#it's almost 2am for me again dhghdjf

[offorestsongs]

Fannish Fantasies

summary: Vil never bothered with the nonsense stories his fans wrote about him on the internet. His boyfriend shared none of his sensibilities | 2.1+ words • oc x canon author's note: this came to me in a vision in the middle of the night and i couldn't rest until i made it a reality. this is just pure silliness and also weirdly meta lmao. enjoy!

 “I know what fanfiction is, Rosienne,” Vil scoffed. “I just don’t see why would I ever bother myself with such juvenile fantasies. And to be frank, given your nature, I wouldn’t expect you to take all of it so lightly either, but you look like you’re having the time of your life.”

Rosienne’s face split in a grin. “You thought I’d be jealous? Why? They’re the ones writing outlandish stories about you, and I’m the one sitting in your bed.” And, to prove his point, Rosienne leaned over and planted a quick, warm kiss on Vil’s cheek. At least this time, he was sure that his black lipstick was transfer proof.

Seeing the look of exasperated fondness on Vil’s face, his smile became even bigger. There were few things Rosienne enjoyed as much, as inflicting a bit of gentle suffering and annoyance on his boyfriend.

“Anyways,” he continued, firmly snuggling himself to Vil’s side. Sometimes, he missed being roommates, just for how easy it made to be directly in Vil’s personal space all the time, without having to do such bothersome things like texting each other and walking down the hallway first. Rosienne made up for the lack by spending most of his free time in Vil’s room anyway. “Point is, it’s funny. And harmless. You don’t really give your fans much personal info about you―”

“Of course. This is my job. And I enjoy my privacy.”

“I mean, yeah, but that gives them a wiiiide room for speculation. Or not even speculation, just making shit up for their stories. Pure unlimited creativity and all that.” Rosienne made a vague gesture with his hand. “They seem to really like to portray you as some sort of… bad boy type.”

Vil’s eyebrows shot up so high, Rosienne got afraid they would fly off his forehead entirely. “A what?”

“Oh, you know!” Rosienne laughed ― a real witch-like cackle of somebody currently enjoying the misery of someone else. “Black clothes, chains, secret tattoos, smoking, dangerous business”

“As if I would ever smoke. An utterly despicable activity. Ruins both your health and your appearance.”

Of course, that’s what Vil would focus on.

“Listen. Everyone knows that. It’s just… you know, the aesthetics of it all. They just think you’d look hot.”

Vil blinked. Rosienne laughed again. This really was a brilliant idea!

“I meeeeeean,” he said, raising his phone to hide the barely restrained glee on his face. “I agree. You kinda would.”

“Rosienne!” Despite Vil’s scandalised tone, Rosienne could see the glimmer of amusement in his eyes. Perfect.

“Alright, alright!” Rosienne raised his hands in defence. “So, you wanna read some?”

“There’s nothing I have ever wanted to do less than this,” Vil replied, already leaning over Rosienne’s shoulder to better see his phonescreen.

Before Rosienne came to pester his boyfriend, he had already gathered a nice collection of bookmarks to show Vil. Rosienne was nothing if not a prepared man. And of course, he only saved the best of the best.

“Okay, we’re gonna start pretty tame,” he said in the tone of a game show announcer. He flipped through all the opened tabs, making as much of a dramatic show out of clicking on one as he could. “So this is just the summary.”

He cleared his throat, then started reading out loud.

His whole life, Vil Schoenheit has been upholding a perfect image, but few knew the dark secret hiding behind it. He was tired of his work, of the industry, of always feeling like he has to watch his every step. Searching for an escape from it all, he finds it in drinks and cigarettes, getting caught up in scandal after scandal that his PR management barely has the time to cover up. Can a chance meeting with an ordinary girl stop him from spiralling?

“What nonsense,” Vil scoffed, his words echoed by Rosienne’s gleeful laughter. “I hope you didn’t waste your time reading through the whole thing?”

