shadowglitter | PSL || poe/odin

WAY TO REJECT ME YOU FLIGHTY AIRBORN PIECE OF SHIT! WAY TO FUCK EVERYTHING UP FOR ME AND MY HEART, FOREVER AND EVER, ALWAYS UNTIL FOREVER

HEY YO YOU TOLD ME TO WRITE A LIST SO GUESS WHAT!!!!!! IT'S TIME FOR US TO GET FUNKY AS FUUUUUUCKKKKKKKK

god i am not going to bother formatting this

TO DO LIST:
1. SEXTING FROM BOOT CAMP ringverse AU
2. prince/concubine AU - owain's the prince, poe's a concubine to the king, paranoia and political assassination ensues, etc etc etc etc etc
3. vampire hooker AU?? owain gonna get his gothic goth goth dick wet in that spooky vampire butt
4. HAHA BOOM WE'RE DOING IT I LINKED THE POST DOWN THERE
5. enemies of war AU - owain's a good guy on the bad guy side who almost loses his life trying to save poe even though he's an enemy soldier, poes like What, Shit, Damn, gay shit ensues
6. HNENENGH
7. ANGELS AND DEMONSSSSSSsss
8. 20s AU///?? YES. YES ALRIGHT
9. WW1 AU WHATS Up
10. ?? there was something that was supposed to go here from the kink meme
11. samurai champloo AU what up. chon'sin. Shit
12. bBODYSWAPPpappapp

long-term AU posts:

⚔⛉☆ PLEDGED

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

The kiss goes on for far too long, with Owain refusing to break it even amongst hurried whines and pressing questions. There were so, so many things he wanted to ask - about the war, about everyone he loved back home, about his fucking eye, about every single passing second of Poe's life he hadn't been a part of - but he doesn't know where to start. His hands are too tight on Poe, the grip in his hair too strong, and even when his hands roam, they hurt. The fingers that curl tight on Poe's cheeks pull skin taught without Owain's notice, and the hand on his shoulder digs in.

They have all the time in the world. This world is nothing but time. Death in stasis, empty and unwilling to find progress.

When he breaks from Poe it's with a violent shudder that makes him look like he's about to be ill, so resistant as he is to the thought of letting go. He's dizzy, for a moment, and his fingernails curl against Poe's shirt and he's blind from tears - but then that illness is real, and he feels like hell. His knees buckle from hunger and from days of walking with little to no sleep, and he collapses, forehead against Poe's collarbone, the rest of his body unwilling to hold itself up.

"Fuck--"

He staggers a little but manages to catch Owain's weight, his mechanical arm tensing around Owain's back, the low hum of the servos whirring to life in the elbow the only sound over the heavy laden breaths from both of them.

Everything else was pushed from Poe's mind - the time, the distance, the loss- because he knew what this was and what it looked like.

"I'm taking you home," he told Owain roughly, his voice far grittier than it bad been, over a decade and a half ago. "I'm not losing you, too."

"I don't have a home," Owain says, foggy from a lack of energy, America barely making contact with the rest of his thoughts. He's spent too long knowing Poe wouldn't be there to think of America as somewhere attainable, somewhere he could start a life. He'd put it out of his mind-- America only ever mattered as much as Poe did, and Poe had a war to fight, people to protect, and--

The world tilts and he shuts his eyes tight, burying into Poe's chest. His thoughts are a mess, and he still doesn't know if this is real.

"Even if I did-- I can't," he says, weak, voice so much like a grave covered in dust. "I'm supposed to-- this is where I'm supposed to be, this is what I'm supposed to do. I let this-- I let this world die, I let my family die, I let everything die and I've got a duty to my kingdom and to my country to fade away with them, I--"

The argument sounds weaker than it ever did before, now that he's wrapped up in the false arm of his savior. He's still leaning too heavily on Poe to feel like anything less than a burden, so he struggles to stand, and he-- succeeds, mostly, but he's still too woozy to walk. He leans on Poe's shoulder and finally, finally gets a good look at him. He's still so fucking handsome, but it's under so much age, so much pain, and Owain can barely look at him without his heart breaking.

