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swann-song · 1 month

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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."

#wowww this is so good #what did u do vincent 🤨🤨#reblog

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swann-song · 1 month

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daydreaming - finale

summary: the reality of dating a farmer comes with certain expectations. meeting the chavanges makes you realise that maybe pierres family do not find you suitable.

your mother tried to pull you away from pierre. she said she expected better and you were enraged, you had many heated arguments, you threatened to stop talking to her so she changed her tactic. conveniently visiting the library with "appropriate" guys and sending you their phone numbers. "this one works in finance" she pushed her phone in your face. it was some guy in a suit. "you know as tempting as guys who do coke off your ass and fuck their secretaries are, no thank you" your mother gasped scandalised and held her chest. pierre opened the door whenever she visited your flat. pierre was introverted so it’s not like he had long conversations with her. he kept a distance and was respectful. gradually she saw him the way you did, he was kind, attentive and calm. when she dramatically declared that she approved, you rolled your eyes.

"her dream job was always being a librarian you know" pierre was listening to your mother. "i thought after university she’d do something adventurous but you know how she is" pierre nodded and offered her a plate of pastries. "pierre why don’t you go the the hairdressers, it’s getting a bit long no" pierre pushed his hair away, "your daughter prefers it this way, i can’t disobey" it’s true, you were very tyrannical about his hair. "mon dieu" your mother shook her head at you but you can’t pretend to feel bad.

"did you see what jean has done to his roof, made a complete mess of it" you watched pierre try to keep up and felt sentimental. he had a sun kiss tan from working all day. you could tell he was tired but trying, he gave you a tender smile. you’d forgotten what life was like without him, your memories were blurring and pierre was the only thing you saw in focus.

the chavanges' house is getting a spring clean like no other. pierre fixed flickering lightbulbs, had repainted the front door. he had deep cleaned every nook and cranny of the farmhouse. all the doors hinges were oiled, he stopped the drip of the kitchen tap. the garden weeded and blooming with newly planted flowers. pierre had even taken the time to bathe all his cows with his new farmboy, they were mirror clean. his parents were happy with the changes but his obsessive cleaning is overwhelming them. pierre doesn’t let them help, he nags at them to keep out of his way and even told them to keep their own room clean like they’re children. he needs the house to be spotless. you were seeing it for the first time tonight, he’s officially introducing you to his family and the farm. he wants this to be your home so it has to be perfect.

you watched pierre’s mother force a smile at your gift. you’d bought her a mug with a cow on it, it said "good moo-rning". your smile drops and you turn to pierre, he has a sympathetic smile on his face and squeezes your hand under the table. the dinner wasn’t going well. you tried to relax and be pleasant but it’s hard, pierres parents and his sister pascale have been tracking your every move. you rub the back of your neck and pick at your plate. you wanted to make a good impression but can’t seem up to find the pulse tonight. pierre was dressed sharp, he wore those tighter trousers he knew you liked and his cologne is the same you bought him for your six month anniversary, the smell reminds you of that night and you flush a the memory.

you had spent all day preparing, you even practiced conversation starters. you’d chosen an elegant and classy knee length dress, your hair pinned up sleek. the flowers, wines and now gift weren’t helping. you didn’t want to make pierre doubt your compatibility and no matter what your mother said, you want to get along with his family. not that he’d ever said it’s a requirement, in fact he’d said he’d prefer it if you hated them. pierres hand had rested on your thigh all night, his thumb strokes it to soothe you. you could tell he was trying hard tonight, leading the conversation and keeping the atmosphere light. it must be very hard for him, you know he struggles to be extroverted, especially when things are as awkward as this.

they interrogated you and you gave your most diplomatic answers but everything that came out of your mouth warranted a "huh" or "i see" from them. no you don’t garden, no you’d never been to a farm and you had only every worked at the library, a few cafes when you were younger. your ex boyfriends were bought up and compared to pierres ex girlfriends. apparently your ex's older brother was now married to pierres ex, the way that his mother said it, you’d think you set them up. you asked pierres father about current events since pierre had told you he enjoys the news. watching it maybe but he wasn’t open to discussing it with you. you were asked if you were squeamish about blood, when you made a joke that it made you faint, only pierre laughed along and you could tell it was just for your benefit. you were intimidated by pierres sister pascale, she was a few years older than you and too cool for you to talk to, well that’s how it felt. when ms. chavanges asked you how many children you wanted and if you’d taken a fertility test, pierre whispered "mother" sharp and low at her and you asked if the cows were hating this hot weather to distract, it made you sound stupid but you couldn’t think of anything else.

pierre gets up to take the dinner plates, you reach for some but pascale pushed you back down smiling, saying she’ll take it with him instead. that’s a good sign, at least his sister liked you. you complimented the home interior and the decorations, the house was cozy and welcoming, the smell of the garden flowers travelling in. after a pause, ms. chavanges starts, "you have very dainty hands" you um and look at your hands "do you have an active lifestyle". you laugh awkwardly. "actually, you know i carry around heavy piles of books up and down stairs all day... i hope that counts" you sip your wine and watch pierres mother. his father was very quite, he’d barely talked tonight. you fridget with your earrings. pierre comes back with plates of dessert, a very impressive chocolate soufflé, your eyes widen at him. he puts it before you with a flourish "voila!~"

dessert was going much better, pascale and pierre had taken over, they were reciting funny family stories to you. you really appreciated the limelight off you. you were an eager audience, pascale was more than willing to expose all of pierres embarrassing stories. pierre was waving his arms about to stop her and even covered your ears for some of them. pascale prided in telling you she used to cover his bed in hay and sneak a calf into his bedroom when he got drunk to freak him out. as the night went on, pierres parents retired with a polite goodnight. pascale left not long after, pierre offered her the spare room but she wanted to drive home. she gave you a warm hug. "i'm glad you like pierre, at least someone does now" pierre scoffed at her and you laughed bewildered. "let’s get lunch together some time, my practice is close to your library" you promised her you would and waved her off.

