#CCFC2021

[sweetestlamb]

Put On A Show

Summary: Cha-young goes to her high school reunion and brings a certain mafia guest. 

Author's note: I heard someone wanted a on top and in control CY so here it is! I already had this idea about a HS reunion so I simply combined the two ideas and got this smutty brainchild. This is rated E for extremely dirty so read at your own discretion, I planned on writing more fics of them pining but I really do love a women in control so I took a break from my cockblocking to fill this prompt. Hope you enjoy ;) 

Dear class of 2005,

That time has come once again, our class reunion! This year's reunion will be held in the Phoenix Hall in honor of us all rising from the ashes of this pandemic and being reborn stronger than ever before! Tickets available for purchase below. There are separate tickets for food and drinks and this year's theme will be luxury: a life of decadence. We look forward to seeing you all.

Cha-young skims the email that had initially landed in her spam folder, only the name of her old high school attached in the subject line catches her attention enough to make her open the otherwise nondescript email.

Another high school reunion.

She had been evading these gatherings like the plague itself, ever since the last time she'd made the mistake of going to one. She had just landed her job at Wusang Firm and finally felt confident in herself, in high school she'd always been the loud one and the weird one but now she was a lawyer and a damn good one if she said could say so herself. Nobody could dismiss her now or jokingly remind her of the bowl cut she had sported before, she was always the butt of their jokes and she was tired of feeling small beneath their condescending thumb. She finally had something worth bragging about. 

She'd stepped in with a smirk on her face, tight black dress and heels clicking as she walked waving at people she knew but didn't deign important enough to stop her entrance for a chat. The buffet table was her sole destination but she'd been intercepted by familiar annoying high pitched voices, Chang Ae-ram and Bom Min-he, the popular girls in her school and the banes of her existence both rushed over to her with drinks in their hands.

They never had anything kind to say to her and seemed to seek her out simply to put her down or remind her of how much of a “pathethic loser” she was in high school, as if she hadn’t been the one living her life. 

The verbal sparring began almost immediately, with them all battling for lead in the "my life is going great" contest, coyly listing their accolades and accomplishment and assertively she told them both about her new job at one of Korea's most successful and well known law firm.

"Oh." Ae-ram answered with a tight smile that pulled her surgically enhanced face into a wrinkleless grin. 

Score.

She sipped her drink feeling victorious as they both avoided her brazen eye contact. She had just opened her mouth to make her leave when a vindictive smile stretched over Min-he's face, "A job is so important but what about a family? Surely you don't plan on dying alone, how come you never bring anyone with you? We're all so sad that you don't have anyone still." She gripped the stem of her wine glass at the fake concern, suddenly the group was larger and everyone was congratulating Min-he on her engagement, the other woman waving the huge diamond on her finger in her face.

It was so vapid and stupid and she knew that it didn't make her any less of a woman that she didn't have a man but those words still burned. She had noticed that everyone was paired up and she was one of the only people who came alone, she'd been seeing someone before the reunion but at her mention of the gathering he had told her that "things were getting too serious for him" rolling out of her bed while tugging on his underwear and that had been the last she heard from him.

She'd spent the rest of the night on the outskirts avoiding her college mates and later stumbled out on her heels unsteady from the amount of liquor she'd consumed.

That had been her last reunion. She'd pointedly ignored all the invitations since then, the shame of that night still stinging all those years later. They only served as a reminder that she still had no one and regardless of how successful she was at her career she would be deemed undesirable by others.

It was such a fucking joke but she couldn't shake the insecurity despite knowing how false it was.

The sound of keys jingling near the front door knock her free from her reminiscing and she spins around to the sight of Vincenzo struggling to squeeze through the entrance with several bags in his arms, he never wants to make more than one trip- the overachiever. She nods her head in hello before trudging over to him without closing her laptop, greeting him easily with a peck on the lips freeing a few bags from his hands.

"Did you get my cookies?" She asks again despite the various text messages she had sent reminding him about her sweet treats, he rolls his eyes at her again swinging another bag into her waiting hands.

"Here. When I told you to text me necessities, cookies are not what I had in mind." He flicks her forehead lightly silencing her cry of pain with a follow-up kiss to the spot, she grumbles but stuffs the soft baked chocolate chip cookies into her mouth, cheeks puffing out like a chipmunk hoarding food for the winter.

Smooth as a well-oiled machine they put the groceries away, the sound of cabinets opening and closing the soundtrack for their movements. When everything is correctly put away, she makes her way back over to her laptop only then remembering what she'd been doing.

She stares at the screen contemplating her next move before she feels a familiar heavy weight on her shoulder, his breath is hot on her neck when he speaks, "What are you looking at?" He barely waits for her reply covering her hand on the sleek mouse, scrolling down to read the entire email. She waits anxiously in her seat as he reads the words out loud, obviously she had thought about him when she first received the email but her last experience had made her nervous about asking him to attend.

They hadn't been officially dating for long. They'd been too focused on taking down Babel and the aftermath had left them both with unanswered questions about the nature of their relationship. 

Only this time when she asked him the same question she'd been asking since he crash landed into her life unexpectedly, after everything  was over, he'd looked over at her and said in a small voice "Not if you want me to stay."

She'd been a coward and he had taken her silence as rejection and it had taken a dramatic and honestly cliché airport interruption, complete with her pushing past airport staff and screaming his name crying as they told her that the plane to Malta had already taken off.

She'd returned to her house with red rimmed eyes that widened into huge saucers at the sight of him in front of her house, large suitcase beside him.

Gasping she ran into his arms, as terrified as she'd felt that fateful night so long ago in the underpass. 

"I couldn't go."

He tugged her closer, burrowing his face in her thick hair and breathing harshly his voice was raw and rough like he'd been crying too.

"Because of me?" She asked shock laden in her words and that's when he drew away to stare into her eyes and with a defeated nod he said, "Because of you."

The rest had been history. He came inside with her and he hadn't left since.

"Are you going?"

She stills at the inquiry, head dizzy from the memories racing through her mind.

"What?"

He places a finger on the computer screen, "This reunion. Are you going?"

She feels a small sting in her chest at his words, with a sad smile she starts to shake her head in decline but then he chuckles, "We should go. I'll be your arm candy." He teases wagging his eyebrows in her peripheral.

Oh.

"You want to come with me?" She repeats stunned by his casual offer, this seemed huge for some reason and she could feel her heart pounding erratically in her brittle chest.

He finally straightens up walking off to the kitchen grabbing a cup, pulling the fridge open.

"Yeah I mean unless you have another boyfriend you want to bring with you."

She laughs at his joke but internally her blood sings, she didn't want to get her hopes up but now she can barely contain her happiness.

She can always count him to have her back.

Slamming the laptop shut she circumvents the chair running over to him, he looks at her with a raised eyebrow prying the cup of water from his hands she pulls him down into a grateful kiss. He hums low when she slips her tongue into his lax mouth, this kiss vastly different from the peck she'd greeted him with at the door.

She can taste the caffeine on his tongue, the strong flavor of his favorite espresso swirling around her taste buds, pushing him firmer into the counter she laps at his mouth eager for a deeper exploration. He melts under her touch letting her manhandle him and move his head as she sees fit, his complete surrender makes her hot under the collar.

It's with reluctance that she pulls away from his addicting lips.

She smirks as he sways into her body as if intoxicated.

"Sorry. We have to go soon, it's game night."

It's a weekly tradition at the plaza, tonight they're playing Taboo, it had been announced in the group chat that Mr. Nam had forced them to join. It was chaotic with so many different voices there but it made her feel warm, like they were their own little family.

He groans disappointed but nods slowly, adjusting himself discretely but not enough for her vigilant eyes. She stares at the hardon visible through the thin material of his sweatpants.

"Let's go before you get me any more excited." He grumbles, picking up the snacks he'd purchased for tonight. She smiles triumphantly at his back still in disbelief that she has that kind of power over the great Corn Salad, Vincenzo Cassano.

Game night is a success, filled with laughter and playful arguing. They all work together in pairs and their team loses horribly with her accidentally shouting out all the taboo words every time it's her turn. Mi-Ri and Larry Kang- from the dance studio make a great team using dance moves and inside jokes to solve their words in seconds much to everyone’s shock, they both adamantly deny any change in their relationship at the groups subsequent teasing.

Nobody believes them. 

Just like they hadn’t believed her and Vincenzo. 

