#WDYM THERE ARE TWO LIGHT SOURCES

[teaableu]

They are committing crimes!!

[astr0-physcs]

Reiner braun x male reader x jean kirschstein plz 🙏

And it's very much nsfw 🙃

mission(ary)

-Reiner Braun x Jean Kirschstien x m!Reader

-WC: 5k (wdym 5k...)

-Warnings!

Threesome, nipple play, oral, unprotected sex, praise, degradation

-A/N!

girl i am so so sorry this is so late. school is raw dogging me in the ass right now 💀 they might be ooc but i haven't watched AOT in so long, girl pls i'm so sorry

‼️NSFW under the cut‼️

The sun rose over the horizon bathing the cadets in a golden glow. Every morning started this way, all the cadets lined up, waiting for their orders. Captain Levi stood before them, the rising sun to his back. You stood next to Sasha, you both were standing shoulders back, fist over heart, eyes forward towards the Captain. Finally he broke the silence that had fallen over the group.

"Marco, you are heading into the Trost district with Sasha to make a supply run. Under Commander Erwin's name, there is a shipment.”

The cadets gave a quick nod, not moving from their place in line.

“Alright. Mikasa, you will look after the horses.” One more quick nod.

“Annie, Bertolt, and Armin. Refill the gas chambers for ODM equipment.” Everyone nods in agreement.

"Eren." A beat of silence.

"Yes, Captain?" he responded shifting slightly

“Cleaning duty.”

A look of pain appeared on Eren's face. Nevertheless he agreed. A few people in the group snickered.

Levi went on to the next assignment.

"Y/N, Jean, Reiner, Ewrin’s office. Special task for you.”

You swallow uneasily. Typically, such missions required venturing outside the walls. The captain moves on when you give him a nod. The recruits scatter when the Caption allows them to.

Reiner and Jean move from the other side of the line to you. A shadow fell over you from the two big men. Together you and the other two men walked to Ewrin’s office in pending silence.

You take the initiative to knock on the door and Erwin's calls for you to enter.

"Cadets," he utters from his desk. You approach his desk with Jean and Reiner on your tail.

"Take a seat." He gestures toward the chairs in front of his desk. With some hesitation, you take a seat, followed by the other two soldiers.

"You have been given a scouting assignment by Captain Levi and myself." Ewrin said, laying a roughly drawn map out on his orderly desk.

"You will leave at noon and end up here in the forest,” Erwin said, pointing to a marked spot on the map. “ Then you will need to be back here by noon tomorrow. You will then take note of where the nearest titan is. Also, you will need to get your supplies from the cadets who are in charge of the ODM gear.”

You give a respectful nod.

“I wish you cadets luck.” Ewrin said, getting to his feet and giving the cadets the salute.

The three of you quickly rise to your feet and return his salute.

Together, you exclaim, "Thank you, Commander, Sir!"

Silently, the three of you leave his office and head towards the gear room. You didn't know Jean and Reiner as well as you wanted to, and they were uncomfortable with each other. To put it mildly, it was awkward. The entrance to the gear room was opened by the three of you.

"Hey-"

"Armin, my friend!" Jean said, walking confidently towards the blonde.

Startled, Armin looked up, and dropped the gas canister he was holding. The sound of the metal hitting the hardwood floor echo off the stone walls. The room had been a dining room and was quite big. A large wood table and many wooden chairs that matched the dark oak of the table were set aside in the corner to make room for the gear supplies. A large chandelier hung from the middle of the ceiling. This was still the only other source of light for the room, although it was covered in spiderwebs. Levi hasn't found it yet. Now the room was filled with ODM gear and shelves of grappling hook holsters. Armin recovered quickly, and picked up the runaway gas can.

“Armin, stop dropping stuff.” Said Annie from the other side of the room, where she was inserting some ODM. Armin nervously laughed and placed the gas into the gear. You and Reiner stepped into the room.

“Hi, Armin.” You say joining Jean in front of the small blonde man, sitting on the ground. He smiles back at you.

“Hey. What are you doing here? I thought you were talking to Commander Erwin?”

You nod. “Yeah, we were-”

“Yeah we did. Told us to go scouting.” Jean interrupted, rolling his eyes. “We need ODM gear.”

You glare at Jean, before turning back to Armin and saying “Can we please get ODM gear?”

"Oh, yes, definitely. Let me get you set up.” He looked anxiously at Annie and Bertolt, who were talking with Reiner.

"H-Hey Annie,can you help me get them ready?” He asked, getting to his feet.

Annie nodded once in agreement before walking over to the back to fetch the gear suits. Bertolt followed after a brief conversation with Reiner, and the blond returned to you and Jean.

"Thank you Armin." You called after him. Annie and Bertholdt return with three sets of suits and give one to each of you. You slide on the leather and tighten the straps until the outfit fits tightly around your waist. Annie and Armin grab the gas canisters, while Bertolt takes the grappling hook holders.

They move around you three, attaching the hefty metal to your waistbands. "Alright. You are all set. Good luck." Armin offers you a tentative smile. You give him a kind smile back. Jean taps your shoulder and you guys exit the building.

Mikasa stood outside with three horses, well equipped for the journey. You walk up to your horse, her name is Hope. She was a deep brown horse with a long black mane. Mikasa had gotten the saddles on all the horses and packed the bags on the side with food, water, tents, and other survival gear. You did a quick check of everything to make sure nothing was missing. The other two did the same checks as Mikasa watched on.

"Thank you." Reiner spoke, once he had checked everything and patted his house a bit. Mikasa nodded and reached up for her scarf. You turn to pet the horse, and Levi approaches you.

“I believe Erwin has already informed you, but you three are going to go to the border outside the walls and mark the location of the nearest titan. You are to return by noon tomorrow. Understood?”

The three of you saluted to Levi. “Yes Captain!”

He nods in acknowledgment. “Good luck cadets.” The Captain turns away and you relax your stance. Hopping up into the horse's saddle, you pet the horse and turn around to secure your equipment. Mikasa stood nearby, hand in her scarf. Jean turned around and said goodbye, and you and Reiner waved. Whipping the reins of the horse, you turn around and follow Jean to the exit of camp.

The ride to Wall Maria wasn't unbearable. You and Jean made some commentary, with quick inputs from Reiner.

“Okay, now that we're outside the safety of camp, everyone needs to keep an eye out for titans. We can't let our guard down.” Jean says

Reiner sighs. “ Jean, we get it. You don't need to remind us about the titans.”

You giggle and roll your eyes playfully. “Seriously, it's like you're trying to scare us”

Jean huffs. “Just tryna make sure everyone is alert, that's all.”

“Says the guy who can't keep his eyes off somebody's body for five minutes…” You mumble, smirking slightly. Jean whips his head around at you. “The fuck you'd just say to me?”

“Guys please. Can we just stick to the job-?” Reiner sighs.

“At least when I speak, I have important things to say. You just yap yap yap.” Jean shoots back.

You shake your head. “Jean, you're making this worse by arguing.”

“You're the one who started it!”

You hide the smirk threatening to appear. “Hey, I'm just saying what we're all thinking here.”

Reiner now turns to the two of you. “Can we not take things personally and focus on the mission here?”

“And why don't you mind your business? Not your fight here, pal.” Jean glares at Reiner, who side eyes him back.

“Jean, calm down. You're acting dumb right now.”

“I'm perfectly calm!” Jean shouts not so calmly.

You giggle. “Yeah keep telling yourself that, tough guy…”

Jean opened his mouth to speak, but in that moment, Reiners horse reared up, clearly spooked. Reiner yelped and slid off the horse and onto the ground. The horse bolted and Reiner groaned, shaking the mud off of his uniform.

Jean lets out a snort and the two of you burst into laughter, doubling over at the sight.

“Yeah yeah, laugh it up you two…” Reiner grumbled, but a small smile appeared on his face. He wipes off the mud that got onto his clothes, and sighs.

“Let's go get your horse.” You say, still laughing.

The poor horse was off near one of the damaged houses, munching on grass. You and Jean grin as Reiner goes and tries to calm the horse. You notice how softly he pets the horse's nose and sighs softly. The animal nudges the blonde's hand a little and his smile returns softly.

Once Reiner hops back onto the horse again, the rest of the traveling was smooth sailing. Jean made quips at you, you argued back and Reiner tried to mediate, but gave up about halfway through.

The sky turned a milky orange hue with few clouds by the time the three of you made it to the designated camp site. You lead your horse to the nearby forest, with a small stream nearby for the animals to drink from. The cover of the forest protected you from being seen by the massive Titans. Reiner grabs the tent from his horse and lays it out on the forest floor.

“Alright. Who wants to help put up the tent and who wants to search for wood?” Reiner asks, standing up from where he was kneeling next to the tent.

“I'll go! I'm a very good wood finder.” Jean said confidently, hands on his hips.

“I'm sure you are…” You snickered. Jean glared at you.

“Ha ha, very funny.”

Your smirk widened. Glancing over to Reiner, your smile turns from devilish to slightly confused. Reiner appeared also confused, his dark hazel eyes flickering between the two of you.

“Reiner?”

“I don't get it.” He says bluntly. Jean grins wide.

“Looks like you're up!” He says, harshly patting your shoulder. His touch lingered a little too long, but it's not like you noticed, too busy being flushed with embarrassment at explaining the joke.

“S-so. Um. Y’know how sometimes people refer to… to dick-”

“Stop. I am sick of dick jokes.” Reiner held up his hand, his face twisting into annoyance and disgust. “You two have made so many dick jokes I wonder if your own dicks are a joke.”

You and Jean furrowed your eyebrows. “Hey!” you spoke simultaneously, then glared at each other.

“I bet you're right about Jean. I mean, the taller the man, the smaller the dick.”

Jean looked appalled. “Where in the world did you learn that?”

“A textbook,” you shrugged. “Maybe you would know that information if you decided to give reading a try.”

“Oh, you little-” Jean started forward, but Reiner braced an arm against his chest.

“ Jean, you're making yourself look stupid again. Go get firewood before it gets dark and you trip over yourself.”

Jean rolls his eyes dramatically. “Oh, for fucks sake…” He mutters. You impishly grin and he flips you off.

“Jean.” Reiner says. Jean groans and trudges off into the forest. You giggle and turn back to Reiner.

“Alright, you get to help me put up this tent.” He kneels down next to the camouflage tent. You lean down next to him and he hands you part of the tent, spreading the tent on the clearing. Reiner grabs metal stakes and poles, setting up the tent with ease and practice. You smile at him warmly, but miss the way his ears go red.

The sun began to dip into the mountains, casting a deep sienna color across the forest. Clouds turn a watery hue of pink and red, the forest beginning to cool down. Jean came back with wood, and set them down unceremoniously. He grinned at you and Reiner, placing his hands on his hips.

"Wood!" he exclaims. You nod.

"Very good observation, Jean." You say as if you were talking to a toddler.

He drops his hands and glares at you.

"Hey, set up the fire, why don't you?" Reiner interrupts, preventing Jean from opening his mouth to argue. Jean scoffs, so you stick your tongue out at him. You walk over to your horse and grab your knife and matches. Walking back to the small fire ring you had already created while Jean was getting firewood, you kneeled down and slipped the wood using your knife, then gathered the small slithers into a teepee shape. Looking around the fire ring, you found pine needles and dead leaves, the perfect heat starter. You grab as many as you can and place them inside your little wood teepee.

