Could you please write a Brett one where the reader’s Liam’s best friend
and she naturally doesn’t like Brett but Stiles forces them to stay at
home together to watch over someone and they end up doing it in the
IM BAAAAAAAACCCCCCCCCCCKKKKKKKKKKK i apologize for taking so long anon but here it isss!!!!! not as smutty as it could have been but vvvvvv fluffy
HUGE SHOUT OUT TO ROBERT FOR EDITING FOR ME. THANK YOU V V V V MUCH BB ILY ANGEL THANK YOU CUTIE ILY
Warnings: LOTS AND LOTS OF ANGST; ALLISON’S DEATH; SMUTTY SMUT SMUT; BRETT SO FLUFFY YOUR HEART MIGHT DIE; FIGHTING READERXBRETT; BLOOD; BEST FRIEND!LIAM; ALPHA!SCOTT
“No. Absolutely not!”
Stiles sighs at your stubbornness. “Please Y/N,” the he pleads with you, “Please, we need you to watch him, just this once.”
“Are you kidding me, Stiles?” you growl, E/C eyes flashing blue, “It’s not about that. But you expect me, while you go out looking for this Benefactor, for me to stay home with the giraffe over here and some random ass beta?” Brett growls and bares his canines at your words. You only sneer at him before letting out a challenging snarl. Brett roars in provocation and advances towards you, eyes glowing, teeth bared, claws extended. But you weren’t afraid. You felt your own canines slide over your lip, and then a chick is heard as you reveal your sharpened claws.
“Bring it, Talbot,” you jeer as he let’s out yet another growl. And then he’s rushing at you. A few feet in front of you, Brett leaps in the air and raises a clawed hand to slash at you. You push yourself off the wall behind you and meet him halfway. The two of you crash in midair and fall to the ground. Brett slashes at your face and you go for his throat with your teeth. You roar in pain as the Talbot boy’s claws drag across your face, easily breaking the soft flesh. Blood drips down your face as you catch his wrist in your mouth, biting down so that the bone fractures. He snarls and struggles against your powerful hold. You release him with a howl of pain when his claws dig into your stomach. Writhing out of his grip on the floor, you deliver a two-legged kick to Brett’s chest and the he shoots away from you.
Brett cradles his injured hand and multiple cracks are heard as his body puts his bones back into place. You hiss as you feel your own wound mending and the skin flowing back together. Your fangs have dulled but your eyes remain glowing a steel blue as you get up and face Brett once again. You snarl at him, hatred burning in his own eyes as you stare each other down.
As you raise your hand to rip his throat out, a roar is emitted from Scott. Your Alpha’s eyes are blood red, and his multitude of sharpened canines were showing as he roared. Both you and Brett are thrown back by an invisible force, though it affected you more than he. You’re immediately shifted back to your human form as you hit the wall. Clawing at your ears, you whimper, just the noise made by your Alpha was hurting you. You whimper again, your body being wracked by tremors from an unknown source. Liam is by your side in less than a second on his knees.
“Scott,” Liam growls, “What did you do?”
“I was being her Alpha.”
Eventually the tremors stop and you get up with only slight discomfort, Liam at your side, shooting you an apologetic glance You narrow your eyes at Brett before turning to Scott and Stiles.
“Y/N,” he sighs, “Please.”
“Fine,” you say with a tone so cold, you scared yourself, “You owe me.”
“What, Brett?” you respond, exasperated beyond caring.
What? You turn to the Talbot boy and raised one perfectly sculpted eyebrow at him. “Excuse me?”
Brett shifted awkwardly, staring at his feet and rubbing the back of his neck. “I'm… sorry? For, you know, attacking you, and clawing you, and-and ripping your shirt, and um-” he motions to the blood, cuts, and rips that seem to cover your body all too often since you’ve met Scott McCall and Derek Hale. In the 3 years that you’ve known Brett Talbot, you’ve never seen him like this. Awkward, nervous even.
