#brant wuthering waves

[xichilie]

Brant x (fem)reader

A Flower Among Thorns

The moonlight shimmered across the winding canals of Ragunna, casting silver streaks over the cobbled streets. The city was alive with distant music, the chatter of nobles, the ever-present murmur of secrets woven between its shadows.

But none of that mattered to Y/N Fisalia as she slipped away from Porto-Veno Castle, her breath hitching as she finally—finally—made it past the watchful eyes of her family's guards.

She had done this before.

Not often, and never without risk, but enough to know the routes where the Fisalia name held no sway. Where she could breathe without the weight of Cantarella’s watchful gaze pressing down on her.

Her sister meant well. She always had.

Cantarella had ensured that Y/N remained untouched by the Fisalia family’s darkness—kept safe, kept guarded, kept away from the poison and power plays that ran through their bloodline like an unshakable curse.

But Y/N didn’t want to be caged.

She was gentle, a delicate flower in a family of thorns. And sometimes, she just needed to be free.

Tonight was one of those nights.

She walked along the quiet outskirts of the city, the scent of the sea carried on the breeze, her delicate slippers barely making a sound on the damp stone.

And that was when she saw him.

A man, lying slumped against the base of a crumbling fountain.

Blood stained his coat, seeping into the fabric like ink on parchment. His blue hair, streaked with two vivid streaks of violet, fell over his face, and even in the dim glow of the streetlamps, she recognized him.

Her breath caught.

Brant.

She had seen his face before—on wanted posters, in whispered conversations among her family’s associates. The Fool, the trickster, the thorn in the Montelli’s side… and an enemy of the Fisalia family.

Logic told her to turn away.

To leave him there, to let the city's shadows swallow him whole.

But she couldn't.

Because despite everything she had been told, despite the warnings and the stories, all she saw in front of her was a wounded man.

And Y/N had never been able to ignore someone in need.

She moved without thinking.

Her hands were delicate but sure, pressing gently against the wound at his side. Her magic—a soft, golden glow—pulsed beneath her fingertips, stitching the torn flesh together bit by bit.

The moment she made contact, he stirred.

A shuddering inhale, a faint twitch of his fingers, and then—

His eyes fluttered open.

Y/N froze.

Pink.

His eyes were pink, the color of a blooming dusk rose, hazy with exhaustion yet still alight with mischief.

For a moment, he simply stared at her.

Then, with an amused tilt of his lips, he rasped out:

“Well, well… I must’ve hit my head harder than I thought.”

Y/N blinked, startled by the warmth in his voice despite his clear pain.

Brant’s smirk deepened as his gaze trailed over her—the elegant silk of her gown, the delicate gold embroidery, the soft glow of her magic. He exhaled a breathless chuckle.

“What are you, an angel?”

Y/N huffed, trying to ignore the way her heart skipped a beat at the sheer audacity of this man.

“You’re injured,” she said instead, keeping her voice gentle but firm. “Try not to move.”

Brant hummed, his head tipping back against the fountain. “Ah. A healer, then… and a pretty one at that.”

Despite herself, Y/N felt a small smile tug at her lips.

Injured as he was, Brant was still Brant—charming, teasing, utterly shameless.

She should be worried. She should leave before someone saw her with him.

But instead, she kept healing him.

Because for once, she wanted to make a choice that was hers alone.

_______________________________________

Brant was distracted.

And for someone like him—a performer, a Fool, a man whose very life depended on his ability to be quick, sharp, and always one step ahead—distraction was dangerous.

Yet, for the past several days, his mind had been utterly consumed by one thing.

Or rather, one person.

His angel.

He had called her that in jest at first, half-delirious from blood loss, but the more he thought about it, the more fitting it seemed.

A girl with gentle hands and kind eyes, who had appeared out of nowhere to heal his wounds when she should have left him for dead.

A girl whose very presence had been soft, warm, soothing, so unlike the ruthless city of Ragunna.

But she had vanished before he could even ask her name.

