hold you in place.

“But nothing,” he nips at the spot right in the crease of your hip, licking a long stripe just next to your heat.

“Could’ve come close to how pretty you really are.”

“Christ,” your hands grab fistfuls of Vincent’s sheets as his tongue finally swirls around your clit, pressing just a bit harder as he puts another finger inside of you. You can feel the pressure building in your lower stomach as you and Vincent’s grip on your stomach get firmer as you wriggle under his touch. He groans into your mouth as you start to grind your hips into him, fucking you faster with his fingers as he rolls his hips into the bed.

“Vincent,” you say with a gasp and grip his hair, pulling as you come around his mouth, your head dizzy with the feeling of Vincent’s tongue on you as he stares up at you from between your legs. He pulls his hand out of your cunt and licks his fingers before putting his mouth back on your clit, making you jump at the contact. You hiss as he licks the sensitive area, your eyes rolling into the back of your head as you tug so hard on Vincent’s hair that you’re afraid you’re hurting him, but if you are, he doesn’t stop you. He interlocks his fingers across your stomach and holds you into place, groaning into your clit.

“Okayokayokay,” you move your hands from his hair to head to pull him up, your breathing labored as you try to get yourself together. He leans over to kiss you, his lips softly molding against yours as you wrap your arms around his back.

Breathless, you move your hand down to touch Vincent but he quickly stops you.

“It’s- um-”

You look down and notice the wet spot on Vincent’s boxers, and your eyebrows raise to the top of your forehead as you come to the realization that he came while he was eating you out.

“Did you-”

Vincent groans, hiding his face in your neck as you giggle, coming down from your high.

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be sorry,” you thread your fingers through his now disheveled hair. “It’s kind of hot if I’m being honest.” Vincent looks at you with a questioning look but you just smile.

“Plus, we have all night to try again.”

-

You wake up in Vincent’s bedroom, with a few strips of sunlight peeking through Vincent’s closed blinds. You haphazardly reach over to his side of the bed to grab his arm, but find it empty, raising your head from the pillow to see that you’re completely alone. Vincent’s clothes that he had taken off during the night and tossed onto the floor were gone. You waited to see if you could hear Vincent in his kitchen, or in the garden, but you were in complete silence.

To be fair, he didn’t say anything last night to insinuate that he wanted a relationship with you, or even liked you. Maybe this was secretly a win for him - he could beat you in a courtroom, and now he got you in your most vulnerable state to declare that you actually felt something other than hatred for him. And maybe that’s all he wanted. You’re not sure why you expected anything differently.

You throw the blankets off of you and find your clothes neatly folded on his desk, and his courteousness manages to upset you even more. You put your clothes on and try to collect yourself, taking a few deep breaths as you walk out of his bedroom and out towards his kitchen. You scan the room for your phone, which you swear you left on the dining room table, only to finally see it on top of a note on the kitchen counter written in messy cursive.

“Went out for cigarettes and coffee.

Bringing back croissants and a capuc- cappuccino.

Will be back in ten.

Go back to bed.

V”

-

taglist: @ghostlytide

graphic credits: @glasvera

#vincent renzi #vincent renzi fanfiction #swann arlaud fanfiction #swann arlaud #vincent renzi x reader #swann arlaud x reader #anatomy of a fall fanfiction #anatomy of a fall #anatomie d'une chute #vincent renzi smut #swann arlaud smut #smut #fanfic

[divine-donna]

tell me

instead of writing a fic, i settled on writing just a general collection of headcanons. these are gender neutral. and uh, i'm on a mission to convert my friend to the swann arlaud agenda.

anyways watch anatomy of a fall on a big screen. don't do what i did, which is just watch it on my laptop. movie is too good to be watched on a laptop. and also be a streaming service.

these are gender neutral, by the way.

part 02

character: vincent renzi (aka. hot lawyer from anatomy of a fall)

for vibes: "tell me" by fifty fifty

moving to france wasn't on your list of things to do when you were in your early teens. it was such a drastic move. but unfortunately, it made sense because your mother was a film scholar who specialized in french film and she got a job to teach at a prestigious university. it was an opportunity she had to take and you were brought along for the ride.

picking up french was not that hard. you learned in school and also picked it up from the films your mother watched. you remembered watching Cléo from 5 to 7 a lot. maybe you shouldn't have, considering its themes. being immersed in the environment helped you pick up on it quicker.

all to say, you were fluent by the time you reached university.

you don't remember which class you met him in. you just know you got put in a group together for introductions. typical first year stuff.

"vincent renzi."

he had a boyish charm to him. he looked younger than you, yet you were the same age. there was still some baby fat on his cheeks.

your smile was warm. "(y/n)."

he became one of your first friends.

university was a rough transition period. you left your old friends behind. you didn't like them that much anyways. they didn't seem to like you either. so, you essentially came into university without many friends.

it's a gradual friendship, one that arises from meeting up consistently and then those meetings evolving into hanging out for hours.

doing schoolwork while drinking coffee, reading in the library, going out for dinner. hell even cooking for each other. it was a solid friendship.

it helped that you guys also wandered in the same social circle. so you also had mutual friends, including german exchange student sandra voyter.

they always talked about how you two were together. always seen talking. always seen outside of class. even when you guys had so much work to do and you shouldn't be with him because you guys ended up distracted and procrastinating your papers.

"why do you still have this?" he asks.

it was your third year of university. your place was small cozy. and it was affordable with your two other roommates. you guys had gotten lucky with the rent.

"have what?" you don't look up from your laptop. you were nearly finished with your paper.

"this."

you look up. vincent's holding up a dvd box with a beat up cover sleeve. the colors were faded and the cardboard was bent all over, creating multiple webs.

"because it's mine?"

"it's all beat up. wouldn't it be better to transfer to a new box?" he shrugs.

"my mother gave it to me when i graduated. it's...niche, i guess." you think about how she gifted you her favorite movie and the movie she has written a whole book about.

"everyone knows Céline and Julie Go Boating."

"not in that sense. just in the sense that my mother has an interesting way to mourn me leaving the house." you still stayed with her when you went back. but graduating really proved that you weren't a kid anymore. "i really liked it when i was younger. because of the colors. the rest of the stuff did not register with me. according to her, i kept asking her to put it on."

"you must have had an interesting taste as a child."

"well...she specializes in this stuff. so i'm not surprised."

"you don't even have a tv."

"okay well, i have it for novelty sake."

your eyes return to your laptop screen. you don't notice the way vincent's eyes linger on you, watching the way your fingers intently move as you finish up your paper. or how you furrow your brows when rereading your sentence and realizing it makes no sense. or the gentle curse beneath your breath when you realize you've forgotten a word in your sentence. he's never heard someone curse so gently.

he sets the dvd back where he picked it up from, feeling the worn out cardboard.

it was your birthday. such a scary time, for it to come so soon.

originally, you thought it was going to be you, vincent, sandra, and some of your other friends. after all, vincent was good as organizing group events and outings.

when you showed up at your usual meeting spot, it was just him.

"are they going to meet us there?" you question.

"we'll meet them after." he smiles.

"what is going on in that brain of yours?"

"you'll see."

when he takes your hand, your heart flutters. you've held hands before. but never did it make you feel so...light. like a cloud. you weren't sure if you were imagining your cheeks heating up slightly.

vincent leads you to a nearby cinema. he buys two tickets for a limited showing of Céline and Julie Go Boating.

"this is so..." you can't help but let out a laugh, staring at the movie ticket.

"why not? get the full experience." his eyes are gentle. there's tenderness in his gaze. it makes you feel all warm and gooey on the inside.

"you know the movie is...over three hours long right?"

"of course. that's why i picked an earlier showing. so we can get to dinner on time later."

being in the dark with your friend for over three hours. watching a movie about two people who were coded to be lovers. what could go wrong?

nothing, really. in the eyes of someone else.

to you, and to him, everything.

you haven't seen the film in forever. so rewatching it was like watching it for the first time without being distracted by the colors.

vincent couldn't watch the movie. he was more interested in the way your face shifted, how you whispered about not remembering that happening, how you laughed and the way your lips curled so cutely.

in truth, he could care less about the movie.

you were his favorite film.

as céline and julie were in a soap opera, enacting a hetero-normative plot, you turn to look at vincent. you were wondering how your friend was holding up.

your eyes meet his and your lips can't help but curl into a smile.