“Wait, wai-wai-wai-wai-wait,” you hold up a hand to stop Brett’s rambling. “Is Brett Talbot, apologizing to me? Wow, what a day! Do you mind if I can just record it?”
“Stop it!” You laugh at Brett’s disbelieving face. “I’m serious, I-I really am sorry.”
Your gaze flickers to the ground as your lips begin to curl into a smile and Brett can’t help as a grin spreads across his face. “You’re forgiven.” The words are out of your mouth before you can stop them.
“Really?” When you nod, a sigh of relief escapes Brett’s mouth. He steps towards you, toned abs showing through the claw marks that you had left in his shirt. Brett takes another step, and against your instincts, you don’t take a step back. Hesitantly, Brett raises his hand, and pauses, before reaching towards your face. He uses his middle and ring finger to brush your hair out of your face. Brett’s ears twitch at the sound out your heartbeat quickening. Ironically, you can hear his own heart racing.
Brett towers over you, tracing a line of blood across your cheek, the skin smooth underneath as you had healed hours ago. He let’s out a breathy laugh through his nose as he continues to stroke your cheek. Your eyes follow his hand, to his wrist, where a braided leather bracelet was tied, up his arm, to the pulled-up sleeve of his long sleeve shirt. Your eyes linger on his shoulder, the muscles bulging, even as he was relaxed, then to his neck, stopping for a moment on his jawline, then to his lips, which were quirked into a trifling smile, and finally to his eyes. His bright green eyes were soft, gazing at you with such tenderness you didn’t think was possible towards you from the Talbot boy.
Your hand lifted and covered Brett’s own on your cheek. Brett cocks his head to the side, and barely, just barely, leans down to close the distance between his lips and your own. Brett leans in a little more and you breathe in sharply as he gazes at your lips, his eyes flickering yellow for just a moment. Brett closes his eyes and breathes in deeply. “You- uh, you should probably go shower,” his hand falls from your face, dragging yours with him. Brett squeezes your hand, “Go, I can watch Bailey until you’re done.”
You nod and allow Brett’s hand to slip from your grasp. Brett can’t help but watch as you leave and begin to climb the stairs. You pause for a moment and for a second, Brett hopes that you might stay, but you turn away from him and make your way up to Scott’s room.
As you open a drawer to grab some of your clothes that are kept at Scott’s house, you grimace at the box of condoms on the shelf. Kira, you thought, before shuddering and digging out an old t-shirt of your brother’s and a pair of sweats, a bra, panties, and socks. You connect your phone to a speaker and place them both on the counter. You had already turned on the water to make sure that it was warm by the time you climbed in.
You sigh in relief as the warm water hits your back. Reaching for the body wash, you lather it over you hand and scrub your body, scrubbing roughly at the blood on your face, your arms, and your sides. You wince as the water turns pink from the blood of your now-healed injuries. You just stand there and watch as the pink water pales until it returns to the normal transparent color. Blindly, you reach for the shampoo, but instead knock into it. You watch it fall to the shower floor.
“Fuck,” you mutter, reaching down to grab the bottle from the tile. Your hands close around it and you bring it up to squeeze some into your hair. You massage your head slowly as the water washes the shampoo away. The conditioner came next, the cream softening your hair under the spray of water. You sigh as you sit down and allow the water to hit your back. You don’t realize how much time has passed as you just sit there and think. You didn’t know why you and Brett hated each other as much as you did. You shouldn’t. Lydia had told you many times that if you hadn’t hated each other as much as you say you did, you would be perfect for each other. Allison used to tell you the same, whenever you complained about the “asshat my parents make me hang out with.”