They get home at midnight and both collapse before they can finish what they started earlier in the kitchen, but cuddling is great too. He’s always the little spoon. 

The reunion isn't a point of conversation again and she almost forgets about it completely until it's Saturday, the day of the event and she wakes up alone. It's not totally abnormal with him being a morning person but she still groans in annoyance at his disappearance. The bed is so cold without his body letting off heat like a human furnace.

The sun is high in the sky when she finally pulls herself out of bed much later, 12:45pm according to her phone and she sits up with a full body stretch, body popping and cracking.

"Vincenzo? Are you here?" She calls out to the empty house, receiving no reply.

With a sigh she goes to shower and brush her teeth, he should be back soon from wherever he went.

When she finally comes out of the bathroom, a cloud of steam following her she pauses at the package on the bed. A huge white box catches her eye, the gold silken bow striking across the large rectangle. Taking a closer step she runs a finger across the smooth material in wonder.

There's a note and immediately she recognizes the distinctive penmanship.

Open me.

Not needing to be told twice she tugs the bow watching it unraveling before lifting the top of the box, peering inside with glowing eyes.

She lets out a soft gasp at the sight of the piercing white material that is almost perfectly camouflaged in the matching box. She lifts it with awe, watching material unfurl until she can see it clearly. It's a dress made from expensive fabric based on the its luxurious feel in her hands and her eyes widen at the cape that hangs lower than the dress itself.

"He was listening to me."

She remembers her group chat with the ladies from the plaza, sending them different options for her reunion and letting them help to pick it her outfit. She wanted something that would garner attention but that still felt like her, and that's when she'd seen it. The new Alexander Wang collection, all white blazer dress with a cape and button details, it looked like luxury and she knew it had to be hers.

The ladies had all been in agreement sending her thumbs up emojis and demanding that she purchase the stunning dress. She'd quickly added it to her cart but much to her dismay as she'd been entering her card information, that dreaded message popped up at the top of her screen.

This item is no longer available. Sorry, try again. 

Her heart had sunk and despite Miri's computer savvy and Yeon-Jin 's online shopping prowess they had not been able to locate the dress on any other site. It was sold out, everywhere.

Or so she thought.

Wordlessly she slips into the dress and surprisingly it fits like a glove, as if it was tailored just for her but that can't be.

"I'll zip that up for you."

She jumps at the dark voice behind her and then a chill runs up her spine at his fingertips on her bare back. He slides the thick curtain of her hair to the side to zip it up the rest of the way, their eyes meet in the full length mirror across the room.

"You look beautiful." He compliments easily, eyes caressing her body from her head down to her bare toes.

She feels like a goddess under his eyes.

"Where did you get this? It was sold out everywhere." She stares at him in wonder and he smiles at her gaping mouth, "I called in a favor. I knew a designer who owed me a favor." He shrugs as if it's nothing that he knows designers who are connected to the Alexander Wang, she's still not used to his influence.

Wait.

"Do you know Alexander Wang?" She shouts in surprise spinning to stare at him and his easy smile and open hand gesture is enough of an answer.

"I got your measurements from Mr.Tak. I wanted tonight to be perfect for you."

Her nerves have been shot all week, it's true that they haven't discussed the reunion at all but that doesn't mean it hasn't been on a mind even haunting her dreams.

She didn't want to be embarrassed again. She knew that she shouldn't let them get to her, she didn't have to prove herself to anyone but for once she just wanted to make them all eat those condescending words. She wanted to show them that she was the same weird girl from high school but she was even more now, also a successful woman and there was nothing wrong with being both sides of those coins. 

Without her even saying one word he'd been able to detect how important this night was for her.

"Thank you." She breathes tears glistening on her eyes, he wraps both arms around her waist beaming at her in the mirror.

"Don't thank me yet you didn't even see the shoes yet."

Without waiting for her answer he steps away to lift a pair of sparkling shoes from the box, the red soles immediately notifying her of the exorbitant brand.

She gapes at the shoes and then a smirking Vincenzo and then back at the shoes, "Are you crazy? Are those Louboutin's?" She asks the obvious question turning the shoes over to stare at the vibrant scarlet soles. A certain Bronxite’s voice blaring in her head about blood shoes. 

"They did say the theme was luxury. I thought these were just right for you." Squealing like a kid in candy store she sits down on the bed with both shoes in hand, but before she can slip them on he's lowering himself to his knees. The sight is enough to stop her in her tracks, her traitorous imagination running wild at the implications and possibilities. When he takes the shoes from her loose grip she merely watches as he slides the shoes onto her feet, just like the dress they too fit perfectly.

"I feel like Cinderella." She chuckles trying to break the tension and the swell in her chest but his bright smile only makes her chest constrict tighter, she doesn't know if she'll survive tonight.

"Hong Cha-young!" She freezes at the sound of Ae-ram's squealing voice only pausing for a moment before turning with a tense smile.

Here we go.

The woman is flagged by her usual posse and parrots, who are always ready to echo her biting remarks and she gulps down her dirty martini needing some liquid courage.

As if sensing her unease instantly Vincenzo takes the hand that was artistically placed in the pocket of his fitting white dress pants and curls it around her waist, grounding her with the simple touch. She turns to him and he greets her with a calming smile that she can't help but return.

I've got your back. He says with only a slight lift of his lips.

She takes a deep breath.

Ae-ram's smile dims as she gets closer to them, her eyes honed on the hand on her hip and she leans fully into the warm body pressed against her side.

Min-he speaks first, an equally constipated smile on her face, "Who's this? You've never brought anyone before. Is this a work friend?" She almost rolls her eyes at the ridiculous question, as if work friends would be this comfortable with each other. They're already finding excuses, grasping at straws and creating complicated solutions for something that is easy to understand simply because they don’t think she’s worthy of attention. That large hand tightens lightly before a light chuckle reaches her ear, “Vincenzo Cassano, lawyer and the lucky man who gets to call her my mine.” She fidgets in his hold blushing at his bold introduction and watching all eyes widen at them, nobody speaks at first clearly in shock at the revelation. 

“Vinshenzo? What kind of name is that?” Someone harps from the back of the crowd and she feels her hackles rise, yes she might have struggled with the pronunciation of his name at first but it felt petty and intentional right now not an honest mistake like her mispronunciation had been. 

But before she can unleash her anger, another old classmates breaks the tense stalemate.

“Oh you’re the Italian lawyer I heard about on the new, who took down Babel! Great job!” 

She had also helped with that, them being a team but nobody seems to care about that all focusing on Vincenzo, all herding around her Italian like he’s a celebrity and she watches shock as he easily wins them over. 

“Sì, ero io. Il piacere è tutto tuo.” Yes that was me, the pleasure is all yours. 

The group minus Ae-ram and Min-he all oh and ah at his effortless Italian despite having no clue what exactly he just said, she too is clueless at the quickly stated sentence but the mischievous smirk on his handsome face informs her of all that she needs to know, he is mocking them right to their faces. She hides a smile behind her hands, pretending to cough into her fingers. 

Wordlessly, the group separates based on sex-she watches helplessly as Vincenzo is tugged away in a boisterous discussion about the state of Korean football- and she is left alone with those harpies but unlike the other reunions suddenly she is the most interesting woman there, regardless of Ae-ram trying to steal the show with pictures of her new full breed dog. She watches amused as the other woman is pushed aside and she is accosted on both sides, questions firing off like rockets. 

“Where did you meet him?”

“Does he have a brother?”

“When are you getting married? You have to marry him!”

“Does he always smell that good?”

She turns flabbergasted to hear that question coming from Ae-ram’s right hand woman, Min-he and Ae-ram glares at her looking betrayed before she storms off with her professional head shots of her dog. She expects Min-he to trail after the spiteful primadonna but to her shock the other woman moves in closer, joining the firing brigade with their million questions about the handsome Italian. 

They all settle down when the man they are so curious about returns, hand back on her waist like that its resting place. 

Her ears ring from their coos and shrill “awws” but she leans into him nonetheless happy to have him back, already exhausted dealing with these people. 

Then she notes that the tone of the questions suddenly shift as they begin to bombard the Italian Korean all at once. There are....more flirtatious when speaking to him and she feels her blood curl at the unprecedented change. 