And it was driving him insane.

The Troupe had been traveling, performing in the outskirts of Rinascita, yet no matter how many taverns he visited, no matter how many grand performances he put on, Brant found his thoughts drifting back to her.

His usual flair, his dramatic storytelling, his showmanship—none of it felt quite the same.

Even Tina had noticed.

“You’ve been acting weird,” she remarked one evening, propping her elbows on the tavern table, a knowing smirk tugging at her lips. “More than usual, I mean.”

Brant took a slow sip of his wine, barely reacting to the jab.

“I’m always weird, dear Tina,” he replied smoothly. “It’s part of my charm.”

Tina squinted at him.

“…You’re lovesick.”

Brant choked on his drink.

“Pardon?!”

Tina leaned forward, eyes glinting with amusement. “Oh, this is rich. Who is she?”

Brant bristled, placing a hand dramatically over his chest. “I’ll have you know, my dear friend, that I am merely reflecting on the fleeting nature of human connection, the cruelty of destiny that brought a most radiant vision into my life—only to snatch her away before I could even learn her name!”

Tina snorted. “Uh-huh. So you’re obsessed.”

Brant groaned, throwing his head back against the chair.

…Maybe.

Just a little.

That night, he dreamed of her.

He dreamed of soft hands pressing against his skin, of golden light, of a voice as gentle as the sea breeze.

And when he woke, chest tight, heart pounding, one thought ran through his mind like a promise.

He had to find her.

Even if it meant searching all of Ragunna.

Even if it meant defying fate itself.

Brant wasn’t the type to let a good story end unfinished.

And this?

This was only the beginning.

[aconfusedkitten]

he's a pirate. he's exiled from fictional italy. he's a theater kid. his best friend has anxiety and lives in a suitcase. he's wanted by the catholic church for being too silly. he calls you "my dear boy." he was banished for being a fool and decided to start a circus called the troupe of fools. his main mode of transportation is a turtle. he dual wields pistols and a sword. he has beef with a giant whale. he lives on the ocean and has fire powers.

he's even italian.

[eraenia-era]

Brant

[pheleszev]

Brant

[delzinrowe]

In the face of danger and adversity, the stage is set for our grandest act!

[gifimay]

brant headcannons pt2

brant who would call you princess and kiss your knuckles while on one knee

brant who would hold your chin with his hand before smirking and kissing you

brant who would drown you in butterfly kisses and laugh when you try to squirm away

brant who would convince a bunch of echos to pretend to kidnap you and take you to a surprise party he threw for you

brant who would wink at you all the time for no reason whatsoever

brant who would put a lot of effort into hygiene for you(pirates usually didn't have good hygiene due to not having the supplies for it) because he doesn't want to smell bad around you

brant who would either be the most confident flirty motherflipper ever or the awkwardest little guy around you. depends on the day(and how drunk he is)

brant who would do that cheesy thing where he says he can hold the whole world in his hands and cup your cheeks, claiming 'your his whole world'

brant who would absolutely dance with you, doing ball dances and twirls

brant who wouldn't mind if you didn't really want children, I actually think he'd prefer to adopt, he'd rather give a home to children already in this cruel world.

brant who would cling to you in his sleep and wouldn't let go no matter how much you try to get out of his hold

brant who would give you hickeys not because he's jealous but because he loves the artistry of them

and brant who would turn into a soft cuddly marshmallowy mess whenever he's jealous. pouting like a hurt puppy until you turn your attention back onto him

(and thats all I got for now. more brant hcs probably soon. god damn do him and female rover have a hold on my heart.

have a good day/night/morning/evening!)

[axxa-the-allikatt]

Dude I finally got the time to write this but the story kept going on and on and on and- so I sorta decided to do two parts of this. Istg I didn't expect it to become this long but here we are.

Ps, the last time I did an anon request they didn't find out l'd posted it until like a month later so if you do read this please text me something so I won't be paranoid abt it TwT.

