#nostalgia max!brett hand
Note
Love your writing! Could you do some headcanons for Nostalgia Max! Brett?
Nostalgia Max!Brett Hand x GN!Reader:
Warnings: canon typical violence/shenanigans, childhood trauma, family trauma, bad childhood, canon backstory + some additional opinions and insight
Content: a lil angsty ig? SFW and more general headcanons rather than anything super specific or
- okay so he’s always been lovable himbo, not a thought in his brain, but Nostalgia Max Brett? Thoughts be rolling.
- this is all with the context or at least pretense that Brett didn’t take over that town and trapped the gang in the 80’s — BUT I’m going to work the concept of him still having the powers and using them or being affected by them
- watching Brett getting taken over by whatever chemicals and chem trails were within the Nostalgia Max brew was frightening, deeply and concerning, setting that chill through your bones like an ice cube rattling in your spinal column.
- you were so relieved when Reagan got him to calm down and go back to normal, or - well, at least what you thought was normal. The lot of you head back to work afterwards, tired and ready for sleep in the modern age and tired of feeling like you got trapped as extras in a Stranger Things episode.
- except you don’t go home just yet, you’re fretting over Brett who insists he’s fine and feeling okay but his eyes are twinkling green, swirling neon hues of emerald and peridot unnerving you. You and Reagan take him down to her lab, letting her run tests as you pace back and forth and warily eye the still-displayed parts of Robotus that linger on the walls, trying to calm before you roll yourself into a panic attack.
- turns out he’s fine, no radiation threats or concerns to worry about, but he’s now got powers. So much for halting that Stranger Things feeling. Brett and Reagan don’t know how they’ll manifest, but it’s something time will demonstrate. For now he gets to go home and he doesn’t go to his, he goes back to yours, shushing your worries and holding you close.
- that glint in his eyes fades away from the forefront of your mind, other worries and occupational concerns taking place until you’re all on another ill fated fieldtrip and off doing something else for the company, and you get held up in the crossfire. There’s a series of guns pointed at you, sadly not the first nor last time this occurs, but disheartening nonetheless.
- Everyone’s trying to calm down the situation and make sure you get out unscathed and nobody realizes Brett’s panicking until he’s not anymore. He’s eerily calm and staring straight ahead with fists clenched, Reagan goes to grab his shoulder to talk about how to get you out but she’s met with those acid green eyes, like green apple candy, and a cold expression so neutral it’s unnatural on Brett’s usually grinning visage.
- it’s so fucked it’s just beyond
- he just waves a hand and this glow, that watery green that looks like seepage straight from a nuclear reactor cooling pond, just whips in a wet thwick that sends necks angled cruelly, snapped with as much ease as breaking a pencil, and guns clattering to the ground.
- Brett’s blinking blearily before shaking his head, hair that was once floating now resting back on his head in a disheveled style as he races towards you and envelops you in his arms, making sure you’re okay and unscathed.
- meanwhile Glenn’s using every single southernism cursing phrase he knows, confused to all fuck, Andre and Myc are just both entertained and mindfucked thinking they roofied again, Gigi’s popping an antacid and a sedative muttering about how she should’ve got to work for the Illuminati, and Reagan’s going around to inspect the crooked bodies and talking to herself as she makes notes aloud, wondering just how this power has manifested.
- Reagan does find it very fitting that the powers manifested in a time of great stress, the second you were put in danger. God is he an utter fucking himbo.
- it’s not a power Brett can fully control, it kinda sets him into a subconscious state where it’s not a part of his mind that’s fully aware, but it’s sparked by very strong emotions, threats, and feelings of danger around him or directed at him. He likes to joke he’s got a nostalgia-sense instead of a spidey-sense but you’re still reeling and wondering why he’s now just a bit more attractive. (it’s the messy hair you’d never seen it, plus he killed for you and that’s also something)
#inside job#my thots#inside job headcanon#inside job imagine#brett#Brett hand#inside job Brett#nostalgia max#nostalgia max!brett hand#inside job brett hand#Brett hand imagine#Brett hand headcanons#Brett Hand x reader#Brett Hand x gn!reader#x gn!reader#x gn reader#my inside job#personal inside job
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BOW BEFORE MY TOTALLY TUBULAR POWERS!!