“Are all Italians this handsome?” Her eye twitches at the bold inquiry, subconsciously she feels her eyes narrow into slits as she glares at the woman who was brave stupid enough to ask that. The bitch blanches at her sneer but still flutters her eyelashes at Vincenzo waiting for his response, she clears her throat loudly answering for him, “He’s one of a kind and fortunately all mine. “ She can feel the smug bastard preening next to her practically buzzing from her compliment, and she quickly makes their escape, “Please excuse us.” Vincenzo smoothly tips his drinks at the women, “Addio,” he bids farewell in Italian arm still hooked around her waist as she sashays away, Louboutin's clicking on the marble tile floor. 

The scrap of Italian leaves them all in a frenzy, whispering wildly behind them. 

She drags them to the bar, ordering two shots of soju and another dirty martini ignoring his examining stare. 

“You’re enjoying this aren’t you?” She already knows the answer to her question, it’s written all over him and she tries to stifle the jealousy that wants to rear its  ugly head. 

He looks over at her with a lazy grin, trying to appear innocent. She isn’t fooled for one second. 

“Me? I’m not doing anything. I’m only here for you.” 

She scoffs at him, staring at his annoyingly handsome face and his gleaming white suit he discarded the jacket earlier and his arms have been distracting her all night. 

“You love the attention.” 

He rubs his neck before turning to her fully, leaning on the bar counter. 

“What? Are you jealous of the attention I’m getting? isn’t that why you brought me to make you look good?” 

She wants to deny it and laugh at him, but even now she can hear the voices in the distance all intrigued by the Italian and the bartender’s eyes linger just a minute too long as the smooth Lawyer throws his free shot back in one fluid motion. She should be used to it by now, everyone in a ten mile radius getting a hard on for the Korean Italian. She understands why he gets all this attention, he is gorgeous that was one of the many reasons that she had fallen for him too but sometimes it can be intimidating to be with someone that so many others desire and so obviously too. 

She wonders if she even deserves him. 

Was she enough for him? 

“What’s going on in that pretty little head?” He taps her on her forehead dragging her from her self-deprecation. “Do you know why they’re all so mean to you?” He suddenly asks and she stares at him before shaking her head no. 

Probably because she’s a hot fucking mess. 

“They’re jealous of you.” 

A burst of laughter slips free at this speculation and she watches as his face tightens, “You really don’t know do you?” His voice is liquid fire, smoky and dark like the tendrils from a cigarette. 

“What are you talking about?” She manages to get out despite being lost in his voice. 

“How sexy you are.” He leans over to whisper directly in her heated ears, she moans lightly at his breath on her skin. 

That is hardly ever a word that she has heard used to describe her, Hong Cha-young. 

Clumsy. Forgetful. Selfish. Loud. Demanding. Too Much. 

Those words she had heard all her life but never sexy. She was too strange to be sexy. 

“You’re smart and beautiful and you have a successful career. You aren’t afraid to be yourself and now you have me on your arm. You have everything and they wish they were you, they’re jealous.” He repeats firmer this time, rubbing a large thumb across her bottom lip and grinning down at her with barely contained glee. 

She starts to deny his claim but then she looks behind her and sees nothing but a sea of envy, women and men both looking at them and she notes not all eyes are on Vincenzo a few men seemed lost in the low cut dip of her dress and the miles of naked skin on display. 

She gasps at the hard line that pokes at her bottom when he leans into her back, standing flush her back to his front. She shivers when he leans down to breathily say, “Everyone is watching, why don’t we give them a show?” 

This is not like her, at all. 

She has never been a fan of public displays of affection, even screaming at horny strangers in the past to get a room but she feels all that restraint leave her body at his challenge. Driving her body back into his jutting erection she slowly grinds in perfect rhythm to the song playing over the stereo. 

undefined

She feels seductive as the music curls around her and she lifts her arms to wrap around his neck, bringing him ever closer and pushing back harder delighted at the groan that escapes his lips. He is coiled tightly behind her but he doesn’t move a muscle letting her have complete control over their interaction and she has never felt more powerful. Continuing to sway she leans back when he tightens his grip around her waist, mewling as his nose rubs at her earlobe and letting out a soft gasp when he blows on the tender flesh. 

When she peels her heavy lids open, there are so many hungry and watchful eyes on them. 

Ae-ram looks scandalized and she can see the woman pointing at them but she can’t hear a word that she’s saying the blood in her ears is too loud, drowning out all other sounds. 

It must be the liquor in her veins because seeing all the voyeurs only makes her bolder, before she can second guess herself she spins around much to Vincenzo’s chagrin but she silences him with a finger on his lip. 

“Follow me.” 

He arches a thin eyebrow but eagerly obeys her command when she tugs him in the direction of the bathroom. 

She hears several gasps behind her as she tugs open the door stepping inside, dragging him right behind her the silence is deafening when he closes the door behind them, turning the lock with a metallic snap. 

Her breath comes out in hurried puffs. 

What the fuck am I doing? She asks herself, wondering if this is what people call an out of body experience. 

“We don’t have to do anything. Their imaginations will do the rest.” 

He’s giving her an out. 

Gripping his hands tighter, she pulls him over to the toilet which is thankfully clean using her feet to slam the seat down before pushing down him to sit. He looks up at her with inquisitive eyes, waiting for her next move but lets himself be manhandled the second time this night. 

“Thank you for everything tonight,” she covers his mouth with her hands as she climbs into his lap, whatever words he had on his tongue evaporate when their groins meet. 

“I know I don’t say this enough, but I love you.”  

She has only ever said it once before and he’d been sleeping, they both knew he wasn’t truly asleep but he let her pretend and she appreciated it but there was no way she couldn’t say it now, tonight. He had been her prince charming when she had expected nothing. 

“Are you serious? You say it to me in her-” She pops open his pants button cutting off his stunned response and he stares at her, making her feel hot. 

“Talk later?” She begs and her request is backed by her hand disappearing through the slit in his pants and wrapping around his dick, the hot muscle twitching fiercely in her hold. 

He chokes out word that sounds like a jumbled “yes” and that’s all the consent she needs to stroke him harder, using his precum to glide her hand down from the tip to the base and then back up again, he lets out a punched out groan at her purposeful handling of his imported goods. 

Shifting back marginally, she gives herself more room tugging his pants down further to get a better look at the pretty pink cock, it’s standing at attention and weeping for her and rubs harder twisting in a corkscrew motion on the mushroom head much to his pleasure, he thrusts up into her hand and immediately she lets go. 

“Please,” he whines so prettily and she tsks at him, “Don’t move, you can only take what I give you. You said you were mine right?” 

She doesn’t know what has come over her but seeing all those women and men lusting over her boyfriend makes her want to remind them and him, just who he belongs to. 

She expects him to put up some sort of fight, instead he nods eagerly at her command stilling his hip and she can see the strain in his white knuckled grip on the toilet edge. 

“Good boy.” She praises and notes with stunned satisfaction the way his dick jumps at the praise too, interesting. 

She starts with a light pace, stroking with the barest amount of pressure before she starts to grip him tighter when he groans at the dryness of her hands she leans over to spit on his head, this makes him hiss and fight to stay still in her grip she rewards him with a kiss to his flushed red head. The wet sounds of her hands stroking his hot meat fills the small space of the bathroom and lifting one hand she grabs his tie using it to yank him into a hard kiss, he opens up for her immediately letting her tongue explore his mouth. 

She has never seen this mafia man so docile, it’s like seeing a lion behave like a house cat. 

With a hard suck at his bottom lip, she breaks their kiss leaving them to pant into each other’s mouth harshly. 

She didn’t know how far she actually planned on going but now nothing seems like enough, she needs more. 

Staring deep into his eyes, she stands up releasing her grip on him and he sighs watching her confused before she slides both hands under her dress and slowly pulls down her panties, they are tiny, white and lace, matching her bra and he looks mesmerized as they are pried down her legs. 

“Are you sure?” He’s still checking on her and she smiles at him, stepping out of the panties and cheekily putting them in his pocket, “Give them safe for me,” she doesn’t give him a chance to reply before sinking back down onto him, his dick is hard and thick but she’s so wet that he glides into her like they are two matching pieces of a puzzle.  An erotic puzzle. 

“Fuck!” He shouts when he bottoms out and his cock is completely encased in her tight walls, his voice echoes off the bathroom walls. 

She grabs his tie, making his eyes pop open and she watches amused as he sputters as she stuffs the expensive material into his mouth. 