"are you watching?"

"of course." his eyes flicker to the screen for a brief moment.

"or were you watching me?"

"your reactions are interesting. they tell me what i should be thinking of the film."

"i shouldn't be the one you judge this film on."

silence between you two. the kind of comfortable silence you two are used to. but something feels more different. perhaps because it was dark. perhaps because the world seemed to fall away and it was just the two of you and the film faded into the background.

you were oddly close to him. your shoulders were touching. and if you moved forward, your noses would be able to touch.

you shift closer, causing his breath to hitch. "thank you for this, by the way." when you whisper, it is a message only meant for him.

"happy birthday." he says. he moves his face closer, heart pounding.

you want to meet him in the middle. you want to feel his soft lips against your own. and yet, something grips you hard. it's stomach curdling.

you move forward, your lips on his cheek. his eyes widen and his shoulders slump a little. you pull away. "it's...nice. to have the bestest friend i know."

"that's not a word." sadness settles in his eyes.

"all words are made up. so i can make up new ones."

in the moment you felt unsure about not making a move. that regret comes to follow you in your life.

graduation came too soon. way too soon.

you had decided to leave france for a bit, go to grad school abroad. somewhere else where you could pursue an mfa in creative writing.

it was your last coffee before you guys would graduate, inevitably separating.

vincent said he wanted to tell you something. it was urgent, something important to him. you could tell he wanted to spit it out.

or did he want to vomit because he was nervous?

"stop leaving me in suspense!" you take a sip of your coffee. "what is it?"

should he tell you?

should he confess?

he wants to tell you. oh so desperately. and yet, he feels it would be selfish to.

it's not about if you didn't feel the same way. to vincent, being rejected is the better scenario.

he didn't want to keep you grounded in france, a place you were looking to leave because you have spent a decent chunk of your life here. moving was good for you.

he worried that if you felt the same way, then maybe you would reconsider going away. and if you were looking to leave forever, he didn't want to be the thing keeping you here.

i love you. i have for a while. let's go on a date.

thirteen words. three sentences.

it was so miniscule. but he felt like atlas, carrying the sky. he was carrying a whole world.

vincent wipes his palms against his jeans. his heart was stuck in his throat. and his brain acted first.

"i got accepted into law school."

"that's great! oh my god!" you nearly squeal for him.

your happiness for him was enough.

writing a hit debut novel is no easy feat. and yet, you did it. people loved your novel.

the novel centered on two friends. their platonic bond ends up in a weird limbo, where there's romantic tension but neither wants to act upon it in fear. ultimately, the two friends reunite years after they separated, on different career paths. they meet at a conference, sit at a bar, and the novel ends with them rekindling their relationship. you left it up to the reader to interpret that being romantic or platonic. or even if they never talked to each other again after that night.

you were on fire as an author. and your recent publication, a collection of short stories, had become particularly famous. especially on social media.

you decided to go back to france for a few months. you wanted to spend more time with your mother and catch up with your friends. all of them you haven't seen since university.

unfortunately it also didn't mean you were on vacation. you still had to work. and you had many book signings to attend to.

when you look up to see the next person, your heart nearly lurches out of your chest.

vincent aged like wine. he still looked like how he did in university. less baby fat. gray hair. some wrinkles. but you liked it.

his eyes meet yours and he walks over. "my favorite short story was the one about the cow farmer."

"that came from a dream i had as an undergraduate student." you open the book and sign the first page. "how are you?"

"good. good. how about you?" he smiles. he's so radiant. you're reminded why you missed him. and why you felt regret in your body from all those years ago.

"well, you already know about me." you gesture to the books. your books. "have you...met up with sandra recently?"

"on the rare occasion. she's been traveling a lot. but recently she moved here. with her husband."

"her husband...samuel?" vincent nods. "he's an interesting character. from the few times i met him."

"they seem to be doing alright." he takes the signed book and peeks at what you wrote. there's a heart next to his name.

"we should talk more. catch up."

"if you're free."

you think for a second. "can you come back in thirty minutes? i should be done by then."

vincent smiles. he leaves the bookstore.

he's waiting outside for you after those thirty minutes.

#x reader #male reader #female reader #gender neutral reader #anatomy of a fall #swann arlaud #vincent renzi #headcanons #fluff #romantic #vincent renzi x reader #anatomy of a fall fanfiction #vincent renzi fanfiction

[ghostlytide]

For Business Only | One

I hope you like it ^^

Vincent Renzi x Fem! Reader----1.6K

MASTERLIST -> Next

Synopsis:

After the whirlwind affair Vincent and you shared years ago, he was sure his goodbye was definitive. A fleeting memory filled with both regret and a peculiar ache that he can’t quite place. But life wishes to scorn him once again when his newest case obliges him to seek out your help. Though this case isn’t the only complicated thing in this strictly professional relationship—not with the way his heart seems to jump at your proximity, or the already familiar tune of your voice. For all the things that had changed, would this mean your story could have a different ending now?

General Tags: Second Chance/Exes to Lovers; Slow Burn; |They were Coworkers; Denial of Feelings; Pining & Longing; Idiots in Love; Eventual Friends (?) with Benefits (?); English isn't my first language so watch out for typos;

It was a late spring night when Vincent said his goodbye to you, so it was only fair that your reencounter would occur in another.

Life played both hommage and karma at him, remembering his words: You may forever hate me, but I promise you that you'll never see me ever again. I've bothered you enough.

That night, he had regained the common sense that had slipped out his grasp since you entered the law firm as an intern; eager to learn from whoever would spare you a glance for something more than to request their thousandth cup of coffee.

Of course, he did.

And how could he not to? When you were so bright and cheerful, all the opposite from those seniors who had seen the worst, to experience who knows how many times the balanced and blind justice's weight to tip at the wrong side. To have to face the client's hopeless expression.

Of course, you'd probably be sheltered from such a dark world at your station once you reached juniorship. But that wasn't the point right now.

Just as it wasn't the point to reminisce. He felt as ashamed as it could be possible while climbing the stairs of the skyscraper, which on the inside was decorated with pieces of steel, glass, and contemporary art that combined perfectly against the simple columns and the frescoes painted in the dome of the main hall.

Vincent shouldn't be overwhelmed by the sight, but he'd never been inside the Building of the Société Générale, white marble walls against a dark mosaic creating a cube to showcase the colorful paintings hung on the walls.

The secretary at the front desk showed him the way to the elevator behind the reception, polished black walls against the metal door as Vincent felt a pull in the pit of his stomach—either for the sudden upward movement or for nervousness, he didn't wish to dwell much on it.

Walking much faster than he wanted to, the secretary passed through an empty, quiet hallway in which Vincent could read a myriad of plaques varying from Accounting Department, all the way to Human Resources.

Finally, she stopped at a door labeled as Banking Associate: Cultural Department. Calling your name, she said: "Monsieur Favrè has sent his lawyer impromptu to meet you."

A muffled voice—your muffled voice echoed in the still hallway, stirring old memories inside of him he wasn't aware of keeping in the first place. "Alright. Let him come in."

A simple nod and the woman was gone. It was only the two of you now.

He took his time, a skipping beat. At the same time, you finished writing away at your keyboard. Then the door was closed with a gentle click.

"Monsieur Delaroux, what can I do for y—" A tentative pause, your bright, smart eyes locked into his. "Vincent?"

This hadn't been the deal planned out in his mind; he was almost hoping you'd ask, with a puzzled voice, who he was as if memory could morph at will rather than being one's source of torture.

So many years passed since he heard his name coming out of your soft lips, that if he remembered quite well, would taste like mocca and vanilla. But why was he remembering that now, from all times?

"Hello," he said, an awkward smile shining in the well-lit office. He put one of his hands inside the pocket of his dress pants, suppressing the childish urge to wave.

You blinked. "What… what are you doing here?"

"I know this isn't what we agreed on," he started, using small steps to get closer to the desk, as if you were a deer likely to run off, or a lion ready to pounce. Vincent had no idea which of the two could be worse. "But I need your assistance for a case. You're the most capable person I can think of, so I had to come and ask for your help."

