#how does one not fall in love with this korean mafia from italy?

[jsutaphase]

Vincenzo Closing Scenes : Episode 11~18

[twilightofthejedi]

fic: this city screams your name

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

dialogue prompt:

"happy birthday"

read on ao3: here

episode 16 spoilers!

It has been a long day.

Vincenzo stands in front of his unit in Geumga Plaza, the faded numbers 606 the only thing written on the dark wooden door. It’s nearly midnight, and he is exhausted. He could go inside and decompress the way he usually does, alone, with comfortable clothes, cheap food, and relaxing music.

Or, he could use the key in his hand, and go to Cha-young’s house.

After they had started dating, on that day a few weeks ago when she had disappeared and made him go mad with worry only to show up later and give him a gift so meaningful that it had cut right to his heart, she had pushed a key into his hand. It was a night when they were sitting on the roof and staring out at the city laid out in front of them. They had been sitting on the edge of the roof, bottles of beer held loosely in their hands, when she had reached to her side to rummage in her bag. He had watched her with mild curiosity, but his mind had been too hazy to do anything other than take another drink from his bottle, and wait for her. Then, she had put the cool metal in his hand, and told him to come over whenever he wanted. He had been taken back, and even more so when she pulled him close and kissed him.

The rest of the night had been slightly blurry after that.

Now, he stares at the key, and thinks of the cozy house on the quiet residential street filled with pictures and memories and the very essence of the woman he loves. He turns around, and smiles to himself. He loves her, doesn’t he? Somehow, through the relentless legal battles and late night subterfuge and the devastating grief of losing his mother, he has fallen in love with Hong Cha-young. The realization fills him with something light, something he cannot remember ever feeling.

He makes it all the way to his car in the parking garage before he realizes that he has smiled the entire way there. Huh. So that was why Mr. Tak had looked at him strangely when he passed him in the hallway.

As he starts the car and pulls out of the garage, he thinks of a conversation that he had had with Cha-young. After unwrapping the record player and eating the salvaged ramyeon (after he had nearly burned it) at the low table in his living room, they had laid back on cushions to stare up at the faintly glowing stars on the ceiling, La Traviata’s first act playing softly from the record player in the background. She had seized his hand, bringing their entwined hands up, and pressed her lips to his knuckles. The simple gesture had ran a jolt through his body, and he had turned to look at her.

In that moment, there had been a thousand things that he had wanted to say, but what he had ended up saying was, “I haven’t been entirely honest with you.”

She had looked sideways at him, and had only raised her eyebrows.

“I have killed. Many times, in fact. I know I told you that I didn’t, that I was only a lawyer, but in Italy, I-”

She had cut him off by raising a hand. “Of course you have killed. Did you think I didn’t know what being second in command in a mob family meant?”

“Then what-”

“Do you think that you’re some fallen angel, and I have no idea? I can assure you that it doesn’t matter to me. I’ve done questionable things, too. Before Choi came to Wusang, I was the best out of all of them, and I didn’t exactly get that title through any righteous means.” Cha-young had shrugged then, an elegant, half-raise of her shoulder. “It doesn’t matter. What’s done is done. All we can do is move forward. Right now, we can use our considerable talents in subterfuge, manipulation and trickery and who knows what else you have in your arsenal to bring down people like Babel, Shinkwang Bank, and Wusang.”

He had nodded mutely because he had no clue what to say to that. How could he tell her that her seemingly casual words had lifted a huge weight off of his shoulders?

Now, he pulls onto her street, and as usual, it is dark and quiet. He thinks he may prefer the silence of her residential neighborhood to the nosiness and loudness of Geumga Plaza. As he gets down from the carlocking it absently, he realizes that her driveway is empty; she isn’t home yet. This isn’t abnormal; she had announced that she was going to be talking to one of her old contacts for information.

He opens the gate and lets himself in through the front door, tossing his suit jacket onto the low couch underneath the pictures that she hated but could not bring herself to take down. He sets his briefcase down on the kitchen counter, next to her own, and switches on the television to the news, watching absently as he prepares a cup of coffee. Before, she had drank instant coffee almost exclusively and kept nothing else at her house, but too many mornings at her house spent staring blearily into a cheap-smelling mug of instant coffee had driven him to go out and buy her a proper coffee machine with his favorite beans that had the entire house smelling amazing in the morning before they both had to rush out to the firm.

He watches the drops fall into the cup, and wonders absently about the barista that had made his coffee in Rome most mornings. The man had been excellent, so skilled at his art that Vincenzo had returned there day after day to the point that there was always a cup waiting for him by the time that he walked through the door. But then he had left the city he had grown up in, pursued by the family in which he had never quite belonged.

He looks around and realizes that he fits in perfectly in this house. It’s messy, and cluttered, and there are a ridiculous number of blankets on the couch, but it’s no longer just Mr. Hong’s house where he learned to treat hangovers the Korean way. It feels so intimately familiar that he could probably navigate through it in the dark (he probably has). Everything, from the outdated calendar (from three months ago) to the clock that chimes five minutes late, to the wall where there are now two hooks, for both of their car keys, feels like home, a home that has shifted, just a little, to accommodate him, like someone moving over on a worn couch and patting the seat next to them and saying come on in and make yourself at home.