“You’re being too loud.” She teases remembering all the times he had been the one admonishing her as she screamed beneath him. 

“You’re enjoying this aren’t you?” He echoes her words from spitting out the tie and she can’t deny it, so instead she rocks forward taking even more of him simultaneously shoving the wet tie back into his mouth listening to his barely muffled grunts. She rises up on the tips of her toes, her red bottoms giving her that extra bit of height, his hard tip popping free with a wet squelch before she slams back down onto him titling her head back and moaning to the ceiling. 

He’s being so good, not moving at all simply letting her fuck down on him and she can tell his control is slipping every time he grips her waist too tightly, painfully. 

She continues to ride him, chasing her own pleasure and whimpering when his blunt head slides across her engorged bead, rocking vigorously up and down as she feels the end drawing near. She tightens her hold on his shoulder, using him as leverage to ride him faster, his thighs tense under the weight of her body and her rapid pace. 

The wet smacks fill the air filthily and she feels dirty, absolutely nasty but instead of shame an intense wave of pride barrels over her. 

“You’re mine.” She whispers out loud to herself but he misinterprets the words and eagerly nods at the statement thinking she wants him to declare that he’s hers, “Yes I am yours, all yours,” and she loses her mind, pistoning herself rapidly on his lap before pleasure surges through her body, starting in her toes and curling up her thighs and she rocks her nipples into his chest through their layers of clothes, she muffles her cry in his throat roughly pulling at the skin there to silence her deafening screams. 

It’s only then that he breaks the rules, reaching up to grab her shoulders and yanking her down to meet his vicious upward thrust and waves and waves of thick streams fill her up until she feels it leaking at the sides. 

There is no sound besides their louds pants. 

Then two loud knocks make them both jump from their wrecked state, his softening length falling from her grip. 

“This is the only bathroom.” A voice calls out disgusted and with a gasp she stands up straightening her dress and running a hand through her hair before realizing that it’s still sticky, great. 

Vincenzo is a puddle on the toilet, legs spread apart and softened dick not yet tugged away, he looks like sin reincarnated and it takes everything not to initiate another round. 

“Come on lover boy,” she tugs him up pulling him up and zipping up his pants, then she moves him over to the sink washing her hands and making him do the same. Their eyes meet in the mirror and that’s when she sees much how debauched they truly look, when he turns to look at the hickey she sucked into his pale skin while trying to be quiet she finally feels the ability to be embarrassed returning. 

it’s huge and red, almost purple, covering the thick column of his throat and he winces when he rubs at it. 

“I’m sorry, I got carried away.” She apologizes but its for naught because he grins at her proudly, “You were just claiming what’s yours.” 

His words light another fire under her skin and it’s only the pounding on the door that stops her from jumping him again. 

When they finally pull the door open, none other than a blanched face Ae-ram is on the other side. The woman looks shocked to see them both standing in front of her and the gears begin to slowly turn and a bright blush rushes up her unnaturally high cheekbones while color evacuates the rest of her face. 

“Are you serious?!” 

She doesn’t stay to hear the rest of the woman’s snide remark, all eyes are on them as she walks over to the bar to grab her discarded purse and Vincenzo’s jacket, the bartender winks knowingly at them looking equal parts aroused and jealous and she chortles, winking back. 

He hands them two shots, “It’s on the house,” he looks them up and down languidly licking his lips and she slams back the bitter liquid before turning to Vincenzo, his lips are shiny and now wet under the bright lights. 

“Let’s get out of here.” She slams the shot glass on the counter, pulling him out the door. 

He hastily swallows his drink, letting her tug him out the door into the cool night air. 

“You didn’t let me answer you before, but me too.” 

She looks at him from the corner of her eye, the wind causing her to sober up and it takes a minute to understand what he’s talking about. She shifts awkwardly when she ultimately realizes nodding while looking away, their cab is three minutes away. 

“I love you too, Hong Cha- young.” 

As if she didn’t already know. It was too obvious after tonight. 

[twilightofthejedi]

fic: barefoot in the kitchen

written for the 2021 chayenzo community fanfic challenge by @the-chayenzo-community !!! 

dialogue prompt: 

“close your eyes, and hold out your hands.” 

read on aoc: here 

“Are you listening to me?” Cha-young asked, her voice loud, and cutting him out of his reverie. They were sitting at the bar of some upscale restaurant, and the long day was beginning to catch up with him. He looked up at her, bewildered. 

“Sorry, Ms. Hong. I must have…” he trailed off awkwardly, because she was pressing the back of her hand to his forehead, frowning in apparent concern. “What are you doing?” 

“Just checking.” She raised her eyebrows comically. “If the great Mr. Mafia lawyer-”

“Stop calling me that-” 

“-is not paying attention at all times, then something is surely wrong with him!” she finished victoriously, and when he said nothing, grinned at him, wide and beaming. Her face was slightly flushed, and her smile was nearly blinding in its intensity, and it had the combined effect of making him want to- 

He shook his head, inwardly cursing at himself. “I’m fine. I was just thinking about next week. We need to figure out what we’re doing about the illegal stock acquisitions.”

She nodded, and turned serious. It was admirable how she could do that, how she could push her drink away and take out her phone to write down their plans. 

And if he moved a little closer to her, and let his hand rest a little longer than usual on her shoulder, well, that was nobody’s business. 

-----

The next day, he barely saw her. When he arrived at the firm in the morning, three cups of coffee in hand, she was pulling on her coat. She took her coffee from him, smiled in thanks, and breezed out the door, leaving him staring after her. 

“I think she said she had some errands to run,” Mr. Nam said, pointedly ignorant as always, taking his cup from him. Vincenzo nodded, and set his briefcase down. He opened his computer, set down his cappuccino, and soon was lost in the case files that he had uploaded the previous day. Mr. Nam periodically asked him for some document from the shelves, but for the most part, they worked in silence. When the quiet got too much, he put in his earphones to listen to Guilio Cesare, one of his favorite operas and one that he had frequently gone to watch in Milan, when he had some free time. When he had tried to show it to Cha-young, she had fallen asleep on his couch, and he had had to put her feet up on the cushions and cover her with a blanket for the night. 

Around noon, there was a memorable incident involving the monks, a runaway cat, and a feline fur allergy, which left poor Monk Chaesin covered in hives (before Ms. Jang stabbed him with an epipen), but other than that, the day passed by relatively uneventfully. 

She didn’t come back to the firm at all, which was highly unusual for her. He had grown used to hearing her move around the room, talking either to them or on the phone about anything and everything, and felt the silence most keenly, especially when Mr. Nam took out his own lunch, leaving Vincenzo to wander on his own to the snack bar for something to eat. Usually he would have gone out with Cha-young, and he couldn’t stop wondering where she was. 

When he casually asked Mr. Nam if he knew, the older man had just fixed him with a knowing stare, and Vincenzo had hurriedly ducked out of the room, willing the blush on his face to disappear. 

As it got dark, however, he was beginning to get worried. What if Jang Han-seok had decided that his lingering fondness for his sunbae didn’t matter anymore, and was having her kidnapped? He didn’t doubt that she could take care of herself (“Seven degrees in martial arts, Mr. Cassano. I’m practically a member of the mafia already”), but it wasn’t like her to go off the grid like this. 

Then he scowled at himself. Remember, you get the gold, ruin Babel, and leave. There’s a beach house in Malta waiting for you. Nothing else. 

But sometimes, he saw Mr. Nam lighting up with an idea, saw Mr. Lee trying to mimic the clicking of his lighter, saw his mother’s eyes soften when he walked in, saw Cha-young (when had he stopped thinking of her as Ms. Hong?) snort with laughter as he broke out sweating after eating too-spicy noodles, and wondered if it couldn’t be something more. Would he be content to live alone in Malta all his life? Or had he grown accustomed to the people and the life around him, to the point where he couldn’t imagine living any way else? To the point where he was beginning to think of the one-bedroom Geumga Plaza apartment with its tacky ceiling stars, as home? 

Could he imagine living without her? 

It was a question that had crossed his mind too many times to count, and each time he had banished the thought, because that led to a dangerous road, and he didn’t need all the feelings associated with it. He needed to stay focused, and think about his next moves, and how to outsmart his enemies. 

But his mind kept going back to her. 

