#brant x reader

[frostyresolve]

candy connoisseur ꒰ ᝬ brant

he declares himself a true savant of sweets, you don’t believe him so he gives you a taste of his expertise. 800 words. fluff

︶꒦︶꒷︶︶꒷꒦︶︶︶꒷꒦‧

he holds up the peppermint, turning it this way and that, as if inspecting it for flaws. “no two peppermints are the same, you see. the ratio of peppermint oil to sugar is crucial, and the crispness of the outer layer can’t be ignored.”

you’re trying not to yell at him, your smile more of a grimace as you resist the urge to flee from the seller who’s eyeing you both curiously. he’s trying not to relish in the way you link your arm with his, pretending to be a couple. you didn’t have to choose the guise of being his significant other, but his heart flutters that you decided to. so BRANT decides to make his move.

“and you can tell that from your sense of smell? are you sure you’re not secretly a bloodhound, captain?” you try not to laugh, covering your mouth to hide your smile, shoulders rigid with tension you’re filling miserable to hide.

he flashes you a wide grin, clearly enjoying this exchange. “who knows? i might have a bit of bloodhound in me. but that's not important.”

he’s dead serious, you realise, cradling the sweet like a pearl he’s just fished out of the ocean, the shine of melting sugar coating his fingertips under the light of the market. the thing with him was that he never understood the art of subtlety; blame the performer in him that thrived being under the spotlight. he was the star of the show after all, and a star’s light would always shine, no matter how dim or far away it was from the audience’s eyes.

“what is important is that i, a captain and a man of discerning taste, find the most scrumptious and satisfying peppermint stick in this entire market. no two peppermints are the same, after all. the ratio of peppermint oil to sugar is crucial, and the crispness of the outer layer can’t be ignored.” his declaration is loud, almost like he’s presenting another show, the gaze of other patrons and market goers landing on the two of you. biting your cheek, you resist the urge to shake BRANT by the collar until he gets the message to shut up. instead, you just nod along with an uneasy smile, praying to the sentinel that you both won’t be caught.

you were too tired pretending to be the damsel in distress so that he could escape. honestly speaking, he was more suited to the role of princess, with you saving his skin on more than one occasion.

he takes another deep breath, eyes fluttering shut in deep contemplation as he registers the scent of the sweet. “aha. see? crucial process.”

“yeah, uh-huh. sure! so we’ll take that one then!” you cut in, about to snatch the sweet from his hand before he pops it in your mouth to your horror. the voice in your head is practically shrieking at you right now. curse your luck for having to babysit him. seems that your promise to roccia to keep him out of trouble is down the gutter now.

“wait a moment, my dear. you haven’t even tried it yet.” he sighs with a pout, tongue swiping over his lips sheening with melting sugar. he’s infuriating, always driving you mad, but you can’t help but admire his boldness, something you couldn’t imagine yourself being.

again, your exasperation flares like oil to a flame, patience thinning, about to snap, before BRANT presses his lips to yours. of course you’d be caught off guard, gasping against his mouth and stumbling backwards in shock. he’s quick to catch you, hands snaking around your waist and squeezing your hip slightly. the scent of peppermint from your shared breaths wafts through your nose, the taste of sugar crystals on your intertwined tongues before he pulls away.

“how does it taste? you are now my disciple, and as such, you shall have to taste every sweet they have to offer. with me as your dashing mentor, naturally.” he shoots you a wink alongside his smirk, your cheeks flushed and heartbeat running rampant under his gaze.

the taste of him still lingers in your mouth as your fingers touch your mouth, swiping away the remnants of his sickly sweet kiss. the same way you’d feel after indulging in a treat, you find yourself craving more. taking a deep breath and mustering your courage, you’re about to reply despite your bubbling excitement until the yell of the sweet seller interrupts your moment.

he didn’t pay for that peppermint, it seems, nor for the multitude of multicoloured orbs that accidentally spill out of his pockets as he grabs your hand before taking off into the streets. hopefully he doesn’t drop all the sweets in his haste to escape; BRANT had much more to teach you after all.

© FROSTYRESOLVE 2025. DO NOT PLAGIARISE, REUPLOAD OR FEED MY WORKS INTO AI

[blueberrisdove-sideblog]

what are your thoughs on soft dom brant + mirror sex? Just him praising and worshipping you and tell you are beautiful while he gently fucks you in front of the mirror ☹️

꒰ঌ ໒꒱ tws : nsfw/smut, creampie (vaginal), mirror s*x, gentle Brant, neck kissing, nipple play, (gentle) spanking, pet names and others!

꒰ঌ ໒꒱ note : art banner by : rororo_mg on X! （𝓂𝒹𝓃𝒾）

Brant held you against him, his chest warm and solid at your back, his arms wrapped around you as if you were something precious—something he couldn't bear to let go of. In front of you, the mirror reflected everything: the way your body trembled, the way his hands roamed your skin, the way his cock slowly stretched you open.

"Look at yourself," he murmured against your neck, his voice low and affectionate. "See how perfect you are for me."

You tried, but it was hard to focus when he was kissing a slow path down your throat, his teeth scraping just enough to make you gasp. His hands were everywhere—one kneading your breast, rolling your nipple between his fingers, the other splayed across your stomach, holding you steady as he rocked into you.

"Brant," you whimpered, hips shifting to take him deeper.

"Shh, sweetheart," he soothed, dragging his palm lower, fingers slipping between your thighs. He pressed his thumb to your clit, circling it with just enough pressure to make your legs shake. "I want you to watch. Want you to see how beautiful you look taking me."

Your reflection was almost too much—his strong arms wrapped around you, the way his cock disappeared inside you, the wetness slicking your thighs, proof of just how much you needed him. The way his fingers played with your nipple, pinching and rolling until you were arching into his touch, only to have him smack the soft flesh lightly before soothing it with a gentle squeeze.

"Brant," you whined, leaning back into him.

He chuckled, his breath hot against your ear. "Feel good, baby?" His hips rolled forward, pushing deep, making sure you felt every inch of him.

"Y-yeah—"

Another soft slap, this time against your thigh, followed by a warm, lingering kiss on your shoulder. "Then say thank you."

Your cheeks burned, but you didn't hesitate. "Thank you, Brant."

His grip tightened, a pleased hum vibrating against your skin. "Good girl."

His fingers worked your clit with slow, teasing circles, his other hand never leaving your breast, alternating between soft tugs and soothing caresses. The pleasure built steadily, every touch, every word sending heat pooling in your stomach.

"That’s it," he whispered, pressing his lips against your temple. "Let me take care of you."

And with the way he worshipped you—with his hands, his voice, his cock—you knew he always would.

Brant’s hands never stopped moving, always touching, always worshipping—as if he couldn’t decide which part of you deserved his attention most. His cock pushed deep, filling you completely, while his fingers teased your clit with slow, deliberate strokes. Every touch was meant to make you feel cherished, every whispered praise was meant to remind you that you were his.

"Look at you," he murmured, his lips grazing the shell of your ear. His voice was so full of reverence, so full of love. "So beautiful like this… all soft and open for me."

His free hand trailed over your stomach, fingers tracing light patterns across your skin before traveling up, cupping your breast, rolling your nipple between his fingers. His touch was gentle but firm, designed to make you squirm against him.

"Do you see how perfect you are?" He nudged his nose against your cheek, his lips brushing over your heated skin. "The way you take me so well… the way your pussy clings to my cock, desperate for more."

His words made you whimper, your body tightening around him in response. His reflection in the mirror was breathtaking—his golden eyes dark with desire, his lips slightly parted as he watched you fall apart under his touch.

"You’re my everything, sweetheart," he whispered, pressing an open-mouthed kiss to your throat. His tongue flicked over the sensitive skin before he sucked, leaving the faintest mark—a reminder that you were his, just as he was yours. "Every inch of you is perfect. Every sound you make, every little shiver—"

His hand slid lower again, fingers teasing your clit with slow, controlled circles. His cock dragged against your walls with every deep, steady thrust, and the combination of it all sent a sharp pulse of pleasure through you.

"Brant—" Your voice broke, your body trembling in his arms.

"Shh, I've got you," he soothed, his hands tightening around you, holding you even closer. "Let go for me, sweetheart. Show me how pretty you are when you come."

The coil in your stomach snapped, pleasure washing over you in waves as you gasped his name. Your body clenched around him, and Brant groaned, his hips stuttering as he fucked you through it, coaxing you to ride the high for as long as you could.

"That’s it," he murmured, his lips pressing against your damp skin. "So fucking gorgeous like this… my perfect girl."

You barely had time to catch your breath before he lifted you just a little, angling you forward, keeping you pressed against his chest. The shift let you see everything—the way your body was still trembling from your orgasm, the way his cock was still buried deep inside you, the way he looked at you like you were something divine.

"One more, baby," he whispered, his voice almost pleading, his fingers stroking your clit again. "Let me worship you just a little longer."

And with the way he held you, the way he whispered sweet praises against your skin, you knew you’d give him everything.

© 2024-2025 blueberrisdove-sideblog all rights reserved. pretty please, do not steal my dividers, translate and plagiarize any of my works, or either repost my works in any other platform without asking, thank you!