ALSO, shout out to that one horny Brant fan in my requests box. I feel you homie e. Lmk if you like this.

Enjoy!

***

Brant X Top Male Rover:>

***

It had been almost two months since you started visiting the fools ship almost every other day, and it had been almost two months since you’ve looked Brant in the eye.

The first time you’d met him, you were too busy getting your brain circuits in check after that little accident with the big- fish?- and your eyes were too busy wandering over the ship to let them linger too long on those comfy looking man boobs of his.

But now that all that commotion was put on a pause? You did not miss a single chance to let your eyes wander down from his pretty lips to his neck (oh lord how you wanted to mark him up) to the gap between his perfectly cut shirt that let you catch a glimpse of all that skin and muscle underneath.

It’s not like you were ashamed of it. You had noticed him staring at your arms every time you did the heavy work around the hide out, the way his eyes trailed your adams apple when you took a sip from the water bag he always carries around and the way his breath caught when you placed a hand on his hip as you stood behind him, leaning into him as you butted into whatever conversation he was having with someone.

Oh no, you weren’t ashamed at all. And if anyone accused you of doing these actions exaggeratedly in the presence of the other man, you would admit it in the blink of an eye.

But despite being aware of the obvious chemistry between the two of you, you both avoided a conversation about it like it was the plague. The crew, who had found it amusing and entertaining at first, now felt that finding a cure for a deadly disease would be easier than getting you two to have a conversation about this little whatever thing was going on between you.

Since verbal communication wasn’t an option and they couldn’t possibly force the two of you to kiss, they did the next best thing they could think of. They locked you up in the ships cabin and refused to let you go until you both figured your shit out. At first, you tried breaking the cabin down but realised with disdain that breaking the cabin meant letting the sea water in. Which brought you to your current situation.

“Uhhh” you muttered intelligently, eyes flitting around the room until they landed yet again on the other man’s chest. You couldn’t help it. They looked too comfy and you had way more than once thought about what it would feel like sleeping on them. As your thoughts continued to go south into a prohibited lane, you heard a low chuckle, then his voice. “My eyes are up here, Rover”.

You swallowed as your eyes flitted up to meet his. Your tongue darted out to wet your lips again and you could see his eyes follow the motion before copying it without a thought. You wanted to smack yourself as your eyes again started trailing down the path they had followed so many times, to his lips, down his neck, then back to where they usually were.

You were startled out of the little scenario that you were creating in your head when something slid from under the door, sliding to a stop at Brant’s feet. He picked it up, and your eyes yet again followed their target, his clothes slipping a little and giving you just enough view of what was hidden to let your blood start flowing south.

Brant stood up again, as he ripped open the tape of a brown paper bag, then peeked in to see the contents before throwing it with an unexpected force, startling you out of another scenario you were going through. “What the- hey what was that?” You asked, turning around little to walk over to the bag. “Uh nothing! Don’t- don’t worry about it.” He exclaimed, motioning you to let it go. Now you were curious. What had gotten your pretty boy all pink and cute like that?

You continued to make your way over to the corner of the room where the bag had fallen until he hurriedly slid across your path. “It’s nothing. Just a joke between the crew” he reassured you, trying to walk you back. “Oh, so you don’t consider me as your crew yet?” You faux pouted, abruptly turning around, causing him to knock into you, face dangerously close to yours.

You could hear his breath hitching, then trying to relax as he tried to explain himself. “That’s not- I’m not-“ he sighed. “You know that’s not what I meant” he replied, eyes looking at anything but yours. “Then what did you mean?” You asked. He sighed again as he closed his eyes and you took this chance to dash past him, reaching the corner and grabbing the bag, before Brant nearly crashed over to you.

You leaped out of his reach and looked into the bag, ready to tease him about whatever was in it, until your breath caught in your throat and you froze. Inside the bag, was a bottle of what seemed suspiciously like lube and a few packs of, what were definitely, condoms.

The two of you stood there for an awkward moment until you decided to be a petty bitch. “Oh? So what was the joke between the crew, captain?”