He shook his head at himself as he turned his key in the lock of his apartment door. He got ready for the night, taking off his jacket, making a serving of ramyeon for dinner, and turning the TV on to play music from the classical channel. From the sounds of it, it was some Vivaldi concerto, hallmarked by its minor key and fast paced violin solo. 

He was pouring himself a glass of wine when there was a knock at the door. He frowned, and set the bottle down. Flexing his fingers, he went to the door, and opened it. 

Cha-young stood there, looking unbothered, holding an enormous box like it was nothing. She pushed past him into the apartment and set the box down on the counter. 

As she flopped unceremoniously onto his couch, and picked up his wineglass by the stem, he suddenly felt a hot flush of something. He inhaled shakily, and realized what it was. 

He had been going out of his mind worrying about her. She hadn’t picked up any of his calls, and had been incognito all day, and now she was acting like nothing had happened? He exhaled sharply, and she looked up, sipping from his glass, her eyebrows high on her forehead. 

“Where have you been?” 

“I was shopping. Why, does it matter? Am I not allowed to take a day off?” She stood up, crossing her arms. She stepped forward until she was in his space, and he backed up until his hip hit the kitchen counter. 

“No, it’s not that, I just didn’t know where-” 

“Why does that matter?” 

And isn’t that the crux of it. Why does it matter to him? If she was nothing but his work partner, then he would have no problem with her leaving in the morning to run errands, and not return to work. He might rib her about it the next day, but he wouldn’t have worried this much, wouldn’t have thought up all sorts of horrible scenarios in his head, all of which involved him finding her, broken and dead. 

He cannot think, not with her so close to him, so close that he can smell the wine on her breath that she had just drank, just drank from his glass, her eyes seeming to stare into his soul. He gripped the counter for strength. She tracked the movement with her eyes, and stared back at him. 

“I was worried, all right? I didn’t know where you were and I was worried.” There. He’s said it. He ran his hands through his hair, and she stared at him for a long moment, seeming to come to a realization within herself. Then, she stepped back, and moved to get the enormous box from where she had placed it on the counter. 

He stared at her. 

“What is this?” 

She rolled her eyes. “Just close your eyes and hold out your hands. You’ll see.” She pursed her lips when he did nothing, so he straightened up and closed his eyes, holding his hands palm up and feeling very stupid. He could hear her moving, and the sound of the box opening. She moved closer, and he got a whiff of her perfume. When he had first started working with her, he had hated it, because it had been some American brand. They had had a long debate where he had taken her to a perfume store and tried to get her to appreciate one of the many luxury European brands, but she had been steadfast in her defence of Tom Ford, and that had been that. He had grown to associate that scent with her, and the other day, had caught a whiff of it at the bank and had looked around like a fool, for her. 

Now, it was all he could make out, because she was standing out of reach from him, still doing something with the box. He felt like he had that day he had lost the bet about the bungeoppang, when he had waited, eyes closed, utterly at her mercy, for her to flick him on the head. He felt warm, like the temperature had suddenly increased by several degrees. 

She moved closer to him, finally, and placed something flat in his arms. 

“You can open your eyes now.” 

He did, and looked down, baffled. She had gotten him a record player. On top of it were several records of- 

“Opera?” he asked, looking up at her. She smirked, looking smug. 

“Yes. I got your playlist from Mr. Nam, and bought the records for them, as well as a few that I thought you would like as well. I did so much research for this, you have no idea. It was so boring, so you should be grateful.” He stared at her in shock. 

She had gone out and bought a record player, so he could listen to his favorite genre of music the way that God had intended: via vinyl record. It was nearly identical to the one that he had had back in his apartment in Milan. How did she know? She was smiling at him, waiting for his reaction, and her eyes were on him like he was something marvelous, luminous, and he swallowed a lump in his throat. 

Suddenly, in that moment, he realized that it really didn’t matter if he had his beach house in Malta or not. It didn’t matter if he had to fight Babel forever, because he would do it, he would do it all, as long as she was there right beside him. He could take on a god and he would win, because he would be able to look to his side and see her stare the god down with steel in her veins. 

And before he knew it, he was moving. He set the record player down on the counter, carefully, and surged forward. Her eyes widened slightly, and he cupped his hand around her neck and drew her to him, his lips finding hers. For a second, she was frozen, but she sighed into his mouth and responded, her one arm snaking around his back and the other hand threading through his hair. It felt like every place that she touched him was on fire, and he was floating through the superheated air. 

It could have been minutes, or years, or seconds before she pulled back, and smiled brightly at him. 

She leaned in to kiss him again on the mouth, and said, against his lips, 

“You have no idea how long I have been waiting to do that, Mr. Mafia.” He goggled at her, too shocked at her and himself to complain, and she smiled again, the quirk of her lips teasing. 

“Your ramyeon is burning.” 

He cursed, moving quickly to the stove, trying desperately to salvage the ruined noodles. She came up behind him, wrapping her arms around his body from behind, and laughed, her chin on his shoulders, and it was the most intoxicating sound he’d ever heard. Her perfume drowned out the burned smell of the ramyeon, her hair tickled his jaw, and he couldn’t stop the smile from spreading across his face. 

A warm feeling that had nothing to do with the weather spread through him, and it felt like coming home. 

[the-chayenzo-community]

The Chayenzo Community Fanfiction Challenge 2021!

As we move into the second half of Vincenzo, we wanted to host a fanfiction writing challenge for the Chayenzo fandom! 

Shoutout to @memorizingthedigitsofpi​ for the beautiful header!

The theme of the challenge is 100 ways to say I love you.

How does this work?

Send us an ask requesting a writing prompt. It will be a dialogue prompt that will illustrate a facet of Chayenzo’s love for each other.

You can ask for multiple prompts! 

We’d love a follow, however, it’s not mandatory. 

As soon as we receive your ask, we will reply (privately) with your dialogue prompt within 48 hours.

 If you don’t get a prompt within this time, PM us!

You don’t have to be on Tumblr. If you’re okay with a public reply, you can send an Anonymous Ask and we will respond. Just make sure to include your AO3 handle, so we can track you fic for the master post. 

Then what?

As soon as you receive your prompt, you can start your fic!

You can post your fanfic at any time, however to be included in the master post, please post the finished work by April 30th, 2021.

You can post to Tumblr or Ao3.

Are there any rules?

Fanfic can be all ratings! Just please tag correctly and use trigger warnings if need be.

There is no minimum word count but if posting on Tumblr please use the read more  :)

Use the tag #CCFC2021 so we can track your fics to reblog!

You can also tag this blog so we can reblog your post!

You have until April 2nd, 2021 to request a prompt.

To be included in the master post, you have to post by 4/30/2021

What do writers get?

All writers who participate will receive a badge commemorating the event. It can be added to your Ao3 profile.

You will be part of the master post with all the listed Chayenzo fics.

Meet other members of the Vincenzo fandom!

In closing:

PM with any questions, or send an ask! We are happy to respond!

Please reblog this post to signal boost :)

Remember to tag this blog with your finished works, and use the #CCFC2021 tag.

Ship Chayenzo for clear skin and watered crops. 

[sunsoothed]

stainless

this is my submission for the chayenzo community fanfiction challenge by @the-chayenzo-community! the prompt i got was "take my jacket, it's cold outside." (I took the liberty of modifying jacket to coat). inspiration really hit me after episode 16. this is set once vincenzo returns to chayoung. i tried to keep him in character, but he wouldn't exactly be his usual self after all that, would he? hope he isn't too ooc.

read on ao3

word count: 947

(sorry for any errors!)

enjoy!

-

When she sees him, the first thing she notes is the red dripping from his eyelashes. He hadn’t bathed in blood, had he, Chayoung wants to think. And there is the tear in his shirt to register, from an open button to just over his heart, cleanly nicking the fabric, and there is the blood that’s soaked his collar entirely, and more blood, and more red, and more drenched cloth.

He is walking, slowly, unquenched. Chayoung takes two steps forward to meet him halfway.

“How did it go?”

Vincenzo notes the absence of his mother’s body.

“Autopsy,” Chayoung supplies, before he can ask her. “I’m not allowed in the room. Or outside it. They banished me by force.”

He says nothing. Chayoung shifts, steps one step forward, un-crosses her arms.

“How was it?”

“Satisfactory,” He replies, then he gulps.

Chayoung nods, close enough to smell blood off him. She’s never really caught it like this — the distinctness of something so visceral, so bloody. It is strange, mixed with the scent of Vincenzo’s sweat and despair. Her eyes track up to his face, find his sight set far away.