“Nah. This is like, crazy long. Just kinda scrolled through. But basically the fanfiction you meet a girl that’s oh, so plain and oh, what could anyone ever see in her!, you know the usual reader-insert romance protagonist, but she has a bleeding heart and tries to fix you. Kind of like Lysander, but even more annoying, which I didn’t think was possible.”

Vil rolled his eyes ― Rosienne wasn’t sure at what exactly. Everything, he supposed. “If somebody is spending their precious time writing such hogwash, they could at least get more creative with it.”

“You want creative? Oh, baby, I have something perfect. Just, uh, prepare yourself.”

Rosienne chose another bookmark.

Vil Schoenheit, the son of the leader of one of the most influential mafia families. The future Queen of the crime empire, as beautiful as he was dangerous.

Next to Rosienne’s side, Vil burst into laughter. That was the true dark secret of Vil Schoenheit ― when he laughed, honestly and without any strangers around, he sounded utterly inelegant. Every time it happened, Rosienne felt a warm pride at being one of the few people allowed to see it.

“Dear Seven, what is this?”

“Wait, let me finish! This isn’t even the best part!”

Vil let out a heavy sigh. Rosienne continued.

Having to secure the family’s position, he’s pushed into a marriage of convenience with a girl who wants nothing more than to run away from the world of crime that had ruined her life.

A brief moment of silence followed. “I don’t think that’s how mafia works,” Vil finally pointed out. He sounded a bit stunned, which only made Rosienne’s wild glee grow bigger. Stunned was not something Vil happened to be often.

“Yeah, me neither. But again, it’s for the aesthetics. Nobody cares if it’s realistic, it’s just supposed to be a fun, exciting costume for the characters to wear. But hey, at least this goes kind of wild with the plot!”

“I’m almost afraid to ask.”

“It’s not that bad. The fanfiction you just saves his future wife from a kidnapping from her evil dad mafia boss who’s angry that she tries to run away from the marriage and then shoots the dude.”

Vil frowned. “Wouldn’t that start a gang war or something of the sort? I’m not well versed in the matter, but it doesn’t seem like the wisest choice…”

“Hm, I don’t think the author thought about that too deeply. It’s just an excuse for the girl to throw herself into your arms and finally confess her feelings. It’s very dramatic.” And very cliché, but that seemed redundant to even point out. Being cliché was the whole point of those stories. “But wait, there’s a great moment, you just have to hear it!”

The look on Vil’s face suggested that he didn’t necessarily agree, but still, he leaned even closer, leaning his chin on Rosienne’s shoulder. A position far from comfortable; his boyfriend was unbelievably beautiful, yes, but also really… pointy.

He closed his fingers on my wrist. Despite his dainty appearance, his grip was strong. “What do you think you’re doing, darling?” he whispered into my ear. I could smell his perfumes, strong and expensive, like everything about him.

A shiver ran down my spine, but I kept a straight face. I turned around, looking him in the face. My gaze was as cold as his.

“It’s a party. Am I not allowed to talk to people at parties now?” I said.

He smiled. It was a smile like a knife. “Not when you talk to men who look at you like they want to eat you. You’re still my fiancé, remember that.”

Once again, Vil laughed, right into Rosienne’s ear.

“I told you they like to write you as a bad boy type!” Rosienne said. “Being a controlling boyfriend is a part of the deal.”

“That… doesn’t seem very healthy.”

Rosienne turned to give Vil a look. “It’s romance, babe. It has to be exciting, not healthy.”

“So that’s why you have all those books about innocent young lords getting kidnapped by pirates?” Vil asked. His smile really was sharp like a knife now, except the context was way more embarrassing.

Heat rose up Rosienne’s cheeks. “It’s not the same!,” he objected.

“Ah, really? Forgive me, love, but I fail to see the difference.”