You strike a match and place it inside the teepee and watch as the dead pine needles and leaves go up in flames and burn quickly. As the wood you placed began to burn you added more until you had a good sized fire.

You squat down next to the fire and wrap your arms around your knees.

“What time do you think we should get up to mark the titans location?” Jean asks behind you. You don't turn, enjoying the warmth of the fire against your skin.

“Dawn. The cloud coverage will be good for us.” Reiner answers. The blond comes into your vision and sits next to you. “Nice fire you've made.”

You smile. “Thanks, Reiner.” He smiles back at you.

“Hey, I got that wood, yknow!” Jean marches in front of you, fists clenched by his sides. You glance up with a smirk.

“Yeah sure, but who lit the match and cut the branches after you oh so graciously dumped them here?” Jeans mouth opened like a fish out of water. He glanced around, trying to think of something else to say.

“W-Well… That, that may be true, but…” the brunette stammers. You raise your eyebrows. “But..? But what, Jean?”

Jean narrows his eyes, still trying to counter you. Finally, he shuts his eyes and sits down, irritated. You giggle softly, and Reiner smiles softly.

“Let's get dinner ready.” Reiner stood up and grabbed some prepackaged food from his bag. He tossed Jean a package, while gently handing yours to your outstretched hands. He then hands you a pot to boil the water. Once the water gets to a boil, you tear open the food and pour the hot water in, then you pour the water into the other boys packs too. Once it cooks and cools you enjoy the chicken and rice.

Finished with your meal, you hum happily. “Not bad for a prepackaged meal!”

Jean hums next to you, and you glance over. His eyes sparkle, the orange firelight dancing in his irises. He was looking at you like you were the only moment that mattered right now. Questions bubbled up in your chest, and you opened your mouth to speak. Reiner coughed, and you weren't sure it was coincidental. You catch his eye, and shut your mouth in shock. Reiners icy gaze was narrowed sharply. You shift your confused gaze back to Jean, who was still looking at you gently, orange firelight flickering in his eyes. He seemed to catch on to the tension Reiner was causing, but remained silent. The only sound that was emanating was the flickering of fire and the snapping of heated wood.

Reiner finally spoke, his voice thick and intense. “Did you want to say something?”

You reeled back, slightly stunned at his tone. Blinking, you shake your head no. His gaze doesn't shift, and you feel like a deer caught in headlights. After a heartbeat, Reiner slowly looks away from you. Your heart beat in your chest and you take a deep breath. Turning back to Jean, you notice that the brunette’s eyes haven't moved off of your face. Your cheeks heat up softly and you clear your throat.

“We should get ready for bed.” Reiner spoke again, spooking you. You look at him again, expecting a cold sharp gaze again. His blue eyes were softer than before, but he held your gaze with the same intensity.

“Yeah, yeah. You're right.” You say, standing up and brushing off the crumbs on your lap. Jean stands too, his focus still on you. Reiner watches you as you move around the fire, cleaning up after yourself. Then you put out the fire, making sure every spark was out. You move to your horses, who are sitting softly on the grass. You grab the sleeping bag that Mikasa provided and turn to Jean. “Where do you wanna sleep?”

“You're sleeping in the middle.” Reiners gruff voice called. You turn around, looking at him.

“Me or Jean?”

“You.” He said bluntly, his gaze focused on the supplies on his horse. You blink.

“That works for me.” Jean says calmly. You turn back to him. “Oh, alright. I'll go set up.” You walk to the tent and kneel down, entering inside. You roll out your bag and unzip it, waiting for Jean and Reiner. The blonde opens the tent and enters, making prolonged eye contact with you. You swallow nervously and glance away. Jean follows suit, entering the tent and smiling at you. The blonde rolls out his bag on your right, while Jean sets his things down on your left.

You begin unpacking your things, and notice both male gaze as you do so. Blush runs to your cheeks, but you don't look at either of them.

You set everything you needed to out for the night, and glance silently at your comrade. His gaze had fallen to the floor, the soft pink dusting his cheeks making him appear more genuine than before, when you two were arguing. He opens his mouth and closes it, like he was gathering the courage to say something.

“Good night.” Was the words that came out of his mouth. You smile softly. “Night Jean.” Turning to Reiner you repeat yourself. “Night, Reiner.”

Good night, Y/N.” he mumbled, his back already facing you. You lay down in your bag, not bothering to zip it up all the way on either side. Your eyes turned up to the tent ceiling. The heat of the dying fire radiated into the tent, and your heartbeat slowed.

You hear Jean turning around next to you, and you're suddenly aware of how cramped this tent actually is. His leg kicks out gently from the bag and sneaks into yours. You brush it off as an accident, dismissing the electric feeling that sparked through your body.

But then you felt his chest against your back. Your eyes shoot open. Gently, you try to shove him off and back into his own bag, but his calloused hands wrap around your waist.

“Jean…?” You whisper. Jean doesn't make a sound, instead pulling you closer. His breath was warm against your neck, and you shudder softly. His body curves against yours, cradling you with no escape.

“Jean-” You whisper again, but his thumb presses against your lips, silently shushing you. Your mind reels at how close he is, and how hot his fingertips seem to be. His other hand begins roaming down your body, slipping up your shirt and gently caressing your abdomen.

Finally, Jean speaks. His voice is rough and thick with lust. “Tell me to stop, baby.”

Your cheeks heat up. Your body was reacting to the brunette’s wandering hands, shuddering and relaxing in his heat. You let your eyes shut, losing yourself in his hold. His hand on your abdomen reached higher and higher, until the pad of his finger was circling your nipple. A small, barely audible wine leaves your throat and Jean smirks against your nape. The hand on your lips slowly snuck down to your neck, holding you possessively. You whine again, and Jean pinches your nipple. You gasp and arch slightly, your ass pressing into his pelvis. He groans and nips your skin softly. Suddenly, he raises your tan shirt up to your collarbones, exposing your entire chest to the night air. You gasp again, slightly louder this time. Jeans' strong hand coaxes your neck to fall onto his shoulder, pressing your back into a perfect arch. You bite your lip and Jean tug your sensitive bud again. Another noise, a whine, escapes your mouth. Jean pressed his mouth against your neck, sucking. Your body writhes, your dick slowly getting harder.

“Jean…” You choked out a whisper.

“Yes, baby?” He spoke slowly in return.

Abruptly, Reiner turned over to you, hazel eyes sharp.

“Could you keep-” His voice stops short at the sight of you, back pressed into an arch and chest exposed. “What…?” His voice lost its irritated edge, softening at the erotic scene laid out before him.

Embarrassment floods your body, your face turning red. You try to curl out of the arch Jean has you pressed in, but a solid bite on your neck makes you stop.

“Fuck…!” You squeak out, hands trying to cover your body. Jean takes his fingers off your nipple and smacks your hand away.

“Jean, wait…” you plead quietly.

“I think somebody likes the show. You wanna show off for him?” He murmurs in your ear. He lets you tilt your head enough to look at Reiner. The blonde was watching intently, mouth slightly agape. His blue eyes were hazed over slightly, and his cheeks were flushed pink. You suddenly felt very self conscious about your chest being exposed, but Jean pulled you back into the arch he had you in. His fingers ghost over your nipple again, before tugging harshly. You squeal, your hips rutting softly against nothing.

“You want a taste?” Jean asked, loudly enough for Reiner to hear. Jean twists your neck softly and presses a kiss to your lips. He breaks away, then slots his mouth between yours. His tongue wrapped around yours, and he bites your lip, tugging it before pulling away.

Reiner shifts again, not knowing what to do with his body. Jean slides his mouth down your neck again, lightly biting and kissing your heated skin.

“Can I…?” Reiner said softly, his breath bated. Jean releases your neck so you can look at him with half lidded eyes. You nod, biting your lip. “Y-yea…” You moan again and Jean tugs your nipple again. Reiner breathes out softly and moves a hand tentatively to your other bud. He pinches it softly and you whine.

“Do… Do you like that?” Reiner breathes. You open your mouth to respond, but it ends up as a high pitched moan. Jean tugged on your tit harshly.

“Course he does. I mean, just listen to the way he moans.” He says, holding your nipple out for a minute before relaxing it. “Give it a try.”

Reiner swallows, fingers still resting on your chest. He gives a tug, and your hips jerk in the air. Breathy moans escape you, no longer trying to stay quiet. Reiner shifts his body closer, and leans down. He looks up at you, carnal desire threatening to take over. He presses his mouth to your bud and bites gently. An erotic whine erupts from your mouth, and your hips jerk. Everything was so hot, you could barely stand it. Your hand goes out to palm Jean through his pants and he groans quietly.

“Want these off, baby?” He whispers into your neck.

“Yes, fuck-! Y-yes, please…” You whine. Jean snickers. “Such a polite boy. How could I possibly refuse?” Jean’s hand on your chest slid down to his pants, undoing the zipper and sliding them down. You could feel every movement, his body pressed right against you. “You too, pretty boy.” He whispered. Reiner moved his hand to the bud Jean had abandoned, and gave it a harsher tung. You moan again and whine and the blonde’s tongue swirled around the sensitive tit.

Jean slid his hand down your pants, undoing the zipper and sliding off the restraining material. Your body shudders, now being nearly completely exposed to the night air. Your dick was hard and practically leaking. Reiner suddenly left your chest and slid up to you.

“Sit up.” He said bluntly. Jean let go of your body so you could slide out of the sleeping bag. You gave Reiner a hazy quizzical look, but your confusion disappeared when he sat up too, grabbed your waist, and spun you around, back to his chest. Reiner pulled your shirt over your arms and head, then pressed you against his body. His hands go back to tugging your chest and you throw your head back, unable to silence your moans.

Jean smirks and places himself in between your legs. “Open up, baby.” He said, then gently spread your legs apart. Your leaking dick stood at attention, angry red and leaking pre cum.

“Damn, fuckin’ gorgeous dick youve got.” Jean whistled lowly.

“Th- Thank- ah-! Thank you…!” You spoke in between whines. Jean wrapped his hand around your dick and pumped a few times, eliciting a pornographic moan from you. Your hips stuttered, trying desperately to fuck yourself in Jean’s hand.

Reiner leaned down to your ear. “Desperate, are we? Such a slut…” He muttered. His words went straight to your dick, and your body jerked. Jean pressed the flat of his tongue against your cock and a string of whines fell from your lips. You nearly arched off on Reiner as Jean took your entire dick at once. The hot walls around your dick made your balls tighten.

“W-wait, gonna-” You try to warn, before Jean hollows his mouth at the same time Reiner pinches your nipples. Hot cum exploded in the brunette's mouth, and you nearly screamed. Jean swallowed and smirked, before rising up to make out with you.

“Taste yourself.” He said before sliding his mouth against yours. Bitter cum flooded your taste buds, but you were too fucked to care. Jean broke away and gently pried your body off on Reiner.

“Ass up, slutty.” Jean said with a smile. His hand presses you into a perfect arch, your tight hole displayed for Reiner.

“Shake your ass.” Jean said again, and you wiggle your ass gently. Reiner smacked it hard, and you jolted forward with the force. Jean pressed his cock to your lips, smirking. “Be a good boy and return the favor, hm?”