[albedov]

i cant get brant's silly idle animation out of my head... him and his stupid orange...

brant who would peel oranges for you no questions asked.

but he wouldn't stop there, doing the bare minimum was not his speciality and it certainly wouldn't be for you - he has always been someone who would go above and beyond.

so if you ever asked him to peel an orange for you, he's going to do that and more. not only would he peel the orange, but brant would peel multiple - even if you didn't want all of it, he was a fan of them as well. each of which would be precisely cut into identical pieces, even removing the pith if you asked him too.

and brant certainly wouldn't skimp out of delivering it to you either. he's going as far as delivering to you on a plate with a small bow as he holds it out for you to take - the whole time, a bright small is plastered on his face.

and he'd cherish the time eating the oranges together with you just as much as he did peeling them for you - although you would have to admit that watching brant throwing the slices up in the air and trying to catch them in his mouth was more endearing than seeing him go to the lengths he went to for such a simple task in the beginning.

to brant, there was nothing he wouldn't do if you asked it of him. you were his partner and that meant that he'd never settle with doing the bare minimum for you.

[xichilie]

i was the one who requested hurt/comfort Brant fic. THANK YOU FOR GRANTING MY REQUEST&FEEDING MY DELULU(≧ᗜ≦) (sorry for bad english huhu T^T)

And I'm here for requesting again! Wdyt abt Brant take care over his spouse who's got very very very drunk, but his spouse who's usually calm&quiet now becomes all flirty and touchy here&there (giving him ton of kisses on his face)? And Brant's response? He's become a COMPLETELY BLUSHING MESS! Head empty bcs how clingy and affectionate she became!

But if you have another scenario let's go with yours! I just wanna see him nervous with red face honestly (sorry /j). That's all! Thank you again pookie! May your Brant&his weapon come early♡!

TOMORROW, OUR BOY WILL FINALLY HAVE HIS BANNER

I wish you and all Brant wanters, Aventurines luck. All brant wanters will be brant havers 😌🤍

_____

Drunk on Love

The fires in Fool’s Elysium burned bright, casting flickering gold across the cavern walls as the Troupe of Fools celebrated another successful performance. The air was thick with laughter, the scent of roasted meat and spiced wine swirling between the revelers, and Brant was, as usual, at the center of it all.

“And then, as the guards closed in, I told them, ‘Ah, but gentlemen, surely you wouldn’t lay hands on a humble man of the arts!’” Brant spun dramatically, arms flaring out. “And just as they hesitated—boom! Gone in a puff of smoke!”

The crowd around him erupted in laughter and cheers, toasting his theatrics. Brant grinned, preening under the attention—until something, or rather someone, latched onto him from behind.

Warm arms wrapped around his waist, a face pressed into his back, and a voice—soft but undeniably intoxicated—murmured, “Brant.”

He barely had time to react before Y/N, usually so calm and composed, turned him around and clung to him.

Brant blinked. “Oh.”

Y/N was flushed, her expression dreamily affectionate, her grip firm as she buried her face against his chest.

“…Oh,” Brant repeated, a slow grin spreading across his face. “Well, well, what do we have here?”

He tilted her chin up, gazing down at her with playful curiosity. “Darling, you look like you’ve had quite the generous helping of wine. Enjoying yourself, are we?”

She pouted. “Mmhmm. But you—” She poked his chest. “You talk too much.”

Brant gasped theatrically. “Me? Talk too much? Impossible.”

Y/N squinted at him like she was trying to solve a great mystery, then sighed dramatically. “You’re so pretty,” she murmured, almost to herself. “Not fair.”

Brant chuckled. “I can’t say I disagree—”

Before he could finish, she cupped his face and kissed his cheek.

Brant’s brain stuttered.

The surrounding Fools whistled and hooted, but Brant barely heard them. He was too busy trying to process the fact that Y/N—reserved, steady, unshakable Y/N—was pressing soft, lingering kisses along his jaw, moving dangerously close to his mouth.

He stiffened, heat rushing to his face. “Y-Y/N—”

Another kiss, this time right at the corner of his lips.

Brant squeaked.

His usual charm crumbled. He, Brant—smooth talker, silver-tongued rogue, shameless flirt—was suddenly incapable of forming a coherent sentence.

“Alright, alright, I think someone needs a little fresh air,” he managed, voice pitched slightly higher than usual.

Without waiting for her response, he swept her into his arms, ignoring the smug looks and snickers from the others as he carried her toward his quarters.

Y/N only hummed contentedly, resting her head against his shoulder. “You smell nice.”

Brant stumbled.

The journey through the winding tunnels of Fool’s Elysium had never felt so long. By the time he reached his private space—an alcove filled with scattered notes, fabrics, and an absurd number of pillows—his heart was pounding.

He set her down gently, exhaling. “Alright, darling, let’s get you settled—”

But Y/N didn’t let go.

Instead, she tugged him down with surprising strength, pulling him onto the cushions beside her.

Brant let out a very ungraceful sound as he landed, his back hitting the soft bedding, and before he could react, Y/N straddled his lap.

Brant stopped breathing.

She leaned in, her fingers tracing his collarbone before sliding lower, over the fabric of his shirt. “You’re so handsome,” she murmured.

Brant’s brain was gone. Utterly, completely gone.

“Y-Y/N—darling, you—you’re very drunk right now,” he stammered. “I think you should rest—”

She ignored him, her fingers working at the buttons of his shirt. His breath hitched as she pushed the fabric aside, exposing the faint, intricate glow of his Tacet mark against his skin.

Y/N’s eyes widened in wonder. Gently, reverently, she traced the mark with her fingertips.

Brant whimpered.

No one ever touched his Tacet mark. It was sacred, sensitive, and yet here she was, mapping every line and swirl with delicate fingers. His entire body tensed, his skin burning under her touch.

“Y/N,” he choked out. “If you—keep doing that—I might actually die.”

She giggled. Giggled.

“You’re cute when you’re flustered,” she mused.

Brant let out a strangled sound, somewhere between a groan and a laugh, dragging a hand over his face. “Oh, you are never going to let me live this down, are you?”

She beamed at him, and gods, she was beautiful.

Then she kissed his forehead.

His breath caught.

Then his nose.

His heartbeat thundered.

Then both his cheeks, her lips soft and warm, her hands cradling his face like he was something precious.

Brant shattered.

“Alright, that’s enough, you dangerous woman,” he rasped, his voice uneven. With a dramatic flourish (that was only slightly desperate), he flipped them over, pinning her beneath him.

Y/N gasped, blinking up at him with wide, hazy eyes. “Brant?”

He smirked, though his face was still bright red. “My turn.”

He leaned down—slowly, deliberately—and pressed a single, lingering kiss to her forehead.

Her breath hitched.

Then, with exaggerated care, he kissed her nose.

Her fingers curled into his shirt.

Then, finally, finally, he brushed his lips against her cheek, just barely, before pulling back with a triumphant grin.

“How’s that for theatrics, darling?” he teased.

Y/N’s face was scarlet.

Brant chuckled, pleased with himself—until she pulled him down again, burying her face against his chest with a sleepy sigh.

“Warm…” she mumbled. “Stay.”

Brant softened.

He sighed dramatically but wrapped his arms around her, resting his chin atop her head. “You are going to be the death of me,” he murmured, but there was no heat behind the words.

Y/N hummed in contentment. Within moments, her breathing slowed, her body relaxed against his, and she drifted into sleep.

Brant lay there for a long time, listening to the steady rhythm of her heartbeat.

“…I am so in love with you,” he muttered to himself, utterly doomed.

And for once, the ever-charming Brant had no idea what to do about it.

Brant had been in many thrilling, perilous situations in his life—performing daring acts on stage, conning pompous nobles, escaping armed guards, even staring down the Dragon of Dirge. But nothing, nothing, had ever left him as utterly helpless as this.

Y/N was clinging to him in her sleep.

Not just loosely holding onto him—oh no—she had wrapped herself around him, arms tucked beneath his coat, face pressed against his chest, and legs tangled with his own. She was warm, impossibly warm, her breath tickling his skin as she sighed contentedly in her slumber.

Brant was losing his mind.

His face was burning, his heart hammering against his ribs like a drumbeat in a grand performance. He had tried—tried—to gently pry her off when he had first realized the situation, but the second he moved, she had whined softly and only held on tighter.

He was doomed.

With an exaggerated sigh, he flopped back onto the cot, staring at the ceiling of his little cavern home. "This is my life now," he murmured to himself, though the complaint held no real weight.

He glanced down at her, a fond smile tugging at his lips despite his still-racing heart. Her expression was so peaceful, so utterly at ease. It made something deep in his chest ache.

Carefully—so carefully—he let his hand move, brushing along her back in slow, comforting strokes. She sighed again, nuzzling closer. Brant bit his lip, trying to suppress the giddy, ridiculous smile threatening to spread across his face.

"Oh, you’re dangerous," he whispered, shaking his head in amused defeat. "Too dangerous."

But as much as he should be trying to escape, he… didn’t want to.

For all his theatrics, for all his flair and bravado, Brant was a man who had gone years without a true place to belong. He had always been the fool, the outcast, the man who danced on the fringes of society. Yet here she was, clinging to him like he was something precious, like he was safe.

He swallowed hard, his fingers absentmindedly tracing small circles against her back.

Maybe, just this once, he’d allow himself to believe it.

With a deep breath, he closed his eyes and allowed himself to relax.

If this was the price of taking care of her, of having her trust him enough to cling to him even in sleep…

Then he would gladly let himself be tangled in her warmth for as long as she would have him.