He sucked in a sharp breath, eyes slightly widening, as he gave you a half annoyed, half desperate look. “It’s- it’s nothing. Forget it.” He murmured, turning his back to you as he made his way back to where you two had initially been standing. You could see his hands shivering slightly.

You followed him, taking deep breaths to calm yourself, and landed yourself on a wooden crate as he stiffly sat on another one a considerable distance away from yours. Silence ensued.Seconds passed into minutes. Your mind was racing a mile a minute. But you were sure of one thing. If you let this incident slide as a joke, it would forever stay a joke.

“Captain?” you called out. “Mn” he replied, refusing to meet your eyes. His hands were now shaking. You eased off your crate, slowly making your way over to him. As you neared him, you reached out your hand, cupping his face. You felt him hold his breath, eyes still on the floor, waiting on your every word. “Talk to me” you said softly. “…What is there to talk about?” He replied, voice almost a whisper, as he oh so slightly leaned into your touch.

You sighed. Letting go of his face, you slid your hand to the back of his neck, making him tilt his head to look at you in the eyes. His eyes were slightly wide, a look on his face that you could only describe as desperation. It made your heart crack with adoration. You wanted to kiss this man stupid. But you, not knowing where you would be in the future, and him, hating where he was in the past made the red string connecting the two of you twist and knot in a cruel way.

But who were you, the great Rover, if not one to laugh in the face of pain. Oh how dramatic.

“Tell me what you want, Captain.” You whispered leaning in against his lips, a mere inch between your faces. He let out a strangled noise, eyes blowing impossibly wide as you felt him melt in your hands. After what felt like eternity but in reality was only a few seconds, he slowly leaned towards you, brushing his lips against yours in a barely there kiss.

As much as your body and soul wanted to devour him, your mind reminded you to let him take it at his pace. Slowly, a brush became a gentle press, and a press became a wanting lick, until he finally put his arms around your neck pulling you closer to him. Not finding your balance, you place a knee against the crate, standing between his legs. He let out a beautiful whine against your lips and you realised what your knee was pressing against.

You teasingly pressed harder, feeling his rising erection with glee. He gasped into your kiss and you took this opportunity to gently slide your tongue inside his mouth. Your mind was reeling with a million emotions. Love, adoration, possessiveness, wanting, craving, lust. So much. You let your hands wander down to his hips, fighting against the urge to lay them against the smooth muscles of his chest. Hands gripping his hips, you picked him up with one fluid motion, as he instinctively wrapped his thighs around your waist.

Seconds passed into minutes, your lips separating only for a second or two catch your breath before diving back in. Finally, a few minutes later, he pulled back completely, breathing in deeply, as he unhooked his legs, arms remaining around your neck. You gave him a soft smile, hoping it would ease his nerves.

What you didn’t expect was the way his lower lip started trembling, eyes wetting with the tears that were about to fall. You had a moment of panic, as you held him tighter against you. “Hey. Hey, what’s wrong?” You asked worriedly, leaning your forehead against his. He sniffled, staring at you. “We shouldn’t do this” he mumbled, a few moments later. Your breath caught in your throat. “Why?” You questioned gently, one hand reaching up to wipe a stray tear off his cheek. He took another moment.

“Because you’re- I- You’re a person who’s destined to save the world, and I, I’m a stupid fool who couldn’t even fight for his own homeland. I’ve tried for so long to save my home, but I could only do it this time because you were here. I’m- I’m not the only one in this world who needs saving Rover, and in the days to come-“ he took a deep breath, “you’ll have to leave. And I- I know you have to. So please. I don’t want to make this harder for both of us.”

A painful silence followed this confession, words of reassurance dying in your throat. He was still in your arms, shallow breathing the only noise in the room. “I’m sorry” he whispered, voice cracking uncharacteristically, snapping out of your stupor. You took a deep breath. “And if I-“ you licked your lips, choosing your words carefully, ”and if promised you I’d come back to you even if I had to go away… could we make this possible, Captain?”