#quizzy obsesses over the 80s themed episode?????? how shockig !!! /s#nostalgia max!brett#nostalgia max brett#nostalgia max#inside job#brett hand#sketch
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Things that Brett and Reagan would say (REAL)
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#inside job#inside job fanart#brett hand#reagan ridley#nostalgia max#mind control#the brettfast club#art#doodle#messy art
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Ok i came up with an au
I'm gonna call it "nostalgia remnants"
Ok so basically this is an au where nostalgia max just refused to leave bretts body (ep 5 s 1)
Physical changes:
Bretts eyes are permanently green
His fingertips are also dyed green
He can't get rid of his 80s haircut no matter how much he cuts his hair they always grow back overnight
Other things:
Sometimes there is too much nostalgia max gathered in his body and it leaks out of his eyes which makes him look like he's crying
Whenever he gets angry or upset small and medium sized objects around him start to float
The height in which said objects float depends on the intensity of his emotions
Sometimes he starts to float in the air
Reagan ties a rope to his leg or a torso so he doesn't float away
Reagan often experiments on nostalgia max to find a way to get it out of brett
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doodle page
#inside job#inside job fanart#reagan ridley#brett hand#gigi thompson#myc cellium#magic myc#nostalgia max brett
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*insert ghostbusters theme song here*
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One thing that’s really interesting (and sweet) to me about this scene is how, honestly, Myc, Andre and Glenn didn’t HAVE to hug Brett. By this point in the scene, he’s already came to his senses and was no longer a danger to anyone, and he seemed quite content with Reagan hugging him, but instead, all these clowns come running and give him a group hug lol
Which means the guys all probably hugged him because they were genuinely happy he was okay❤️
Especially Myc, who, mere MINUTES before, said he hated all of his coworkers and calls Brett “that big dumb p*ssy with all the Mormon energy”, yet still runs up and hugs him. Like, Myc, you’re not fooling anybody 😑
#inside job#inside job netflix#inside job nostalgia max#ij andre lee#ij Glenn#glenn dolphman#magic myc#inside job myc#reagan inside job#reagan ridley inside job#brett hand#nostalgia brett#brett hand inside job#ij
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yuh
I finish my exams REALLY early-
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oh I have one that's been in my head for weeks
Brett hand still has nostalgic max in his system and one day it reactively from a stressful situation and reagan there to calm down the waters before it fully take control
nice to see you again. Sure!
Note: I’m open to request! Just send an ask or reblog after reading my rules on my profile
—-
I Just Want A Loving Family..
It all started with a phone call. He was cleaning his office, an 80s movie playing on the computer when his phone rang. His heart nearly dropped when it said “Dad”. Hesitantly, Brett picks up and immediately gets yelled at.
His dad screams at him for ruining his sister’s competition. Brett had gone over to the stable to watch his siblings practice because apparently they still did competitions. He tried to pet one of the horses but it ended up with a back kick to his torso and a large bruise. The butler must have told them about it and the front leg was somehow injured
“What a disappointment to our family! Don’t expect to come back anytime!” was the last thing he heard before the call ends. Brett didn’t feel too good and felt his legs give out of him. His head and heart hurt. Why..? Why didn’t they care about him! Why didn’t anything he did make them proud? The movie on his computer captures his attention. A big group hug with the family, making him feel worse.
“I just want them to care.. that’s all I want..” He mumbled. Everything was spinning and the papers were flying around.
“Brett-pack.. Family!” He yelled. His eyes widened at the realization that he was turning back into that 80s monster. Panic Grew as he felt himself being lifted into the air and his vision fading.
—-
Reagan was heading toward the clone department when she heard a smack above her. She looked and saw a book slam into Brett’s window.
“What the hell?!” She dropped her clipboard and ran to see what was happening. Slamming opened the door and she froze at the sight.
Brett was currently kneeling in the air. There was a strong rush of air that spun paper around but the most terrifying part was that his whole eye was turning green. She could barely see his pupils.
“Brett! What happened!” She asked. He only responds with a scream and his phone lands near her. A notification pops out and Reagan reads it. It was from his dad.. a very long rant in anger about how he ruined the family and he needed to pay for a horse bil. The computer gets unplugged by the wind but not before she sees a happy family on the screen.