[lia-lillies]

5 random headcanons about wuthering waves characters in no particular order! 

warnings: none! pure fluff!

word count: 601

author’s note: came up with these while recovering from being sick. apologies for any typos in advance! hope you enjoy! <3

taglist: @your-sleeparalysisdem0n, @threnodians, and @sheyfu!

brant: 

very touch-starved but will almost always initiate physical touch before thinking better of it. if you notice him doing this, please hug him or hold his hand. 

kids gravitate towards him and absolutely love him. they like playing little family-esque games and Brant is their biggest supporter of this! the crew has to physically pull him away from the children. but he promises, and keeps said promises, to return and play some more! 

he’s an animal magnet, and he takes time out of his day to feed and or pet the animals. birds gravitate themselves toward him most. 

if he gets caught doing something a little silly by the crew, he runs past you and puts his hat on you. you never know how he’s able to do that. 

he is so pretty, and if you like makeup and put some on him, he looks even prettier, it’s unfair. putting blush on him gives him an almost innocent look, it’s very cute. 

jiyan: 

spars with you regularly to ensure you’re still agile and aware of your surroundings. he’s also very quiet when he approaches you to do said spars so you better be on your guard! 

he really likes holding hands, but he loves holding pinkies with you more. don’t ask him why, though, he won’t be able to give a concise answer. 

dogs randomly walk up to him sometimes, and he makes sure to return them to a safe place if their owner isn’t in sight. 

abides by the sidewalk rule, and i will DIE on this hill. you both could be having a discussion and he just carefully and methodically swaps your positions the second he notices something from the opposite direction coming at you. 

turns into putty if you take down and play with his hair. it’s so long and fluffy! you’ve gotta get his hair routine, it’s unfair how good his hair looks! 

jinhsi: 

likes physical touch but can be unsure as to initiating it. she tries for you, though! you’ll see her reach out, hesitate, before her hand returns to her side. you’re the one to initiate touch if that’s your thing.

likes holding pinkies with you- a small reassurance that you’re with her. 

you bring her food and snacks when sanhua finds you to inform you jinhsi’s overworking herself. 

 when she’s not busy, she likes to cook for you. she’s actually a really good cook and makes really cute food; think of japan and their café’s food!

she absolutely loves stargazing with you- it’s quiet and serene, but it’s so nice to spend quiet time with those you love. no words need to be said, just being in each other’s presence is enough.

carlotta: 

definitely dances with you (like in the 2.0 story!) for fun. she makes it fun and enjoyable if you don’t know how to dance, too! a very good teacher, probably trained to do this by her family.

teaches you how to use guns and or weapons in general if you want to learn. 

she likes giving gifts and initiates physical touch a good bit of the time. if you’re holding hands, she’ll intertwine your fingers together before bringing your hand up and kissing your knuckles. 

if you happen to like reading and an anticipated book is coming out, she goes out of her way to get a special edition of said book for you just to see the reaction on your face. 

a really good caretaker when you’re sick- brings towels to put on your forehead, medicine (and knows when the next dosage is), and is very sweet when you’re not feeling well. 

©lia-lillies 2025. do not repost, copy, translate, modify, or use for AI.

[the-moons-tears]

His siren

Brant x f!siren!reader (spicy but not full nsfw) Wuwa

Evening! This was the top voted prompt from the poll sorry it took so long I had many tests to take and study for 🫠

I’m so ready to pull for him omgggg

Preview: he continued, “I must believe it to be true, as I can’t stop thinking about whether you feel soft to hold, to kiss…”

Scales shimmered in the moonlight, jingling on a rope from the rhythm of waves that jostled the ship. “Siren” scales, so the old man that sold them claimed to the curious sailor. They were so enchanting where they hung in the corner of a large bay window in Brant’s quarters. The light reflected off them, casting the scale’s color along the walls and other items that captured his interest. A myth, he told himself, but ended up paying for the trinket anyway. Sometimes he could swear a certain jostle would cause the scales to create a melody as they touched. The sounds would return in his dreams, so much so that the urge to search for this “myth” became too much. It wouldn’t hurt to look, as the sea often hid many secrets. Glancing again at the scales, drink in hand, he thought of an idea. If he wanted to find something in the sea, he’d have to offer something in return.

You cursed as you stared at your reflection from atop the rock. The waves weren’t the best source of a mirror, but you could still tell where the healing wound was on your beautiful but not so flawless anymore tail. You were missing more than seven scales. Seven! They took ages to grow back, and they were missing all in one spot from a fisherman’s spear throw that happened to strike true. The embarrassment you felt was huge, although there were no other sirens around to make fun of you for it. The worst part was that you couldn’t find your missing scales. You liked to keep them, make jewelry from your own beauty by putting it in your hair, on your ears, or to your breast coverings, but after scraping the sea floor and coming up empty handed, you gave up on looking.

It frustrated you. Clearly you underestimated the old man’s sight as you swam closer than usual under a boat. You guess he had seen your shadow and immediately thrown his weapon. It hurt of course, and you panicked, swimming quickly downward and out of sight, bleeding from your tail as seven precious scales floated up to the surface.

Sighing, you turned away from the water, resting your head on your palm. The air was nice, something you couldn’t feel under water. The small retractable gills under your jaw helped filter oxygen through water, but having another set of lungs allowed you to breathe air like a human above the sea. Often you’d think about the human’s and their activities on the ocean. Pirates were the most interesting to you. You’d heard that in the distant past, pirates used to hunt for your kind, keeping them as treasures among their hoards of wealth. Crazy as it might have sounded, you were curious about their treasures. Pirates seemed to have the same taste in all things that glittered under the sun as you did. Would it be so bad to be a pirate’s beloved treasure that they tended to be so possessive over?

In exploring the shipwrecks that had sunken to the depths, you always found the captain, clad in gold and shimmering gems that were still in those skeletal hands. They all seemed to love their treasure, dying covered in it with their ship. A fascinating attachment to their material things you thought. Some even had gems embedded in their teeth, many of those teeth hanging around your neck as decor now.

Your fingers ran over the sensitive barred flesh where your scales were missing, annoyed at the absence of the hard sheen that coated the entirety of your tail. The beautiful fins attached to your back and tail end flopped on the rock, much like an annoyed cat thumped its own tail on the ground to let it be known they were frustrated.

What could you do to lift your spirits? Spirits?…drinks…Sometimes when rummaging through sunken pirate treasure, you’d find closely sealed bottles that hadn’t broken under the pressure of the water, containing some dark colored liquid that made you feel hot and funny. You really liked those when you drank them on your rock, and since they were pretty hard to find, you usually kept them for rare occasions. This seemed like a very important occasion you reasoned with yourself, and quickly retreated back into the depths to gather a bottle to bring back up.

After several minutes of turning your fingers red trying to get the damn cork off, the bottle popped, little drops of the liquid flying out. The tang of it hit your tongue nicely, and soon the bottle was almost gone. You kind of forgot about your scale dilemma, singing to yourself your favorite songs that the sea had taught you.

In the middle of your one siren performance, you heard a familiar chime. It was too distant to come from your own scale made trinkets, but you knew the sound well. They were yours. Shaking your head from the heat of the drink, you set down the now empty bottle haphazardly. You were going to get those scales back. The sound of your body crashing into the water was muffled by the waves bashing up on cliffs and rocks, your water dynamic form cruising through the deep. You could hear the sounds underwater, the uncanny magic of your own scales calling out to you. There, they were hanging from a string above a ship. Swimming closer to the surface, you noticed other shimmering items beside your scales, glittering like the gold and jewels found on pirate captain remains. Your eyes gleamed with want, so quickly you dive deep before dashing upward with your tail, preparing to make the leap above.

Brant wasn’t planning on making contact with a siren, even seeing the shadow of one drawn by the sound of what was hopefully its scales would be enough to satiate his curiosity. The last thing he wanted to do was take a mythical creature captive for his own gain. Holding out the scales on a string, he let the wind do its work, moving the shards against each other to create the sound that haunted his dreams. The myths seemed to lead him to believe that siren’s were quite possessive over their things, often vain with carefully put together visages to attract sailors. Brant didn’t know if it was true, all he knew was that the song enchanted him, though no voice came from the scales.

Looking down in the waters, he saw it, a human-fish like shadow that moved fluidly. It disappeared just as quickly, retreating to the depths. A smile spread on his face, and his hand almost went to drop the scales, returning them to their owner, but before his fingers could fully loosen, a giant splash of water came from below. The sound prompted him to look quickly, quickly enough to see you, a beautiful real creature coming up to him, eyes locked with the string that had the same colors as your tail. Your momentum sent you tumbling into his, your giant tail over his legs with you on top of his chest.

The human’s chest had a very strange mark along it, and touching it let your fingers feel a bit of a hum, like the sensation of a current. The skin was soft and warm, but what attracted you most were the sparkling trinkets adorning him. There were shining circles that punctured his ears, and a big square like piece on his waist. Your hands went to fiddle with it, to which the man made an embarrassed yelp, trying to slide away. The weight of you on top held him down, your tail a bigger weight due to your years in the sea. Before you messed with it more, you heard a slight clink on the deck right beside his shoulders. Quickly your hand shot out to grab the string of scales, your scales.

“Beautiful siren, do you speak?” The human man below you voiced, a wide incredulous smile gracing his handsome features, like this encounter was the most magical thing that ever happened to him. Holding your scales close, you eyed him up and down narrowly. This man was not the one that attacked you, so how did he have them? In the end, you thought, it didn’t matter as long as you got them back. Your movements caused the many decor pieces on you to jingle, catching light on your already graceful form. His eyes sparkled, widening when you respond,

“I am familiar with many human languages.” You brought your hands up, adjusting your wet hair now that you were above water. When he looked as if to carry a conversation, you turned sharply, hearing whispers. The pirate under you was cautious, telling the crewman and others who were attracted to the strange sight to back up as you sat there unhappy at the people interrupting your time with your handsome new fascination. A short girl with pink and violet hair shooed the crowd away with the help of a box, knowing a creature like you probably didn’t want that kind of distraction when you were focused on the thing, or man, of your interest. Mythical creatures deserved respect. The annoyance faded quickly, as your attention returned to the man you had below you. Leaning down, your chests touched as your hand fidgeted with one of his earrings. “Do you have many of these shining things? I want to see them.”