He stared at you, the drying tears springing up in his eyes again. Something was off. You felt it. “Captain… Brant, speak to me.” He shook his head, laying against your shoulder, as he let out a quite sob. “You…” he whispered. You soothingly rubbed his back, praying to any god who would listen, to take this man’s pain away. “I’m selfish. I want you all to myself but…”

“You deserve someone better, Rover. I’m only a fool.”

“…”

“What?” You whispered in disbelief. Getting no reply, you gently took his face in your hands, looking at him in confusion. “Is that what you’re worried about?” He refused to reply to you, instead opting to look down at the floor. “Brant” you said sharply, making him flinch and finally meet your eyes. You softened your voice, speaking as slowly as possible, making sure he heard every word you said. “I like you. So fucking much. I want you. And god forbid you ever think you’re not worth every second of my existence. Do you understand?” You felt his jaw tighten under your hands, still no reply.

You sucked in a deep breath. Fine then. “Brant.” You said, looking him in the eye. “Answer me.” Another moment of silence. You let a hand slide down to his neck, down his side and come to a rest at his hips, as your other hand tilted his face, your own face dangerously close to his. You felt him shudder under your touch. “Would you listen to me if show you how much you mean to me?”.

A moment passed. Then two. Then, a slow, shivering voice. “Show me, Rover.” A deep breath. “Please.”

You crashed your lips on his, the hand on his hips pulling him tight against you, as he let out a almost silent cry, before wrapping his arms around your neck like his life depended on it. You carefully picked him up. He wrapped his legs around you again, moaning against the kiss as you squeezed his ass playfully. Walking over to a conveniently placed table, which you were sure wasn’t here earlier, you placed him down, standing between his legs.

Breaking the kiss, four hands hurriedly began undoing the clothes separating you two. Finally, finally, after two months of dreaming of them, your hands made their way to his chest, leisurely kneading the muscles. The sinful moan he let out sent all your blood rushing down as you rolled your hips, your own erection rubbing against his. Clothes. You still had to get these clothes out of the way before you went crazy. He seemed to be having the same thoughts as you both began undoing what remained of your clothes, lips separating once in a while to take a breath before crashing back in.

Within minutes, he was naked. You broke away from the kiss, breath hitching in your throat as you admired the view before you. Your eyes trailed from his beautiful face, down his neck (you finally had a chance to mark it now), over his perfect, toned chest, his nipples now obviously hard, down to his chiseled abs and those thick thighs (damn, he had thick thighs too. You wondered how it would feel to be choked by them. You had plenty of time to find out) and your eyes landed on the painful looking erection, his tip already flushed red.

You unconsciously licked you lips, and heard him suck in a breath at this. You saw the movement of his Adam’s apple as he swallowed hard and you dived in to press loving bites against his neck. You made sure to leave marks.

Taking his hands in yours, you held them behind him, making him ever so slightly arch his back. You continued nibbling at his skin as you made your way down his neck to his collar bone, then to his chest until your lips finally reached a nipple. Flicking your tongue against it, making the man under you let out a whine, as he arched his back further, pushing his chest in your face. It was exactly as you’d dreamt it would be. Soft and comfy.

Another whine escaped his lips, as he mumbled a little ‘please’. You grinned to yourself. “Hm? Tell me what you want baby” you cooed softly, looking up at him. He blushed a furious red as he stuttered over his words. You let out an amused chuckle. “Shh. It’s alright, don’t worry. Just let me take care of you, sweet thing.” You murmured, gaining another whine.

You gently pressed a palm against his belly, pushing him so that his back was against the table, now holding his hands above his head. You were again struck with how absolutely stunning he looked, even more so now with that pretty look on his face. You wanted to worship this man, and make all his self-deprecating thoughts go away, so that the only thought left in his head was that he belonged to you and that you most certainly belonged to him.