Reclining from your seat, he let the words simmer into you, using the little time he had to look around your office, part of him was curious to see if he could still recognize a glimpse of the old you, and what he could learn from the present.

"How did you find me?" you asked, hands gesturing from him to sit in front of your desk.

"There are not many art lawyers with your name," he said, slightly flustered he had to admit about searching your name among colleagues, prying into your life when his promise was all the contrary. It wasn't the first time he felt like a fool, yet prideful because he was here for work.

And solely for work.

"I have a case linked with a small private art collection." His voice was plain, devoid of any emotion. He wasn't Vincent right now, the man that tried not to break your heart but failed terribly; he was Maître Renzi one of the talented lawyers from the before small law firm that now was rising like smoke after every case taken. "A murder. Probably linked to the growing art stock. I need an expert in the subject to conduct the required procedures."

"Since when do you take cases about private art collectors?" you hummed, eyes almost twinkling with amusement from all those times he had shit on the upper class and their slippery ways around the judicial system.

It was a good sign that you weren't bringing up his words last spoken, the past that at this moment felt too much aflush despite the time trying to bury it.

"This one is an exception." He couldn't help but get defensive, feeling like a stupid teenage boy being teased despite you being quite some years younger than him. "The owner of the law firm assigned me this case directly. We need to win so the firm can have an expansion." Which meant more law specialties, and more hired lawyers. And then it was… "They're even considering putting an Art Law department."

You could join, he almost said foolishly. Why would you like to be coworkers with him again, when that exact professional relationship prompted all the rest?

You seemed to be thinking the same. "It'll pay well," he added before you could say anything that derailed from his sketched conversation. "And it can help with your curriculum." Vincent signaled to the plaque in front of your computer, reading Junior Consultant. "It could be the case that turns you into a Senior."

There it was the ghost of you, biting your bottom lip in a pondering manner while your gaze was glued to the empty seat next to him.

"What makes you think you're going to win?"

"Have some faith in me, will you?" He chuckled, though deep inside he knew what you meant. It was a question that always lingered at the bottom of his mind, the one that stole his sleep some nights.

"Vincent—"

"Trust me. This is a high-profile case, very important for all people involved. I need your help. I know you're the only person that can help me." He couldn't make another empty promise. To never see you again? Vincent just broke it, and the opposite of that, to be partnered with you as colleagues didn't sound appropriate either. "You're the only one I can trust to remain on my side even if everything goes to shit," Vincent muttered after a while, blue eyes searching for yours as he tried to convince you with pity, even. Because you could never say no to him, and because this case was obliged to use all the desperate, creative measures he could think of.

Though Vincent wasn't lying about said statement. And you knew it.

You looked at him in a long, silent gaze that felt strangely, annoyingly charged inside the medium-sized office, silent so thick he heard the moment you chortled, a breathy, contained laugh that blessed him with the tiniest of smiles.

"Send me the generalities of the case so I can give it a glance tomorrow and write the protocol to follow."

"If tomorrow is one of your free days, we can discuss it over lunch," Vincent found himself saying before his brain could tell him to do better. "I'll give you a printed copy of everything so you can revise it easier. I apologize, but due to the nature of this case, I don't find myself comfortable with sharing this information via remote."

You put away the pencil you were playing with, settling it against the wooden desk with a thunk. "Breakfast. Tomorrow at 9 AM meet me at the Fontaine Saint-Sulpice. We can go to a nearby café once there." Looking from your computer to him, you arched an eyebrow. "Something else you need? You should go before the receptionist notices that you aren't Monsieur Favrè's lawyer."

He shrugged. "I showed her my card, she didn't say anything."

"Well, I'm not allowed to take private clients while on my shift."

"I'm not a client, we're colleagues."

You gestured away. "Wording. You know what I mean."

"You're a lawyer, Mademoiselle, wording matters."

"I write contracts and track art exhibits, Vincent," you told him in a familiar tone he recognized from when you two engaged in a well-needed, unwinding banter. "The one asked to give speeches is you, not me."

"Well, then you better prepare for an exception, because you will have to declare at court about your findings." Vincent heard your sigh and took in the sight of your angry pout, one you dedicated at him when it was time to get out of his office and help other junior lawyers while on your time as an intern. He was surprised to find it as charming as it once was. "I'll see you tomorrow, then."

He stood up, torn between walking facing you or just striding toward the door. He did the last one, turning to smile at you while his hand tapped to feel the door's handle.

It was his time to call your name. "Thank you. Truly."

You nodded, one of the locks of your hair falling toward your brow, obscuring your view. "I'll see you tomorrow, Vincent."

#vincent renzi x reader #vincent renzi #vincent renzi fanfiction #anatomy of a fall fanfiction #swann arlaud x reader

[romanroycoo]

After The Fall - Vincent Renzi x Reader

Swann Arlaud in Anatomy of a Fall, similar plotline, son doesn't exist neither does Snoop (sadly).

Summary: After the trial of the death of your husband, you struggle to come to terms with this new life and the trauma of what has happened before. Vincent Renzi, however, becomes your comfort, staying beside you the whole time. A friends to lovers fanfiction

CW: Angst, fluff, obvious flirting, reader is depressed, grief, hurt and comfort, mentions of death, ex-husband was abusive - no mentions of it in this chapter.

Chapter one - Bathroom floor.

It had only been a few days since the trial had ended and you were freed from the question of murder. However, mentally, things had not seemed to get any brighter, your mind was in pieces, a sadness plagued your body day in and day out. And you had no one to call. 

Except Vincent.

You know you could depend on him for anything, hell, he saved your life technically. You needed him, not only as a lawyer, but as a friend. So when you were sitting on the floor of your bathroom, in this awfully empty house, crying desperately from the weight of the last few weeks of your life, you decided to call him.

“Y/n? Are you alright?” Curiosity was clear in his voice. You realise you missed this voice.

“Vincent..Hi, uhm i'm sorry to call you but uh..” Tears were still heavy on your cheeks and you struggled to get the words out. Asking for help wasn't your forte.

“No, no its fine dont worry. Is there something wrong? You sound-”

“Upset? Yeah. I can't seem to stop. I should be happy now the trial is over.” You laugh. “But, i just cant seem to be that.”

“You've been through so much, Y/n.” His voice is soft and warming.

There was a silence on the line through a few seconds, sad but not uncomfortable. You didnt know what to say, it was always like that around him. You were weirdly nervous, probably just the long time of not seeing each other, right?

“Could you co-”

“Yeah, i'll be there soon.” He says before you can even finish the question.

*****************************

It was late afternoon when he got there, letting himself in, it was a familiar arrangement by now.

You watched as the door glides open and he peers down at you, sat with your knees to your chest, leaning against the bath wall. 

“Hey.” You made a sad smile at him before he sat next to you automatically.

His head turned and his saddened gaze met yours. “Hey.”

Your eyes were already welling with tears again before you placed your head onto his shoulder, leaning into him. He shifted to make it more comfortable before wrapping his arm around you and placing his hand on your knee. You needed this hug so much, it had been so long since you felt the warmth of someone else near you like this. 

It felt like you could truly cry forever, and you hoped that he would stay, through it all, holding you like this and you didnt know why.

“Ive lost everything. Everyone. I dont know what to do or where to start again. Im such a mess.” You muffle into his side. “Ive never felt like this before.”

He stares for a while, understanding and listening to your pain. He hated seeing you like this and he wish he could take it away in an instant.

“You havent lost me, okay? And you just need some time. Ease back into things. Dont force yourself Y/n.”

You nod before sitting back up and looking at him, smiling assuringly and sorrowfully. Then as if nothing, you felt the pad of his thumb grace against your cheek, softly wiping away the tears staining your face. This house didn't feel so empty anymore.