You open your mouth, letting your tongue roll out. Reiner pressed his precum slicked cock against your ass and you whined. He shoves himself in, and you fall onto Jean with a breathy whine. You could nearly feel the blonde in your throat, if it weren't for the actual dick reaching your esophagus. Your eyes roll back as the pleasure, your dick leaking again.

“Gooood fuckin boy. Tight hole you've got.” Reiner groans.

Jean’s wolfish grin returns again. “You a virgin, honey?”

You nod softly, tears falling down your cheeks as you gag on Jean. He barks a laugh and thrusts down your throat. You choke and gag, spit running down your chin. Reiner grabs your hips and begins pistoning into you.

“Fuck, fuck fuck…” The blonde muttered as he hammered into your prostate repeatedly. Jean leans back, the force of Reiner’s thrusts enough to move you on his dick. You nearly lose yourself in the pleasure, feeling their dicks twitch with each thrust and gag. Your dick spurts all over again, your hole clenching around Reiner.

Jean coos at you. “Doing such a good job. ‘M gonna cum down your throat, alright?” You don't heat him, the sound of Reiner behind you too loud and graphic.

“Fuck, close, baby. Lemme cum inside, okay?” Reiner says, and slaps you on the ass again when you don't respond. You jolt forward and whine hoarsely in agreement. Reiner twitches once, twice, before he buries himself to the hilt inside you. He pressed you to the base of Jean, who threw his head back and moaned as he came in your mouth. You suck him clean as he stares at you, panting hard.

Jean grabs your head and gently pulls you off his dick, smiling at your fucked out expression. Reiner pulls out and wipes his dick on your ass poorly before tucking himself back into his pants. You collapse, exhausted. Jean laughs fondly, and you pass out right there.

The last thing you remember is big hands shifting you back into your sleeping bag, the soft sound of the zipper and two kisses pressed against your forehead.

The next morning you woke to sunlight. You blinked, and immediately jolted out of bed. You thought you had missed your only task, marking down the Titans. You wince as you try to move, your ass throbbing. Suddenly, the tent unzipped and Jean poked his head in.

“Hey, sleepyhead. Don't worry, we marked down the Titan’s location.”

You breathed a sigh of relief, nearly plopping down back into your bag.

“Did you get enough beauty sleep?” Jean asks.

“Yeah, no thanks to you two. My ass hurts. How the fuck am i supposed to ride back to camp?” you complain.

Jean rolls his eyes and scoffs. “Figure it out yourself. I'm not the one who got bred in the ass last night.”

You glare at him. “Yeah cuz you don't have an ass. Flat as a board.”

Jean gasped. “You mother-”

“Good morning, Y/N. I hope you slept alright.” Reiner shoved Jean out of the way, who yelped. You smile. “I did, thank you.” Reiner smiled back.

“Good. We're packing up now. If you need a cushion, I can give you my cape.” Reiner offered, glancing away.

“Kiss ass…” Jean muttered from outside the tent.

-sukuna fic is taking erm much longer than expected, i'm so sorry for delays i'm so slow

-first request, this actually means sm to me, i hope i did good anon AGUH

[villlainarc]

(I Could Put) A Little Stardust in Your Eyes

Summary: Stars are beautiful things. They glitter in the sky, blessing all those who wander the lands beneath them with soft, silvery light, and stars, being beautiful things, help others to find beautiful things of their own.

Humans, too, are beautiful things. That’s why the stars favor them especially, granting them another to spend their life with. These are soulmates; beautiful things drawn together to create yet another beautiful thing, a fate for each person written in the stars.

Pairings: romantic Losleep, queerplatonic Roceit, platonic Logince, platonic Sleepceit

Warnings: internalized arophobia for one (1) part of one (1) scene, let me know if i missed anything else

Word Count: 12,498

Taglist (ask to be added!): @max-is-tired @raaindropps @kiribakuandcats @main-chive @emo-disaster @wingedsoulmatedreamer

Notes: *shoves everything that happened in yesterday’s video aside except from the name reveal thank god for the find and replace feature* wdym roman and janus were mean to each other

for @sleepless-in-starbucks’s a meter of space contest (belated congrats on 1k and 1 year!)

fun fact i’ve been working on this since december and i remember this was based on a half-prompt or two (i think it was pining losleep from lia and then soulmate au from meri? We Can Pretend That’s Right) that i got when i asked for some but at this point i’m too tired to find the post and also if lia’s memory fails aer then i’m just gonna. Remain An Anonymous Anon fhdkfjd 

ao3

_________________________

Logan likes to study the stars.

There are several reasons for this: they’re beautiful, they fill the sky, bringing light to the darkest of times, they’re constant, ever-shining, they speak of a wider universe.

And of course, they lead you to your soulmate.

Now, Logan hasn’t met his soulmate, but he’s still awed by the stars.

And he doesn’t need his soulmate anyway, not when he has Remy.

Remy. His best friend, full of beauty even at his most broken. His constant, ever-brilliant best friend who convinces him that life can be more than just facts and numbers, who taught him to look at the stars as more than just stars.

Logan knows that stars are glowing balls of incredibly hot gas. He knows that they’re primarily composed of hydrogen and helium, and he knows that their colors differ depending on their temperature.

And yet, when Remy says, “Each star is a lost dream, hoping to return home,” with such conviction, Logan has no choice but to believe him. When Remy proclaims, “Stars are hope for those who have nothing but their light,” Logan knows that in many senses, he’s right. And of course, when Remy purrs, “Ah, but you see, the stars are really just the sparkles I see in your eyes come to life,” Logan can only blush.

Stars aren’t just phosphorescent spheres of hydrogen and helium, and they aren’t just a tool used to find soulmates. Remy proves that, and that’s why Logan finds he loves both him and the stars so very much.

_________________________

Remy likes to study the stars.

There are several reasons for this, and they all lead back to Logan. His best friend, his very own star.

Remy had always wondered why anyone needed the stars when the people around them could shine so brightly on their own, but then he’d seen the way that Logan’s eyes lit up when he was given the chance to talk about them.

Then, he thinks that maybe the stars exist only to sparkle in his friend’s eyes. Maybe the stars exist just so Logan’s whole being can glow when he tells Remy that “Most stars come in multiples and orbit one center of gravity,” and does he think that this could be another reason that stars are the things that determine soulmates? Maybe the stars exist solely for Logan to look so radiant as he mentions to Remy that, “The stars with the most mass burn out the fastest,” and doesn’t he find it fascinating that some of the brightest things in the universe are so short-lived?

Or maybe the stars exist so he can watch as Logan stops talking about them at the slightest hint of a smile on Remy’s face, voice falling into nothing as he sits and stares. Maybe the stars exist so Logan can look at Remy as though he is one too.

Then again, maybe it doesn’t matter why the stars exist. Maybe they and their soulmate determining properties don’t change anything. Maybe the stars can’t change anything at all, especially not where Logan and Remy are concerned.

_________________________

But nothing so beautiful lasts forever, nothing so bright will survive for long. Even the night—the mystical, magical night, a time so shrouded in mystery—must fade, its secrets unveiled as the black velvet lifts away.

And as morning dawns once more, all is revealed. Nothing remains hidden, and the protection of everything held dear is no longer granted so willingly. In a world where light once again reigns and all is laid bare, something as fragile as the happiness Logan and Remy share can not and will not possibly survive.

Every beautiful thing must die, after all.

_________________________

They meet Roman first.

Roman, who Logan’s star finally shines for. Roman, the beautiful, perfect man who’s demeanor is just as bright as Logan’s star. Roman, the actor, the celebrity, Logan’s soulmate.

Logan is, of course, immediately smitten. Who wouldn’t be? This is Roman Prince, after all. He’s everything anyone could ever dream of having in a soulmate. And Remy’s not jealous of that, not jealous of him.

He’s not.

Remy likes Roman. He’s eccentric, but caring and sweet and sensitive and better with emotions than Remy will ever be. Logan deserves someone like him, someone who’s the fire to his ice, someone who’s just the right amount of extra to serve as Logan’s foil, someone whose head is high enough in the clouds that he lifts Logan ever so slightly from the ground upon which he’s so determined to stay.

Remy likes Roman. He likes that Roman is Logan’s soulmate, believes that two people so perfect must be right for each other.

And they are. Remy sees how easily they fit, how precisely they slot into the other’s life. They’re soulmates—of course they belong together. Of course they fit, of course they work, of course they’re… perfect.

Remy doesn’t know what he’d expected. Of course Logan has a soulmate who’s thousands of times more wonderful than Remy could ever hope to be. Of course he does. Remy shouldn’t have ever expected any different, not for Logan. Logan deserves all of this, deserves Roman and his romantic tendencies and pampering and love. Logan deserves all of that and so much more.

And Remy, no matter how much he cares for Logan, could only ever be so much less.

_________________________

They meet Janus next.

Janus, who Remy’s star finally shines for. Janus, the handsome, perfect person whose intelligent eyes shine with more intensity than any star in the sky. Janus, the flirt, the sophisticated and elegant, Remy’s soulmate.

Remy is, of course, immediately smitten. Who wouldn’t be? After meeting Janus, you’d understand how hard it would be to not fall in love with them. He’s everything anyone could ever want in a soulmate, and Logan isn’t jealous of her. Not jealous at all.

He’s not.

Logan likes Janus, truly. Janus, who’s so smooth, suave, and charming. Janus, with words like gold and a tongue of silver, so much more eloquent and self-assured than Logan could ever dream of being. Yes, Remy deserves someone like them, someone who can give him everything he’s ever wanted and more, someone who can wax poetic about him with all the ease of breathing, someone who’s dramatics give Remy’s heart a reason to soar.

Logan likes Janus. He likes that Janus is Remy’s soulmate, believes that two people so perfect must be right for each other.

And they are. Logan can see how easily Janus can bring a blush to Remy’s cheeks, how much she can make him smile. They’re soulmates—of course they make each other happy. Of course they laugh together, of course their eyes are brightest when they meet each other’s, of course they’re… perfect.

Logan doesn’t know what he’d expected. Of course Remy has a soulmate who’s trillions of light-years better than Logan could hope to be. Of course he does. Remy deserves all of this, deserves Janus’s brilliant mind and sparks of romance and love. Remy deserves all of that and so much more.

And Logan, no matter how much he cares for Remy, could only ever be so much less.

_________________________

On the night Logan and Remy have their first kiss, it’s raining—storming, really. The raindrops fall in sheets, and it’s a struggle to see anything more than a foot away. The sky has clouded over too, and the world is lit only by neon signs and street lamps, car headlights and refractions. There isn’t a single moonbeam to light the sky and not one star glimmers.

Perhaps that’s why they feel emboldened enough to talk to each other—really talk to each other—to confess, to pull each other close, to put everything they’d ever known in jeopardy. Perhaps, once the source of their fear had drifted out of sight, Logan and Remy understood for the first time that there was nothing to fear at all, that there never had been.

Perhaps, then, it is the trade of starlight for city lights that causes Remy to take Logan’s hand without a care for who’s watching, to spin him around with a laugh beneath a sky full of storm clouds, to twirl him ever closer before they stop in the middle of the sidewalk—does that all just to see his face, to have him near, would have always done all that and more. Perhaps it is the way the neon lights are reflected in the sheen of water on Remy’s face that causes Logan’s breath to catch in his throat, perhaps it is the fact that the raindrops coating Logan’s glasses looked like stardust that causes Remy’s heart to do that same.