“Yes, our fool’s troupe has many wonders! I…never expected they would grace the sight of a mythical siren. Captain Brant at your service miss…” He paused, allowing you to tell your name. you told him, the origin sounding foreign to the rinascitan man. The captain seemed theatrical, a fiery personality that you hoped kept some shiny treasures. Your hand left his earring to reach for his hat, holding it up and inspecting it. You didn’t know what it was, but copied how he wore it. Brant laughed lightly in disbelief at your curious behavior, but you were getting a little impatient. You wanted to see the hoards of pirate treasure that must have been stowed away somewhere.

As Brant sat up carefully, you threw your arms over him, causing him to steady you both a little awkwardly, one of his hands supporting your side. His warmth was very attractive to you, a contrast to the waters that were often very cold where there wasn’t much sun. “Do siren’s drink?” The captain sounded surprised, the smell of alcohol defined now that you were so close. You couldn’t tell what he meant, too focused on the strange anatomy of the man below you, and how his warm hand felt on your hip.

The gills on your neck had retracted into your skin to suit your lungs breathing in oxygen outside of water. Brant’s clothes were soaked, sticking to him from where you landed on him, which was almost his whole body. Accounting for tail length, you would have beaten his height by many inches if you laid side by side to compare. Brant took a breath before speaking to let you know he was going to lift you up. “Alright, let’s get you up then.”

Brant adjusted his hand on your waist, the other hand coming under your tail to position you more in his lap. With your arms around him as added support, he lifted you up before using his long legs to get a stance on the deck. Your shimmering tail hang low with the lustrous fins almost touching the wood deck, but the pirate captain made it seem like no big deal. His expression was curious, the texture of your tail certainly something new to him. The hat on your head was still secure as he walked down stairs in the giant ship, briefly pausing to put his back to the doors to his quarters.

The smell of the sea was still present even in the room. Jeweled trinkets hung from different places, and different vases had gold almost woven into the ceramic. There were chests, open and full of necklaces and fabrics. Closest to you, was a little moving creature. It looked like the other ceramic things, but it was filled with water, and gave a little bark like an animal when you were carried in.

“I figured you can’t be out of water too long, so I had one of my crewmates bring a tubpup down full of seawater. You don’t mind if I set you in it do you?”

You nodded, still taking in the different aspects of the room, eyes landing on the bed like structure covered in intricately designed pillows and metalwork of the frame. You also noticed several bottles laying around, asking, “are those bottles that have the dark liquid? They make you feel warm.” Brant glanced at them as he lowered you into the water, hands slipping away from you.

“So you do drink wine! Where would you get things like that in the sea?”

“Many sunken ships have tightly sealed chests which have ‘wine, and they are quite good, although the pressure makes most of them break, making them a rare find.” Watching closely, your eyes followed Brant’s movements to grab two glass cups and the bottle of what you now knew as wine. He brought them over, setting them down before pulling a chest full of gems over. Your finger went in quickly, pulling out a handful of sparkly things. A jeweled necklace with rubies like his eyes, earrings that were wire wrapped around polished peridot gems, and a silver cup with embedded citrine gemstones.

Coins fell from your handfull into the tub, metal reflecting off your scales while Brant poured the dark wine into the two glasses. The shimmer caught Brant’s eyes, and he moved closer to look. Your tail hung out of the tub a bit, too long for the whole tub to fit, but it wasn’t uncomfortable for you. His eyes sparkled with curiosity about your scales, the glistening seeming to entrance him the same way when he had your string of scales. Handing you a glass full of your favorite drink, he took a sip of his own and rested his arm on the top of the tub, simply looking at your tail and uniquely strung together jewelry. The seven missing scales were tied to a string you wore, probably to be taken off later for some other purpose.

His hat was still on your head, so he figured you quite liked it. Your cup was empty before he could fully take you in, and you handed it to him for him to fill it again, your lower fins moving contently under the water in the tub. After handing you a second glass, the captain asked softly, “would it be intruding to ask your permission to touch your tail?”

Lifting much of your tail out of the water, you let the larger fins and scaled parts land practically in his hands, making him have to move his glass away so as to not drop it from the sudden weight. The iridescence was fascinating, and the rays from outside cast an ethereal glow on your already luminous form. His calloused hands ran over your scales gently, fingers tracing the pattern they made to protect the flesh beneath. Tilting the glass all the way up, you downed your second large glass, small murmurs coming from your throat.

“Captain Brant, do you sing well?” You sighed out, fins flexing and moving in his grasp. Gently putting your tail back in the tub, he drank the rest of his own share, fingers wiping a stray drop from his lip to answer, “I have my fair share of practice in it. Being on the sea would be a little dull without a song wouldn’t it? I enjoyed the song your scales sang to me particularly before I returned them if I could be so honest.”

“Mm yes, what folk songs do you know that pirates sing? I have never heard any before.” You watched him down a third glass before standing, bowing and turning his back to you. Suddenly he broke out into character, recounting a story he had heard, which then turned into a folk tale you began to quickly like. His theatrical voice and playful tone had you smiling and raising another glass to his wild whimsy. The wine had made you both tipsy, you giving a little hiccup as you started singing the chorus with him after hearing him sing it before.

The behavior was wild and full of merry joy, Brant decorating you with more jewels like a character he described in another story. The festive bonding between the siren and pirate captain lasted for an hour or two more, until you both sang yourselves to near sundown. Being the treasure of a pirate was the best, you thought as you nearly fell out of the tub, your head swimming from the wine. Brant was on the floor beside it laying over soft fabrics, clothes still damp. Adjusting the hat on your head, you climbed over, falling onto him with the rest of your tail landing with a thump on the floor. Your head sought to bury itself into his neck as your hands searched for warmth from his body.

Brant grunted, cheeks flushed from wine and the proximity you shared. His words slurred as he spoke, “beautiful siren, is it true you can enchant sailors to fall in love at first sight?”

Pulling back to peer down at him, you noticed with the boldness the wine gave you how kissable a pirate looked. His lips were wet, and his mouth slightly parted, chest rising heavily as he looked up at your form. “I…” he continued, “I must believe it to be true, as I can’t stop thinking about whether you feel soft to hold, to kiss…”

His eyes were sparkling, holding adventure and a desire for things unknown to him, like the woman above him. Sitting forward from his flat down position with you on him, he tilted his face up, his hands coming where you guided them, up the small of your back and below your shoulder blades. With slow, teasing motions, you peeled the billowy shirt and jacket down, revealing glistening skin where the water hadn’t dried from your encounter.

“I have no such magic, captain…” you whispered back in a subtle tone, encouraging him to keep going. Your hands lightly ran over the black mark over his chest, feeling the hum it made as well as the fast beating heart underneath. He sighed, pleased at how your hand danced on his skin, coming up to tilt his jaw. His eyes open briefly to catch you smiling, before pulling you closer, closing the distance between you. Those lips were indeed soft, warm as every part of him was.

Pushing him back down, you used the movement to open his mouth, allowing your kiss to turn heated. The tang of wine hit you as your tongues met, Brant giving a small whimper like grunt beneath you. His hat had fallen off the the side, forgotten in your desire for more of him. It felt strange, to want something other than shiny things and trinkets. A siren and a pirate intertwined on the floor. His hand was feather light along your curves, gentle and careful in his caresses, dipping down to your side to feel the scales again.

“Brant…” you whispered against his lips, words slurred by the burning heat of the wine in your bodies. His eyes glimmered when his name fell from your mouth, fingers twitching at the syllables. His breath was hot, lips pressing into your neck, jingling the jewels and strings of gold and silver. Time passed slow, and you were sure you’d come to find other treasures he was hiding besides gems and pearls, helping him sing in other ways. Being with a pirate didn’t sound too bad.

[seijungii]

"indulge me" // brant (wuthering waves)

cw: fem reader, nsfw/smut

wc: 4.3k somehow

Brant smiles as he notices the wine, taking the stem in his hand and swishing around the warm liquid in its gold-tinged container. “Aha! My dear, swiping some of Battier’s prized stash already?” A smile curls at the edge of your lips as you take a long sip from your own glass, tilting your head to lean it against his shoulder. “I won’t tell if you don’t.”

read on ao3

[fellow-anime-weeb927]

Brant x reader thoughts

-you and him sharing food with each other

-him cuddling with you late at night (either one of you having a bad day)

-always listening to you talking about your day while nodding occasionally as he admires how cute you are

-brushing your hair behind your ear/fixing your bangs/ruffling your hair as he looks at you with a loving gaze @/////@

-daily naps after tiring missions

-little flirty comments here and there with confidence but immediately gets flustered if you turn the tables and do the same

(As mentioned in my earlier Brant x Reader post, kisses with him while covering you two with his pirate hat are a must -//3//-)

-a sucker for praise and physical touch like a puppy

-cuddles, hugs, kisses, sweet words, playful flirting and the list goes on~

-i wanna headcanon that his skin is sensitive ahem✨👀

-like cupping his face oh so lovingly can make his knees weak, simple brief touches on his skin can make him melt into a loveboy puddle❤️

-drawing random patterns on his chest while you guys cuddle can make his heartbeat go crazy

-his blushing face would be so cute! Soft eyes in awe at the sight of you in his arms and a lovestruck smile as you kiss over and over again •//////•

A/n: He screams ‘desperate lover boy’ energy to me who’s smitten with his partner i-😫✨❤️🛐

[rottenfox]

Once upon a Dream

Pairing: Brant x isekai! NB! Reader

Summery: It had been 10 months since Brant found you in the mist, 7 months since he's found himself drawn to you. But even after all this time, settling in the troop and telling stories and sharing music from your world, your still too nervous to share you voice with him. He was willing to let it stay like that, pine for you from a distance

That is until some mischievous little kids decide to do something about their Captain's love sickness.