#fanfiction #fanfic #ao3 #ao3 fanfic #ff #swann arlaud #justine triet #sandra huller #anatomy of a fall #messi the dog #Vincent Renzi #vincent #hot lawyer #anatomyofafall #vincentrenzifanfiction #swannarlaudfanfiction #swannarlaud #fluffandangst #fluff and angst #hurt/comfort #wattpad #wattpad fanfiction #hot lawyer from anatomy of a fall #y/n #Swann Arlaud x reader #Vincent Renzi x Reader

[rxgirlie]

The Verdict

(Sneak Peek)

Pairing: Vincent Renzi x OFC

A/N: okay, so, I have eleven chapters written so far but a lot of editing to do for this whole sha-bang. Here’s a cute little snippet for the Hot Lawyer Army. I told a white lie when I said the whole work in its entirety would be posted this week. (I am literally hot out of a writing work shop and legitimately whipped out a thesaurus and dictionary for this bad boy, like, who am I?)

In the quiet isolation where the Maleski family had sought refuge from the world, the tragic fall of Samuel Maleski unfolded into a legal and emotional labyrinth. Vincent Renzi, armed with the facts and facing the daunting task of defending Sandra, found himself navigating a case where the line between truth and perception blurred with every revelation.

Sandra, with her resolve wavering under the weight of public scrutiny, recounted the harrowing details to Vincent. Their conversations, often fraught with tension, revealed the complexities of her marriage to Samuel—a relationship marred by jealousy, ambition, and the tragic accident that had left their son, Daniel, blind.

As the case progressed, the absence of witnesses in their secluded life became a double-edged sword. Daniel's discovery of his father's fall, with no eyes to witness the tragedy and only the cold silence of the snow as his guide, painted a poignant picture of a family unraveled by misfortune.

During a brief respite from the intensity of legal preparations, Leah stepped outside for a breath of fresh Alpine air. The cold bit at her cheeks, a sharp contrast to the warmth of the indoors. She was soon joined by Sandra, who, in a rare moment of vulnerability, offered Leah a cigarette. The two women, standing side by side against the backdrop of snow and solitude, shared a silence that spoke volumes.

It was Sandra who broke the quiet, her voice tinged with a mix of resignation and defiance. "You remind me of a cat, you know. A black cat—slinky, chic, and a bit intimidating. But ultimately harmless." Her comparison, unexpected yet oddly accurate, drew a surprised laugh from Leah, the tension between them easing for the first time.

Leah took a slow drag, considering Sandra's words. "A black cat, huh? I'll take that as a compliment, I suppose. They're survivors, after all."

Sandra's lips quirked into a semblance of a smile, a glimmer of the woman she might have been before tragedy had taken its toll. "Survivors, yes. But they're also misunderstood. Feared for no reason other than superstition."

The conversation, meandering between confessions and observations, offered Leah a glimpse into Sandra's soul—her fears, her regrets, and her defiant hope for vindication. For Sandra, the moment provided a rare connection, a sense of being seen beyond the accusations and the public persona crafted by the media and the court.

As they stamped out their cigarettes and turned to head back inside, the brief camaraderie forged in the Alpine chill left an indelible mark. For Leah, the case had transformed from a professional challenge into a personal crusade, not just for justice, but for understanding the complex tapestry of human relationships that the law so often sought to untangle.

And for Sandra, the encounter with Leah—a woman as out of place in the snow as a black cat, yet standing her ground—offered a flicker of hope. In the face of overwhelming odds, perhaps there were still those willing to look beyond the surface, to see the truth hidden in the shadows.

————————————————————————

As Vincent navigated the winding roads back to Paris, the fading light of the Alpine sunset painted the sky in hues of orange and purple. Beside him, Leah sat wrapped in thought, the case of Sandra Maleski haunting her mind. The silence between them was comfortable, reflective of the trust and understanding that had developed over the course of their investigation.

Vincent broke the silence first, his voice steady against the hum of the engine. "Today was... revealing. Sandra's story, Daniel's perspective—it's like we're peeling back layers of truth hidden beneath layers of pain."

Leah nodded, turning to look at him. "It's more than just a legal battle; it's a fight for a family's soul. What struck me was Sandra's resilience, her ability to stand strong in the face of everything crumbling around her."

The conversation shifted naturally, as if the case had opened a door to more personal reflections. "You know," Vincent began, a hint of hesitation in his voice, "working on cases like these, it makes me wonder about the choices we make... the lives we lead outside the courtroom."

Leah caught the introspective tone in his voice, sensing an invitation into a part of Vincent's world that had remained closed off. "I've been thinking about that too. Back in New York, my life was all about the next case, the next win. But being here, working with you—it's made me realize there's so much more to life than just winning cases."

Vincent glanced at Leah, her profile illuminated by the passing streetlights. "And yet, here you are, far from home, diving headfirst into a complex case in a foreign country. What drove you to take this leap?"

Leah smiled, a soft laugh escaping her lips. "Adventure? Escape? Maybe a bit of both. I guess I was looking for something different... something meaningful. And I've found it, not just in the case, but in the connections we've made... with Sandra, with Daniel, and with you."

The admission hung in the air between them, a testament to the journey they had shared. Vincent felt a warmth spread through him, a sense of kinship with Leah that went beyond professional respect. "You know, Leah, I've spent so much of my life focused on the law, on being the best lawyer I can be. But meeting you, seeing your passion, your empathy... it's reminded me that being a great lawyer is also about understanding the human heart."

As the lights of Paris began to twinkle in the distance, marking their return to the city's vibrant energy, Vincent and Leah found themselves at a crossroads. The case that had brought them together was also quietly weaving their lives into shared experiences and newfound discoveries.

"Whatever happens with the case," Leah said, her gaze fixed on the approaching cityscape, "I'm grateful for this journey. For the chance to make a difference and for the friendship we've built along the way."

Vincent nodded, the city's familiar streets welcoming them back. "And I, for one, am grateful for the black cat that crossed my path," he added with a smile, acknowledging Sandra's earlier comparison and the unexpected luck it had brought into his life.

As they drove into the heart of Paris, the case awaiting them, Vincent and Leah knew they were no longer just colleagues. They were allies in the pursuit of justice, bound by the shared belief that beyond the legal battles lay the stories of real people, deserving of empathy, understanding, and a chance at redemption.

#vincent renzi #vincent renzi fic #swann arlaud #vincent renzi x original female character #hot lawyer save me #hot lawyer anon #anatomy of a fall #anatomy of a fall vincent #vincent renzi fanfiction

[violetrainbow412-blog]

PLEASE if you know of any Vincent Renzi fics, don't hesitate to comment here and if anyone has ideas for something, send them and I'll write them up. It's honestly driving me crazy that there is no material and the edits on tiktok only make me more obsessed

#vincent renzi #vincent renzi x reader #swann arlaud #anatomy of a fall #sexy lawyer #vincent renzi fanfic #vincent renzi fanfiction #vincent renzi request

[mx-pastelwriting]

𝙑𝙞𝙣𝙘𝙚𝙣𝙩 𝙍𝙚𝙣𝙯𝙞 (𝘼𝙣𝙖𝙩𝙤𝙢𝙮 𝙤𝙛 𝙖 𝙁𝙖𝙡𝙡) 𝙂𝙞𝙛 𝙋𝙖𝙘𝙠 #16

Vincent Renzi in Anatomy of a Fall (2023) Actor Swann Arlaud

♥ mx-pastelwriting does consent to their gifs being used. Do not claim as the maker of these gifs. ALL FREE TO USE (DO NOT CLAIM) REMEMBER TO CREDIT.

#vincent renzi #swann arlaud #vincent renzi gif #vincent renzi x reader #vincent renzi x you #vincent renzi fanfic #vincent renzi fanfiction #vincent renzi smut #gif pack #anatomy of a fall

[griaustinis]

i'm seriously unwell about swann arlaud. everyday I go on tiktok and just watch edits from anatomy of a fall (i've probably got up to 20 saved). i scroll on my fyp and i hope to get an edit and i do. for about to days it was every ninth tiktok vid which is not enough. I've created three playlists (one specifically for his character in anatomy, one for sandra from anatomy and a third one) I've started writting fanfiction about vincent renzi. i downloaded the movie to make video edits of him WHEN I DON'T KNOW HOW TO EDIT. i just know a few songs that i think fit him (vincent). i cannot focus on anything and I've got serious uni work. and i still managed to watch two movies he's in in three days. idk what kind of hormonal storm i'm living through but can it at least calm down enogh so i can get stuff done? because this is just ridiculous. frankly, embarrassing. i don't even know a word strong enough to describe the absolute nonsense that is my current situation

#swann arlaud #vincent renzi #anatomy of a fall #white boy of the month #aoaf #anatomie d'une chute #d!lf #griaustinis.post

[swannsboo]

i'm this 🤏 close to just write swann arlaud fanfiction myself BUT I'M SO BAD AT IT SOMEONE PLS DO IT FOR MEEEE

#vincent renzi #swann arlaud #perdrix #the bare necessity #petit paysan #anatomy of a fall #anatomie d'une chute

[callme-darling]

Y'know I still can't get over how Swann knows about the EDITS 😭😭 Like - what if he discovers the fanfictions too?? (not that it's ever going to stop me but-) Ooh my godd. Also how cute was he being flustered in that recent interview about it lmao

i have one (1) fear in this mortal world: mr arlaud stumbling onto the depravity that is this blog

but you are SO RIGHT abt the interview😭😭 the way he smiled made ME blush😭

#ꕤ ₊˚✧ mailbox .