Leaning in for a kiss, you pressed your lips against his for a moment before leaning back to look at him. “Good?” You asked, giving him a soft smile as you kneaded his thigh with your free hand. He let out a whimper, then a whispered ‘so good’. Your hand pushed his legs apart, as you slowly rubbed against him, letting out a breathy moan at the friction. It was taking all your strength to control yourself. Your hand rode further up his thigh until it finally reached leaking cock.

You leaned in to take it in your mouth, relishing the keen it dragged out of the other male, and the way his thighs tightened around your face, just how you’d imagined them. You had already let go of his wrists but his hands obediently stayed above his head, earning him a rewarding moan against his cock, as you slid it into your mouth.

You loved the weight of it on your tongue, and the taste of pre-cum slipping down your throat. You began bobbing your head in a slow pace, taking your time adjusting to the feeling, until he began slightly jerking his hips towards you. Looking up at him through your eyelashes, all you could see was his beautifully arched chest, his head thrown back against the table. His whines and moans were getting louder, music to your ears as you increased your pace.

As the head of his cock hit the back of your throat, you let out a choked moan, tears springing to your eyes. The feeling was heavenly, as you took him completely in your mouth, hands gripping his thighs tighter against your head. Honestly, you never knew you had a such a kink until this moment, but whatever this feeling was, you wanted to drown in it.

It was barely a few minutes later, when the man beneath you finally brought his arms down, hands gripping at your hair, as broken ‘’m close’ and ‘please’ fell from his lips over and over again. With a scream, he came, his come spilling down your throat as you forced yourself to swallow all that he was giving you. It was a few seconds before his cock went limp in your mouth, and you slowly pulled back, using your thumb to wipe the cum dripping down your chin and licking it clean, making a show for his hazy eyes.

You leaned in, nuzzling your face into his neck as you gently rubbed his thighs. “You wanna keep going?” You murmured against his skin. He put his arms back around you, letting out a groan before slightly shaking his head. “Not here. This thing is going to give me bruises with splinters.” He grumbled. You chuckled then let a hum of agreement, moving away from him to pick up your clothes. Cleaning him up with your coat, you dressed him with care, before dressing yourself.

You walked over to the door, with him walking right behind you, and were ready to try breaking it down again, but to your surprise and annoyance, the door was already unlocked. Hand in hand, you walked out to the deck only to find the entire crew assembled there with something of a bizarre party in full swing.

***

There. That's that.

Part 2 will be up in a week. Probably.

I'll get there, I promise guys TwT.

[sorinbds]

It's already going to be 12 at night and the only thing I can think about is Brant 😭😭😭and how I would sleep with you

Normally he always goes to sleep with you unless there is some celebration or it is the birthday of someone on the crew.

He usually wakes up early as he has to go wake up the other crew members to start the day.

On days when he gets drunk he becomes clingier and wakes up later than normal.

when they sleep he always has you in a hug that you can't free yourself from, everything gets worse when the baby literally climbs on top of you

[thecoolerwinter1234lo]

Bitches have the most gorgeous eyes and be named shit like Brant

[xichilie]

brant x female reader. But. She is just as dramatic as him? How would that fair if they had simular personality's, and she had a strange fascionation with orange juice instead of wine?

Can i still ask? Thank you, for your time hope all is well!

I really had fun writing this, I love this dramatic man, sm, imagine the Fools having to deal with two of them. XD

The duel of fools

The Fool’s Elysium had always been a place of chaos and spectacle, but tonight, the energy in the cavern was unlike any before. The golden glow of lanterns flickered against the rocky walls, casting long, dancing shadows as the Troupe of Fools bustled about, preparing for the evening’s entertainment.

At the heart of it all stood Brant, perched atop a wooden crate like a king upon his throne. His deep crimson coat flared dramatically as he placed one foot on the edge, his arms stretched wide. The firelight caught in his striking pink eyes, making them gleam with the intensity of a man about to make the most unnecessary yet captivating speech imaginable.