Warning: Disney song fic... That's it. The song in question

________

"They're up to something..."

That was the first thing Brant said to you as he approached you from behind, jewel eyes glinting with amusement as the children that surrounded you scurried away in a flurry of giggles, before your voice inevitably dragged his gaze back to you. As it always does.

"I think you're just jealous, Cap'. What? Can't handle not being the their favorite anymore?" That small, cute teasing smile of yours made a chuckle bubble out of his throat, as infectious as he found it. Oh, he must be sick; or perhaps intoxicated was the better word.

It has been ten months since Brant and his crew found you a adrift in the mist and deep in rusted and rotted bowels of the strangest metal ship he had ever seen. All skin and bones, you were back then, rambling about "monsters" and "shrieking". It took a 3 months after bringing you to the Elysium before he heard your voice, and he was hooked ever since.

You told him your name and where you're from; the far distant and long forgotten past apparently —amazingly. A time long before the Laments ravaged the world, you were a simple passenger on a ship hoping for a better future, only to be swallowed by the mist and see it slowly absorb the rest of the passengers. That probably would've been your fate too, if he had not saved you; a thought that never failed to hollow out his stomach.

You of a lot of things from that past. Nations and cultures that were erased from history (apparently Rinascita was very similar to a place called Italy), animals and plants are long dead (you cried and clung onto the troop's cat when you saw it, glad to know they and dogs still existed), and stories and music long lost to the world.

Those last two were the favorites among the troop, though he's only ever been able to catch your stories from behind the walls and outside tents. Your singing voice was even more elusive, much to his dismay, since you refused to sing when he was home, only practice your guitar.

"Heh, very funny, but they're definitely up to something. What were they asking you about this time," He asked as he fell back on the bench beside you, stretching behind him to reach for an orange. Definitely not an attempt to show off the line of his body in front of you, perish the thought.

Though he couldn't deny that he liked the way you looked away all flustered and shy-like, clearing your throat before you answered, "Just the usual. They've taken an interest in the Disney songs though, and the strangest request to mix and match them... That's... been the hard part."

A hum of consideration left his lips as he eyed the guitar beside you, smiling at the thought of you pouring over the strings for the children. You had taken it up when you came out of your shell, wanting to preserve the music from the past. You were still a novice, but, with the help of the Aria Murrmer,compositions were being remembered. 

And yet he still hasn't been blessed with your voice.

Brant thought it was cute at first, seeing how you would clamp up whenever he was around, eyes darting everywhere but his own, hiding behind your guitar. And he never forced you to, no matter how much he yearned to. He already hung off your every word; your singing voice would be heaven on earth, he can bet on that.

"I'm sure you'll do amazing," He smiled, leaning closer to find your catch your gaze, "Maybe I'll hear it soon?" His gave you the biggest puppy-dog eyes and a hopeful smile that only grew when you shifted shyly, looking so cute when you muttered a "Maybe."

It wasn't much but he clung to that word like it was a prayer for the next few weeks, holding himself back from begging for your attention whenever you had your guitar out and surrounded by the children. He could tell they were still planning something with that remix they were pushing you to write.

Thankfully, they had enough mercy to not let him stew in his misery for too long.

"A lullaby?" Brant arched a brow as his eyes skimmed the crudely written score, the kids grinning and nodding eagerly. It wasn't a complicated song, the notes with slow and drawn out into a simple melody with no crazy jumps he had to look out for. He could probably sing it without accompaniment.

"Was this what you were bothering our poor guitarist over? You wanted me to sing you a new song?"

Another crowd full of eager nods and hopeful grins, and he smiled helplessly with a shake of his head. Even if the thought was endearing, he couldn't help but feel the wind from his sails leave him at their plan. He was hoping to have heard this song from your lips, not sing it himself. But... he couldn't deny their pleading faces.

"Aha... alright. Fine, fine, settle in-"

"Wait! Wait!"

A couple kids scurried out of the tent only to come back tugging you in with guitar in tow. He should be embarrassed with the way he sat up and how his smile grew brighter at the sight of you with heavy lids and messy hair, or how his eyes roved over your form, heart shuddering when he recognized the sleep clothes to be one of his old disguises/costumes he gave you when you first joined them as the kids ushered you to his side.

"I see they want the full band, hm?" He commented, ignoring the loud whispers and giggles the kids gave as you nervously fixed your clothes and hair.

"I guess... I see they also showed you that," you mutter, motioning to the sheet music as you busied yourself with the guitar pegs, "I'm sorry about them. I didn't know..."

"No, no, don't be! I mean," Brant can feel his neck heat up as the children snicker, before he cleared his throat, "They gave me the lyrics. You don't have to worry about those. I can handle the singing, and you can play. Know one knows it better than you after all."

You bit your lip, he couldn't help but dart his gaze down toward them, before you sat up and gave a couple practice strums.

"It's a standard eight count into the lyrics..."

Brant grinned as the kids cheers, clamoring into their cots and bunks as your fingers nervously moved into position over the fret board. A soft melody floated through the air, and Brant could feel his body go slack at the sound. Sure, he could tell that you were still new to the instrument, but oh, could he also hear the nostalgia in between the notes and see it written on your beautiful face. How lucky he was o be staring at it, since he would've definitely missed his cue if he wasn't watching so intently.

"—Adream... is a wish your heart makes..." He stumbled over the first few notes, before he found the rhythm, his voice a rich soothing baritone, "When your fast asleep."

He right. The melody was slow and oh so sweet. Even if you say it wasn't your own arrangement, he couldn't help but picture you toiling over this sheet music in the dead of night, whispering the words to yourself. Thank the sentinel he was taught how to read music at a young age, or else he would've missed the way you stole glances at him, the warmth in your eyes melting him into a puddle before you stole them away from his again when he looked back.

"Have faith in your dreams and someday... a rainbow will come smiling through." Oh, how he hopes —wishes— for that to be true. Even now, as he finished the first verse and set down the sheet music for the instrumental break, he couldn't keep his eyes off you. Not even the little whispers of the children watching on could hope to pull his gaze away from the sight of you sinking into the song, gently rocked to the rhythm. So enamored by your visage, he barely noticed how your fingers slowed and skipped over the strings, the melody getting disjointed before your eyes darted at him then down.

No, that's definitely not right. He scanned the sheet music again, noting a long drawn out pause before the next verse. He knows he was staring but it couldn't have been so long that he missed his entrance—!

"I... know you... walked with you once upon a dream..."

Oh, your voice. He was right. He could practically feel the haze fall on him as you quietly hesitantly sung. What a lovesick fool he must look like to these kids, eyes blown wide and lips parted trying to take in every single detail of your form.

"I know you, that like in your eyes is so familiar a gleam."

If only you would open yours. Please won't you open yours. What a confusing set of emotions to feel grateful that you didn't see him like this, but tortured that you refuse to look at him. The later one out in the end, and with hesitant movements so unlike the charismatic captain, he shifted closer and closer until his knee brushed against yours.

"B-but if I know you—!" You choked on your voice and your fingers stumbled on the strings for a second as Brant used a too warm hand gently capture your chin and tilt it to the side, only to be met with eyes the color of good night kisses.

"-What you'll do..." You start back up, shaky, and he sighs, happy to still hear your voice, "You'll love me at once. The way you did once upon a dream..." The snickers of the children barely reached his ears but he could tell it was getting to you. No, he had to keep listening.

He had to rip his gaze away from you as you finish your verse, to skim over the sheet music again, his voice harmonizing with yours perfectly. Like they were meant to be used together all along. He could never sing with anyone else again.

"Alone in the night you whisper... thinking no one could hear you at all..." Brant couldn't stop the smile on his face from growing in awe of the way your lips moved over each syllable. He could feel his heart pounding in his chest when he saw your eyes, your beautiful shining eyes, dart down to his own pair. 

"No matter how your heart is grieving. If you keep on believing... The dream that you wish will come true..." 

The last notes of the song hung in the air, and he swore it was only the two of them in that moment, stuck in each other's gravity, magnitized, desperate to meet—

"Are they gonna kiss?"

"Shhh!"

And then they weren't alone anymore.

Brant chuckled ruefully, as you pulled away, his face as red as yours was hot while you hid behind your guitar.

"Alright you sneaky rascals! Time for bed. Captain's order," He grinned as a chorus of groans and whines filled the tent. Still, they listened, tucking themselves in and yelling their goodnight's as he turned off the lanterns and left with you trailing behind him. 

You two were quiet for a long moment, walking alone through the Elysium before both of you tried to speak.

"Um I—"

"Sorry about—"

Both of you paused, laughing awkwardly at the situation, before Brant nodded towards you to continue, "You go first."

"Right, um... Sorry about the kids. I didn't know they were planning something like that. I kinda assumed they just wanted the Murrmer to have the song, since I'm not the best singer... Never was in the past—"

"No, No! Don't apologize, please," He all but pleaded, taking a step towards you, "It was amazing... You are... Amazing." The word left his lips in a breathless whisper. For all the eloquence and flair he had while speaking, he struggled to put into words the feelings of awe, longing, yearning, and reverence he felt for you. He was never a religious man, but he had a feeling this was what it must feel like to be in the presence of the sentinel.

"It was...everything I could've dreamed of." Another step and his hand was gently tugging away the guitar you held between them like a shield, setting it aside in favor of wrapping his arm around your waist. Jeweled eyes searched yours for any sign for him to stop as he cupped your cheek once more.