‘Shit! The Nostalgic Max is still in him!’ Reagan thought. It made sense, it just faded away after her words comforted him. They didn’t check if it was still in his system! What a stupid thing they forget to do. She had to calm him before he loses control
“Brett! It’s okay!” The wind makes it hard and she’s blown back a few times but she reaches him. Her arms wrapped around his torso, hoping the hug would bring him back. However it causes a cry of pain and he flings her into the wall. Brett stares in terror as she gets up holding her arm. One of his eyes was fully green now meaning they had minutes before he’s gone
“Listen Brett! You’re family, they’re assholes! You don’t deserve being called a disappointment!” Reagan yelled, her hand reaching for him as she moved toward. Brett shakes his head, his hands grabbing his hair
“Everything I do.. They hate it!” He screams. “I just want them to look at me… Just say that they’re proud!”
“Screw them!” Reagan argued. “They’ve hurt you so much. You don’t need to make them proud! In fact, I’ll say it. I’m proud of you!”
Brett’s expression softens and he lets go of his hair. The wind slows down a bit and she manages to get in front of him. Her hand grabbed his and looked at him.
“You’ve helped Cognito so much. You manage to get our coworkers to do some actual work. And.. you’ve helped me so much through my life. All those times where you would stay and help.. I would do anything for you. God.. the world needs someone like you. Who cares about those dickheads.”
Those words made him feel warm. Tears came down his face yet he smiled. His vision cleared up and the wind died down along with the paper. Brett drops to the floor, exhaustion setting in. Reagan bends down and smiles as the green leaves his eyes,
“Do you feel better?” He nods and takes a deep breath.
“Yeah.. thanks. Sorry about throwing you. Is.. your arm okay”
“Kinda hurts but I’m fine. But.. I did see that bruise. Maybe we should get that checked out.” He shakes his head.
“I don’t want to bother anyone.”
“Hey, it’s okay.” Reagan reassured. How about after work today, we can chill on the couch and just enjoy some takeout. We can shit talk or just watch movies. That sounds nice right?”
Brett nods and he lets Reagan brings him to Infirmary
“Thanks.. for helping” He says halfway there
“You helped me and I helped you. It’s not a big deal.”
Brett smiled. Despite how much he wanted to make his family proud, maybe he could push that aside.. just for right now.
#inside job#reagan ridley#brett hand#Can be seen as Breagan#angst with a happy ending#panic attack#nostalgia max#angst#hurt/comfort#inside job fanfic
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Kind of an odd wish, but I hope we see the return of Nostalgia Max but on the side of good.
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digitilized some doodles :]
#i like the traditional ones better but i wanted 2 try out some stuff w/ the coloring and i like it :)#the bagel draws#fanart#inside job#inside job netflix#inside job fanart#brett hand#nostalgia max
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basicaly what happened when nostalgia max n m.a.v. jonah interacted
#inside job#inside job oc#inside job original character#inside job brett#brett hand#brett hand fanart#nostalgia max#oc#original character#oc art#original character art#oc x canon#original character x canon character#comic#comic art#digital art#art#my art#jonah west#jonah x brett#my post
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Nostalgia Max!Brett Hand x afab/fem!reader
note: NSFW, 18+, Minors DNI, pet names, afab anatomy but no talk of tits in an effort to stick close to gender neutral, dominant brett hand, breeding kink, daddy kink, mommy kink, unprotected sex (wrap that rascal), slight exhibitionism, slight public sex, domestication, housewife kink, cum play, no pronouns but use of gendered pet names like mommy & others like sweet thing, baby, sweetheart, and babydoll.
You got separated from the group once Brett lost control, everything getting immersed in a hazy, green blast. Nothing worked when trying to calm him down, deescalate the situation and keep everyone safe. It blew up in y’all’s faces, literally. Waking up against rubble and debris, not seeing where you landed or where you are, you’re nervous.
There’s no modern tech on you and you’ve got no way to reach Reagan or Andre, get in touch with Gigi or Glenn or Myc. You’re absolutely alone until they find you. Or Brett finds you.
The two of you had been dating for a while, and you’re endlessly in love with him. Tirelessly and hopelessly in love with him. Brett’s a sweetheart and nothing but doting and kind to you, and he’s in therapy. How lucky are you?