“Loyal friends, fellow performers, bringers of joy and chaos alike!” Brant’s voice rang through the cavern, smooth as silk, rich with unshaken confidence. “Tonight, we gather here not for mere revelry, nor for the simple pleasures of our trade—no! Tonight, we mourn! We weep! We lament a loss so profound, so unspeakably tragic, that even the stars of Solaris 3 dim in sorrow!”

A dramatic pause. The crowd of Troupe members leaned in.

“What happened?” Tina called out, grinning as she played along.

Brant placed a hand over his heart, shaking his head as if the weight of the revelation threatened to crush him. Then, in the most devastated, anguished tone possible, he declared:

“We have run out of wine.”

A collective groan rippled through the Troupe.

Some clutched their chests in mock distress. Others shook their heads, murmuring, “Not the wine,” as if speaking of a dearly departed friend.

Brant let out a long, suffering sigh. “Ah, what is a Fool without his wine? A mere shadow of a man! A performer stripped of his muse! A—”

“A fool who is about to be outshined!”

A voice rang out over the cavern, clear and bold, cutting through his lament like a knife through silk.

And then—she appeared.

Y/N.

Brant’s greatest rival. His most infuriatingly delightful companion. A woman who matched his theatrical nature step for step, who could outwit him, outmaneuver him, and worst of all—steal his spotlight.

She leaped onto the crate beside him, her coat fluttering behind her as she landed effortlessly, standing tall, hands on her hips, radiating triumph.

But what truly made Brant’s stomach drop in sheer horror—

Was what she held in her hand.

A goblet.

Filled to the brim.

With orange juice.

Brant gasped. Loudly.

The Troupe gasped.

Someone in the back even let out a strangled, “No!” as if witnessing a crime against humanity.

Y/N lifted the goblet high above her head, letting the golden liquid catch the firelight.

“Fear not, dear comrades!” she proclaimed, her voice carrying through the cavern like a queen addressing her court. “For though wine may forsake us in our hour of need, lo! We are not lost! For we have been blessed by the divine nectar of the heavens!”

Brant staggered back. His face twisted with betrayal. “You wouldn’t dare.”

Y/N grinned.

“Oh, but I would.”

The cavern fell silent.

Then—in one swift, fearless motion—Y/N downed the entire goblet.

Brant stumbled back, clutching his chest as if struck. His coat flared behind him, his pink eyes wide with utter devastation.

“TRAITOR!”

Y/N slammed the goblet down with a flourish, wiping her lips with the back of her hand. “I am no traitor, Brant! I am a visionary! While you drown in sorrow for your lost wine, I embrace the bright, sweet tang of destiny!”

The Troupe erupted into cheers, swept away by the sheer spectacle of it all.

Brant was reeling.

Not just from the act of defiance, but from the realization that she had completely stolen his moment. Outperformed him in his own element.

But Brant was never one to back down.

His mind worked fast. If this was how she wanted to play it—then he would ensure she never forgot who she was up against.

With a graceful flourish, he spun on his heel and pointed an accusing finger at her.

“Then let it be known!” he declared, voice booming, eyes gleaming with theatrical challenge. “This day marks the beginning of a rivalry most legendary! A duel not of swords, nor of wits, but of spirit and devotion! For I shall never yield my love for wine, and you—” he gestured dramatically toward her empty goblet “—you shall never forsake your beloved orange juice!”

Y/N grinned.

“So be it, Fool!”

The two stood there, locked in a silent, electrified stare-down. The cavern hummed with anticipation.

Then—Brant moved.

With a single, elegant motion, he swept Y/N into a deep, theatrical dip.

The crowd gasped.

Y/N blinked up at him.

Brant’s smirk curled at the edges, playful, teasing, deliciously smug. “Tell me, dearest rival—how does it feel to be completely at my mercy?”

For a fraction of a second, Y/N’s breath hitched.

But then—her eyes sparkled with mischief.

Before Brant could react, she shifted.

One swift movement.

A flick of her leg.

And suddenly—Brant was the one being dipped.

His arms flailed slightly as Y/N grinned down at him.