"I'm hoping, though, you can forgive this greedy fool and grant him one last wish?" He leaned in closer, your breaths intermingling as he continued to stare into your soul with all the love he had in his heart.

"Will you let me kiss you?"

"Yes."

The word barely left lips before his were there, tasting like orange rind and sweet wine, his arm pressing the two of you together while the other tugged you closer like he was trying to graft your lips together.

Oh, this must be heaven. Surely it was in the way gasps shook and quaked when you managed to pull away from his hungry lips, or on your tongue when he coaxed it to play with his, or in the desperate way you clung onto his shirt. Salvation was here on your lips, in your arms, you as a whole; not some church.

It was so beautiful, so you, that it took everything in him to pull away when you demanded it; and even then, he could only manage to press pull away enough to press his forehead against your, panting along with you.

You step back and towards his tent, his body refusing to let any more space come between you as you ask in the sweetest of voices, "Dream with me?"

He gave you the most breathless and lovedrunk smile.

"Always and forever more."

[akutasoda]

Hiii can I request WuWa Brant x shy fem reader please?

the eccentric and the withdrawn

synopsis - brant with a shy s/o

includes - brant

warnings - fem!reader (no pronouns mentioned), fluff, slight crack, wc - 363

↪it was the classic scenario of two directly opposite people who happened to meet and get along against all differences between the two of you.

↪brant was always an eccentric person - it made sense for someone such as himself to be leading the troupe of fools. he was strong-headed, impulsive and even sometimes a bit witless.

↪whereas you were very much the opposite in terms of personality. your reservedness was reflective of your shy nature, preferring to keep to yourself and stay away from being the centre of attention.

↪fortunately, it was never impossible for opposites to get along and in some cases it worked better for a pair to be opposing of the other, which was why you and brant could be together.

↪the troupe of fools main aspect was their travelling performances, but you were always more of another observer which brant didn't mind in the slightest. he knew that you weren't the best cut out for that which was no problem.

↪some members of the troupe claimed that when brant knew you were there watching their performances, he actually became more “flashy” in a sense

↪and whether or not that was due to the fact that he wanted to try to impress you. or that when he knew you were watching, he felt more passionate about what he was performing.

↪brant was often “unrecognisable” when it was just the two of you. his usual outlandish nature melted away, and he took on a much more gentle demeanor.

↪it was his sign that he was cherishing his time with you, appreciating the smaller things with you. although you knew he still retained that erratic nature of his and showed it still, but that side of him was for you and you only.

↪additionally, if your shyness did include a bit of self-consciousness, brant was always there to knock those thoughts away. he would always assure you of the best and refused to let those thoughts to get to your head.

[frostyresolve]

walk the plank ꒰ ᝬ brant

he’s never one to back down from a dare, even if it means diving into the sea. 1k words. humor, teasing.

︶꒦︶꒷︶︶꒷꒦︶︶︶꒷꒦‧

you had merely said it as a joke, but you should have known that BRANT was never the kind to back down from a challenge, no matter how outlandish the dare was. so you find yourself practically on edge as he tips his hat to you, balancing precariously on the creaking wooden plank while he prepares to plunge into the sea. he’d do a twirl like a vitreum dancer if he were lighter on his feet.

he had stood up abruptly, a dramatic flourish in his movements paired with the impish grin on his face. "you drive a hard bargain, my dear. very well! i shall walk the plank!"

it didn’t help either that his ears were flushed pink, a sign of his slight intoxication from a few cocktails too many. he shoots you an impish grin that doesn’t really subside the rising panic bubbling in your chest, clearly regretting the words you had said out of playful teasing moments before. but some part of you does want to see if he would really go through with it; he was never one to back out on his promises after all. was it too late to tell him to stop? would doing that mean that you truly were in denial about how you felt towards your captain?

the moon casts a soft silvery glow upon the ship, creating shadows dancing across the deck as the wind rustles through the sails. the sea is dark and roiling beneath him; the water is a stark contrast to the night sky. looking back at you, he relishes in the disbelief perpetually etched into your face. “happy now?”

BRANT lets out a hearty laugh, his eyes fixed on the way you bite your lip anxiously. "you look nervous. don’t tell me you're afraid i’ll get wet?"

he leans forward slightly, testing the plank's stability. it creaks alarmingly, much to your dismay, causing you to wince, but thankfully it holds firm under him. "no need to fret... i’m a capable swimmer." he reassures you with a wink shot in your direction, a cocky air to his lopsided smirk.

the wind picks up, whipping at his clothes and hair. the spray of seawater hits his face, dampening his hair and adding to his dishevelled appearance as if the alcohol had already done its job already. “i must say, the view from up here is quite something! perhaps i should make this a new tradition, a pre-performance ritual, perhaps?”

you bite back a witty retort, getting up from your seat and taking measured steps towards him as if you were approaching a cornered animal, heart racing in your chest.

“yeah, yeah. you proved yourself. you’re actually going to fall in, if you’re not already aware.” you’re failing miserably to hide the panic and worry seeping through the edges of your facade, your tone rising slightly in pitch as he merely smiles back at you as if he weren’t teetering off the plank. curse him and his confidence.

he lets out a hearty laugh, his gaze locked onto yours. "ah, so worried about me, are you?"

"but i can’t just half do your dare, now can i? what kind of captain would i be if i didn't follow through on my word?" BRANT clicks his tongue, continuing his sentence while he continues to walk backwards, each creak of wood with every step of his foot causing you to flinch.

you gasp, your hand flying to your mouth when his left foot hovers over the sea, the plank dipping under his weight. he throws you another one of his signature cocky beams. you’re not sure whether you should be torn between hating or loving that look right now. “you did say walk the plank. you never specified i had to stay on it, now did you.”

“i take it back; i want you off. get off the plank now, please?” reaching out your hand to him, trying to still your racing heart and the rush of nerves flooding through your system at the sight of him, one step away from diving.

“as you command, honorary captain.” it’s only when you realise the meaning he’s interpreted with your words that your feet carry you to the edge of the ship, tasting salt carried from the sea breeze kissing your cheeks.

he bows, taking his hat off before he tips backward, a shocked cry leaving your lips in horror.

“no, wait—“

it’s silent except for the occasional caw of a seagull, the waves brushing against the rocks below, and the thumping of your heart like a drum ringing in your ears. one foot in front of the other, you inch yourself cautiously onto the plank, taking a deep breath as you look down at the wuthering waves.

his fingers are curled into the wood as he pulls himself up, feet swinging like this were child’s play. BRANT cocks his head to the side, his gaze never leaving yours, his elbows resting on the plank and his palms cupping his cheek as his lower body sways from side to side.

“so you do care.” he teases you, your mouth parting as you splutter at the sight of him. “i…did not. your eyes are just playing tricks on you; perhaps that swim ought to have done you some good.”

cursing under your breath, you don’t look at him, anything but the hint of mockery in his eye. “you know the rules, darling. i went along with your dare, so now allow me to have the honour of picking yours.” his voice takes a lower tone like he’s whispering a secret meant for nobody’s ears but yours. curious, you approach him, now standing on the plank yourself.

“how bout…a kiss for your dear captain? i promise i won’t bite, unless you'd prefer me to. you might find yourself enjoying it, after all." the worry you feel for him is quickly replaced with a hint of amusement and irritation, your lips thinning at his suggestion.

letting out a scoff, you push him into the sea. not before he drags you down with him, the both of you plummeting into the water below. your shrieks are a symphony to his ears, his laughter the last thing you hear before you crash into the sea with his arms around you.

© FROSTYRESOLVE 2025. DO NOT PLAGIARISE, REUPLOAD OR FEED MY WORKS INTO AI

[asthroophile]

curtain call of the heart

i. caught in the spotlight

pairing brant x fem!reader, modern high school au, mutual pinning, childhood friends to lovers, might be ooc

(n); got inspired by ai i played with a few days ago, AND YES i couldnt help myself from writing this

summary: being friends with the theater club president means you have to accept the fact that you'll get dragged into acting in plays.

the final bell rang, its sound echoing through the hallways, marking the end of another exhausting day. students rushed out of classrooms, eager to escape into the afternoon, their voices blending into a chaotic symphony of chatter and laughter. you, however, had a mission—get to the gate before brant could catch you.

"y/n!!!" you froze. oh no. you knew that voice anywhere.

slowly, you turned around, plastering on your usual awkward smile, only to be met with brant’s ever-confident smirk. his deep teal hair was slightly tousled from the afternoon breeze, and his vibrant magenta eyes were locked onto you with that playful glint. before you could react, he grabbed your wrist.

"caught you," he teased, tightening his grip slightly. “i knew you were gonna try and skip practice today, that’s why i got here before you could disappear on me."

you sighed. typical brant. always one step ahead when it came to dragging you into social situations.

“you know I’m not even in the club, right?” you muttered, trying to tug your wrist free.

“not officially,” he corrected. “but you might as well be. you are the childhood friend of the president. and besides,”—his smirk softened into something fonder—“i like having you around.”

your stomach did a weird little flip. you ignored it, "fine,” you relented, “but i’m just sitting in the corner, not participating.” brant grinned victoriously and practically dragged you to the theater room.

—

the room was already bustling with activity. the theater club members were either warming up their voices, practicing lines, or messing around with costumes. brant led you straight to the front, where a script was conveniently waiting on the director’s chair.

“alright, guys!” he called out, instantly commanding attention. “get in position. we’re running scene 5 today.”

you sighed in relief, about to slink off to the side when—

“y/n,” brant suddenly called. you looked up warily, "come here.”

your body stiffened. “why?”

brant grabbed the script and flipped through the pages with a casual ease before turning to you with a mischievous smile.