Chayoung uses the slightly damp tissues she’d dried her tears with to swipe once over Vincenzo’s cheekbone. The scent of blood may be indelible, this point forward, but its stain shall not be.

He’s blinking down at her by the time she’s wiped his face clean, when she’s got his chin between two of her fingers.

“What is it?” Chayoung asks, trying to find a white patch on the red tissue. When she uncovers a plain side, she wipes under his jaw, where stray splatters are held red.

“What are you doing?” Vincenzo voices.  His voice is far from clear, far from the living.

Chayoung provides a little ironic laugh, then answers, “Whatever I can do in my power at the moment. You shouldn’t have animals’ blood on you.”

Vincenzo takes the tissue from her. “I can do it myself. Don’t make your hands dirty.”

Chayoung nods. She steps back, exhales, looks at him. This silence is tortuous.

“They said the autopsy wouldn’t take long.”

No reply.

She tries to catch his eyes. “I’ll handle it, so don’t worry.”

“Payment shouldn’t be an issue,” Vincenzo says, blinking, meeting her gaze. “You can tell me what documents I need to prove my identity. And then for the death certificate.”

Chayoung shakes her head, biting down on her lip hard. “I’ll handle it all. You’ll just need to sign a few things, alright? I won’t let you do more.”

“Byeonhosa-nim, you shouldn’t have to —”

“I’ll handle it.” Chayoung forces. “I won’t let you do this.”

Vincenzo holds the bloodied tissue in his hand, his eyes cold, his skin pale, his complexion long gone from tolerant.

And Chayoung stands her ground. “I’m not giving you a choice.”

He acquiesces without further complaint.

“And don’t thank me.”

Vincenzo nods, now looking at his hands.

Chayoung follows his gaze. “Washroom’s down on the right.”

He takes too many moments to inhale and exhale. Too many moments to find his feet and start moving, and even then he moves as if he has no ability to.

She watches Vincenzo walk away, his torn shirt inviting the cold in. He must’ve lost his jacket somewhere along the way.

Chayoung looks at her hands; cleaner, but no less dirty. She scoffs. How kind fate is, to spare the both of them. She only really has him now.

Chayoung fishes out her car keys from her jacket’s pocket and makes a quick sprint to the entrance of the care centre.

-

Vincenzo returns from too long spent washing the stench of scum off his hands to no Hong Chayoung and an anxious-looking nurse. The poor nurse seems to recognize him and keeps an averted gaze throughout his stuttered transmission. The autopsy is done, and the police had arrived, and his mother was being kept in the morgue.

Vincenzo nods dully, holding a hand over his neck to hide the blood on his collar. The timid nurse scurries off, having done his job, and Vincenzo is left without instruction.

He heads towards where he supposes the police is, where Chayoung had been before, some ways past the reception —

“Byeonhosa-nim!”

Vincenzo turns, sees Chayoung running to him, bearing one of her winter coats in her arms. He manages to catch her by the forearm when she ultimately misjudges her momentum greatly, almost tripping over herself.

“Thanks,” She huffs, leaning against him for a moment. “This is for you.”

At his silence, Chayoung straightens herself and holds out her coat.

“Take my coat, it’s cold outside.”

Vincenzo’s eyes switch between her and the coat, and Chayoung, sensing his refusal, throws the coat over his shoulders.

Light perfume, a hint of her father’s cologne, and Jipuragi Law Firm. Vincenzo breathes deep, masks the scent of loss with the scent of home.

“Police are outside,” Chayoung tells him, already walking away. “We should get a hold of them before they go ratting to whoever bought them off.”

He watches her, unconsciously follows her, and for the first time in hours does he fully allow his senses to return to him. He falls into step with her turning one corner and the next. Chayoung places a hand on the small of his back, keeping him grounded, attuned for what they must confront next.

“It’s okay to sit this one out,” She says, when they spot the officers.

“Not this one.”

Chayoung pats him on the back, through the material of her coat, and reassures him with just her presence.

Vincenzo inhales deep, stuffs his hands in his coat pockets, and steps up.

[ahenix]

Hey everyone! Here’s my contribution for the Chayenzo Community Fanfic Challenge : my prompt was “I’ll walk you home”, it was amazing and I hope my fic does justice to it!

Thank you so much to @the-chayenzo-community for organizing such a great and fun event!

[cassianandor]

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: 빈센조 | Vincenzo (TV) Rating: General Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Vincenzo Cassano | Park Joo Hyeong/Hong Cha Young Characters: Hong Cha Young, Vincenzo Cassano | Park Joo Hyeong Additional Tags: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Light Angst, Blood, Gun Violence, Vincenzo Cassano | Park Joo Hyeong Is Bad At Feelings, Post-Episode 15, But pre episode 16, CCFC2021

Summary:

“Cha Young-ah, don’t cry,” Vincenzo whispered, reaching out for Cha Young’s arm. “I’m not worthy.”

or

Vincenzo sees himself in a grueling situation and has an epiphany.

[deonideatta]

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: 빈센조 | Vincenzo (TV) Rating: General Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Vincenzo Cassano/Hong Cha Young Characters: Vincenzo Cassano, Hong Cha Young Additional Tags: Fluff, Reflection, a lil angsty, CCFC2021 Series: Part 1 of please (don't) leave me Summary:

“Take my jacket, it’s cold outside.”

-

My fic for @the-chayenzo-community‘s chayenzo fic challenge!

[dead-end-street]

Chapters: 1/1
 Fandom: 빈센조 | Vincenzo (TV)
 Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
 Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
 Relationships: Vincenzo Cassano/Hong Cha Young 
Characters: Vincenzo Cassano, Hong Cha Young
 Additional Tags: CCFC2021, Tumblr Prompt, Prompt Fic, Mutual Pining
 Series: Part 12 of Tumblr Prompt Fics - Multi Fandom
 Summary: Prompt fill for the Chayenzo Community Fanfic Challenge for the theme “100 Ways to Say I Love You” for the dialogue prompt: “the key is under the mat”

[memorizingthedigitsofpi]

tumblr icon for the Chayenzo Fanfiction Community’s 100 Ways to Say I Love You challenge. Feel free to use, and good luck with the challenge!

[sweetestlamb]

If You Leave Me Now

Summary: Ms. Oh’s letter gives Cha-young courage to say what’s in her heart. 

Author’s Note: Back with another Chayenzo fic and surprisingly no angst this time, today’s episode inspired me to write this. Also fulfilled my Chayenzo fic prompt, this is what you call efficiency ladies and gents LOL I wanted to write sweet emotionally stunted Vinny and brave CY trying to let him know that he deserves love, hope you enjoy! 

She doesn’t know what she had been expecting from the letter, initially she had thought it would simply be a thank you note-though it was unnecessary Ms. Oh was always very grateful and seemed to think that her mere existence was a nuisance to those around her. The woman had been so beaten down by life and she feels a sense of pride that her father spent all these years caring for someone that all others had all but thrown away after destroying her. She would never be as intrinsically good and right as her late father, she had too much blood and bad deeds on her hands to be sanctified but helping the powerless, she had enough heart left to see that this was something she cared about.

She had spent years following her mother’s untimely death hardening herself and convincing herself that others didn’t matter to her. She was an island and she needed no one else. This was her mantra as she worked her way up the social ladder at Wusang and purchased more and more temporary happiness in the form of bags and pretty suits, materialism filled the void that was left by her lack of any true love in her life.

She gently folds back up the letter, letting the tears cascade down her cheeks the words still tugging at her heart.

The woman had come to terms with her fate, knowing that while we are all essentially dying each day her days were numbered and their was an expiration date lingering in the imminent future. But it wasn’t those words that made her cry it was the words she has never seen coming.

It seemed the only people they were lying to were each other.

Ms. Oh knew.

Had known all this time and hadn’t deigned herself worthy of revealing the secret and getting the opportunity to hear that sacred word that only one person could anoint her with.

Eomeoni. 

“It’s enough that I get to see him. He has grown up so well without me.” 

It must have been torture for the poor woman to see the very son she had given away and not be able to hold him or hear his voice as he called her mother, her smile never quite reached her eyes when he called her Ms. Oh. It was as if she was quietly waiting and suffering for the day when he would slip and reveal their true relationship but if her partner was anything he was steadfast and stubborn. He wouldn’t be saying a word, at least without a nudge. 