Perhaps it is everything that was and is that lifts Remy’s hands to Logan’s face, keeps their eyes interlocked, lets the words “you’re beautiful” spill out of one of their mouths, out of both of them, out of none. The words might have been spoken with the way their eyes sparkled, hearts pounded, breathes quickened, smiles deepened, but they are there, floating in the air between them. They’re there as Remy wipes the streams of rain from Logan’s face like they’re tears, with an impossible sort of gentleness reserved for only the most precious of things. They’re there as he continues to brush his thumbs over skin dark as night and just as beautiful, they’re there as smiles fade into hopeless longing. They’re there as Remy’s gaze asks what words cannot, as Logan responds with a nod, both imperceptible to anyone outside of the now silent world of their own creation.

This time, Remy knows he says, “You’re beautiful, Logan.” He knows this because he feels Logan’s cheeks heat up beneath his hands and though his self-control had been a lost cause from the start, any that he may have still possessed vanishes in an instant. Remy’s eyes slip shut, and he’s falling.

Remy and Logan kiss like falling stars, doomed from the very moment their lips meet. They kiss like a star about to go supernova, like they know their time is limited to this instant and this instant alone. Their kiss is Gliese 436b, a paradox that occurred against all odds. Like Gliese 436b, the world around them is so cold, and yet they burn from the inside out. They are shooting stars, and they wish upon each other, neither wanting time to start up again, for everything to fall in on itself, for their universe to collapse.

But they burn too brightly to survive for long, so a collapse is inevitable. The light that was their kiss transforms to the complete absence of it as they both go dark; for Remy and Logan are not only stars, they are also a black hole—cosmic quicksand, dragging each other into the unknowable as they hold on with everything they are and it is still not enough, never enough. They can’t hold on forever, and so they must let go and they must breathe. That is their first mistake: extinguishing their shared light.

As they stop burning so intensely, they make their second mistake: allowing the light to stay dark. They still have their hands placed in rain-soaked waves of hair, running over cheeks streaked with what could be raindrops or tears, gripping wet shirts that cling to torsos, gliding over arms made smooth by water, but they will not kiss again. And that is a terrible, horrible thing because it allows for mistake number three.

Their third mistake is one that would have happened one day, even without mistakes one and two, one that is so inescapable that nothing could ever dream of stopping it. The third mistake Logan and Remy make is allowing for their once-burning light to collapse in on itself, to fall apart so thoroughly that the place they shared their kiss will never again allow anything near it to shine that brilliantly or at all. The street lamp that watches over them now will never again be illuminated after tonight, impossibly dark no matter what lightbulb is twisted into it. The car headlights that pass by will flicker, and any neon signs nearby will dim before going out with a pop of sparks. The collapse they will allow creates a darkness so profound that one cannot pass under the street lamp, stare into the headlights, wander past what used to be a neon sign without shivering—not from the cold, but from an atmosphere so desolate that anyone who bears witness to it will remember it with a feeling like a dagger to the heart for the rest of their days.

Their third mistake brings about an all-encompassing darkness, but the all-encompassing darkness is a result of the collapse that precedes it, a collapse that begins when Logan untangles one hand from rain-soaked waves of hair and yanks the other away from its grip on a wet, clingy shirt, and a collapse that is their third mistake, not the darkness that follows. The collapse only grows more devastating as Logan, still gasping for air, breathes out an apology. “I’m sorry,” he says, and the rate of the collapse increases astronomically.

“Why are you sorry?” Remy asks, about to destroy any hope that the black hole they’ve created might not rip entire galaxies apart. “Did you not want to kiss me, babe? No, forget I asked that,” he laughs, shakes his head, interrupts himself before continuing on a course set towards destruction, “of course you wanted to kiss me. I know you, doll, and I know you wanted to kiss me, and you said you wanted to kiss me, and I know that you love me. You must, and even though the stars say you don’t, I know you do and I know I’m right.”

“Remy,” Logan breathes, not wanting to say anything else at all. “Remy, I—” he hesitates once again, and the rhythmic rise and fall of his chest hitches as Remy leans forward in anticipation. Logan wants to prevent the shattering of the hope etched on his face, wants to offer an explanation that could somehow minimize the damage of the most destructive thing in the universe. But he doesn’t. He, in fact, does the exact opposite of that. By simply saying, “You’re wrong,” Logan has effectively sealed his and Remy’s fates.

“No,” Remy says, walking over broken glass with his voice, “I’m not wrong. You’re lying, babe. I know you are.”

In a sharp contrast to Remy’s, Logan’s voice is colder than space itself, freezing anything remotely human immediately and without remorse. “What does it matter? We both have soulmates, and mine is not you.”

“What does that matter?”

“What doe—” Logan looks incredulous, and the divide between him and Remy widens as he takes a step back. “I’m afraid I don’t see what you mean. Soulmates aren’t the sort of thing you can ignore quite so easily.”

“Come on now, babe. You of all people have heard stories of people who never find their soulmates, who find love in other places, who—”

“But those people haven’t found their soulmates. That’s the point, and that’s where we differ from them. We have found our soulmates, and ignoring the stars so blatantly will only break their hearts. I refuse to do that.”

“They’ll understand though, I know they will.” Remy’s voice sounds infinitely less sure than it had when he’d begun this conversation. The conviction has drained from his words, drawn into the endless depths of the ever-growing black hole.

Logan shakes his head, expression closing off entirely. “No. They won’t, and you know that as well as I do. You’re only deluding yourself if you truly believe otherwise.”

“Babe—”

“Please don’t.”

Remy knows what Logan’s tone means. That discomfort, that refusal to accept the pet name that’s normally thrown around so very casually, that icy expression twisting for barely the blink of an eye into involuntary fondness—Logan does love him. Not that Remy had ever doubted that fact, not really, but the confirmation is a comfort to hear. “Logan, then,” he amends, making a point to speak his name as reverently as possible, fitting as much love and adoration into one word as he can. “Logan, my darling, my dear, my light, my star—you will never know until you try.”

Logan, as a general rule, doesn’t blush. His skin is too dark for the red heat rushing to his cheeks to stand out and even if that wasn’t the case, he is impossible to fluster. But tonight, under a street lamp that will all too soon flicker out for good, Remy can see the barest hint of color gracing Logan’s cheeks. His mouth opens as he tries to form a response, but it shuts again just as quickly.

“No,” he settles on after a moment that had stretched on for a short eternity. “No, I am not going to risk hurting them. I care for Roman, and Janus is… she’s important to you. So we will not speak of this again. It would be best to forget this happened entirely.”

“Logan—” Remy begins, saying that name with the same sweetness he’d used before, reaching a hand across the darkness between them with a wish for one last brush of his hand against Logan’s cheek, one last touch.

Logan takes another step backwards. “I think it would be best if I didn’t see you for a while.” Another step. “I’m sorry,” he says. I’m sorry for kissing you when I knew I shouldn’t, I’m sorry if you loved me and I hurt you by pulling away now, by always pulling away, I’m sorry for falling in love with you when I knew we were never meant to be. I’m so, so sorry, he doesn’t say.

“I—” I love you, Logan. Nothing you do now or ever will change that, Remy doesn’t reply. “I’m sorry too,” Remy decides to say instead.

As the black hole from their supernova of a kiss forms fully, Logan walks away, rain streaming down his face once more, tasting oddly of salt when a droplet catches on his lips.

As the black hole from the supernova of their kiss forms fully, as Logan walks away, Remy stands beneath the street lamp, watching him go before the lights surrounding him all flicker out.

As the black hole from the supernova of their kiss forms fully, as Logan walks away, as Remy stands beneath the street lamp, every spark of hope either of them had ever held is extinguished by the rain that pours down around them; each dream of what could have been is consumed by the black hole of their own creation.

Everything beautiful must die, after all.

_________________________

Roman has been fighting for perfection his whole life.

From the moment he was born, he’d been expected to do everything right. Not one slip-up had been allowed, not one action that could in any way be perceived as wrong.

He’d been able to appear flawless—he still can, of course, and he doesn’t want to know what would have happened if he hadn’t been. His smiles glitter, the light hitting them just right each and every time. His grace is unprecedented, his skin unblemished, each curve of his muscles chiseled to perfection. Roman’s ideas are always polished when he presents them, and you’d have to comb through hours of footage to find a second of any of his performances that could be considered anywhere near average, and you simply wouldn’t find anything below that standard. Each word he says is picked out meticulously, long before he plans to speak them, and each laugh is even more carefully timed.

There is not a single aspect of Roman that wouldn’t be considered enviable. He has everything—star status, money, friends, fans—and it’s all due to his absolute perfection.

And it was hard to get there. God, it was hard. Being held to such a standard, constantly on display, each move he made being judged to the highest extreme imaginable—to anyone else, it would be impossible.

But for Roman? This has been his life for as long as he’s lived it.

The only thing that’s ever-so-slightly imperfect about him is the distinct absence of a soulmate in his life. It’s okay though! The world is more accepting these days, and soulmates no longer define you. The fact that Roman doesn’t have one hardly ruins his perfection.

Still, though, it does. The world may be more accepting, but not having a soulmate is far from destigmatized, and Roman is the only person of his caliber to be so very… flawed, in that sense.

He tries not to show how much it hurts to be looked down upon for something entirely out of his control, but it does. It hurts, and it hurts more than he will ever say. Roman’s fight to be perfect is doomed to fail unless he can manage to fix how utterly broken he is.

So that’s why, when he meets Logan and their stars light up the whole sky, he falls hopelessly in love in the very next breath he takes. The stars chose Logan for him, and the stars would not be wrong. It doesn’t matter who Logan is, what he’s like, if he likes Roman in return—it’s all negligible.

It’s all so very negligible because now, at long, long last, Roman is perfect.

_________________________

Janus has been perfect his whole life.

From the moment she was born, everything they’d done had been effortless. It was unfathomable that he’d make a single slip-up; not one action that they could ever make would be perceived as wrong.

Janus is, of course, far from perfect—and to be completely honest, he’s not sure why anyone would view him as such. Sure, she’s impossibly suave, causing anyone who crosses their path to swoon with the slightest of winks and sure, their cleverness enchants anyone who hadn’t yet fallen for them. Even with half of his face horrifically scarred, she is still one of the most utterly gorgeous beings to have ever lived—all glitter and mismatched eyes and charm, lit from within with confidence and smirks and eloquence. His words can convince anyone of anything, yes, but that isn’t to say that they’re manipulative. That would make him imperfect, and Janus is not imperfect—she is quick-witted and full of class, voice sugary sweet in a way that can’t possibly be genuine and yet is almost always entirely so.

There is not a single aspect of Janus that wouldn’t be considered enviable. He has everything—a brilliant mind and looks to match, riches, influence, people who would kill for them—and it’s all due to her indisputable perfection.

But the thing is—they aren’t perfect. Appearing to be perfect doesn’t mean that they actually are. And now— now he can’t be imperfect. Now, she’s held to a standard she can’t possibly keep meeting, constantly being observed and studied and judged—to anyone else, it would be impossible.

But Janus? They make this impossibility look effortless.