“Feels pretty good, actually.” She winked.

Brant burst out laughing.

The Troupe roared in delight.

And just like that—a legend was born.

The saga of the Wine Fool and the Orange Juice Enthusiast.

The cheers of the Troupe still echoed through the cavern as Brant found himself in a position he had never been in before.

Dipped.

By her.

Y/N held him effortlessly, her grip firm yet playful, her expression smug as she gazed down at him. The warm glow of the lanterns reflected in her eyes, and Brant—despite himself—felt his heart stutter at the sight.

No, no, no. This will not do.

Brant was a man of theatrics. He did not lose in a battle of wit, charm, or flair.

And so, as quickly as he had been bested, he retaliated.

With grace befitting a master of the stage, he let his body go slack in Y/N’s hold, fluttering his lashes dramatically.

“Alas!” he cried out, his voice thick with over-the-top despair. “My greatest rival has struck a devastating blow! Oh, what cruel fate, to be so thoroughly bested by such a dazzling, daring, devilishly charming—”

Y/N immediately dropped him.

Brant hit the wooden floor with a thud.

The Troupe erupted into laughter.

From his undignified heap on the ground, Brant groaned loudly and rolled onto his back, flinging an arm over his eyes. “Ah, the betrayal! The humiliation! To be discarded like a mere prop, as if I were nothing more than—”

A goblet was set down beside him.

Brant peeked through his fingers.

It was filled with orange juice.

He shot upright, scandalized. “How dare you.”

Y/N crouched beside him, resting her chin on one hand, eyes gleaming with amusement. “I thought you might be thirsty.”

Brant narrowed his pink eyes. “I would rather perish.”

“Dramatic.” She snickered. “You know, for someone who acts like they have the most refined taste in Solaris 3, you’re awfully stubborn about expanding your palate.”

Brant scoffed, flipping his coat with a flourish. “Wine is the drink of passion! Of artistry! Of poets and lovers alike!” He gestured wildly toward the goblet. “That? That is the breakfast beverage of the common man!”

Y/N smirked. “So you’re afraid to drink it.”

Brant froze.

The Troupe fell silent.

The air shifted.

A challenge.

His rival had just dared him.

Well.

Brant never backed down from a challenge.

With deadly seriousness, he reached for the goblet, lifting it as if it contained the secrets of the universe itself. The cavern held its breath.

And then—

Brant took a single sip.

The reaction was instantaneous.

His entire face twisted in horror. His body convulsed as if he had been struck. His head snapped back so dramatically that one of the Troupe members in the back gasped, “He’s dead.”

Brant fell onto his back once more, gripping his chest. “The acidity! The sheer, unrelenting citrus! Oh, heavens above, take me now!”

Y/N sat beside him, utterly unbothered, sipping from her own goblet. “Oh, please. You’re fine.”

Brant flopped an arm over her lap, looking up at her with betrayal. “If this is what you consume by choice, you are a creature more fearsome than I could have ever imagined.”

Y/N merely took another sip. “Guess that makes me the superior Fool.”

Brant gasped so loudly that someone in the back coughed.

The next moment, he leapt to his feet, pointing a dramatic finger at her. “Then it is war.”

Y/N smirked. “What, afraid of a little competition?”

Brant grinned. “Darling, I live for competition.”

The cavern erupted into cheers once more.

The Duel of Fools had begun.

[kusukuna]

where are the brant fanfics 💔 looked both on here and ao3, why is his tag so dry am i missing something 😭😭

[eraenia-era]

Brant

& of course one of him running away:

[v7deonasty]

Kinda bad screenshot edit

[tigerpriestess]

He's beautiful!

I want news for him now!

...more time to save even though I have enough for him now, but might be able to get his weapon, but waiting for a new man sucks when they are already seemingly rare

[ebenholzs-husband]

Put me in a room with this mf and in about nine months, he’ll have another member for his troupe

[endgaims]

Oh Captain, my Captain . 🏴‍☠️