“you’re filling in for the lead today.”

your heart stopped. “WHAT?!”

the entire club turned to look at you, murmurs breaking out among them.

brant crossed his arms. “our lead actress isn’t here, and you do know the script by heart. you’ve been sitting through our practices for weeks, y/n."

“that doesn’t mean i wanna be in it!!” you protested.

brant leaned in, lowering his voice so only you could hear. “c’mon. just for today? for me?”

you hated how that sentence made your heart skip.

“...okay,” you muttered, snatching the script from his hands. “but if i embarrass myself, i'm never speaking to you again.”

brant chuckled. “deal.”

as practice began, you could feel the nerves crawling under your skin. but brant made it easier—always patient, always guiding you through.

at some point, the scene called for him to step closer, his hand barely brushing against yours. your breath caught as you looked up at him, really looked at him.

he was too close. his voice was softer, no longer playful but filled with something… deeper.

and for a second, the lines you had rehearsed in your head disappeared.

brant’s eyes flickered with something unreadable. the room felt smaller. the audience didn’t exist. it was just the two of you.

brant stepped closer, his usual playful expression softening. "y/n…" his voice carried through the empty seats, rich with emotion. "you have no idea how much you mean to me."

your breath hitched. this wasn’t real. it was just a script. but the way he was looking at you, the intensity in his eyes—it felt real. you were so caught up in the moment that you didn’t you didn't realize that the coach had come in and seen what you two were doing.

“oh my god, did i just walk in on something??”

brant immediately pulled back, clearing his throat. “it’s just practice,” he said, though the slight pink dusting his ears said otherwise.

you, on the other hand, wanted to disappear. the members exchanged looks, smirks forming on their faces.

“riiiight,” one of them teased. “looked pretty real to me." bant shot them a glare. “shut up.”

you groaned, burying your face in your hands. you were never living this down.

next: ii. lines we can't say

© asthroophile 2025 do not repost, plagiarize.

[alwayscorvus]

Your little things... - Part 2 - WuWa Characters

malereader x Brant/Calcharo/YangYang (separated), fluff;

just some things which you are in habit of doing to your partner and vice versa; Part 1;

Calcharo

Calcharo's hair is a long story. In many ways. You are mesmerized by them. And that's why you don't miss a chance to play with them in your spare time.

Yes, it's risky. It's dangerous. You have already come terrifyingly close to death many times.

But does that mean it's worth stopping? No, definitely not. This feeling is worth dying for.

Dip your hands into a coats of his hair. Run them from the very top to the very bottom. Feel how each strand pleasantly wash over and tickle your body.

And your movements are always flowing, because his hair in some magical way never gets tangled to any degree.

Oh dear. You can do it again and again and never stop.

And your favorite activity, despite everything, is doing Calcharo braids. Often one. Extremely long and thick. In which a few shorter sticking out strands fit nicely into a whole hairstyle. Which, when swung properly, is like a weapon. Capable of dealing good damage. Leaving red painful marks. Of course, Calcharo doesn't walk around in braids. Certainly not in public. He has his dignity. So he's quick to undo them. But when you are in privacy (previously in your hotel room, after in your secluded cabin) he lets himself wear them. Especially at night. It's quite a convenient option. And Calcharo knows it gives you a great joy…

Touching his hair for the first time wasn't easy. Depending on whether you did it during phase when Calcharo had a hidden crush on you or when he was keeping his emotions under control and showing off his lack of interest

In the first case, Calcharo looked at you as dear in the headliness. Truly frustrated. With a beautiful bright blush on his cheeks. For the first time in your life you saw something like that. And you probably got shot by cupid's arrow at that moment.

In the second situation… well… Calcharo also at first looked at you a little puzzled. However, his expression quickly turned murderous. You swallowed your saliva heavily. You finally understood what all his victims felt just before they died. In the blink of an eye, you felt a strong grip on your wrist, and your whole life flashed before your eyes.

Good thing Calcharo had a weak spot for you…

-Hey, Calcharo? Who is that creature that keeps showing up at your side to give you a high-five after the fight is over?

Man suddenly stopped in a half step and looked at you with suspicion.

But he could see right through you.

-Don't tell me that you are jealous.

You didn't respond. Your gaze fell to the ground.

Calcharo laughed loudly at that, not hiding his contempt.

-Oh Jué, you are. You really are.

Your sweetest moments are your kisses, which you always tenderly lay on his forehead.

Whether it is when you part your ways. Or when he returns exhausted after a hard mission, and you welcome him home with open arms. You assure him that everything is going to be fine. Wrapping his wounded body in love and endless warmth.

Calcharo can pretend he doesn't like it. He may shy away and pull out of your embrace. Act cold and tough. But in reality, when he slips away from crowds and gets left alone with his problems, he really needs someone's support.

And your kisses cause a pleasant tingling on his Tacet Mark.

Nothing gets on your nerves and troubles you more than Calcharo's constant overclocking. You don't care about what he does. You know it's his way of living. And before you stepped into this relationship you had to come to terms with how he is. Because if you started to like him the way he was at first, then why should he now change his whole self under your pressure.

You knew what you were getting into.

But dear Jué. Calcharo really could watch himself at least a little more.

After all, the state he's getting himself into could really threaten his life. And this isn't about another deep wound that can be patched up, given medicine and waited to heal. At some point, Calcharo might just lose himself.

And nothing would break your heart more than losing your loved one and watching him no longer be himself. Just a monster that has taken over his body.

That's why you always try to be there for him when he crosses the safe line. When you see him tremble. When his body is changing. When he loses touch with reality. When battle screams turns into whines of pain.

Whether it happens accidentally. At night when his emotions are cumulating. During a fight when he uses too much power. Or even when you are far away and medical team informs you of his critical condition. You show up immediately next to his side.

You start talking to him, firmly, profoundly. In order to break through the wall around him as efficiently as possible. When he begins to recognize you and you can already tell that he won't harm you, you grab him by shoulders. Calcharo flinches but you persistently try to make eye contact. Till you see that one small glimpse in the back of his black-filled eyes. A frightened, lost Calcharo seeking help and understanding in a world that has rejected him. Once you know he's there you hug him tightly, assuring him that everything will be okay. You squeeze and wait. Wait till your Calcharo comes back to you.

Witnesses don't understand why you don't get torn apart after first seconds of trying to contact someone in these phase of greatest rage. They can't understand how strong feelings can fight other equally powerful emotions. Nevertheless, they savor these moments and always make the same sound of relief.

Brant

Maybe at first glance Brant doesn't look like house husband material. But in reality… He is a definition of those words in his own unique way.

You know how in some cultures future housewives are taught how to peel fruit, specially decorate and serve them? Apparently, this can portray own skills and a talent for good housekeeping. But at the same time, it's a small and beautiful gesture to spoil your partner with.

Well, maybe in Brant's case his habits aren't a results of a family tradition. Still one can't underestimate their importance.

When you spend leisurely moments together on your ship. When wind blows your hair and sea air pleasantly teases your nostrils. When you sit cross-legged on a big wooden barrel chatting with the rest of a crew and Brant leans against a side.

There comes a time for a little snack!

Almost out of nowhere, like a rabbit out of a hat, Brant suddenly digs out a juicy tangerine, which was previously stored in his pocket. First he neatly peels it, and after that he proceeds to consume it. Paying no attention to the rest, only occasionally adding a few words from himself to a whole conversation. However, he couldn't forget about you. Every now and then, he scoops a better-looking piece onto a top of his freshly polished dagger and nonchalantly slides it towards you.

You don't even have to turn in his direction. With trust, you naturally open your mouth and catch the fruit, allowing yourself to be fed.

It is always important to Brant for his partner to be well cared for, full and satisfied. It's a small goal that he has set in the back of his mind, and he always feels itchy and frustrated when things turn out otherwise. Please let him take care of you-

It has been for long known how important to a ship's captain his hat is. It is his pride and glory. It not only symbolizes power and authority, but also status. It allows for the most important member to stand out from the rest of a crew. Its a proof of all the previous achievements and hard work that led to this position. It's just like a medal. Helps to add confidence, charisma. Solidify one's identity. It's definitely something that every captain, despite his utmost love, devotion and appreciation towards his crew, doesn't share. And that's not a subject for any discussion.

Well, unless it's about you.

It's not like you asked for it. You never even dared to suggest it.

You know what comes with the weight of wearing a captain's hat and how important a seemingly ordinary piece of clothing can be to its owners.

Nevertheless, one day, as you were quietly sitting on a ship's stern. Far from people's bustle. With your eyes closed and ears open for a rustling of moving containers in a distance, you suddenly felt a gentle weight on your head.

You carefully pushed your eyelids open and looked to the side. Behind your back a figure of your partner appeared. He stood proudly, with his hands resting on his hips and a smile wide from ear to ear.

-Looks good on you, my dear~

And that was just the beginning. From then on, when he is exhausted, goes for a break and you take a steering wheel, he passes his hat to you. Brant always puts it on by himself and delicately fixes it, while brushing back strands of your messy hair so hat lies in the best possible position. And highlights your best features.

Or when he wants to show you off, whether in front of a crew or newly arrived guests. He hands you his hat, throws his arm around your shoulders and, pushing out his chest, proclaims:

-That's my man~

It's extremely intimidating. But at the same time it causes a strange warmth inside.

After all, he may be a ruler of seas and oceans. But you are a ruler of his heart.

He's a little playful. Don't tell me he isn't. Brant can't resist teasing you at least a bit.

When you're out of reach, separated by a crew.

When he's standing on top, right behind a steering wheel, and you're watching him from below while helping clean up on deck.

When he's performing on stage, and you're sitting in a front row as his biggest admirer.