Not as much now that he’s not himself and currently lethal, leveling several structures and sending you and your coworkers flying in different directions and under the influence of heavy chemtrails and 80’s nostalgia.
Your footsteps are tentative, wary of the unsteady rubble you walk upon and try to breathe through your shirt, pulled over your nose and squint through the dust in the air. There’s not much light, it’s dark out and nighttime. The cold seeps in more and that fear of being alone and vulnerable at night starts to sink in and soak your bones.
No weapons on your person, rendered useless and defenseless without any of your gear or comrades, it’s safe to say you’re terrified beyond all belief. Walking softly, slowly turning over chunks of masonry and debris to walk better and find a way out of the barely standing structure you find yourself in.
Moments pass and you try to think of other things like what you’ll do when you get home, if that show released it’s second part yet so you can stream it soon, and attempt pathetically to calm yourself. It’s not working.
You hear footsteps and you freeze, your body pressed to a wall and trying your best to hide in the looming shadows encompassing the formerly standing building. Pinpricks crawl up your neck and stand at the nape of your neck and across your arms. Your heartbeat has never seemed louder.
“Oh sweetheart, don’t you want to see me?”
it’s Brett, and you don’t see him but you hear him, can’t decipher where he is in relation to you from his voice, anywhere a possibility you don’t want to explore. Crawling up in a ball and shutting your eyes would be better, shutting the world out and forcing yourself to wake up from such a terrible dream.
But the sight of candy apple green eyes tears that hope from your lungs when you shudder, never expecting yourself to be afraid of him. The fear isn’t even about Brett, it’s about the limitless possibilities and outcomes of what could happen. He’s drenched so heavily in chemtrails it must be like standing too long near Chernobyl.
Feels so wrong.
“Why aren’t you talking to me? Did I hurt you?” He sounds like the Brett you love, and you’re worried he knows that, using that to get to you. He hasn’t spotted you yet, walking around and you press yourself into the brick behind you, wishing you could just disappear, dissolve into nothingness so it would all go away.
You don’t mean to, but your ankle nearly buckles isn’t the awkward position you are standing in. The sound is tinny in the darkness and silence of the rubble and his reaction is instant, eyes on you under a second.
“There you are!” Brett’s words would be endearing in any other circumstance, and he approaches. His hair isn’t as floaty anymore, but it still shifts unnaturally, like seaweed in an ocean current midair around his head in an unearthly halo. Eyes are bright green but less painfully neon and now more of a muted acid hue. You miss his eyes. “Was worried about you, baby, you sure you’re okay?” He dotes, nearly mirroring your brett as he cups your cheek.
When did he get closer?
“You seem fine, just shook up. Poor thing.” Brett coos, smiling down at you childishly in his usual manner but everything seems so unsettling, like his persona got dunked into a murky pool of liquid from a backalley at 3am. Unnatural and unsafe.
“Hey, c’mon sweet thing, talk to me.” He prods, raising your face up with his hand on your cheek and you oblige, looking up at him with fretful eyes that he frowns at. Your hands clench and fidget at your sides, entirely too overwhelmed but still needing to do something.
And it’s him in there. It’s still Brett. Just doused in chemtrails, no big deal.
“Hi Brett.”
He laughs, a giggling little sound that is usually very fitting but now a bit surreal in his current state. It remind you of glow sticks the way he shines out. You don’t like it.
“Hey there yourself,” he chimes, taking his hand in yours and squeezing, before he nearly lets it fall, his expression falling with it, “out with it, what’s wrong? You’re not smiling.”
“I don’t smile all the time.” Comes your immediate response and he clicks his tongue, brows furrowing and you regret not filtering your thoughts from words. “You don’t, but you smile around me. Tell me why.”
“Brett-“
He backs you up against the brick, looming a bit overhead and a part of it gets your bones staticky, indecisive in whether or not you wanted to kiss him or kick him.
“Use your words well and tell me why, or I’ll make another use for mouth.”
You gape, body choosing for you on the kiss him option and let him come closer, him murmuring between your lips as he closes in and cages you against his form and the shadowy enclave of the brick. “Good choice.”
Brett is all around you, a hand at the nape of your neck soothing and smoothing down the pinpricks while the other is at your side, kissing at you impatiently until he bites, humming in a pleased note when your mouth opens up and he ventures in, playing with your tongue as his hand ventures beneath your shirt, untucking it.