He pads upstairs to her (their) bedroom where he has stashed a few changes of comfortable clothes for nights exactly like this one. He pulls on the soft cotton shirt and pants, and goes back downstairs to where the coffee is ready. While he drinks the coffee, he sends off a quick text to her asking if she has eaten yet. It’s a truly ungodly hour and any sane person would have had dinner ages ago, but once his Cha-young had a goal, she would stop at nothing to achieve it, and she would have probably eschewed eating to accomplish her goal for the night. Sure enough, she responds with of course not jagiya, who do you think i am, and he laughs quietly to himself as he gets up to rummage through her pantry for ingredients. He sees spaghetti in her pantry, tomatoes in her fridge, and a sweet basil plant on the windowsill, and immediately knows what he’s going to make her.

He’s stirring the simmering sauce when she walks through the door.

“Jagiya? Are you cooking?”

“Yes,” he says, turning around to look at her. She’s wearing dark blue today, with dark makeup and jewelry, and she looks like some sort of shadow wraith. He smiles at her, and she raises her eyebrows high, like she is mocking him.

“Are you cooking for me?” He laughs again, and turns back around to keep the sauce stirring. It’s truly strange how much more he seems to laugh around her. He’s set the spaghetti to drain, so all he needs to do once the sauce is done is to add the pasta. She comes up from behind him and wraps her arms around his torso, clasping her hands together. She puts her chin on his shoulder, and he leans into her.

They stand in silence for several minutes until he judges the sauce to be done. She wriggles her fingers at it, and he dutifully feeds her a spoon to taste, at which point she suggests, very seriously, for him to add ginger. He laughs, and moves to get the pasta from the sink, but she holds him fast.

“What is it?”

She puts her hand on the side of his face and turns it to the clock that runs late. It reads 12:33.

“It’s your birthday, jagiya. Wow, can’t believe the famous mafia lawyer forgot about his own birthday-”

“How did you know?”

He pulls her around to hold her looking into her eyes, a curious replication of that night they had drank into the night and she had hugged him to test if she had feelings for him. Her eyes dance and she turns her face up to his.

“I had Luca tell me. Turns out he can get by in English, which means you-” she pokes him in the chest- “are not going to have any secrets anymore! I will find them all out.”

“I’m not keeping any secrets from you, Cha-young-ah. Just ask me whatever you want to know. I will answer all eighty of your questions.”

She blinks at him. “Yah, why do you have to get all sentimental on me?”

“You were the one who conspired with Luca to find out my birthday, of all the things.”

She rolls her eyes at him. “I am going to faint with hunger. Feed me before I collapse on you.”

“As you say,” he says, leaning in to drop a kiss on her forehead.

Later, as he watches her inhale the food, food that he had made because it reminded him of the only home he had ever known before coming here, he wonders about his life. They still have so much work to do. They have to achieve the impossible against an entire system of corruption and injustice, but with her and the home that they have built for themselves, he thinks… no he knows, that they can do anything.

[weakid]

Times We Fall In Love with Vincenzo Cassano

Kicking off 2021 with intense Kdrama – “Vincenzo” is just one of the must watch. The story revolves on an Italian consiglier who is working for a mafia family. Song Joong Ki playing the charismatic role has been giving butterflies in everyone’s stomach since the premier episode. Here are just some of the times we are caught in love with Mister Vincenzo Cassano.

 His sexy Italian accent

Adopted by an Italian family at a young age, Vincenzo’s character grew with the fluency of the language. Even though he is Korean, the way he carry his Italian accent makes him even sexier. The first episode when he was still in Italy, his character never felt inferior but instead oozes with much sophistication making him stand-out – but his accent alone won’t be even more appealing with the wardrobe he wore.

Undying love for coat and ties

Up to the current episode, the lead character has been giving us variety of coats and ties. The glamorous colour and the luxury brand has earned its justice as Joong Ki’s physique, the aura of his character is even manlier to its finest.  Well, as expected from a veteran actor like Joong Ki who can make any clothes more appealing to what it is.

The Walk and Talk

Much more to Vincenzo’s image – the intimidation he gave to viewers is the chief’s kiss. Not alone the accent can make everyone go crazy but what is more to that is the way his gaze and smirk on screen is too much to handle. Even the way he walk on the aisle with his poker face is enough for his opponent to back-off or mess-with-him-or-you-won’t-see-heaven aura. Vincenzo Cassano is just one of the living characters you won’t dare to look at.

A Lowkey Softie

But beside of how untouchable Vincenzo is, he still have a soft spot beneath his heart. He don’t speak as much as any other characters but the acts he does is still for the common good. He may believe on the saying, “only evil can punish the evil” but the way he protects the people, who he lowkey cherished, is enough to justify the means of his deeds.

 There is still more to be discovered on Vincenzo Cassano’s mask but beyond that it is undeniable that everyone is falling in love with him. Watch him more on Netflix and TVN every weekend.