nayati & lynire » you don't know love 'til it tears up your heart
Story: RPG storyverse (vaguely canon-adjacent I think?)
Genre: Angsty romance I guess
Rating: 16+
Characters: Nayati & fool_with_dream's Lynire
Challenge: this challenge with tons of kissing prompts (stolen from unpolar)
Ficathon: it's never the end
Prompt: from "You Don't Know Love" by Olly Murs
CN: Kissing, soul-bond, mentions of death & grief, mentions of self-harm & suicidal thoughts, general recklessness
Author's Note: Do I really like this? Not really. Did this excellent combination of prompt & ship deserve a better ficlet? Absolutely. But I wrote it, I really want to finish up the old prompts from this challenge so I can add some new ones to my endless to-do list, and I currently can't be arsed to write an entirely new thing to the same prompt, so I tried my best to give it a quick edit and now here we are.
'returned from the dead' kiss
you don't know love 'til it tears up your heart
and cuts it and leaves you with scars
you don't know love 'til it feels like you died when it's missing
it leaves you blind with no vision
You felt Lynire die.
You felt her take her last breath, felt her heart stop, felt her consciousness fade into nothing.
It didn’t just break your heart; it’s not just a crack, a tear, a wound that will heal someday. It cut right through your flesh and skin and bones and tore the entire thing out of your chest. It didn’t leave you with something as simple as scars, but with an aching emptiness no healer is equipped to treat.
You felt Lynire die, and despite your pride and stubbornness and all the months you spent running from whatever the hell was going on between you and her - that sense of loss you couldn’t even begin to describe, it made you want to die, too, right then and there.
+
You’re running faster than you ever knew you could, almost tripping over your own feet about a dozen times before you even reach the city. You’re barging ahead with barely any regard for anything or anyone, pushing your way through crowds, cutting corners, completely failing to notice you left half of your belongings behind on the ship you just sailed into port with.
It doesn’t matter, none of it matters; the only thing that matters is somewhere in this goddamn city, and you don’t have it in you to pretend it can wait. You don’t have the heart to slow down and be rational about this.
In a way, you’ve given up; you’re tired of running from her without knowing why.
Running towards her is so easy, you think as you cross another street and almost stumble in front of a carriage that could have easily run you over. Why didn’t you do that sooner? Right now, it feels so natural. Like it’s exactly what you’re supposed to do.
+
You felt Lynire die, and it damn near killed you.
If it weren’t for Cynthia, you have no doubt you would have done way worse than punching a wall until the bones in your hand shattered. If she hadn’t been there, not only to heal you and look after you, but to give you that one crucial piece of information that kept you going for just a few more hours - you’re not sure you would have made it through the day without hurling yourself off of the highest cliff you could find.
You felt Lynire die, and for a moment, against all expectations, it fucking destroyed you.
+
It’s a stranger’s face, a stranger’s body, but it has to be her; you can feel it so clearly, it couldn’t be any other way.
»Lynire!« You call out to her, and when she actually turns around, looks directly at you, brow furrowed at the sound of her name … there is no doubt left in your mind, and your heart finally feels light again. You stop in your tracks, just an arm’s length away from her, and stare at the unfamiliar figure, almost in disbelief.
»What are you doing here?« She sounds just as annoyed as usual, but weirdly, you don’t mind at all; you’re so relieved to hear her voice, you can’t stop yourself from bridging the last bit of distance between the two of you.
»Just to be clear, I have about a thousand questions, and this time, I want at least a handful of answers«, you pant, still trying to catch your breath. »Also, I’m still really fucking mad at you. But first of all, I really need to kiss you. Right now. Please.«
It’s not that you can’t tell whether she wants to kiss you, too; you know she does, you can feel it through the bond that has tied your life to hers inextricably. You just needed to make sure that she wouldn’t push you away despite her feelings. So you wait as the seconds pass, each and every single one of them torturously long and drawn out.
Until she grabs you by the neck and pulls you in. Just her lips on yours, no more questions asked. For now.
+
You thought you knew what love was. Thought it was obvious, even.
Love was wanting someone to be a part of your life. Love was wanting to protect them at all costs. Love was when you felt safe with them. Love was when they made you feel alive in all the best ways.
And maybe that’s not wrong; maybe that’s part of love, maybe that’s some kind of love, maybe that’s love for some people.
But what you’re feeling right now, it’s different. It’s raw, it’s dark, it’s painful. It’s an open wound refusing to heal. It’s the constant, frantic fear of loss and grief.