[euphoriaslux]

a gloomy december morning

word count: 1196

warnings: suggestive sexual content, very slight jealousy, mentions of smoking and drinking. vincent being a dreamboat

a/n: i have never written before but i watched anatomy of a fall and knew what i had to do. i am so scared and think this is garbage but i hope u guys like it :))

*

vincent is fast asleep, a true rarity for your household. he’s naked, bar the thin linen blanket draped over his hips that his mother tossed in a bag when you two first moved into this home. you brush your fingers through his silver hair, shifting to give him a soft peck on his forehead. he shifts but ultimately stays in the same position.

smiling, you gently move your duvet off of your body, shivering at the lost warmth. you scan your shared bedroom, littered with strewn clothes, empty wine bottles and folders filled with documents and find a chair with an old tee shirt on it that hits just above your underwear.

you made a mental note to at least try to clean the house sometime soon, but you just couldn’t leave your vincent alone now that you finally had him for more than two hours at a time. after a year of only seeing him at night, or when you could visit his office during your lunch break, or over facetime in the early hours of the morning, something as simple as waking up with him felt sacred. you didn’t know how much of this you had.

you brace as you push the door close as quietly as possible, hissing as your feet hit the cold tile of the linoleum of your kitchen floor. it still smells vaguely of the cake you two shared last night, picking at pieces of tiramisu between gulps of white wine and sneaky kisses even though no one was watching. you grab some ground coffee and start to heat up your stovetop espresso maker, which you got at the insistence of your very stubborn husband.

-

“love, can’t we just get an instant coffee maker? it will be so much faster” you ask from behind your laptop, tucked into your velvet sofa as the december rain gently pattered onto your roof.

vincent chuckled, shaking his head as he pulled a pack of cigarettes from the drawer.

“you have not had a real cappuccino if it comes from a machine, chérie,” he says as he rummages through the kitchen drawers while swearing under his breath.

you rise from the couch with a soft sigh, shutting your laptop and placing it on the glass table in front of you and grabbing vincent’s lighter that’s pressed in between the couch cushions. his head whips around when he hears you click the lighter, and your cheeks widen as you walk over to him. vincent smiles back, his cigarette loosely hanging between his lips and his hair slightly disheveled from his search. he leans down ever so slightly, looking into your eyes as the flame lights the cigarette, taking a long drag before leaning against the kitchen counter.

“the coffee is more, how do you say bien équilibrée in english, darling?”

“well rounded,” you toss the lighter behind him, crossing your arms over your chest. he hums, nodding as he breathes out wafts of smoke.

“the coffee is more well-rounded,” the word sounds a little funny coming out of his mouth as if you could see his brain forming each letter in real-time. you can’t help but giggle, reaching behind him to open the kitchen window.

“i’m sure it is”

before you can fully stand up again his hand is on your lower back, softly bringing your body against his. he smells like tobacco and the slightly too minty toothpaste you buy from the convenience store down the road. he looks so beautiful in the dim winter light.

“tu me fais confiance, n'est-ce pas? (you trust me, don’t you?)” he asks, pressing his fingers into your side. he moves to hover just above your neck, and you can’t help but melt into his touch as he nibbles ever so gently on your neck, just below your ear. your eyes flutter closed and you feel the warmth pool in your lower stomach.

“vincent-”

“ you do, right?” he cuts you off as his hand wanders to the front of your body, playing with the waistband of your panties. his fingers ghost just above your cunt, and you sigh.

“of course, my love. always.”

you whine from the loss of contact as he steps away from you, taking a drag with a slight smile on his face.

“bon,” he says, his free hand caressing the side of your face.

“so we’ll go get our moka pot - not machine - tonight”.

-

you grin at the memory as you pour two shots of espresso into vincent’s favorite mug, along with a splash of whole milk, and turn on the burner to make another for yourself. you rock on your feet as you think of what to make for breakfast - maybe eggs? but vincent forgot to run to the farmers market, maybe jam on toast. there might be some leftover brioche-

you jump when you feel a pair of hands wrap around your chest smiling as you feel your husbands face nuzzle into your shoulder, pressing a few faint kisses on your skin while his hair tickles your neck.

“i thought you’d sleep for a few more hours honey,” you say, turning around to hand him his cup of coffee and laughing as his eyes brighten. he takes a sip, closing his eyes as he drinks.

“couldn’t sleep,” he says after a few moments, opening his eyes to stare into yours. his voice is deeper than normal, and you can tell he just woke up because there’s still a gravelly edge to it.

“i sleep poorly without you, honey.”

you raise your eyebrows as you let your fingers graze his chest and down his stomach.

“that’s a good one, do you tell all your girlfriends that?”

he rolls his eyes, taking a big sip before setting his mug on the counter.

“i’m being serious. i swear, every time it would get late and i’d try to sleep on sandra’s couch, i just couldn’t.”

your body goes rigid at the sound of her name but you try and ignore it, tracing circles onto his stomach. your mouth feels a little drier than it was a few minutes before.

vincent notices, of course he does. there’s nothing you could do that would get past him, the stellar lawyer.

“don’t be like that,” he whispers, cupping your hand in his face. you try to keep your gaze down but he tilts your head up.

you roll your eyes.

“every day while i was gone, all i wanted was to be home with you. you were all i could think about. you are all i ever think about.”

you feel lightheaded at his words, wrapping your arms around his neck as you kiss him deeply, sighing as your hand wanders down to the waistband of his boxers. you feel him smile into the kiss, putting out the cigarette so he has both hands free to touch you.

“take me to bed?”

you feel vincent’s stomach tense as your hand dips into his boxers. he gives you a soft kiss on the side of your face.

“how can i say no when you ask so nicely”.

#vincent renzi #vincent renzi x reader #vincent renzi fanfiction #swann arlaud #swann arlaud x reader #swann arlaud fanfiction #anatomy of a fall #anatomie d’une chute #anatomy of a fall fanfiction

[divine-donna]

lovin' me

part 01

a continuation of my previous set of headcanons. i wanted to write something more romantic. less pining. maybe a bit more...steamy. i got inspired after showing my friend the movie.

yes i am continuing the fifty fifty vincent renzi interpretation. he's sooooo fifty fifty coded. he's just like me fr

character: vincent renzi

for vibes: "lovin' me" by fifty fifty

"you have not changed. not a bit."

"stop." you can't help but laugh. you know it's...predictable of you. to get the same order you got every time you guys came to this cafe. but familiarity called to you.

habits were hard to break.

vincent leans back, placing a cigarette between his lips. he pulls his lighter out and tries to light it. it fails after a minute of trying. he must be out of fuel.

"you got a lighter?"

"always." you pull it out and place it in his hand.

his hand is soft and slightly cool. your fingers linger, trying to warm his hand with your own. he pulls away too quickly. you wanted your fingers to linger against each other just a bit longer.

he looks at the lighter. it was decorated. he recognizes the little line of pearls, going up and down with roses at the points the arches meet. he did it himself. and then he had given you the lighter as a gift. you laughed, brushing off the blush dusting his cheeks. you thought it was the wine.

the lighter you decorated at the time was a little more crude. less pattern like. it was chaotic, with a variety of charms that you thought represented him. he remembers how you cursed when the cross charm moved. it was crooked and you were too frustrated to try to fix it.

all while your friends' laughter filled the room and more wine was being poured into your glasses.