His words echo in her memory, “People like me don’t deserve love.”  

it was such bullshit and cop out but she recognized it for what it was, a convenient shield from his feelings. If he believed that he didn’t have any right to love then he would avoid the pain that came from loving someone, the expectations and the vulnerability. 

Squeezing the papers between her shivering fingers she grabs her phone before she can second guess herself, his number is the most recent in her call list. She had called him earlier today to see what he wanted to eat for breakfast tomorrow, it was his day to choose she had chosen last time. 

The phone only rings once before he’s answering, his voice is warm honey through the speaker she knows he is laying down in his ridiculously expensive silk pajamas. She absently wonders how it would feel on her skin. 

“Hmm what is it?” He answers groggily, sounding sleepy but patient and she can detect no annoyance at her calling so late, instead he sounds concerned and she can hear the faint sounds of him moving. 

“I’m okay. You don’t need to get dressed.” He sighs in response, the sounds of movement fading and then it’s silent except the faint coos of Inzaghi in the background. “is Inzaghi keeping you up again? Maybe you should get someone to get rid of him?” 

“No! How could I-- I mean no, it’s fine. His coos don’t bother me anymore. I find them soothing.” He replies more passionately than she had expected, he had been many hours cursing the pigeon in the past much to her chagrin but lately it was like he had found a new appreciation for the bird. It was weird. It wasn’t like the bird had saved him or something ludicrous like that so she had no idea why he was behaving like this. 

“Okay.” 

“What’s wrong? Why are you calling so late?” He hums on the other line, sounds of the kitchen reaching her ears now, he’s probably making tea he wasn’t much of a fan before but it had slowly grown on him.  She had obnoxiously bought him a huge box of tea while she had been staying with him after he’d told her how he only enjoyed coffee- real coffee not the garbage she drank, she forced him to drink them with her every morning until he started making them on his own much to her amusement. 

“Drink the chamomile tea, it’ll help you fall asleep.” 

After a small pause he answers, “I don’t have trouble falling asleep.” 

He lies and she doesn’t call him out, both recalling that night he had woken up sweaty and panicked after a dream. She hadn't questioned him seeing the terror on his face, knowing it wasn’t the right time. She had quietly made him tea and stayed up until he fell asleep, tucking the blanket more snuggly around him. 

She listens as the kettle whistles signaling it’s readiness and suddenly she feels ready too, despite the consequences. 

“Are you still planning on leaving Korea after you get the gold?” She asks suddenly, a familiar fear pressing on her chest the longer he goes without answering her and she can almost see his face- his wide eyes and the purposeful stoic look firmly in place. 

“Why do you keep asking me that?” His voice is tired, desperately so and she can hear the hidden message, “why are you making me face my emotions?” and honestly she doesn’t know why herself, she has never been one to face her own emotions not with matters of the heart. She spent years pretending not to need her father’s approval or love whilst secretly pining and desperate for any attention from him even though she had been the one to push him away first. 

It’s your fault she’s dead! 

With those vicious words she had ripped her father’s beating heart from his chest and stomped on it with her stiletto heels. Then she had joined Wusang and fought against him, using money and influence to snuff out the hope of innocent people. Maybe Vincenzo was right and people like them didn’t deserve love. 

But she was greedy and entitled and others might see that as a flaw but she didn’t care, she wanted this and she deserved it. 

“Because I want you to stay.” 

There’s no taking it back, the truth is now out there suspended between them and she can hear his gasp on the other line, she’s caught him off guard. Hell, he’s not the only one but she has already shot herself in the foot so there’s no turning back now. 

She’s all in. 

“I like you.” That’s a lie, the feelings she has for him have mowed past “like” a long time ago and are dangerously close to another L word she’s too chicken shit to admit to him or herself, she has some sense of self preservation and despite those lips devouring her own and stealing any doubts she had about his reciprocation of her feelings, she knows that he is scared of this and he could push her away in some blindsided decision to keep her safe. 

“Wh--what?” He stutters out dumbfounded and far less eloquent than the smooth mafia member she has come to know. 

It makes her smile softly, she feels honored to get to see this side of him. A side that he only shows to her. 

“I’m happy that you came to Korea and that we met. That you met my father and for a little while you were on his side. That you accepted me after everything and that you have never judged me. Meeting you as been the best luck I’ve ever stumbled on, Vincenzo Cassano.” 

The silence is deafening and she vaguely wonders if he has hung up too overwhelmed with her sudden confession and fleeing instead but the screen still says his name, “Corn Salad” when she pulls it back to peer at the screen. 

“I know you don’t think you belong here in Korea, you don’t think it’s your home. But I’m learning that home doesn’t have to be a place, it can be people too and the feeling you get around them. You showed me that.” Her heart is thundering now but she feels relieved to say this out loud too, if anything were to happen to either one of them it would break her if he never knew how she felt, what he meant to her. 

“Me? I showed you that?” He whispers stunned and she can hear the soft rustle of him sitting down, had she made him weak in the knees? She can only hope so. 

“Yes. I have lived here my whole life but I never felt as seen or accepted until I met you. You feel like home.” 

“Cha-young ah.” 

She waits to see if there will be more but that’s all he says, her name like it’s a sermon. It’s the first time he has called her by her first name despite how close they’ve grown in the past months. It sounds like music to her ears, not that opera noise he’s always listening to despite her complaining-loudly- each time she comes over but real music, the kind you would put on during those summer days where you let your hair whip in the breeze. The kind that remains in your heart even after summer has long ended and fall creeps around the corner with a cool entrance. 

“I’m happy you’re here and I want this to be your home now. I don’t want you to run away, we both want you to stay.” 

His breath is erratic over the line, even more so than when she had found him injured in the underpass. She lets him process her words giving him time that nobody else has ever received from her in the past, with him she wants to be someone who can be patient, he is worth the wait. 

“Why are you telling me all this? Why now?” He pleads sounding tortured and when he sniffles she wants nothing more than to reach through the phone and wrap him up in her arms, he sounds so young and confused. 

“I don’t want to have any regrets. Not with you.” She answers honestly, the letter staring at her from the table words catching her eyes. 

“I can’t let him know how much he means to me. I know it is not my place to ask this but please love him dearly and let him know he is important and needed everyday. Letting him go was my biggest regret, I hope you will be stronger than I was.” 

Like she had a choice anyway, she had told herself many times that she shouldn’t have feelings for him but every time she saw him smile or watched him torture someone to get them closer to taking down Babel all of her logic went out the window and she couldn’t help but imagine a life for them after this was all over. Korea, Italy, Malta, it didn't matter where they went as long as they were together. She had no intention of letting him go, not without a fight. 

 If that made her a villian so be it, he had been the one to train her how to be one in the first place. 

“You don’t have to say anything. I just wanted you to know how I feel about you. I’m sorry if I kept you up.” 

A long pause follows her apology and with a sigh she goes to end the call, he hadn’t outright rejected her and that was more than she had been expecting. She would regroup and make a thorough presentation of why they belonged together and why exactly he should either stay in Korea or let her go with him after they defeated those corrupt scumbags. 

“It’s okay. I couldn’t sleep anyway.” He admits, forgetting his earlier denial of this very fact. 

“Are you drinking the tea?” 

“Yes, I am. You left so many of them here. I told you I’m not a tea drinker.” He states contrary with the loud slurping she hears over the phone. 

If she were anyone else his seeming dismissal through ignoring her confession would be heart breaking but she knows him too well now, is too aware of the dark inner workings of his mind and much he is overthinking every word she has uttered and cataloguing every reason that they shouldn’t be together, her safety is most likely top of the list. Old habits die hard and regardless of her constantly telling him that they should face everything together, she knows that there is still a lot that he hides from her in a guise of protecting her. His story about a nail pulling his suit plays out in her head. 

“Tea is best for insomnia. Get some rest, I’ll see you tomorrow.” 

She hangs up first, staring at the picture she had sneakily taken of him when he had been distracted in the office. It had been a long day and he had abandoned his jacket and loosened his tie, a sign that the day had taken its toll on him. She didn’t know what came over her but she found herself picking up her phone and snapping a picture of his side profile, he looked so handsome. When he had looked up and seen her on the phone, she pretended to be texting someone and walked away, her heart racing until he shrugged and looked away. 