pierre closed the door and turned to you, he held your face. "you did well darling" and kissed your cheek. you sigh and raised your brows. "your being a little delusion but i appreciate it" you stopped faking a smile and pierre pulled you across the living room, through the hallway and into a room that looks like his office. the moonlight poured into the room from the windows and shone on pierres delicate face, his silver hair reflective and blue eyes crystal clear.

pierre watched you look at him with a finger on your bottom lip. he flicked on the lights, "what is it?". you ignore him and turned around the room, taking a beeline to his desk. your eyes dart around it, "how do you work like this, it’s like there’s been an explosion" you flick through some papers. "you know i could organise this, i’ve got a great system i could do for you, everything alphabetical or categorical, whichever you prefer really" pierre dragged you away and onto the coach. he can’t let you get distracted by stationary, that’s a battle he knew he can’t win. he was also feeling a little offended, he’d tidied for your visit, his desk was organised and neat by his standards.

pierre played with the the wispy strands of your hair that had come undone throughout the night, when his fingers brushed against the nape of your neck you took a breath. pierre liked how responsive you were to his every touch, he plants a kiss on the back of your neck. your eyes meet and he watches your lips, slightly open the way they are when you expected a kiss. he clears his throat. he needed to know if you approved. of the house, the dinner, his family. of him. he needed to know if you wanted a future here with him. he had watched your eyes dart around all night, you stared at the bookcase in the living room, no doubt judging their literary taste. you said you liked the wallpaper and that it reminded you of beatrix potter art. you told them you liked the fine china and the food was delicious. had craned your neck to look into the garden, his stomach flipped as he watched a soft smile grow on your lips. but he needed to know if you didn’t like any part of it, he could change it all to your liking, he only needed to be told. he was nervous you might dislike something he can’t change or not want any of it all together.

you held his hand and squeezes it, "i'm sorry i was awkward, i just need a little time" pierre looked at you puzzled and snorted a laugh, "i really don’t give a fuck about that baby" pierre grabbed a glass and poured you a wine he knew you liked, he had put some of your favourite snacks on the table earlier that day. "do you like the house" he asks casually. you roll your eyes at him, "do i like the adorable cottage with a farm and garden surrounded by gorgeous trees, yes pierre, yes i do" you sip your wine and sit back. you play with his fingers and ask, "how can you even ask?" he watched you and moved back a strand of hair on your faces, you wiggled closer to him and felt you press your tits against his arm, purposely he might add. "i want you to like it that’s all" he kisses your forehead and whisper against it "i want this to be… your home one day".

you grinned at him mischievously, "oh am i a contender for mrs chavanges, i don’t know pierre would i suit being a farmers wife" your kidding again, but pierres been too stressed and can’t seem to laugh along. you notice and stroke his hair, almost patting him. pierre starts, "i love you, i don’t want to pressure you but i need you to understand my lifestyle, you can’t run away from it further along and break my heart” your eyes narrow at him. "i mean of course you could, it’d just be really mean of you" he adds, you giggle and kiss him. pierre holds you closer, he was never gonna push away a kiss from you. the kiss goes on longer, pierre tastes you and runs his hands up your legs and to the ball of your back. you pull away and catch your breathe, pierre is mesmerised with your face. your lips were plum and wet, he’d been kissing you too long. you push his hair from his eyes and smile. "pierre i could never leave or hurt you, i love you too don’t forget" a wave of gratitude washes over him, he kisses the back of your hand. "i will warn you though i’m not gonna help in the barn, my nails are really expensive pierre" his laugh fills the room, he’d never wanted you to lift a finger and imagining you trying to herd and milk the cows was like a slapstick comedy in his head.

pierre felt a weight lifted from his shoulders. he told you openly the future he imagined with you, the farm was doing well, he’d already got a few new apprentices, training them to the standard he expected. his cows had won a few awards and that’s given him more power to negotiate for better contracts. he wanted you to know he has laid the foundation for a strong future. pierre had been taking more time off recently and promised you he’d be able to take even more. you nodded and your hand traced down his jaw to his chest. you lean close to his ear. "i like every version of a life with you pierre, you don’t need to convince me of anything, i’m not going anywhere". pierres eyes strung, of course you’d know exactly what he wanted. he pulls you onto his lap, his buries his face in your neck. he takes in the feeling of you close to him, your scent, the rise and fall of your body, wondering how he got so lucky.

"you know i used to have a crush on you when i was younger" pierres face snaps up confused. "i used to daydream of us having a picnic in the grass, on that hill up there" your voice was airy as you stared out the window and pierre loved you even more. more than he ever thought he was capable of loving someone.

the end.

thank you for reading!~ i really appreciate you taking the time, i loved swann in this movie and was inspired. thanks again xox

daydreaming masterlist

#i hate endings 🥺🥺#thanks for reading #swann arlaud #petit paysan #bloody milk #pierre chavanges #fanfic #fluff #y/n

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