The only thing that offers him any reprieve from his neverending performance is the fact that he doesn’t have a soulmate. It’s the one thing that keeps her even slightly imperfect, and Janus is perfectly fine with it staying that way. All they want is to prove—one flaw at a time—that they aren’t infallible.

Still, though, no one believes him. They’re kept on a pedestal, their lack of a soulmate going completely ignored. Everyone she knows remains stubborn in the belief that she can do no wrong.

They try not to show how much it pains them to be living a constant lie, to never be allowed to act in a way that’s true to who they are, but it does. It pains him, and it pains him more than he will ever say. Janus’s quiet struggle to be herself is doomed to fail unless she can manage to prove to someone how truly broken she is.

So that’s why, when he meets Remy and their stars light up the whole sky, he nearly falls apart right then and there. It doesn’t matter to them why the stars had chosen Remy for him, and not only because the stars wouldn’t be wrong. It doesn’t matter who Remy is, what he’s like, if he too feels panicked and suffocated by the very idea of a soulmate—it’s all negligible.

It’s all hopelessly negligible because now, on a day that’s come entirely too soon for her liking, the stars have torn away her one hope at being perceived as imperfect.

_________________________

There is no such thing as perfection, not a single person who could ever be considered flawless. Even the day—the glorious, golden day, a time so saturated with majesty—has its faults, its radiance paled by the multitude of stars that pierce the night.

And as the sun does rise, each fissure that’s torn its way through each person is revealed. In the harsh light of day, there’s nowhere to hide and each stain lain upon a pristine world is thrown into sharp relief. Unable to conceal anything else, darkness retreats and, having been so thinly veiled, there was never any way Roman and Janus’s perfection could have withstood the onslaught of daylight.

The idea of perfection is a beautiful thing, but like all beautiful things, it can never last.

_________________________

Roman loves Logan. His boyfriend is brilliant and funny in a dry way Roman hadn’t ever thought he’d grow to adore, and Logan’s mind is one of the most beautiful things Roman has ever had the honor of being in the presence of. He is in awe of the darkness of Logan’s skin and how he can run his own hands over it, making golden lights spread over the night sky of Logan’s face or take Logan’s hand in his, causing warm starlight to glow from between his fingers.

And Logan is his soulmate. The stars brought them together, and Roman couldn’t be happier, couldn’t be luckier.

Roman loves Logan, really, he does, so why are his eyes constantly drawn to Janus? Janus, Remy’s soulmate. Janus, with the scar on his face that they make beautiful by framing it with shimmering golden highlights and the confidence to wear it proudly. Janus, whose smile could light the night sky all on its own. Janus, whose winks and compliments cause Roman to melt a little more every day. Janus, who— oh god. Janus, who—

Janus, who Roman’s in love with.

Janus, who Remy’s in love with, who’s Remy’s soulmate.

Janus, who isn’t Roman’s soulmate. Janus, who he can’t be in love with. Janus, who wouldn’t ever love him.

Roman realizes this, of course he realizes this. He understands that he will never be allowed to be with Janus, no matter what he may want. He knows that he still cares for Logan, albeit not in the way he’d originally thought. Spending his life with Logan won’t be so bad.

Even if Janus is right there, her gorgeously mismatched eyes taunting him every time they’re in the same room. Even if they continue to wink, to smile, to compliment, to flirt, Roman knows they cannot ever and will not ever be together. No matter what he may want.

So he ignores his feelings. Ignores Janus’s incessant winks, his smiles, compliments, flirtations. Roman ignores it all, making a point to dote on Logan ever more, take him on increasingly extravagant dates, use every opportunity he can to kiss him. He knows that doesn’t equate to love. He knows that he isn’t proving anything to anyone. But what else can he do when his mind short circuits every time Janus so much as looks at him, when it goes completely blank each time they laugh?

Nothing. Roman can do nothing about this, and it’s driving him insane. So what if this doting, these lavish dates, those unabashed displays of public affection are all performed to stop himself from further examining his own feelings? So what if it isn’t truly helping? So what if he can’t help but imagine running his fingers through Janus’s hair even as his hand ghosts over Logan’s? So what if he dreams that the fingers his are laced with belong to Janus instead? So what if fantasizes about holding them close to his body and burying a kiss in her hair while it’s Logan who leans against him?

Most days, faking everything works. Most days, everything feels almost normal. He’s been a perfect actor his entire life, and he’s not about to stop being one now.

And if no one notices that something isn’t normal, then maybe nothing is.

_________________________

Janus loves Remy.

…That’s a lie. He doesn’t love Remy.

…That’s not quite true either, though. Because they do love him, they do love his snark and sarcasm, his smirks and coffee-brown eyes so often hidden behind his sunglasses. It’s not true at all, really, because she does love all that and more. Just not in the way soulmates are, according to society, supposed to love each other.

So they aren’t in the wrong exactly, and she isn’t truly lying every time they tell Remy ‘I love you,’ but he also isn’t truly free of blame either. Her feelings may not be her fault, but the way they handle Remy’s feelings is. So she’s careful, so incredibly careful. His actions don’t betray a thing. To an outside observer, he would appear to be utterly, perfectly in love.

But that’s just the thing. She’s not.

…That’s a lie too. They are in love, just not with Remy.

At least, that’s what he thinks he feels. She thinks she’s in love, but then again, they’ve never been in love before. He has no idea, if he’s being honest, what love feels like. All she knows is that when she looks at Roman, she feels something entirely different than what she feels when she looks at Remy.

Remy feels like comfort and stability—something to hold onto when the rest of the world falls to ruin, a star that remains set in the sky, guiding you home.

They’d always been told that romantic love would feel like fire—something that burns on contact, a wonderful, searing pain that scorches you from the inside out, illuminating the best parts of you and incinerating the worst.

Whereas Roman… Roman feels like sunlight—something that’s not quite intense enough to burn on contact but still managing to light up corners of you that would otherwise remain hidden, casting shadows on things you’d rather not see, a ray of light that fills you with warmth and happiness and something just slightly to the left of what you’d imagine true love to be.

Janus doesn’t know a word for that feeling, though. It’s not quite as intense as love has been described to her as, but what else would it be?

No, they’re definitely in love with Roman. Roman, who’s spun of sunlight and pure gold. Roman, who’s outer physique betrays just how strong he is inside. Roman, with his bright laughter and genuine words and a mind full of ideas so intensely radiant no one else could have possibly dreamt them up. Roman, who she could wax poetic about for hours on end.

Roman who, yes, is Logan’s soulmate and not his. But that’s just a technicality, isn’t it? No star had ever stated that soulmates had to be strictly romantic. And the stars are wise. Soulmates were their gift to the world, they wouldn’t mess something like this up. Society is what dictates that soulmates indicate romantic attraction and romantic attraction alone.

And society is often wrong, is it not?

So perhaps Janus and Remy are, in fact, still soulmates. Perhaps Roman and Logan are as well.

But perhaps they’ve all been wrong about the sort of soulmates they are.

But then again, what if Janus is wrong about this? What if the stars do only deal in romance and her feelings for Roman are nothing more than infatuation? What if—god forbid—society is truly right this time? What if they just… choose to ignore their gut feeling this time? What if it’s better to continue pretending, just in case? Because what if he’s the reason Remy’s heart breaks, that Logan’s heart breaks, that his own heart breaks when he realizes his love for Roman is unrequited?

Yes, that’s what she’ll do. Keep pretending. Doing anything else won’t be worth the pain.

So Janus goes on pretending—pretending to be in love with Remy, pretending to be perfect. At times, it comes as easily as breathing. But at other times, she has to imagine Roman’s face in the place of Remy’s. Replace pale skin for golden, add warmth to his eyes and hair, sharpen his jawline and cheekbones, fill out his frame with just a touch more muscle. Pretend the cocky smirk is a blinding smile. It’s still easy enough, most days, and that’s all that matters.

They’ve been pretending their whole life, it’s not as though anything will go wrong now.

_________________________

The day of Janus and Roman’s first kiss is not “most days.” It’s the opposite, really. Logan and Remy aren’t there, for one. Janus is awake before the day has truly begun, and the scene in front of him is painted with golden fire. The sky is perfectly clear, and the only thing needed to light up the world is the soft glow of the sun.

Perhaps this radiance is why Roman too is awake at such an early hour. Perhaps that’s why he’s sought out Janus, why he’s approaching the steps of their porch with such light in his eyes. Perhaps, once the dark of night had passed, the truths Roman and Janus had held so close are finally brought with them into the dawn.

Perhaps, then, it is the trade of a midnight-colored sky for one spun from gold that causes Roman to fit himself next to Janus on the top step without a passing thought spared for the rest of the early-morning stillness, to allow his hand to linger just slightly too close to hers, to watch as the slow rise of the sun creates a perfect halo around their head. Perhaps it is the warmth of Roman’s hand that rests so close to theirs and the matching look on his face that causes Janus’s breath to catch in her throat, perhaps it is the way that the sky full of fire sets Janus’s eyes alight that causes Roman’s heart to do the same.

Perhaps it is everything that was and is that convinces Roman to place his hand over Janus’s, interlocks their fingers, lets the silence linger for a moment, for an hour, a year, a lifetime. The silence persists and though there is such intense meaning in the heat that ignites in their eyes and in the way their hearts pound, breaths quicken, faces glow—the air remains heavy without their voices to fill it. The world goes quiet as Roman lifts Janus’s hand off the ground like it’s a rose made of glass. It stays quiet as he becomes transfixed by the hand resting in his own, it stays quiet as he looks up to meet eyes of molten gold and sunlit skies. It stays quiet as Roman’s gaze asks what words cannot, as Janus responds with a nod, both actions imperceptible to the rest of a world still held captive by sleep.

Like the breaking of porcelain, Roman’s voice shatters the silence with the words, “You’re beautiful, Janus.” The destruction of something so pristine is more than fine though because as he says this, Janus’s face begins to glow with even more warmth and any restraint Roman may have previously been inclined to show vanishes in an instant. Unwilling to break anything else, Roman’s eyes stay open as he falls.

The kiss Roman lays on Janus’s hand is delicate, softer than the drift of cherry blossom petals floating to the ground. He’s impossibly careful with every movement he makes, picking his way through a cluster of thorn-covered roses—both avoiding drawing blood and basking in the beauty that surrounds him. Roman may have only kissed Janus on her hand, but that simple action causes both of their bodies to go alight with tongues of fire. They are the coming of dawn, bright and brilliant and inevitable; they revel in their warmth and the hope that they represent.

Sunrises don’t transform into black holes, don’t destroy everything they touch, don’t cause the universe to collapse. They simply are, certain and pure.

Nothing is ruined when Roman lifts his lips from the back of Janus’s hand. There is no tragedy that follows his next breath, no misfortune that befalls him. He merely sits there, breathing, living, waiting for Janus to make the next move as his hand remains wrapped around theirs.

“What was that?” Janus asks finally, choosing those words to fracture the silence while already knowing the answer to them. It was a confession, a confirmation, a spur-of-the-moment decision, a kiss.

“A kiss,” Roman replies, echoing Janus’s thoughts. “Did I overstep any boundaries?”

“No, no. I would have stopped you if I were uncomfortable.”

“Then what is it, my dearest?”

“I just— I need to think. I promise it’s not anything you need to worry over, but… I need time.”

“That’s perfectly fine,” Roman says, worrying anyway.