Allison. She didn’t deserve her death. None of your friends did. Not Erica, not Boyd, not Aiden, but Allison most of all didn’t deserve what happened to her. You can’t help but picture her face as the Oni stabbed her through the stomach. You picture Scott’s face. You picture Argent’s face. But most of all, you can hear your own deafening scream, mixing with Lydia’s until you can’t differentiate between them. A sob escapes your lips as you return to your body. And you remember, Allison has been dead for nigh over a year now. Tears fall from your eyes and mix with the water dripping down your face as memories of Allison run through your head.
The sobs that wracked your body ceased after a little while and eventually you stood, allowing the water to cascade over your whole body. Slowly your brain began to fall into a sort of lull, and nothing went through your head. You just stood there, staring at the tile in front of you. And then you felt a touch to the middle of your back.
“Y/N,” he murmurs softly, dragging his fingertips up your back to your bare shoulder. You were numb at this point, you couldn’t feel anything. And Brett knew this; it would happen to his sister sometimes after their parents died. You had lost too many people, and he knew exactly how to coax you out of your stupor. “Y/N,” he whispers into your ear again. “It’s alright, Y/N, you’re alright. I promise.” His breath hits the back of your neck as his tongue traces the shell of your ear. Your eyes slowly begin to focus at the action, finally becoming conscious of the man standing behind you.
“Brett?” you say quietly, “Where’s Bailey?” “Scott called, it’s over.” Brett’s answer was short and curt.
“What are you doing?” you breath as the werewolf wraps his arms around your waist and pulls your back to his chest. “Brett, what-what are you do-” You break off with gasp as Brett’s lips land on your neck.
“I want to show you how sorry I am,” he hums into your skin. His kisses don’t stop as you tilt your head to the side. “I’m sorry.” Brett’s lips brush over your pulse point and you gasp, letting your head fall against the torso of the giant mix between man and wolf standing behind you. “I’m sorry.”
“Brett, you-you’re forgiven,” you stutter as he continues to mouth at the flesh covering your pulse, “I-I said you’re forgiven.” Brett’s dulled fangs graze your skin and you whimper, chest heaving as you struggled to breathe. “Brett. Brett.”
Your breath hitches at the pet name that fell from his lips. When you don’t answer, Brett lowers his head back to your neck. A moan of his name slips unwillingly from your mouth.
“I just want to make it up to you, darling,” Brett rasps in your ear, “Show you exactly how sorry I am.” A shiver runs down your skin at his words, and you tilt your head even further, if possible. One of his hands snakes down your arm to intertwine your fingers with his. His other hand - oh, his other hand - stays locked around your waist, massaging your hips with the pad of his thumb, rubbing gentle, soothing circles into your skin. “Just relax, darling.”
And you do. Your muscles relax and your head lolls back into Brett’s chest. He whispers sweet nothings into your ear, placing kiss after kiss into your neck. “It’s alright darling, you’re alright,” Brett murmurs, slowly turning you around to face him. One of his hands is still around your waist, while the other rises up slowly to brush your dripping hair out of your face.
And finally - finally - Brett leans in and kisses you. It feels as if it’s in slow motion. He glances at your lips before looking back to your eyes, searching for permission. Your expression says it all. You want this. Him. But just to be clear, you give a slight nod of your head. That’s all Brett needs before attaching your lips together.
His lips are soft and smooth. Gentle. He kisses you as if you’ll break. His thumb caresses your cheek as you respond to his touch. Your own arms come up to wrap around his neck. He’s tall, so much so that you have to pull him down by the neck in order to run your fingers through his hair. Brett moans softly when you tug at his hair. The werewolf pulls you closer to him, if possible, and deepens the kisses, swiping his tongue across your bottom lip, then taking your top lip between his teeth.
“Brett,” comes the soft whimper from your mouth into his own. He hums in response, not once breaking apart from you. Brett gently backs you up into the shower wall, grip still tight around you. You whimper his name again when Brett separates your lips. His tall frame stares down at you with such tenderness and adoration that you can feel the walls you’ve built around your heart begin crumbling. “Brett,” you breathe once more.”