“I won’t give up on you Vincenzo Cassano.” She promises, putting the letter back into the envelope and making her way to the bathroom to complete her nightly routines. 

Face scrubbed and teeth brushed to minty perfection, she walks across the moonlit room tugging down the sheets and crawling in, being so open and honest had been emotionally exhausting. 

The things she did for him. 

Getting comfortable in her bed she reaches out to plug in her phone to charge, but the tiny envelope icon on her phone catches her attention, she must have received a message while she was in the bathroom. Curious, she swipes her phone open before clicking on the message, she tells herself not to be too hopeful it’s probably not him and she’s going to be disappointed when it’s just a telemarketer trying to get her to switch tv providers. 

“Oh,” She stares at the message, the light from the phone the sole source of illumination in the dark room besides the moon glowing through her curtains. She has no words, no thoughts either all she can do is feel and even that is difficult with too many varying emotions raging war in her body. She had tried her damnest not to expect anything, knew that he wasn’t ready to face his feelings and he might never be able to say how he felt about her, his actions would have to be enough. She would have accepted it as enough, having him was more than enough. 

But as the message stares up at her, she realizes she had been lying to herself when the wave of unfiltered joy that crashes over her washes away her sandcastles of lies. 

You are already my home.  

It’s not the passionate confessions that are glorified in dramas, there’s no rain or dramatic slowing down of time, he hasn’t even said those coveted three oh so special words; on the surface he has barely said anything at all but to her his words are a blanket on a cold wintery day,  she has only ever wanted someone to stay and now she has found that. 

Loving him feels like coming home. 

[sunsoothed]

bingo

another fic for the chayenzo community fanfiction challenge! i asked for this prompt today and wrote it in [checks watch] two hours? i was inspired. anyway! we now have vincenzo attending his mother’s funeral and having feelings about it. oh and my prompt was “i’ll still be here when you’re ready.”

thank you to @the-chayenzo-community for organising this!

word count: 1164

read on ao3

(sorry for any errors!)

enjoy :]

-

The day rains cold and rains relentless. Service takes less time than necessary, and with Geumga Plaza at his back, Vincenzo sees his mother for the last time. Unfilial son that he is, he has no tears to shed as they lower her casket six feet under, no tears to shed as the mud is filled in and she is gone from the world.

When the priest sums up all that has to be said to honour Oh Gyeongja, mother of one, Vincenzo is only left with the strangest loneliness. Only left with more space between him and the world, between him and the world, only a stretch of quiet.

The tenants of Geumga Plaza leave, one by one, unloading their condolences. Vincenzo nods, bows, receives. And then he follows Chayoung wherever she takes him by the hand, one step behind, lifeless in his steps and his grip.

Riverside. Cold, too. But the rain has let up, and the rocks are only slightly damp.

“They buried a man alive once,” He says. “I saw Father do it. It wasn’t even a big enough coffin for him to fit.”

Chayoung tugs him by the hand to sit, to watch the waves. “What happened of him?”

Vincenzo shrugs. “Never found out. I was only fifteen.”

“Thrilling for a fifteen-year-old to see,” She comments lowly. No vigour in her words. “How are we doing?”

Vincenzo’s eyes dart to her. She’s looking right back.

“I need time.”

She nods. “I’ll still be here when you’re ready.”

Vincenzo looks at the waves.

Chayoung sighs and picks up a stick. “Do you want to make a bingo or something?”

“Bingo?”

“Orphans, lawyers, attractive, incredibly smart, like seriously, too awesome for this world…”

It draws a laugh out of him. A pathetic, dead excuse of a laugh, but a laugh nonetheless.

“I’m glad you laughed,” Chayoung says. She aimlessly throws the stick. “Took a real gamble with that one.”

“What, did you think I would throw you into the river?”

“Wouldn’t put it past you, Mr. Consigliere.”

“Cruel.”

She pets his shoulder in consolation. “If it makes you feel better, I know how to swim.”

“You’re horrible.”

Chayoung takes it, shifting closer to lean on his shoulder. “She’s proud of you, you know.”

Vincenzo looks at the sky. “She would be, wouldn’t she? To have a murderer of a son.”

Chayoung glares at him. “Don’t underestimate a parent’s love. It’s unconditional.”

Vincenzo meets her glare, huffs out a scoff. They’re close enough for his breath to reflect on her nose.

“Trust me,” Chayoung insists. “I have experience in this department.”

He blinks at her, then nods, acquiescing. “Sorry.”

“No need.”

Chayoung exhales in the silence, leans in further, wraps a tentative arm around Vincenzo. The river runs and the wind flows. There are birds singing somewhere.

“Unfilial,” Vincenzo says. “Liars. Living with the most painful thing in life.”

Chayoung moves forward, almost directly in front of him, her hand placed on his back. “What are you harping on about.”

“The bingo,” Vincenzo mutters, looking into her eyes.

She sighs, sliding out of the half-hug and setting her hands on Vincenzo’s shoulders. “I think you should shut up.”

“I don’t think I should shut up,” He replies, defensive.

“Byeonhosa-nim,” Chayoung chastises. “You won’t achieve anything by beating yourself up.”

“But —”

“But then again,” Chayoung cuts in, “I was no different. Alright. You have three minutes to curse yourself out as much as you want.”

“There is a lot I should be getting angry with you about.”

“We’re partners, byeonhosa-nim.” Chayoung says, all matter-of-fact-ly. “And we’re very much the same. Getting angry at me would be getting angry at yourself, no?”

Vincenzo’s face morphs into one of those rare expressions of extreme disgust. Chayoung knows she’s seen right through him. Before he can reply, she stands.

“I’m getting out of your sight, I’m going,” She hurries to say. “Three minutes. I’m timing you.”

Vincenzo watches her walk away from the river with a scowl.

-

Chayoung buys him coffee on the way back. Espresso, in that annoyingly tiny cup, and Vincenzo Cassano. A scene that has become as familiar as her reflection in the mirror. He sips diligently.

“Did it feel good?”

Vincenzo shakes his head with resolution.

“It doesn’t,” Chayoung sighs. “I know.”

Vincenzo downs his espresso in one go.

“Wanna go home?” Chayoung asks. At his nod, she chugs down the rest of her drink.

“Let’s go, then.”

She’s standing, picking her coat off the back of her chair, when Vincenzo speaks in the smallest voice.

“Byeonhosa-nim.”

Chayoung looks at him. He’s looking back, up at her, with the slightest of red in his eyes.

Chayoung plucks his coat off the back of his chair and drapes it over her forearm, then hauls him up by the hand.

“Let’s go,” She repeats. “Let’s take you home, you’ve had a long day.”

-

The only real challenge is parking the car, for the rain had caused a power cut, and the lights in the parking lot were all out. Vincenzo’s hands only shake slightly when he unlocks the door, and he has to lean on the wall a moment before he can regain himself to take off his shoes and discard his coat and fall back-first on the sofa.

Chayoung follows less quietly, banging pots and pans even when she does not mean to. When she has water boiling, she pads to the sofa as well.

Vincenzo stares straight up at the ceiling. His lighter is in one hand, closed and held closed, and his exhales are timed.

“You’re home,” Chayoung says. “You don’t need to hold back at home.”

Vincenzo moves his gaze to hers, blankly. He takes another measured breath.

Then, brokenly: “Will you sit with me?”

Chayoung nods in less than a heartbeat, making herself comfortable the moment Vincenzo sits up. She opens her arms, and at Vincenzo’s mouth open equally as much, she just scoffs and pulls him close.

He lets out a sound of surprise, but settles against her wordlessly.

“It’s okay to need comfort.”

Vincenzo gulps, blinks up at the ceiling. Chayoung can feel the way his throat moves from where his neck is perched on her shoulder. Slowly, he reciprocates the embrace, his arms tight across her back.

Chayoung soothes him with a hand stroking his hair.

“You do trust me, don’t you?” She questions, when the heaviness builds in her throat as well. “I trust you.”

“I trust you,” Vincenzo murmurs, breath hot against her neck.

Chayoung shifts back for a moment, puts a little distance between them without breaking the embrace. The hand she had in his hair traces its way to cup his cheek. She leans forward and kisses his forehead.

“I’ll still be here when you’re ready,” She repeats.

Vincenzo bites his lip, nodding, and blinks hard. When his tears fall, they have a sure shoulder to fall on, and when he crumbles, unquiet, he has a sure embrace to fall into.