Janus’s head drops into their hands, and the world falls into silence once more. With nothing else to do, Roman leans back on his arms and lets his mind wander aimlessly as well, trying his best to stop himself from catastrophizing. He replays the kiss in his head, a soft smile growing on his face before he gasps and his eyes go wide with a realization.

Pushing himself off the ground, Roman turns to Janus. Placing a hand lightly on her knee, he proclaims, “I think you’re my soulmate, Janus.”

Janus blinks, startled. After going completely still for a moment, the reply he ends up giving is, “Are you sure?”

Now it’s Roman’s turn to blink in incredulity. “Yes, of course!” he says, a slightly conflicted frown growing on his face. “I know I have to have a soulmate because everyone has a soulmate and I know I don’t like Logan in the way you’re supposed to like a soulmate because the feelings I have for him are in the same vein as the feelings I have for my other friends—really, I’ve begun to think of him as my best friend because I do love him so very much, just not like that—and I love you in a different way, so you must be my soulmate. Since I can’t— I can’t just not have a soulmate, it has to be you. I love you, Janus, and I love you differently, so this is the only explanation that makes sense.”

“Roman, darling, that’s not how soulmates work.”

“What do you mean? Of course it is!”

Janus takes a deep breath, resolving to keep his voice gentle upon realizing he’s likely about to completely shatter Roman’s world-view. “Soulmates aren’t strictly romantic, you do know that, right? Often, they can take the form of a best friend or, when one or more of the soulmates in question is aromantic, a queerplatonic partner.”

“That can’t be right,” Roman says, scrunching up his nose in thinly veiled disdain. “Soulmates have to be romantic, that’s just the way things are.”

“That’s where you’re wrong, love,” Janus says, tacking the bit of affection onto the end to soften their words. “They don’t have to be romantic, and there are more cases than you can imagine that prove that. Your soulmate is determined by the glow of your star, not through your own interpretation of how you feel. You may love me, but that doesn’t mean I’m your soulmate.”

“So then… what are you saying? Do— do you not love me as anything other than a friend and you don’t want to properly reject me? Is that why you’re making up this elaborate story? Or is it because you don’t want to hurt Remy or Logan? Or—”

Janus cuts him off before he can come up with anything else. “What? No, it’s not that at all! Besides, Remy and Logan are so clearly in love that I don’t think they’d mind us being together at all and—” Janus cuts themself off, clearing their throat. “—and we can worry about those two gay disasters later. That’s not where I was going with that, apologies.” She rakes a hand through her hair before continuing with considerably less frantic energy, “I’m telling you the truth, Roman. I wouldn’t make something like this up, especially not since I—” Janus frowns suddenly, cutting off her words.

“You…?” Roman prompts, a glimmer of hope spreading across his feature.

Taking a steadying breath, Janus replies, “Since I— I love you too. But,” they add, holding out a hand once they see Roman’s mouth open, words on the tip of his tongue, “I don’t think I love you in exactly the same way you love me.” When Roman’s joy turns to confusion, she quickly begins speaking again. “It’s… a bit hard to explain, in all honesty. I know I don’t love you in the way I would love a friend, but at the same time—” Janus stops, unsure of how to continue. “You know how romantic love is supposed to feel like fire?” he decides to ask, changing approaches entirely. “And how platonic love feels like… a fixed star?”

And, weirdly enough, Roman does know. He understands Janus’s strange comparisons because he feels exactly the same way, and he’s so startled by the way that they’ve apparently seen into his heart that he merely nods in response.

“Well,” Janus continues slowly, “what I feel for you is something in between. Think of it as sunlight, almost. It’s still a force of golden heat, but it feels less like burning and more like a soft warmth that saturates your entire being. It may come from a fixed star, but the sunlight itself is more fluid and of a far warmer hue. It’s love, undoubtedly, but not exactly in the way you’d think of it.”

Roman nods again, Janus’s words resonating with him in a way nothing has before. Then, realizing again what she’s saying, shakes his head rapidly. “No. No, you’re wrong. That sunlight feeling is what I feel for you, and I know that’s romantic love. It has to be. Just because it’s less fiery than we’ve been told it should be doesn’t mean it’s not romantic love.” Roman shakes his head again, repeating in a whisper, “It has to be.”

“I’m not telling you what you’re feeling, Roman. Your sunlight feeling can still be romantic, I’m just trying to explain that mine isn’t.”

Roman knows, somehow, that his sunlight feeling isn’t romantic either. Calling it romantic simply doesn’t feel right, but he ignores that sense of wrongness. If this isn’t romantic love, then Roman has never felt romantic love and that means he’s broken and— “I can’t be broken,” Roman rasps out.

Janus reacts immediately, taking Roman’s face in her hands. “You aren’t broken.”

“But if that sunlight isn’t romantic love—”

“I told you it could be,” Janus interjects.

“—and I know it’s not and I’d only be lying to myself if I said it was—but if that’s the only thing I’ve ever felt that gets even sort of close to fire, that means I’ve never felt real romantic love and that means I’m broken.”

“No, it doesn’t. You aren’t broken,” Janus repeats again, the sunlight in their eyes turning her gaze that much more intense. They take a breath, taking one hand from Roman’s face to run it through his hair almost unconsciously. “Have you heard of the term ‘aromantic?’”

Roman shakes his head slightly, careful not to dislodge Janus’s hands from where they’re currently tangled in his hair and brushing over his cheek.

“It refers to someone who doesn’t feel romantic attraction in the same way the term ‘asexual’ refers to someone who doesn’t feel sexual attraction. Neither one means that the person is broken, or unfeeling, or in any way flawed. It’s simply a part of who they are—and a part of who I am.” Janus untangles his hand from Roman’s hair before shifting to sit on his knees. “Whether you also choose to adopt this label or not, whether you relate to it or not, whether you want to wait and find out more before you do anything or not, you, Roman Prince, are. Not. Broken.” With those words, Janus raises herself up until her forehead is level with Roman’s, resting it against his. “You. Are. Not. Broken,” they repeat, putting as much emphasis as they can on each word without screaming it.

“Thank you,” Roman says, and he means it with all of his heart. “I love you,” he adds, and he means it not as an afterthought, not in the way that feels like fire, and not in the way that feels like a star, but in the way that feels like sunlight.

“I love you,” Janus replies, and he too means it in the way that feels like sunlight.

She tilts her head down, Roman tilts his up, and their lips meet in the middle.

The first kiss Janus and Roman share is full of warmth, of passion, of love.

The first kiss Janus and Roman share is in the light of a sunrise that’s barely begun.

The first kiss Janus and Roman share is, even with all of their flaws, somehow, someway, impossibly perfect.

_________________________

“I kissed Janus.”

“That’s nice, Roman dear.”

“Logan, I love you with all of my heart, but did you hear a word I just said?”

Logan blinks, looking up from his book. “Of course I heard you, darling. You said you kissed Janus, which to be perfectly honest, I’m not sure why you expect me to have some kind of reaction to—” he freezes, realization lighting his features. “Oh my god. You kissed Janus.” A thousand different emotions flash across his face at once; relief and betrayal, joy and pain, uncertainty and fear and confusion. “Explain,” he finally settles on saying.

“Easy. I love them, and they love me. When two people fall in love, they often choose to—”

“Roman.”

“Right, sorry. Before I continue though, I feel like I should mention—and this may seem a bit out of the blue, but I promise it’s relevant—you’re in love with Remy.”

“…I’m what.” Logan peers at Roman through squinted eyes, his deadpan voice at once skeptical and utterly baffled.

“In love with Remy, but I’ll get back to that in a second. Firstly though, have you heard of queerplatonic partners or queerplatonic relationships?”

“I am familiar with the terms, yes. What does this have to do with—”

“Shh, just listen for a moment, Lo.”

Logan raises a sardonic eyebrow, not saying a word as he waits for Roman to continue.

“Yes, silence is good for listening,” Roman says with a grin. “Anyhow, what I was getting at is that essentially, Janus and I are in love, just not in the way one would be… romantically in love like, say, youandRemyare.” Roman coughs at the end as though clearing his throat. “He taught me about how he doesn’t feel romantic feelings for me, but rather something just a bit… different. I realized I felt exactly the same, she kissed me, you know the drill. That moment had all the makings of a perfect love story, if I’m being honest,” Roman swooned.

“That’s lovely, but I’m fairly certain that I, and not Janus, am your soulmate.”

“Ah, that’s where Janus’s genius comes in. Again.” Roman fluttered a hand to his chest, swooning once more. “They did research on that exact topic after realizing that ignoring their feelings would only lead them to more pain that they didn’t need, and you know what she found?”

“…Am I supposed to ask you a question for dramatic effect?”

“That would be ideal, yes.”

Logan sighs. “Whatever did she find?” he drones, barely an iota of energy put into his look of mocking curiosity.

“Close enough!” Roman declares. “Since you asked so kindly, I’ll let you know that Janus found out that soulmates—drumroll, please—don’t have to be romantic.”

Logan’s exasperated expression dropped from his face immediately and his whole being seemed to brighten with new hope. “What did you just say?”

“Soulmates! Don’t have to be romantic!”

“Are you certain?”

“Are you doubting the research capabilities of the love of my life?”

“I thought I was the love of your life.”

“Exactly!” Upon seeing Logan’s frown, Roman amends, “I mean, you can both be! That’s what’s so great about this discovery! Soulmates don’t have to be romantic, and in fact, there are so many precedents for them not being romantic that I’m shocked, I’d never heard a word about any of them before today.” Roman’s bright expression dimmed the smallest bit as his voice became more serious. “My point is though, you can both be the loves of my life since there are so very many types of love to be expressed and I have a nearly infinite supply of love to go around.”

“Oh.”

Roman looks at him incredulously. “‘Oh?’ Is that all you’re going to say?”

“If you’ll give me a moment, I’ll provide you with a more satisfactory reaction. I need to think about—”

“—what this means for you and Remy. Yeah, I know, I get it. You love him and he’s the best friend that you could ever ask for and you don’t want to ruin that by changing the label on your relationship.”

“…No. Not that at all.”

“No?” Roman asks, sounding genuinely confused. “Was that… was I not right?”

Logan tilted his head from side to side in contemplation. “Mm, those were my feelings before, but then—” he suddenly clamped his mouth shut. “Never mind.”

“No, please continue.”

“I’d rather not.”

“Aw, come on Lo. I won’t be upset.”

“Oh, I know you won’t, not after what you just explained. I’m more worried about— about Remy right now.”

“Sorry?”

Logan takes a deep breath. “I kissed him.”

“You what now?”

“Or he kissed me, or… it’s a bit of a blur, actually. I can’t seem to remember exactly what happened, but—”

“Logan, love, why would Remy be upset with you because you kissed him?”

“It’s not— it wasn’t—” Logan scrunches his face up as though trying to hide the emotions reveal themselves upon it. “It wasn’t the kiss.”

“What was it, then?”

“It’s… after the kiss, I… may have freaked out just a bit and decided it would be best for us to leave each other alone… ‘for a while’ I said, but I meant indefinitely.”

“Logan.”

Logan holds up a placating hand. “I’m perfectly aware that this was a terrible decision on my part, but in all fairness, I have never once claimed to be good at handling my emotions, especially not ones as overwhelming as what I feel for, uh. You know.”