"you still kept this?" vincent lights his cigarette with the lighter. he takes a drag and blows the smoke away from you. it comes out as a steady stream.

his jawline. the way his hair framed his face. his turtleneck. his laxed posture. he was charming, your vincent.

charming and attractive.

"why wouldn't i?" you take your lighter back to light your own cigarette.

"i just...i would have expected all the pearls and roses to have fallen off by now."

"you were...generous with the modge podge."

he laughs. "i was, yes."

"what about you? just decided to throw the one i made for you away or...?"

vincent shakes his head. "no. i've...in truth, i've never used it. it's locked up in my desk drawer."

part of you felt a little offended. you place a hand over your heart, feigning offense. "vincent! how could you!"

"it's not like that! i swear! you put so much stuff on it that it...is kind of unusable!"

"it is not!"

"well...it isn't. i've used it. once." he puts up his index finger. "one of the moon charms came off. and i didn't want to spoil the art piece you had made for me. so it sits in my drawer. because i don't want it to be destroyed."

you watch him take another drag and blow away from you. your heart beats faster and you feel your cheeks warm.

he was sure he had the right address.

was this too much?

bringing flowers to you? properly prepared, put in a vase already. a balance between the vibrant colors of the flowers and the greens.

you seem to sense that he's there, because he raises his hand to knock and the door opens.

you're holding a wine glass and dressed casually in some loungewear.

"you're early! and with flowers!"

he looks down at them. "think of them as...a homecoming gift?"

you smile widely. "just come in!"

you had made dinner. a simple steak and frites. nothing special. vincent reminisces about how often you made this for him while you guys were in university. while on a budget, of course.

the meal is delicious. and then you introduce the big thing you invited him over for: baking and cake decorating.

"we always joked that we could do better than the people on cooking shows."

"can we?" he rolls his sleeves up. "do we even know how to...start?" he had a vague idea. baking wasn't exactly his specialty. he preferred to cook.

the last time he baked was in university. and you were there to help him clean his oven, which took over three hours to do.

"if we follow a recipe, we should be fine."

except it wasn't that simple.

there was flour and cocoa powder everywhere. you were pretty sure you had gotten some in vincent's hair, making it look whiter than it was.

he looks so cute though with flour on his nose.

the wine kept coming as you guys pushed the cake pans into the oven. in your drunken stupor, you both forget a timer. he's paying more attention to you, following you into the living room. he sets his wine glass down, half full with red.

you pull a record out of its sleeve and set it down on the player. it rotates as you drop the needle and music begins to play.

he raises his eyebrows. "you still listen to this song?"

"hey. it's great. and totally american." you giggle, taking another sip of your red.

you move towards him. drunken but effortless. there was a purpose in your movements as you walk towards him. you put your hand out.

vincent smiles and takes your invitation. he puts his hand in yours, feeling its warmth. your warmth. you pull him over and dance.

i think we're alone now. there doesn't seem to be anyone around. i think we're alone now. the beating of our hearts is the only sound.

somehow, you don't spill your wine. you finish it and set the glass down. you spin in his arms. they wrap around you, like a warm blanket.

he smells good too. coffee, pear, and white florals.

his sweater is soft. his touch is gentle. he looks at you with those big, puppy dog eyes of his.

and then you fall.

you bring him down with you.

the plush carpet holds your head. you look up at him. he looks into your eyes and you see your face reflected in his pupils. your cheeks are flushed red.

there's something unspoken between you two and you pick your head up, trying to meet him.

vincent meets you halfway, his lips soft. he tastes sweet, like honey.

his hands cup your face as you move in sync. he's in tune with your rhythm, letting you take the lead and guide him on what to do.

your fingers play with the ends of his hair, wrapping it around one of them. you press your hand against the middle of his back, pulling his body closer.

a small moan escapes you when he moves his hips. he grinds softly, your crotches rubbing against each other through your clothes.

you kiss him harder, deeper, sliding your tongue past his lips to caress his own. vincent moans into your mouth, one of his hands resting on the carpet and digging his fingers into it. he could feel himself beginning to slip and lose control.

and then, the smell of something burning reaches your nose.

you pull away, face flushed. his face was completely red. and not from the wine either.

"fuck the cake!"

vincent's brief feeling of happiness dissipates as he smells the cake burning. his lips curl upwards into a smirk. "leave it." he goes back in, pressing a small kiss against your lips. "we'll try again."

you kiss him back, giving into the bliss. "i think we fucked up the measurements anyways."

he laughs.

it feels like home.

#anatomy of a fall #vincent renzi #swann arlaud #vincent renzi x reader #vincent renzi fanfiction #anatomy of a fall fanfiction #x reader #male reader #female reader #gender neutral reader #romantic #headcanons

[ghostlytide]

For Business Only [Masterlist]

I surrender, okay, I can't resist the hot lawyer anymore 🤧🥺 Idk what I'm doing but uh, I'll post the first chapter later this week :D

Vincent Renzi x Fem! Reader

-> Next

Synopsis:

After the whirlwind affair Vincent and you shared years ago, he was sure his goodbye was definitive. A fleeting memory filled with both regret and a peculiar ache that he can’t quite place.

But life wishes to scorn him once again when his newest case obliges him to seek out your help. Though this case isn’t the only complicated thing in this strictly professional relationship—not with the way his heart seems to jump at your proximity, or the already familiar tune of your voice.

For all the things that had changed, would this mean your story could have a different ending now?

General Tags: Second Chance/Exes to Lovers | Slow Burn | Reader's an Art Lawyer/Art Consultator bc self-indulgent 🤡 |They were Coworkers | Denial of Feelings | Pining & Longing | Idiots in Love | Friends (?) with Benefits (?) | Mentions of Death, Blood and Violence | Trying to make a murder mystery fic we'll see how it goes | More punctual tags to be added in each chapter |

Chapter 1 | To Reap What You Sow

Chapter 2 | The Room of a Hundred Faces

Chapter 3|

#vincent renzi #vincent renzi x reader #vincent renzi fanfiction #anatomy of a fall fanfiction #swann arlaud x reader #vincent renzi smut #(eventually) #im gonna make a header soon kdjhskdkjf for now the pwetty gif will suffice <3

[romanroycoo]

After The Fall - Vincent Renzi x Reader

Summary: After the trial of the death of your husband, you struggle to come to terms with this new life and the trauma of what has happened before. Vincent Renzi, however, becomes your comfort, staying beside you the whole time. A friends to lovers fanfiction

CW: Mentions of a knife, Vincent accidentally hurts himself, angst, fluff, obvious flirting, reader is depressed, grief, hurt and comfort, mentions of death, ex-husband was abusive - no mentions of it in this chapter.

Chapter two- Dinner.

“No, I want to, Y/n. It’s the least i can do to cheer you up.” You and Vincent had finally gone downstairs at this point, it been a while since you stopped crying thanks to the comfort of his presence.

“Okay, fine. I’ll let you but you have to let me at least help.” He’d offered to cook for you, but you weren’t having it. Coming all this way and then cooking just for you? It seemed absurd.

But he did and he wants to.

You look across the kitchen with a challenging smirk and he smiles and begins to softly laugh. “Okay.”

*************************

“How is it looking on the pasta?”

“Not too long now, and you’re doing what exactly?” You stare in confusing as he begins to prepare a mixture of green leaves.

“The garnish.” He says, completely involved in what he’s doing. You loved his concentration face, it was like nothing could ever break his focus. You smile at him.

“Shit. Ah.” He mutters, suddenly holding his other hand, blood trickling down his skin.

“Oh shit! What happened? Are you alr-“

“I’m alright. Don’t worry.” He assures walking over to the sink calmly before running the water. “ The knife got me, they’re well sharpened.” He jokes.

“Yeah, Samuel liked to keep them.. um.” You didn’t finish the sentence, you didn’t want to. You walked over and began to pull up the sleeve of his jumper and move around any things left in the sink as if they were in his way. It wasn’t necessary but, you wanted to help him. You couldn’t help it.

“I’ll go grab the first- aid box, i’m sure they’ll be some band-aids in there somewhere.” You pass over an old cloth. “Keep the pressure on it, obviously.”