“Going to continue to be good for me?” He asks in your ear after breaking for a breath, marking up your throat and the underside of your jaw in bites as you squirm, the former unease in your belly turning fuzzy and warm, turning the danger into something attractive than daunting.
You nod and he squeezes tight at your hip, a warning and you answer aloud, “yes sir,” him rewarding you with a softer touch and undoing your pants as he takes them off. “Sir?” Brett laughs, shaking his head and his hair floats still, hovering like your waning rationale.
“You can do better than that. You know what to call me.”
Brett’s hand snakes between your legs and ghosts over your underwear, him practically beaming when he feels the pooling slick soaking through. “Yes Daddy.”
His eyelids flutter a fraction and ministrations falter, coming back and his eyes burn brighter and his grin in sardonic, a bit twisted. That reminder of don’t trust, don’t tell.
“Ohh that’s a new one, we’re keeping that, right baby?” He asks, plunging a digit into your cunt and holding a leg up around his hip, your chest covered and safe from the cold but waist and below is another story, trying to feed off the unnatural warmth he emanates now. “Mhmm.”
“There’s my sweet thing, smiling, all you needed was some lovin’ huh?” He asks, more to himself and aloud than anything as he preps you with his fingers, hearing the squelch and growing tired of having to angle his wrist a certain way. He tears the underwear apart.
“Just needed someone to play with your pussy and turn your brain off, right?” Brett prompts a moan from you as he breaches a second finger in and his thumb rolls over your clit, warmth flooding everywhere and your eyes flutter open to see him staring you down behind lidded eyes, glowing green deeper now that reminds you of that light at the end of Daisy’s dock in that Fitzgerald novel.
It kinda’ is a welcome home light. And you go to it.
Your hand threads through his hair and smashes his lips to yours as he groans darkly into your open mouth, excited and eager hands shift your legs around his then busy themselves with his belt buckle, leaving you empty and clenching around nothing which he more than notices. Whimpering as he tugs at your lip, he peers down at you while he lets his belt open.
“Easy f’me babydoll, daddy’s going to take care of you.”
It sounds so good in this voice, all gravelly this time ‘round and the difference sells the experience, and the way he’s shifted, using the weight he carries and taking up space rather than weaving his way through it.
“Need you daddy.” You whine, feeling his thumb over your clit rolling circles that get you throbbing, squirming between him and the brick wall behind you.
“Patience, baby, I’ve got you.” Brett drawls, nudging your nose with his as he frees his dick from the confines of his briefs and Levi’s, bobbing in the space between your legs and looking so damn good you could’ve eaten it.
Another time.
“This pretty cunt gonna’ take it all you think?” He muses into the column of your throat before angling his head against you so he can see between the two of you, one hand holding your thigh up and parting it wide while the other fists his already drooling dick in his palm, pearlescent droplets of precum pooling at the tip. “Gonna’ be good for me?”
You nod, smiling blearily in a dopey grin and run your hands over the back of his letterman jacket, and into his hair while the other slides down to lift underneath his shirt, wanting to feel him whenever you could.
He breaches your walls in a single movement and you whimper, head landing back against the brick and hear him grunt, deep from his chest as he bottoms out in you. Brett’s head hangs for a moment before he looks back to you, eyes staring from beneath his full lashes and still having that unnatural green.
“Just knew this little pussy would take it.” He mutters and snaps his hips back, hands moving to cup your ass and bring you closer so he can thrust back and forth in a punishing, cervix-bruising pace. God, you’d feel him for days.
You didn’t mean to say it out loud but he hears it nonetheless, grinning against your temple while he fucks you like a ragdoll, “that’s right, gonna shape this cute little cunt until it’s molded around my cock, gonna’ be my little toy, right? Let me play with you?”
Moaning behind kiss swollen and puffy lips, you affirm his statement and thrust your hips back into his, sending a reverberating groan through his throat out that turns into a dark chuckle, his pace slowing a fraction only to move forth harsher, the sound of skin and your debauched moans painfully loud within the silence of the destroyed structure.