"What... happened to you... since I last saw you?" His eyes dart down and away. "Who-- did you lose?"

You do have a home, he wanted to say. But Owain was talking again. So he listened to the reasoning. They hadn't been able to explain it to Poe, in Nohr - but that was less because he understood and more because he was impatient. He gets it, though. For a little while, he'd been angry that he'd survived the war. Incredibly angry. But he had tried to find a reason to keep going, and Owain had been it.

He wasn't sure what he would do, if Owain refused to leave this place.

Poe's a lot more stiff than he used to be - a lot more still. His reflexes not quite as fast as they used to be. But he's stable, and unwavering, and he takes Owain's weight easily.

"We won," He said, his voice still gruff from being unused the last few days. "... The Alliance won," he corrected. We was too great a word.

He had lost everything. Winning the war was all he had.

"But it's done, Owain. And so is this. There's no point- your death here would mean nothing. But if you decide to stay -" He let out a hard breath, his good eye meeting Owain's. "... Then so will I."

Survivor's guilt is a fucking monster of a thing, but for a long time, Owain was able to combat it. He could promise himself, and anyone who listened, that he would save the world time and time again, as many times as it would take. Living on for the memory of those left behind and for those still to come. For the people he promised his safety to. But it's been too hard, doing everything that had to be done and then just ending with peace he has no part in. Nohr doesn't need him. Ylisse doesn't need him. He thought for sure, that America wouldn't need him, but this-- this graveyard--

This graveyard is a part of him. This world is where he came from, it's what he bled for and fought for and it's where he should have died when he was just fourteen years old and ready for it. In another timeline, he saved everyone who lived here, but it wasn't-- them. The mother he saved in the other Ylisse isn't his mother, whose grave he stands beside - the father whose shoulder he cried on wasn't the same man who bled and crumbled with his hands clawing at his son as he told him to run. And they should have been. He should have saved them, and he didn't, so he should die with them, like he deserves.

This world is a part of him.

But it isn't a part of Poe.

The thought that Poe would stay here by his side, despite everything, despite what that might mean, ruins every good part of him that still beats. He breaks out in a sob that's more of a wail, hands shaking like earthquakes, his whole body a tremor wracked with sorrow. All he's ever wanted was to be with someone who would give anything for him - that he could give anything for - and now he has that and he's so, so, so, so close to throwing it away just because he thinks he doesn't deserve it.

The tremors get worse, and-- he cries.

He cries for a long time. A long, long time. Half an hour, maybe more. It starts in loud, violent sobs that almost drag Poe to the ground, Owain throwing himself with what little strength he has against him, knocking the pilot back to have a grave against his spine as Owain just fucking loses it in his arms. He screams into Poe's chest for all the years he's lost, for all the sins he's committed, all the people who needed him that he could have done so much more for but didn't. He screams, and he screams, and he screams, and he screams, until-- finally-- he chokes out a fragile, dragging hiccup, an eternity later, falling as silent as the rest of the world around him. Frayed, empty. Lungs raw with energy and too much use. Every part of him drained all but dry.

And then he stays quiet, for a while. Just needing to be held, not to talk. Curled in on himself with grief and with guilt and - for the first time in so, so long - with a spark to stay alive. If Poe lets him, Owain will be the first to break the silence that falls between them, raspy and quiet.

"I--"

It feels like a betrayal, saying this. He can't look at Poe when he does, hiding against him.

"I'm not ready to die," he confesses, like that's the most fucked up, awful, disgusting thing for him to say. But he can't say more than that, not here, not in the shadow of his parents. He wants America, he wants home, he wants Poe, he wants Poe, he wants Poe.

PSL || poe/odin

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