despite how many times you've killed the animal inside you only to meet it again in the morning / breathing out of your own mouth
— Natasha Oladokun, from "The Poem Climbs the Scaffold and Tells You What It Sees"
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Brett used to smell like rosin, varnished wood, warm cotton in the morning and bubble tea in the late afternoon. A homely scent; an omega's scent.
Now, he just smelled like blood.
(Whether the blood was his or someone else's, it didn't matter at all. Eddy would paint them both red before he'd ever allow harm to befall the other.
Even unto death, and to hell with the dramatics, but it was true.)
(Maybe they belonged to each other before they ever belonged to their own selves.)
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our new wilderness
FanfictionBrett used to smell like rosin, varnished wood, warm cotton in the morning and bubble tea in the late afternoon. A homely scent; an omega's scent. Now, he just smelled like blood. (In which the author is forced to write a fic but ends up liking it a...