“Gonna’ keep us here, you and I,” Brett begins to ramble, punctuating his words with snaps of his hips that get you seeing stars, “gonna’ breed this little cunt and get a family from you, stay here happy for the rest of our lives.”
“You going to let me give you a child, sweet thing?”
“Mhmm.” You whine, clutching at him and grinding down on his dick, a pathetic mess of yourself with slick smeared between your thighs, “Gonna’ make you a daddy.” Brett groans aloud and rewards you with a hand moving from under your thigh to your clit once more, pressing in those rolling ministrations that get you clenching awfully hard.
“Wanna’ cum Brett — I need it.” You’re rambling at this point, incoherent and cockdrunk as he plunges in and out of you, nothing but sex on the brain and none of the ramifications. It would be your problem another day, another moment, but for right now it was everything.
“Need what baby? Gotta’ speak, got that pretty voice of yours — make it useful.”
“Want your cum, wanna’ stay here with you and let you knock me up over ‘n over,” you’re spitting out words as fast as they form because you’ve barely got the headspace for anything else but cumming on his dick, “get pregnant and have your baby, make you a daddy — please lemme’ make you a family.”
He whines in the back of his throat as he bites at your neck, your words hitting deep somewhere in him and loses his even pace in lieu of fucking you frantically, practically jumping your form with how desperate he is to flood your cunt. Brett’s hand still rolls it’s thumb over your pulsing, sensitive clit.
“God yes, make a little mommy out of you, see you get all swollen and round with leaking tits to feed our kids — fuck,” he’s speaking to you in equal to the wind, voicing aloud not just his plans but his dreams, wishes to have a life with you, “cum f’me baby, gush around this cock then I’ll give you what you want.”
you mewl, squirming and bucking while chasing that high that already has begun to sprawl like white-hot lightning in your bones, curling and pooling within your belly, feeling Brett slide in and out while he punches the breath from you while prodding at your cervix.
“Gonna’- I’m going to, fuck fuckk.” Brett snaps his hips in whip-fast motions once, twice, and you’re gone. Everything whites over and fades into blank noise, like getting submerged in bath water as you shake and shudder, taking him in as he fucks you through it, suspended only by his hold.
“Fuck, you look so p-pretty,” he stutters just like his pace, falling frantic in how he chases his orgasm after yours, Brett crumbling as he finally cums and floods your cunt, slick smeared between the both of you all over your thighs and lower abdomens, white ropes and rivulets accompanying your arousal. Brett snarls out your name in a broken groan against your collar, voice deep.
He bucks his hips and mutters nonsense into your ear, milking every last drop into your silken cunt and more, “cant wait to see you all knocked up, gonna’ make you a mommy. Swear.” You’re barely conscious enough to process his words, but you do, whimpering and squirming against him in pleased, soft tones as you still have your eyes shut tight, toes curled and feeling absolutely cloudy and airy — breathless.
Brett eventually finishes emptying himself inside of you, sticking close and keeping you on his cock as you come down from your highs and blink blearily back into reality. Shifting, causing you both to groan, you reach out and smooth his hair back and get him to look at you, green glow now gone and fucked out of him as he stares up at you back to himself.
“Hi Brett.” You murmur once again, this time feeling much better about him and his safety. His arms coil around your waist as he burrows into your neck, doting kisses across your skin and soothing the burn and bite of his marks.
“Hey honey.” Brett murmurs, sleepy and lethargic now and you smooth a hand through his hair, scratching idly and getting him groaning happily against you as your other hand rubs across his back and the rough fabric of his jacket he still had on.
“Ready to get out of here?” He nods against you in response and helps you stand, soft moans and sighs passing as he slips out and you feel cum slip forth from your overfilled cunt onto your thighs. Hurriedly getting redressed, sans your tattered panties, you stand before one another and he tries to apologize but you shake your head, cupping his cheek and saying you enjoyed it.
“Hey Brett?” You ask later on, walking hand in hand back with the group on the way to Cognito Inc after regrouping. “Yeah?”
You grin, beaming at him, squeezing his hand.
“Wanna’ do that again sometime?”
He opens and closes his mouth, giggling for a second before turning back to looking at you, squeezing your hand back while his other thumbs the velvet box in his jacket pocket.
“Absolutely.”