He watched as you left the room, a smile painted on his face. The cut didn’t even matter anymore, he couldn’t feel it. He could only focus on you.

“Here, i’ve got one.” You passed it to him quickly before turning back to the pans in the stove, making sure nothing was burning or boiling over.

He stares at the band-aid and then back to you. “Um, Y/n. Sorry, could you put it on. I can’t get it on properly.”

“Of course.” It felt like you were kids again, helping one another like this. You could both feel the closeness, glancing back and forth at each other’s faces innocently. You could sense his gaze on you even when you focused on his hand and the band-aid. It made you nervous. But you didn’t want him to stop.

He could feel the soft touch of your hands on his, the warmth of your fingers carefully placing the Bandaid over the injury. It was like this short moment, was an hour long and he wanted to bask in it for as long as he could.

****************

“I think the garnish was worth it.” He jokes, you were both laughing by this point. Food was finished and it was late. You knew he would have to go soon.

“Thank you, Vincent.” You look into his eyes, he stares back into yours. There was something so special about the way he looked at you.

“Of course, Y/n. It wasn’t a problem.” He states, still holding the eye contact. “I better get going. I don’t want to over stay my welcome.”

“Don’t be silly, you’re always welcome.” You assure. You really meant it.

#fanfiction #fanfic #ao3 #ao3 fanfic #ff #swannarlaud #swannarlaudfanfiction #justine triet #sandra huller #anatomyofafall #messi the dog #vincent renzi #vincentrenzifanfiction #hot lawyer #swann arlaud #fluffandangst #hurt/comfort #wattpad #swann arlaud x reader #vincent renzi x reader #hot lawyer from anatomy of a fall #ao3 writer #ao3fic #ao3feed

[romanroycoo]

After The Fall - Vincent Renzi x Reader

Note: You guys are going to like this one😋

Summary: After the trial of the death of your husband, you struggle to come to terms with this new life and the trauma of what has happened before. Vincent Renzi, however, becomes your comfort, staying beside you the whole time. A friends to lovers fanfiction

CW: Cigarettes, Angst, fluff, obvious flirting, reader is depressed, grief, hurt and comfort, mentions of death, ex-husband was abusive - no mentions of it in this chapter.

Chapter three - Snowstorm.

“Hey, Vincent.” You had been suprised by the call which came late afternoon.

“Hey, um, me and a few friends are going out for a few drinks and i was wondering if you wanted to join? You know trying to cheer you up and everything..”

“Oh no, I don’t want to intrude or anything like that- “ You immediately refuse.

“Listen, you wouldn’t be intruding Y/n, i’m literally inviting you to come with us.”

You sigh and hesitate.

“Come on, it will be fun.” He persuades over the phone.

“Okay, but just a few.” You finally agree.

*************

You’d just arrived outside the bar down town, it has taken you half an hour just to drive down and they were certainly a couple of drinks in by now. You were nervous, and it wasn’t his unknown friends that caused it. It was him. You were nervous to see him. It was the first time since the trial you had tried to make yourself look nice, finally styling your hair and clothes.

“Hey! Y/n!” Vincent shouts across the bar before running over and bringing you to greet his couple of friends.

“This is Nicolas and this is Camille.” He introduced before you greeted them kindly.

“I’ll go grab you a drink.” He says before strolling over to the bar. He was still in his work clothes, suit pants and a loosely unbuttoned shirt. You couldn’t help but admire him from afar.

“So, how do you know Vincent?” Nicolas questions from across the table.

“Oh, he was my lawyer actually, for a case not long ago.” You hoped they wouldn’t make you elaborate further.

“Ah, he is good isn’t he? He’s always been so dedicated to law and his job.” Camille says before continuing on. “We used to go to the same university, he was a good scholar. And a good man too.”

“A good man? Thank you very much guys!” He says placing your drink in front of you and sitting down.

“Yeah, yeah..” Nicolas mutters.

*************

It was a few hours in, and definitely late now. You looked out the window and noticed the heavy amount of snow falling to the ground. How were you meant to get back in this weather? Especially up near the mountains.

“Christ. The weather, you guys seeing this?” Camille says noticing it too. Vincent and Nicolas turned their heads to the window promptly.

“Shit. That’s heavy. Y/n, do you live close? I hope that’s not going to be a problem for you.” Nicolas asks.

“Ummmmm, no. I do not live close and that is an extremely big problem..” You hum before turning back to you drink and taking another swig. They all laugh.

“I mean, we’re staying at the Inn in town not far from here, there should be a room free if you can’t get back.” Camille explains.

“No, no. It’s fine you can stay with me. Save the money.” Vincent interjects, sipping his drink.

“Vincent, i couldn’t do that- I’ll just stay at the inn, it’s ok-“ You decline. You really didn’t want to intrude.

“Y/n. It’s fine. I have a pull out couch, it wouldn’t be a problem.” He assures.

“Are you sure?”

“Of course I am.”

*************

“Bye guys. Get back safe!” It was really late now and you were all very drunk, saying your goodbyes and setting off for home. You and Vincent begin to walk to his apartment, a few blocks from the bar. Still sipping on your last beers and sharing a cigarette.

“ I’m so glad i came tonight, that was the most i’ve laughed in a long time.” You say before inhaling the smoke and passing it over to Vincent.

“I’m glad you did too. They seem to really like you, my friends.”

“Yeah, hopefully.” You both laugh and take a swig of your beer.

He loved the way your drunk smile and the way your cheeks pinked up from the alcohol. He could watch you forever, admiring every crevice of your skin. You were beautiful.

***********

“It’s not much, but it’s home.” He states before you both walk in to his apartment. It was cozy and nicely decorated and you loved the homely atmosphere of it all.

“No Vincent, it’s lovely.” You compliment as you take your coat off and hang it next to the door.

“Do you want something to drink?” He asks from the kitchen.

“No, no, I don’t think i can handle anymore.” You giggle.

He laughs back before answering. “It doesn’t have to be alcohol, i’ve got tea or coffee. Water?”

“Water would be nice, thank you.” You say strolling over to him. He’d taken off his coat too and the weather has roughed up his hair. You watch as he grabs a glass and fills it for you drunkly. You couldn’t help but notice how good he looked like this. Work clothes, drunk and with messy hair.

“I’ll go get the bed ready, do you need any clothes to sleep in? I can give you a jumper or?”

“A jumper would be good, it’s still a little bit chilly from outside.” You laugh before he nods and goes into the smaller room nearby and comes up with a black knitted jumper.

“Thank you so much, for all of this. I feel like such an inconvenience.” You shrug, looking down at you feet and back to his eyes.

“It’s truly not a problem, i wouldn’t have offered if so. It’s the least i could do with the weather and all.” He smiles at you before going back to the room and you put on the jumper and follow over.

“Okay, this is you.”

“That’s not a couch bed Vincent, that’s your bed.”

“I know, i’m taking the couch.”

“Vincent, no. This is your house your not taking the couch-“

“You’re the guest here, have the bed. Please.”

You sigh before giving up and going into the room, he grabs a few things before leaving. “Goodnight, Y/n.”

“Goodnight Vincent.” You says before climbing into the made bed and turning off the light.

#fanfiction #fanfic #ao3 fanfic #ao3 #ao3 writer #ao3feed #swann arlaud x reader #swannarlaudfanfiction #swannarlaud #swann arlaud #anatomyofafall #anatomy of a fall #justine triet #vincent renzi x reader #vincentrenzifanfiction #vincent renzi #hot lawyer #messi the dog #hurt/comfort #fluff and angst #friends to lovers #slow burn

[rxgirlie]

The Verdict- Chapter Five

Pairing: Vincent Renzi x OFC

Warnings: sexual content, NSFW‼️

A/N: I heard your pleas and decided not to leave everyone hanging for days on end with the cliff hanger from the last chapter. Also there’s been some requests for an angry French/American/Leah/Vincent baby and though that’s not the direction I planned on going in, it’s very enticing.

Their first kiss was deep and passionate, a stark contrast to the urgency with which he helped her remove her jeans and underwear, maintaining contact with her skin. Trailing his lips down her collarbones and the valley between her breasts, he nipped at her tank top while his skilled fingers danced across her mound.