“For Remy,” Roman says, looking expectantly at Logan. “You realize you’re going to have to admit out loud that you love him someday, right?”

Logan coughs awkwardly, looking to the side to hide his flushed face. “Yes, for— for Remy. Yes.”

“…That’s a start,” Roman concedes. “Now, what do you plan to do about your grade-a idiocy?”

“I haven’t thought that far ahead.”

“Yes, well, perhaps you should’ve.”

“I’m aware, Roman.”

“Would you like some assistance?”

“With… apologizing?”

“Mhm.”

“You know, I think that’s one thing I’ll be able to handle myself. I just have to call him, and everything will—”

“Hold on, hold up, stop right there. What, exactly, do you think you’re doing?”

Logan freezes, fingers hovering just above his phone screen. “…Calling Remy to apologize to him?”

“After breaking his heart, you’re going to apologize with a phone call?”

“That was the plan, yes. Why?”

“Because that’s a terrible apology!”

“As far as apologies go, I think it’s actually pretty standard.”

“Sure, but this is the love of your life, we’re talking about, Logan. You can’t apologize to him over the phone. You need to shock him with a romantic gesture so grand that he’ll have no choice but to forgive you!”

“Do you think— do you think there’s a chance he won’t forgive me?”

“No!” Roman corrects quickly. “That isn’t what I’m saying at all. I just think that this is a bigger deal than you’re pretending it is, so a bit of romance certainly couldn’t hurt.”

“You may be right, but I’ve never…” Logan shakes his head. “I wouldn’t even know where to start.”

“Well… if you don’t want to do something too grand and romantic, you can at least take him somewhere special.”

“Like a fancy restaurant?”

“No, not quite. More like… someplace that holds meaning for the two of you, you know?”

Logan lights up, positively glowing. “I think I have just the place.”

_________________________

“Remy darling, have you left the couch at all today?”

Remy pouts in response. “So what if I haven’t? I’m in emotional distress, babes.”

“Hm,” Janus hums. “While that’s fair, I still don’t think merely sitting around all day is going to do much to help with that.”

Remy’s pout grows. “Just because you’re right doesn’t mean you have to say it.”

Janus laughs lightly. “Come on a walk with me? You need to leave the house again someday.”

“I don’t, actually. You’re a fancy lawyer, so I can become a lonely hermit who never leaves his house with no consequence. Besides,” he grins, and after so much practice, it hardly looks forced at all, “I have you, and what more could I want?”

Janus raises an eyebrow, but they don’t comment. “How about if you come on a walk with me anyway, and if you really want, we can even go to that criminally overpriced coffee shop you like so much.”

“The one that’s over a mile away?”

“That’s the one.”

“And we’d have to walk?”

“Remy, darling, walking is good for you. A mile is hardly anything, anyway.”

Remy continues pouting, hoping that something in his face will make Janus relent. “You’re starting to sound like Lo—” his voice gives out, and he has to clear his throat to continue sounding unaffected, “—like Logan,” he finishes. “And why do you want to go on a walk so much anyway?”

“I have something I’d like to talk to you about, and if we start having a conversation while you’re seated, you’ll inevitably start pacing around the room. I’m just taking preemptive action to avoid that, love.”

“Good point, but now I’m worried. What do you want to talk about?”

“Come on a walk and I’ll tell you,” Janus says, a wry smirk on his face.

“This is blackmail.” Remy looks at Janus dolefully, his pout having taken up permanent residence on his face at this point.

“Oh, you don’t have to come if it would inconvenience you that much. I can always go out and get coffee by myself.” She blinks innocently, knowing perfectly well that no matter what she says now, Remy’s mind has been made up. There’s no way he’s going to be able to sit at home knowing that Janus wants to talk to him about a very mysterious, very anxiety-inducing something.

“You know what—” Remy trails off mid-sentence, realizing he’s been beaten. “I’ll get my jacket,” he says begrudgingly, finally standing up from his spot on the couch.

Janus smiles in reply, standing up to go wait by the door. “Good choice.” When Remy returns, leather jacket wrapped around himself, they gesture to the now-open door. “After you.”

“Thanks bunches, doll. Now,” he says, the moment he’s stepped past the threshold, “what’s this you wanted to talk about?”

“Why don’t you wait until we get outside at the very least? It wouldn’t do for us to have made it all the way out the door only for you to return home after barely a minute.”

“Sounds like you’re making excuses, Janus, my darling, my love, light of my life.”

“I would never,” she replies easily. “That’s a perfectly reasonable explanation.”

“Sure it is.”

“I haven’t the faintest idea what you’re talking about.”

“Sure you don’t.”

“Just… walk down the stairs. That’s all I ask, love.”

“Yeah, and I couldn’t possibly complete such an arduous task.”

“Remy—” Janus sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose between his forefinger and thumb.

“I’m joking, I’m joking. The task is arduous, I’m just skilled enough to complete it without even breaking a sweat.”

Janus raises a skeptical eyebrow, shaking their head at that. “Why do I put up with you,” she deadpans.

“Because you love me,” Remy sing-songs, bounding down the stairs ahead of them.

“How could I forget,” he murmurs, watching Remy with thinly veiled amusement.

“How indeed,” Remy agrees, having just barely overheard them from partway down the staircase. “Now come on, I don’t want to be kept waiting after you’ve mentioned an important conversation.”

Janus descends the stairs after Remy, silent until they reach the bottom.

“What’s up?” Remy asks again, stuck to Janus’s side once more like a lost puppy. “Is something wrong?”

“No, nothing’s… wrong, exactly. And we aren’t outside yet,” she points out.

“That’s not ominous at all, babe.” Remy rolls his eyes, but Janus can tell he only does it to mask his nerves.

“I suppose it is,” Janus muses.

“…So’re you gonna elaborate on that?”

Janus steps outside. “One block first, so you don’t decide to turn back as soon as I start talking.”

“You’re stalling,” Remy points out, but he doesn’t press the issue any further.

“So I am.”

The two walk almost one full block in companionable silence before Remy asks again, “What d’you want to talk about?”

“It hasn’t been a block yet,” Janus insists.

“Technicalities bore me. Spill.”

Sighing, Janus says with no preamble at all, “I kissed Roman.”

“Stop right there, hun. Now, I’m sorry, but you what?”

“Kissed Roman,” they repeat.

“Anything else you’re going to say about that? At all?”

“So many things.” Janus takes a breath, opens his mouth, closes it again.

“Go on then,” Remy says, gesturing for her to do so with a nod of his head.

“Right. Essentially, soulmates aren’t necessarily romantic, and I don’t love you in a romantic sense. I don’t love Roman in a romantic sense either, technically—but that’s an explanation for another day. All that matters right now is that, provided you’re alright with it, Roman and I would like to be in a queerplatonic relationship and would far prefer to be nothing more than friends with you and Logan. Close friends,” he adds, “best friends, even, but not romantically involved. There’s precedent for this sort of thing if you’re wondering, and I can pull up a few sources that I have saved—”

“No, you know, I think I’ll be fine without a lecture. I get the picture, but what do you expect me to say? That I’m not heartbroken, that I wasn’t ever in love with you either?”

“Pretty much, yes.” Janus narrows their eyes at Remy. “You aren’t heartbroken, and you weren’t in love with me, correct?”

“I, uh—”

“You don’t have to lie, especially not after I told you the same was true for me.”

“Yeah, okay. I haven’t been in love with you, I just thought that you loved me and I didn’t want to hurt you by telling you the opposite was true.”

“Well, you can stop that now. And you can admit you’re in love with Logan.”

Remy freezes. “Sorry?”

“You’re in love with Logan.”

“I mean, I’m not going to tell you that you’re wrong, but how did you manage to figure that out?”

Janus fixes him with an incredulous look. “Are you serious?”

“…Yes?”

“Oh, Remy, darling, your crush was so obvious that I’m shocked the entire world didn’t see it.”

“It was?”

“Once I knew to look for it, very much so, yes. And you’re aware Logan loves you too, yes?”

“Mm, I’m pretty sure you’re wrong there.”

“And I’m pretty sure I’m not. What makes you think he doesn’t love you?”

“Well, he sorta kinda said that we shouldn’t ever speak to each other again? And like, he kissed me before that—or maybe I kissed him? And I know I was a bit pushy afterwards with confessions and all that, but I thought he was alright with me kissing him or with him kissing me and I’d been certain he was in love, but then he sort of freaked out, so I’m getting a few mixed messages. But at the same time, I think saying ‘we shouldn’t see each other for a while’ is a pretty clear rejection, don’t you?”

“I think that Logan’s a moron sometimes.”

“Hey!”

“Hush now, I meant that in the kindest way possible. He’s not very skilled at recognizing or dealing with his emotions, that’s all I’m saying.”

“Well, you aren’t wrong—”

“I know.”

“—but I’m still not sure if he meant it?”

“He didn’t, Remy. I can assure you of that.”

“How do you know, though?”

“Observation. That, and the fact that he tried to distance himself from you after your kiss. He didn’t want to hurt you.” Janus pauses in mock contemplation. “That, or he truly does hate you with his entire being and never wants to see you ever again in his entire life.”

“What?”

“I’m kidding, darling.”

“Why do I put up with you?”

“Because you love me,” Janus says, echoing Remy’s previous words back at him with a smirk on his face.

“Mm, right.” Remy goes silent for twenty whole seconds before speaking again. “But like, should I talk to him? Just in case, or something?”

“Well, I don’t think that’s entirely necessary, and Roman should be updating him on this whole situation as we speak, but if you think you should clarify, then I suppose you— hang on.” Janus frowns, pulling their phone from their pocket and answering it.

“Roman? Yes, I’m with Remy. Why do you ask?”

She goes quiet, listening to the voice on the other end of the line before replying, “Oh?”

They laugh lightly. “Anything for you, love.” A smile still on his face, he hangs up and puts his phone away.

“What was that about?”

“That? Nothing, darling, nothing at all. If you feel so inclined though, you might want to stop by wherever it was that you first met Logan.” Janus gives him a knowing smile. “Just a thought.”

“What if I choose not to?”

“Well, I can’t exactly make you go, but I think you’d regret it if you didn’t.”

“And that means…?”

“I’m afraid that’s Logan’s secret to tell, not mine,” they say, blinking innocently. “Now, unless you absolutely have to get coffee, I’d recommend you go find the love of your life. It’s getting dark, and I wouldn’t want you to lose your way.” She flutters her fingers in a wave, turning away. “Feel free to join me if you’d like, though.”

Even though they’d offered, she knew that Remy, of course, would never put anyone or anything before Logan and sure enough, when she turned back, Remy had already vanished around the corner.

_________________________

Everyone is made of stardust; each and every creation born of the remains of long-dead stars. This dust scattered across the universe at the dawn of time, forming galaxies and planets and stars—so very many stars—continuing to do so until the inevitable heat death of the universe, a constant cycle of creation.

If everyone comes from beauty, it only makes sense that they all contain it within themselves too, and it only makes sense that all creation is, in some way, magically, enchantingly interconnected. It also makes sense, then, that the stars—having come before nearly every other object in the known universe—understand these connections better than any other. Once those facts are taken into consideration, it’s no wonder at all that it is the stars that determine soulmates, and it’s the most widely accepted scientific theory as to why they do.