The vast collection of questionable bodice rippers that Rosienne started reading when he was way too young was only between him and whatever gods may be out there. “Anyways!” he said with force, making Vil laugh again. “I have more, and it’s all equally bad.”

Despite Vil’s earlier reluctance, they’ve spent a good amount of time going over one story after another, each more ridiculous than the last one. Rosienne laughed with unrestricted joy, while Vil seemed to grow more and more concerned and confused. For a moment, Rosienne worried that the crease between his brows would stay like that forever. Occasionally, Vil would laugh at one of the more outlandish passages, making Rosienne ever the happier.

“I just have one question,” Vil suddenly said. “Why are they all about girls? I don’t care for labelling myself publicly, but…”

Oh. Oh. This was exactly the moment Rosienne had been waiting for the whole afternoon.

“Not all of them,” he said slowly, for once trying to keep a straight face. He wouldn’t want Vil to get suspicious. “But they’re… uh, specific. I can show you some. If you’re ready, that is.”

“If there’s no mafia involved, I think I can handle it.”

Famous last words, Rosienne thought. He turned away from his boyfriend a bit, so he wouldn’t be able to see the phonescreen.

“Well, if you say so.”

Heart pounding in his chest, Rosienne started to read. At this point, his voice had become a bit hoarse from all the reading and scream-laughing he did.

He felt vulnerable, like an open wound, easy to hurt again. There was nowhere he could hide now. He hated that feeling more than anyone else.

“You’ve been with me through all those years,” he said, voice trembling. Curse his soft-hearted boy for making him so pathetic! “You’ve seen me at my worst. You’re the only one I could ever love.”

Neige’s eyes were big and warm. They were always warm, as if he had never known any sadness or worry in life. He smiled. His smile was warm, too. “Oh, Vil!” He reached out his hands, gently taking Vil’s face in his hands. Vil allowed it, melted into his touch.

His hands were warm, too.

“Truth is, I’ve loved you since we were kids―”

“Hey!” Rosienne yelled as his phone suddenly get yanked out of his hands. “Give me that back!” 

He flailed his arms around, trying to get it back from Vil. Vil, however, remained stern, holding the device close to his chest.

“Rosienne,” he said, voice so cold, it could probably freeze not only the bedroom, but the whole dorm. “What is this?”

Rosienne tried to give an apologetic smile, though he wasn’t sure he succeeded. The look on Vil’s face was absolutely worth it all. “Well… you wanted to read the one about guys, right?” He shrugged. “It’s not my fault that most of those tend to be about your and Neige’s fated love affair.” He couldn’t help but giggle as he said the last words.

“As if I would ever―!” Vil took a deep breath. “I was… vaguely aware that some people would like to see the both of us in a romantic context, but I had no idea that they would go so far as to write stories about it.”

“See? You learn something new every day!” Rosienne replied cheerfully, returning to comfortably laying against his boyfriend’s chest. 

“I just fail to see the point of it.”

“Oh come on! You two are basically the perfect romance protagonists! You’ve known each other since childhood, you’re opposites in both personality and looks. Kind of like you and me, just a lot less cute” Rosienne explained.

“I would rather they wrote fanfiction about us.”

“I would love that,” Rosienne instantly agreed, maybe with a bit too much enthusiasm. “I mean, the popular kid taking in the weird goth kid under his wings? That’s a classic! Kind of overplayed, but people would still go wild for it. I could be your mysterious mafia husband.”

Vil looked at Rosienne, eyebrow raised. Rosienne looked at Vil, his own words slowly sinking in his mind. Silence fell between them, absolutely unbearable.

“Husband?” Vil replied with a smile.

Rosienne quickly looked away. He just said stupid things sometimes! Vil knew that well ― there was no reason to make a big deal out of it!

“So uh, you wanna hear some more?” he asked instead.

“Absolutely not!”

taglist (ask to be added <3): @thehollowwriter @tixdixl @scint1llat3 @felix-cant-ski

dividers.