The Talbot boy’s eyes flash yellow at the way to say his name and he’s having a hard time keeping his wolf in check. “I-” he begins, but cuts himself off and starts over, “Are you sure, Y/N? Are you sure you want this? If I start, Y/N, I don’t know if I’ll be able to stop. Tell me you want this, Y/N. please, tell me.”
“Brett.” You stand up on the tips of your toes, and you still weren’t tall enough. He bends down slightly to hear your answer. “I want this, Brett,” you breathe against his pink, swollen lips, “I want you.” Brett moans at your words, and drags his fingertips up your sides. Your breath hitches at the action, anticipation for what was to come becoming the only thought in your head.
He doesn’t answer you, only continues his gentle exploration of your body, gentle, absentminded touches memorizing every inch like the lines to his old favorite song. His hands are gentle with you, as if you’re so fragile that you’ll shatter beneath him if he presses too hard.
Your plea of his name brings him out of his daze. He was so mesmerized by you, it was like he couldn’t live without you. Underneath all the hate filled glares, the snide comments, the arguing; beneath all of that, Brett couldn’t help but be totally, hopelessly, head-over-heels in love with you. Brett finally kisses you again, before sliding his hands back down your waist to cup your thighs. Without faltering in the kiss, he lifts you up and wraps your legs around his waist. He so tall that you squeal for a moment, breaking your lips from his.
“I’m not used to being this far off the ground,” you mumble, blushing embarrassedly. Brett’s lips part before letting out an unattractive snort. Soon he’s full on laughing. “Bretttt,” you whine, it’s not funny.”
“I-It’s just,” he said between chuckles, “you’re so small. It’s so cute.” Brett kisses you again, peppering kisses all over your face, jaw, cheeks, neck, and lips. “God, you’re beautiful,” Brett gushes, “So beautiful.”
You whimper softly at his words and push your hips against his. “Brett, hurry up, God damn it.” Brett complies, finally. He keeps his eyes locked with yours as he guides his length to your entrance.
“I love you,” he breathes as he ever so slowly slips into you. His confession shocks you and you gape at him, before your eyes roll back into your head. He keeps pushing into you and soon he filled you to the hilt.
“Say it!” you gasp out, needing to his hear his confession once more.
“I love you,” he repeats, “I love you. All of you. I’m sorry. I’m sorry for everything that I’ve ever done to you. I’m so sorry. I love you.”
“Brett!” you gasp as he pulls back and slams his hips back into yours. “Brett! I love you too! Oh! My! Go-!” Brett presses his lips to yours fervently, whispering sweet nothings against your mouth.
“I love you,” he whispers again, and it wouldn’t be the last time he said it. Brett drops his head to the crook of your neck, a “you’re so beautiful” falling from his lips and causing you to flush against his body.
The more Brett collides his hips with yours, the harder it becomes for you to control yourself. You grip his shoulder with one hand, while the other tangles into and tugs at his damp hair. The water from the shower head is hitting his back, spraying off of his muscled body and protecting you from the drizzle. You just about fall apart when Brett thrusts up into you at a new angle, hitting a spot inside you you didn’t even know existed.
“Brett!” you nearly scream his name as he repeats his action. Brett continues to place kisses along your neck and jaw, whispering for you to come for him.
“You can do it,” Brett murmurs into your ear, “You can do it darling, come for me. Come all over me. I love you. Come for me.”
And you do. You cry out Brett’s name multiple times as your orgasm hits you, writhing in his strong arms that are still wrapped around your body. Brett groans as you clench around him, and that alone is enough to send him over the edge. Brett’s eyes turn yellow and his fangs protrude from his gums as he sends thick streams of cum into your body. As the two of you come down from your high, he presses his forehead to yours. He laughs breathily against your lips and kisses you gently.
“I love you,” he says once more, “I mean it. I really do. I love you.”
A gentle smile spreads across your face. “I love you too, Brett.
But how are we going to tell Scott we had sex in his shower?”