You felt Lynire die, and the part of you that thought love could ever truly be soft and pure and peaceful died with her.
Genre: Angsty romance I guess
Rating: 16+
Characters: Nayati & fool_with_dream's Lynire
Challenge: this challenge with tons of kissing prompts (stolen from unpolar)
Ficathon: it's never the end
Prompt: from "You Don't Know Love" by Olly Murs
CN: Kissing, soul-bond, mentions of death & grief, mentions of self-harm & suicidal thoughts, general recklessness
Author's Note: Do I really like this? Not really. Did this excellent combination of prompt & ship deserve a better ficlet? Absolutely. But I wrote it, I really want to finish up the old prompts from this challenge so I can add some new ones to my endless to-do list, and I currently can't be arsed to write an entirely new thing to the same prompt, so I tried my best to give it a quick edit and now here we are.
'returned from the dead' kiss
you don't know love 'til it tears up your heart
and cuts it and leaves you with scars
you don't know love 'til it feels like you died when it's missing
it leaves you blind with no vision
You felt Lynire die.
You felt her take her last breath, felt her heart stop, felt her consciousness fade into nothing.
It didn’t just break your heart; it’s not just a crack, a tear, a wound that will heal someday. It cut right through your flesh and skin and bones and tore the entire thing out of your chest. It didn’t leave you with something as simple as scars, but with an aching emptiness no healer is equipped to treat.
You felt Lynire die, and despite your pride and stubbornness and all the months you spent running from whatever the hell was going on between you and her - that sense of loss you couldn’t even begin to describe, it made you want to die, too, right then and there.
+
You’re running faster than you ever knew you could, almost tripping over your own feet about a dozen times before you even reach the city. You’re barging ahead with barely any regard for anything or anyone, pushing your way through crowds, cutting corners, completely failing to notice you left half of your belongings behind on the ship you just sailed into port with.
It doesn’t matter, none of it matters; the only thing that matters is somewhere in this goddamn city, and you don’t have it in you to pretend it can wait. You don’t have the heart to slow down and be rational about this.
In a way, you’ve given up; you’re tired of running from her without knowing why.
Running towards her is so easy, you think as you cross another street and almost stumble in front of a carriage that could have easily run you over. Why didn’t you do that sooner? Right now, it feels so natural. Like it’s exactly what you’re supposed to do.
+
You felt Lynire die, and it damn near killed you.
If it weren’t for Cynthia, you have no doubt you would have done way worse than punching a wall until the bones in your hand shattered. If she hadn’t been there, not only to heal you and look after you, but to give you that one crucial piece of information that kept you going for just a few more hours - you’re not sure you would have made it through the day without hurling yourself off of the highest cliff you could find.
You felt Lynire die, and for a moment, against all expectations, it fucking destroyed you.
+
It’s a stranger’s face, a stranger’s body, but it has to be her; you can feel it so clearly, it couldn’t be any other way.
»Lynire!« You call out to her, and when she actually turns around, looks directly at you, brow furrowed at the sound of her name … there is no doubt left in your mind, and your heart finally feels light again. You stop in your tracks, just an arm’s length away from her, and stare at the unfamiliar figure, almost in disbelief.
»What are you doing here?« She sounds just as annoyed as usual, but weirdly, you don’t mind at all; you’re so relieved to hear her voice, you can’t stop yourself from bridging the last bit of distance between the two of you.
»Just to be clear, I have about a thousand questions, and this time, I want at least a handful of answers«, you pant, still trying to catch your breath. »Also, I’m still really fucking mad at you. But first of all, I really need to kiss you. Right now. Please.«
It’s not that you can’t tell whether she wants to kiss you, too; you know she does, you can feel it through the bond that has tied your life to hers inextricably. You just needed to make sure that she wouldn’t push you away despite her feelings. So you wait as the seconds pass, each and every single one of them torturously long and drawn out.
Until she grabs you by the neck and pulls you in. Just her lips on yours, no more questions asked. For now.
+
You thought you knew what love was. Thought it was obvious, even.
Love was wanting someone to be a part of your life. Love was wanting to protect them at all costs. Love was when you felt safe with them. Love was when they made you feel alive in all the best ways.
And maybe that’s not wrong; maybe that’s part of love, maybe that’s some kind of love, maybe that’s love for some people.
But what you’re feeling right now, it’s different. It’s raw, it’s dark, it’s painful. It’s an open wound refusing to heal. It’s the constant, frantic fear of loss and grief.
You felt Lynire die, and the part of you that thought love could ever truly be soft and pure and peaceful died with her.