"Let me in," he whispered against her cheek, then captured her lips in a deep kiss. "Spread your legs and let me in."

With those words, she opened herself up, allowing him to run a finger through her silken folds.

"You're soaked," he observed, meeting her gaze as he licked her slick off his finger.

"Fuck me," Leah exhaled, her voice filled with desire. "Bed."

Vincent shook his head, a teasing smile playing on his lips.

"Right here," he declared, swiftly removing his shirt as Leah fumbled with his belt. "Bed later.”

"Yeah?" Leah murmured, her breath hitching. "Later?"

“Later,” Vincent hiked her up against the wall by the backs of her thighs, “Tomorrow. The next day after that.”

In the narrow corridor between the bathroom and the bedroom, a newfound intensity surged between them, igniting a raw passion. He swiftly tugged down her tank top, exposing her breasts to him like a pair of precious offerings.

His control slipped away in the most delicious manner, his hands grasping and pulling at her, the taste of heavenly honey lingering on his fingertips and tongue.

With deliberate slowness, he pressed into her, her cunt enveloping him like a velvety vice, drawing him in gradually. Rolling his hips against hers, he pressed her against the wall, savoring the moment. He moaned against the soft skin of her neck, his body devoid of movement.

She had envisioned this scenario countless times, but the reality surpassed all expectations. Despite the inviting comfort of his bed only a few feet away bathed in gentle downy linens, their passion unfolded against the wall in a torrential downpour of desire, unlike anything Leah had ever imagined.

When he finally moved, fucking into Leah with form and precision, primal sounds escaped them both, echoing within the small space, encircling them. Their connection mingled unbridled passion with tender surrender. It wasn't until Leah followed his gaze downward, watching closely as he moved in and out of her cunt like a forbidden symphony, that she began to lose herself.

Locked in a gaze, Leah let out wanton moan. Vincent captured it with his mouth, his tongue entwining with hers.

"I'm going to cum," Leah managed to gasp, but Vincent persisted with unwavering intensity, his deep, firm strokes driving her towards release. As she surrendered, her head bowed, but Vincent swiftly lifted it with a gentle touch, his finger tracing the curve of her jaw, his thumb caressing her cheek. He watched her with reverence, as if she were a sacred relic, as if he could kneel in worship at her feet at that very moment.

"Beautiful," he murmured as Leah met his gaze.

He pressed against her in a staccato rhythm, his breathing growing ragged. Leah tilted her head to the side, observing him as he rutted against her neck. His eyes searched hers with a wild intensity before closing in ecstasy, his face scrunching, a grunt falling from his lips. She felt his release, a smile playing on his lips as his hips stilled.

Silently, Vincent carried her to the bed, gently lowering her as he positioned himself above her.

He chuckled, prompting her to playfully bury her face in her hands. As she attempted to shift position, he halted her movement.

"I, for one, am grateful for the black cat that crossed my path," he remarked with a smile, a nod to Sandra's earlier comparison and the unexpected turn of fortune she had brought into his life.

_________________________________________

Leah, wrapped in a robe and fresh from the shower, rejoined Vincent in the bedroom. He sat there, shirtless, leaning against the headboard, savoring the aftermath of their intimacy.

"I didn’t manipulate you into revealing your truths through sex, Vincent," Leah stated as she settled at the foot of the bed, crossing her legs. "I never expected our conversation to lead to... that."

"Are you saying that for my sake or yours?" Vincent teased, flashing Leah a playful smirk.

"Let me be honest," Leah paused, gathering her thoughts. "I don't regret what happened between us. I regret that it followed my jealousy taking control."

"So, you were jealous," Vincent observed, raising an eyebrow as he stubbed his cigarette in the nearby ashtray on the bedside table.

Leah shook her head. "I felt lied to, entangled in a messy love triangle involving you, Sandra, and a dead man."

"You felt jealous," Vincent insisted, a smirk playing on his lips.

"Maybe," Leah sighed. "But there's something here, isn't there?" She gestured between them. Awkward yet honest, Leah never shied away from expressing her thoughts, even if it took her a while to articulate them.

"There's something here," Vincent confirmed, easing Leah's uncertainties about the unspoken connection they shared—be it physical, emotional, or both.

"But there's also something between you and Sandra," Leah pressed, prompting Vincent to recount their history.

Vincent delved into his past with Sandra, recounting their chance meeting and subsequent encounters at a nearby café before her relationship with Samuel.

"Wait a second," Leah interjected, her brow furrowed in disbelief. "A few chance meetings at a café and you fell in love?"

Vincent paused, his gaze thoughtful. "It's not so simple. I became a part of her life. The café, late nights at bars, quiet corners of restaurants."

"Sandra brought Samuel into our café meetings one day," Vincent continued, recalling their growing bond and Sandra’s subsequent move to London. "Her communication was here and there once they moved, reaching out on her own terms."

Leah shook her head in reflection. "Now he's gone, and she's returned. And to add to the chaos, there's an intrusive American stirring the pot in your life."

"A welcome, jealous distraction," Vincent joked, his smile warm and teasing.

Leah shook her head, a playful glint in her eyes. "A black cat, a distraction. What will I be called next? A harbinger of death?"

Vincent chuckled, his hand reaching out to draw her closer. "I've been distracted since the day you stepped into my office. You could distract the sun from shining, you know?"

Leah's smile softened as she gazed at him, a flicker of uncertainty mingling with curiosity in her eyes, pondering the sincerity behind his words.

_________________________________________

"You not only manipulated this man into fucking you, but you let him get off in you?!" Kate's voice pierced through the phone, prompting Leah to quickly lower the volume in case any passerby overheard the heated conversation.

"It wasn't manipulation, Kate. I simply expressed what I had observed and felt," Leah defended herself, her tone resolute.

"No," Kate countered sharply, "you used your work and your supposed fear of 'unprofessionalism' to lure this man into bed."

"It was in the hallway, Kate," Leah clarified.

"Like it even fucking matters!" Kate's frustration rang out.

"You wanted me to fuck him, and I did. Now you're fixating on the details," Leah chuckled wryly as she turned onto the sidewalk, scanning for the pharmacy she sought. Stepping inside cautiously, she surveyed the store.

"Excusez-moi," Leah placed her phone on the counter in front of her, conversing with the pharmacist in hesitant French.

"I'm back," Leah announced to Kate, who picked up on the muffled voices and changing surroundings as Leah navigated her way back along the sidewalk towards Vincent's apartment.

"You suddenly speak French?" Kate's skepticism was evident in her voice.

"No," Leah laughed, "I rehearsed that in front of the mirror for two hours earlier. It's quite humbling to ask for Plan B in a language I don't know."

"The plot thickens. You'll be pregnant by the end of the month," Kate sighed.

Leah chuckled dryly, "Doubt it. Dr. Stevens is sending a prescription for the pill, which I can pick up next week."

"I suppose you'll be having Plan Bs for breakfast for the next week then, huh?" Kate's sarcasm crept into her question.

As Leah arrived at the apartment, she found Vincent poring over a legal folder at the kitchen table. With a quick goodbye to Kate, she ended the call.

"I was surprised you weren't here when I got back," Vincent remarked, looking up at Leah as she stood at the counter and opened the box.

"Sorry, I had to make a quick run to the pharmacy," she confessed, grabbing a cup and filling it with water. Swallowing the pill, she turned to find Vincent watching her intently from across the counter.

He picked up the box's torn packaging, his expression troubled. "I wouldn't have... you know, if I had known the risk." Vincent's gaze met Leah's, a hint of apology in his eyes.

Leah shook her head vigorously. "Let me be frank—I wanted you nowhere else but inside me." A mischievous smirk played on her lips as she met his gaze.

"Well, let me be frank— the thought of being there again has been on my mind all day," Vincent admitted, running his hand through his hair.

Leah chuckled softly. "Instead of being frank, how about you be Vincent and I'll be Leah?" Vincent approached her, pulling her closer. "Let's see where that takes us."

Vincent nodded, looking down at her, struck by the mystery of her presence in his life and grateful for the chance to have crossed paths with her.

Taglist: @weakling-grace

#vincent renzi x original female character #maitre vincent renzi #vincent renzi fanfiction #vincent renzi #swann arlaud #anatomy of a fall vincent