Logan knows all this about the stars, knows that everything that is and was is connected in impossible, unimaginable ways.

Remy knows this too, knows that things that come from beauty have every capacity to be beautiful themselves.

They both understand this, and yet it has taken them so long—so long—to apply that knowledge to themselves. It’s only as they walk alone upon tree-lined paths lit by twilight and look up at the sky, the first stars twinkling in their eyes, that they realize that if everyone and everything is beautifully connected, then they are too. And if they’re connected so beautifully, then what force in the universe could possibly keep them apart?

_________________________

“Do you think they’ll manage to work everything out?”

“Logan and Remy?”

“Mhm.”

Janus laughs, and it sounds like a fairy tale, like a golden bell forged from magic. “Contrary to popular belief, Logan is smart, so—”

Roman snorts, and it doesn’t sound like anything more than it is. It’s not poetic, it’s not the sort of thing to be lingered on in pretentious descriptions—it just is, and that’s why it’s perfect.

“Don’t laugh,” Janus says, laughing, “He is, albeit incredibly oblivious.”

“You can say that again.” It’s a muttered phrase, never one meant to be taken seriously, but Janus hadn’t ever claimed to play by the rules.

“He is, albeit incredibly oblivious,” they deadpan before continuing as though Roman hadn’t let out a laugh like light itself, shimmering so brightly that even in its softness, it couldn’t be missed. “But either way, I have no doubt that if you could come to your senses, they will too.”

Roman shoots up from his position lying across Janus’s lap. “What’s that supposed to mean?” His voice may sound offended, but the glimmer in his eyes betrays him.

“Oh, nothing at all, darling. I was merely implying that if Logan is oblivious, then we would need to invent an entirely new word to describe you.” Roman gasps, and Janus can see so many of her own mannerisms in the movement that her fond smile grows, could only ever grow around him. “I mean that in the best, most adoring way, of course.” His smile may have been replaced by a smirk then, but it doesn’t stay that way as not a moment later, Roman kisses it away.

“Of course you do,” he says, leaving behind another kiss—this one on Janus’s cheek—before adjusting his position. Now his head rests on Janus’s left shoulder, and he has much easier access to the line of their jaw and unfairly beautiful cheekbones (for kissing purposes, but also for admiration ones). “I know you love me.”

“Lies and slander,” Janus claims, but she’s burying her rapidly reddening face in Roman’s hair to breathe in the sunshine and cinnamon, so her words hold little weight.

Roman only laughs again, and this time Janus can feel the way the time pauses for the briefest of moments as their boyfriend blankets the world with his own form of magic, with a laugh that feels like fairy dust.

When the world resumes its usual rotation, Roman is smiling at him again. “I know you love me,” he repeats.

“I love you,” Janus agrees, voice softer and more honest than it’s ever been. Roman melts into him, humming contentedly as his face turns upwards, eyelashes fluttering in a silent request. And how could Janus possibly say no when her boyfriend has eyes burning with such light?

Janus kisses Roman, and the sky blazes with sunshine and fire. They meet, and they are a kilonova, showering the universe in gold. They aren’t soulmates, and they aren’t quite in love, but they are everything to each other and more and somehow, some way, they are perfect. So perhaps it’s fitting, then, that they aren’t soulmates. A word such as that couldn’t possibly define all that they are.

They both know intrinsically that there is no such thing as perfection, that it’s human to be imperfect. They know that some cycles are forever fixed and that somethings are meant to end.

So even though they know this and even though they may not be soulmates and even though they are aware that it is because of the stars that they met and because of the stars that they’re together, Janus and Roman will still never go gently into darkness, into the night. Just because they understand that perfection is an impossibility does not mean that they will not fight for something as near to it as they can get in every waking moment.

And as they rage against the dying of the light, the golden star that illuminates the world fights too, and it rises once more. Bathed in its glow, Janus and Roman are both unwaveringly confident in the fact that this moment, this sunrise, this picture-perfect kiss is… perfect. They know without a shadow of a doubt that no matter how unlikely, how impossible, they are perfect.

_________________________

“It’s been a while since we were here,” Remy muses, cresting the top of the hill, smiling when Logan comes into view. “I’m glad to be back.”

“Me too,” Logan says, returning his smile, so close to appearing calm, to hiding his nerves. “Why don’t you sit down?”

“Anything for you.” Remy’s words were meant to sound cheeky, but they come out genuine in a way Logan can’t even begin to process.

Logan takes a breath when Remy is seated in front of him. “I have an apology to make.”

“Oh?” Remy cocks his head curiously. “Hun, if anyone should be apologizing, it’s me. I was the one who overstepped my boundaries when I shouldn’t have and kept pushing for a confession of what I thought was the truth even after you denied it so vehemently and I—”

“Remy,” Logan sighs, “you have no reason to be sorry, I assure you.”

“I— what?”

Logan takes a breath, steeling himself. “Remy, I know I hurt you when I walked off the way I did and ceased all communication with you. And I— I also lied to you that night because I was… scared. I was scared to admit what I felt because I was scared that it would hurt someone else I care about, so I denied that I— Uh, that is to say, I denied what you said. I know that’s no excuse for not telling you the truth, but I hope you can forgive me nevertheless. I’m truly sorry for hurting you, Remy.

“And I— I love you. Hurting you broke my heart, and I never want to feel like that again.” Logan clears his throat, trying to continue speaking past the emotion beginning to clog it. “In any case though, even though we aren’t star-determined soulmates, if you’ll accept me, I’d still like you to be my boyfriend, and I yours. Because if I’m being perfectly honest, no matter what kind of relationship they dictate, the stars don’t matter, not really, because I choose you. I have always chosen you.”

Remy sits there for a moment, star-struck and silent. At long last, he finds his voice returned to him. It’s breathy and barely audible, but it’s there without a doubt because Logan knows—he knows—he hears Remy ask, “Can I kiss you?”

That isn’t, after all, the sort of request you would miss for anything less than the world.

And Logan knows—he knows—he’s been gifted the most beautiful thing in existence when he replies, “For the light of my life? Anything,” and Remy leans closer and he knows—he knows—that everything in the universe is right when they collide.

Together, they are stars. And like stars, they glow brighter together, side by side before they meet and emit a light so brilliant it could be seen across galaxies. Like stars, they collide and fall into each other and become one. Like stars, once they’ve touched they steal the light from the air around them to aid their luminance, and they shine and they glimmer and they gleam and they don’t want to ever let go.

And yet, they are more radiant than the most brilliant constellations, than quasars, than every star in the sky combined—so radiant that whole galaxies pale in comparison. Logan and Remy are stars, but they are also so much more.

They are human.

They are human, and that’s why the stars look upon them with such favor. They are human and imperfect, they are human and ablaze with more dazzling, glittering, intense light than even the stars themselves could possibly fathom, they are human and they are in love.

They are human, and as they kiss beneath the clear, bright sky, they realize that this—whatever this may be—is right. Logan and Remy are not soulmates, but the stars don’t make mistakes. Logan and Remy are not soulmates, but they were meant to find each other. Their kiss was meant to happen.

Logan and Remy are not soulmates. No, Logan and Remy are something ineffable, something human, something more, and if that means the stars painted their destiny in a different hue, then they are glad they can see all the colors of the sky.

_________________________

It is said that nothing so beautiful lasts forever, that nothing so bright survives for long. It is said that even the night—the mystical, magical night, a time so shrouded in mystery—must fade, along with any secrets it holds. It is said that every beautiful thing must die.

It is said that there is no such thing as perfection, that not a single person could ever be considered flawless. It is said that even the day—the glorious, golden day, a time so saturated with majesty—has its faults, its radiance paled by the stars of night. It is said that everything beautiful must die.

And it is true that beauty never lasts, but it isn’t meant to. Beauty so often exists because of uncertainty, because of the flighty nature of life. Everything beautiful must die, and that is why these beautiful moments are as beloved as they are. That is why Remy and Logan look at each other like they’re stars, why Roman and Janus allow themselves to be imperfect, why Remy allows himself to be vulnerable, why Logan admits that he’s not always right, why Roman stops putting on his never-ending show, why Janus allows themself to be truly honest, and why all of them will treasure each precious second from now until the end of time.

_________________________

find other stuff i’ve written under #writings from the stars

[iii-was-stumblin]

Seems you're answering a different ask to the two I sent, because you're responding with questions to statements I never made. "Oh god are you the same person that was beyond rude to WHML?" Pardon? "How would he have been able to keep it a mystery since apparently everyone “knew for years” that it was him" I never said they knew then. We found out after tour when 1D broke up, more than 3 years ago. "Tell me this, if all these Larry shippers REALLY ruined their lives" Who said that? Not me [pt1]

pt 2 However L & H DID say on camera while sitting next to each other that there was nothing between them. Pls don’t pretend it made any difference to Larries. Nor did the birth of Louis’ son. They’re standard floorboards, different coloured walls. Not Harry’s writing. Larry Grayson was closeted yes, like many icons of gay culture. And? And no, only Larries assign meaning to blue & green, their lighting tech and sound engineer were unlikely to know this since it’s just a silly Larrie fan thing.

Pt 3 Because larries = easily manipulated sources of money and support that’s why. But clearly harry and Louis are both over the queerbaiting for fandom engagement/cash now. And good for them. But maybe too little too late. Do we really know who and what we are stanning? Or do we just think we know who these ppl are? In a way larry protects Louis/Harry from further scrutiny. They hide behind a rainbow shield and we hold them up as some kind of queer angels when that may be misplaced trust.

-

I’m asking questions because I want to know more about your opinion, I asked if you were the person who was rude WHML out of curiosity, if you’re not GREAT. I asked the other questions because I wanted to see if you had explanations for the things that happened, if you found out after the tour then FUCKING TELL ME THAT because i didn’t know shit about him. I looked this guy up and found this post. Now, I want to make clear that I don’t think Harry and Louis 100% ran the bears. It seems way too good to be true. And they most likely didn’t have the time to. I feel like it was managements smart way of larrie baiting. They knew the band was going on hiatus and fans were probably going to start to lose interest so they used the bears to excite the fans. But the bears were meant to be connected to Larry.

I am aware you didn’t say that. I, again, was asking you a question to get your opinion. Don’t you think that if the rumours really affected their lives they would come out and say that it was??

Which denial do you mean? The one where Louis was laughing behind Harry’s back and being very touchy, the one where Harry looked like he had just been fucked? Or the one were he constantly said “genuinely, seriously”? Oh wait that was both of them. Those denials were NOT proper denials. He was saying “some people genuinely, seriously think we’re in a relationship”…..yes? Some people do? I’ve said this time and time again. That was a statement not a denial.

I do think that Freddie is his, and yes it did affect a lot of larries. Wdym and?? There was a framed picture of Larry Grayson infront of the bears, his name is Larry and he was closeted, just like h&l. Larries assign blue and green to their colour because IT’S THEIR FUCKING COLOURS. Their mics are blue and green, their eyes are blue and green, they know how much blue and green means to the Larry fandom.

In conclusion: I do think the bears were larriebaiting, I do not think it was only Harry and Louis involved, i think it was management that allowed it to happen, and it was the art director who actually bought all the costumes and placed them on stage and shined the lights on them.

If I’m missing anything on this post then tell me because I’m tired and loopy and I’m not sure what I’m typing.