#inside job#my inside job#personal inside job#Brett hand#brett#inside job brett hand#inside job brett#brett hand x reader#brett x reader#brett hand x afab reader#x afab reader#x fem reader#brett hand x fem reader#brett x fem reader
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Better
Content warnings: They're showering together, but it's 100% SFW
Relationships: Brett x Reagan
A/N: Written for day 3 of @breaganweekbabeee
Prompt: Video cassette + green glows
Word count: 733
Day 1 | Day 2 | Day 3 | Day 4 | Day 5 | Day 6 | Day 7
Summary: Their whole night after the events in Still Valley.
Also on Ao3!
Even with the sound of the water hitting the tile, Brett could hear the door squeak open, clothes falling to the floor, and the curtain being pulled open, but he still let out a soft breath of relief when he heard Reagan hum, "showering all by yourself, handsome?"
Brett couldn't stop himself from giggling as he turned around to face her. "Not anymore." He brought a hand up to gently cradle her chin as he placed a chaste kiss to Reagan's lips.
"Feeling any better?" She asked, to which Brett nodded. Sure, the residual guilt of everything that had happened still weighed on his shoulders- he did nearly kill his best friends, after all- but it was nothing compared to the feeling he'd had on the ride back from Still Valley. God, that had been tense. Nobody wanted to say anything, still too exhausted or tired to speak, but Brett had a million things he wanted to say. Whenever he'd opened his mouth, though, the only thing that would come out was, "sorry."
Brett sighed softly and closed his eyes, letting the warm water run over himself again. "Yeah," he whispered, "this helps."
She watched him for a moment, smiling when an idea came to her mind. "You haven't washed your hair yet, have you?" she wondered.
"Nope."
"Turn around."
With the gentle push of her hand on his shoulder, Brett did as she said, now facing away from her. The unmistakable sound of the shampoo bottle clicking open echoed around the shower, then Reagan had her hands in his hair. "Why do you have to be so damn tall?" She asked with a chuckle. Brett laughed around with her, and smiled in return. Reagan's fingers worked their way into his hair, fighting the excessive amount of hair spray he'd used to keep it back as she gently massaged his scalp. Brett was quick to relax into her touch, sighing as she continued to wash out his hair.
Eventually, she had to pull her hands away to add some more product. "Holy shit," she murmured, observing her palms, before glancing up to Brett's hair. "Brett, I think you took a bit of the Nostalgia Max with you," she teased, laughing at the utterly shocked look on Brett's face when he turned around. Lo and behold, her hands were glowing bright green, making Brett's breath catch in his throat.
"I don't wanna see that stuff ever again," he declared, turning back around, her continued laughter just hitting his back.
"You won't," she assured him, "but not until I finish washing out these luscious locks of yours." Brett chuckled at the compliment and closed his eyes, humming softly when her fingers worked into his hair again.
Thankfully, getting all the chemicals out of Brett's hair wasn't too much of a process. After a few good rinses, it was gone, the green glow no more. Brett had gotten out of the shower, leaving her when she insisted on washing her own hair- really, it was because Reagan didn't want her boyfriend to see that she was still using that shitty 3-in-1 stuff that she couldn't bear to part with. By the time Reagan was finished, Brett was dressed in a hoodie and pair of boxers, his hair wrapped up in a towel.
"Now I must ask," Brett hummed, loud enough for her to hear him from the living room, "what was your idea?"
Though he couldn't see it, Reagan tilted her head with confusion. "Huh?"
"In Still Valley," Brett began to clarify, "you said you had an idea. I doubt it was helping me get all of that gunk out of my hair."
She laughed, telling him that she'd show him in a minute. When Reagan returned to the living room, she was dressed in her pyjamas, and she held her hand behind her back. Brett eagerly watched her. She then pulled her hand out, revealing a tape of The Goonies. "Tada!"
His face lit up with excitement, his smile wide, before patting the spot on the couch next to him. "Get over here," he called. Once the tape was in and rolling, Reagan finally joined him on the couch, and Brett wrapped his arms around her, placing a soft kiss against her temple before she rested her head on his shoulder. He looked down at her with a content smile, humming, "now this is better."
credit to @cafekitsune for the text divider!
#breagan week#breaganweek#inside job#brett hand#inside job netflix#reagan ridley#breagan#rand ridley#gigi inside job#andre inside job#myc cellium
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