When he's sprawled out with his feet on a table and a glass of whiskey in his hand, negotiating a merchandise payment with some shady types. And you're leaning against walls of a bar, working as his best bodyguard.

When he dances in the night at the festival, in a blaze of colorful lights, right in the center, surrounded by heated bodies of strangers. And you closely mirror his actions, making sure that no other hand taints his skin.

He catches eye contact with you.

Keeping you in mind in every situation. Wanting to show his closeness even while being distant.

He lifts one corner of his mouth up and winks at you with amusement.

Your heart starts to beat faster, even if you respond with a snort and a look of pure pity. With this one simple gesture, Brant really proves that he has you completely wrapped around his finger.

YangYang

In the mornings, you get woken up by a strange tickling sensation around your nose. The itch lasts so long and is so persistent that you awaken with a loud sneeze. And with you, your girlfriend.

In the dark, not yet fully familiar with reality, you search for the cause of your unwanted wake-up call. In your field of vision appears a object, almost pulled straight out of a cartoon.

A small white feather.

Cute, fluffy. But not alone.

There was a whole bunch of them, and their source was your chosen one's luscious black hair.

You wince slightly at this sight. But Yangyang's panicked face immediately gets you melted. Your grimace turns into a smile, with which you hastily place a sweet kiss on her forehead.

-Go back to sleep, little one.

You move away and slowly reposition yourself to your previous pose, eager to regain as much as possible of remaining half an hour of your sleep.

-I'm-m- sorry!

Almost with tears in her eyes she hurriedly apologizes, turning in your direction. As if she knew from an experience that it was her fault.

However, you calm her down instantly, almost cracking up laughing at the whole situation. Without a second thought, you lock her in a tight hug and snuggle her head into your chest as firmly as possible.

Your friends often find you in one particular position.

Yangyang sitting comfortably on her bent knees and you spread out with your head on her thighs.

Smiling, daydreaming, completely carefree.

Yangyang is lovingly brushing through your hair while massaging your temples, that are sore from an overload of thoughts.

In her soft voice, she whispers sweet nothing into your ear.

Assuring you that everything will be fine. That you have nothing to worry about. That you are the best. Strong, smart, funny. That you can handle anything.

She appreciates you and successively builds your confidence.

Such moments happen not only when you are waiting for someone in the city, relaxing on a couch in your apartment or spending an evening in camp, at a rest stop during another of your longer missions. Many times these situations occurs on the wide grasslands of Huanglong. Where you go on picnics as part of your shared dates. Warm rays of sunshine rubbing your faces, pleasant blows of wind carrying scent of wildflowers and wisps of mature grain roughly tickling your bodies.

Fountains. Cursed places. You always avoid them with a wide berth. Or at least try, even if with poor results.

Just joking, you only pretend to do so. In fact, what happens when you approach them really melts your heart away. Because yes, in the end you always stop by them. One little person doesn't let you get past them.

-Oh look! A fountain!

Overexcited Yangyang jumps up on a spot, hurriedly grabs your hand and runs towards a monumental stone decoration.

-Do you have a coin? -she asks even more thrilled, turns towards you and looks with an awaiting gaze.

Her tone evidently rushes you.

Amused, with a laugh and head that shakes from side to side with a pity, you reach into your pocket digging for a golden trinket.

-Faster faster! - Yangyang grabs you by a forearm and pulls.

She always acts as if this pile of stones, that joyfully splashes aruond with water, were about to escape you.

Truly adorable.

You finally reach your goal and hand her a coin, from the change of recent purchases, which you try to stockpile for such occasions.

Overjoyed, Yangyang grasps the small treasure with her fingers of both hands. Tilts her head down slightly, brings the shiny little thing to her forehead and makes a wish in a whisper.

Then with a sweeping motion, she tosses a penny and watches as it dives to the bottom of a fountain with a cheerful plop, joining the rest of its family, from all corners of world.

Yanyang intertwines her hands with you again. She smiles pleased and truly satisfied with herself.

And what does she wish for? Well, there is only one thing in the world that she really cares about. For you to be healthy and for your relationship to continue like this without any interruption. In happiness and unity. Nothing has to change, because it's already perfect.

not sure if you know but yesterday this profile had its first year anniversary~

2024 means:

10 wuwa posts

7 hsr posts

2 genshin posts

let's hope for the better! in forecast for an upcoming week: massive jiyan rainfalls

[xichilie]

hi! could you please make one where brant finds out his partner is pregnant 😋 idk why but it seems like it would be interesting lmao

anyways have a good day/night :3

Brant x (fem)reader

Reader tells brant she's pregnant

The room was quiet, save for the distant hum of the city beyond the window. Y/N sat on the edge of the bed, fingers curled into the fabric of her sleeves, heart pounding harder than she wished to admit. The weight of the revelation settled in her chest, both thrilling and terrifying.

She wasn’t sure how to tell him.

Brant, ever the dramatist, would surely make a spectacle of it, whether out of joy or sheer disbelief. The thought made her smile, though it did little to calm her nerves.

As if summoned by her thoughts, the door swung open with its usual flair, and Brant strolled in, already mid-sentence. “Darling, I was just informed of the most—” He paused, taking one look at her and immediately narrowing his pink eyes. “Y/N, you look as if you’re about to deliver grave news. Tell me, has the world finally decided to punish me for being too charming?”

Y/N huffed a laugh despite herself. “Something like that.”

Brant tilted his head, his usual smirk faltering. That alone told her he was actually paying attention. He stepped closer, kneeling in front of her with uncharacteristic patience. “Talk to me, Stella Mia.”

Y/N inhaled deeply, gripping his hands in hers before finally whispering, “I’m pregnant.”

For the first time since she had met him, Brant was speechless.

His pink eyes widened, lips parting as if to speak, but no words came out. He blinked once, twice, then finally exhaled a shaky breath. “You’re… with child?”

She nodded, watching him carefully.

Then, in true Brant fashion, he gasped dramatically and threw himself onto the floor. “By the gods! I’ve done it! I’ve created life!”

Y/N groaned. “Brant—”

“Wait!” He sat up suddenly, eyes darting to her stomach as if seeing it for the first time. He reached out but hesitated, almost hesitant for once in his life. “May I?”

She rolled her eyes but took his hand, placing it gently against her stomach. “You won’t feel anything yet, you know.”

“I don’t care,” he whispered, his theatrics vanishing in an instant. His palm was warm against her, fingers trembling just slightly. When he looked up at her, there was something reverent in his expression. “This is real?”

Y/N’s heart softened. “Yes.”

Brant swallowed thickly before breaking into a radiant grin. “Stella Mia, you have just given me the greatest role I will ever play.” He cupped her face, pressing a lingering kiss to her forehead. “And I swear to you, I will be magnificent at it.”

Y/N smiled, resting her forehead against his. “You already are.”

Brant remained on his knees before her, his hands warm against her cheeks as if grounding himself in the moment. For once, he wasn’t filling the air with his usual playful dramatics—he was just Brant, raw and real, his pink eyes shimmering with something indescribable.

Then, as if something clicked in his mind, his hands shot down to her stomach again. “Wait. Does this mean—” He gasped. “I must start writing my memoirs immediately! ‘Brant: The Journey of a Rogue, a Lover, and Now—A Father!’”

Y/N let out a laugh, swatting at him. “Brant, we have months before you start telling the world about this.”

“Months?” He scoffed. “Stella Mia, I should have been shouting it from the rooftops the moment you told me!” He suddenly turned toward the window, as if actually contemplating it, before Y/N grabbed the back of his collar and pulled him back.

“No. Absolutely not.”

He pouted, placing a hand dramatically over his heart. “You’re cruel to me, my love.”

“You’ll survive.”

Brant sighed, dramatically flopping onto the bed beside her, head resting against her lap. His expression softened again as he gazed up at her. “You’re certain you’re alright?” His fingers traced absentminded patterns along her thigh. “I mean… do you need anything? Are you in pain? Should I fetch a physician? A whole team of them, perhaps?”

Y/N smiled, brushing her fingers through his hair. “I’m fine, Brant. A little tired, maybe.”

His brows furrowed. “Tired? Then rest. Immediately. In fact—” He sat up abruptly, already moving to grab extra pillows. “You should be lying down. You need comfort, softness, the finest blankets we can find—”

“Brant.” She caught his sleeve before he could disappear on a mission for luxury. “Just stay here.”

He froze, eyes searching hers before his expression melted into something tender. “Always, Stella Mia.”

He settled beside her, an arm looping around her waist as she leaned into him. It was rare to see him so quiet, so still, but he held her like she was something precious, something sacred.

After a moment, he pressed a kiss to the top of her head. “Y/N?”

“Mm?”

“What if… what if they have your eyes?” His voice was almost wistful, as if imagining the idea for the first time.

Y/N smiled. “And what if they have yours?”

He chuckled, squeezing her a little tighter. “Then the world will never stand a chance.”

She laughed softly, closing her eyes as exhaustion started to pull at her. Brant simply held her, his usual chaos set aside for the moment as he let himself marvel at this new chapter of their lives.

And for once, the infamous rogue had no need for theatrics. Because this—this was already the greatest story he would ever be a part of.

Brant had never been good at keeping secrets—especially not ones that filled him with this much joy. It was a miracle he had lasted this long without bursting. But now, the time had come.

The Troupe of Fools was gathered in the Fools’ Elysium, their lively chatter filling the grand hall as they passed around drinks and shared exaggerated tales of their latest antics. The air smelled of wine, roasted meats, and the faintest trace of incense—everything warm and familiar.

Brant stood atop one of the long banquet tables, goblet in hand, his pink eyes practically glowing with excitement. “My friends! My beloved, ridiculous, chaotic family! Lend me your ears!”

The room quieted—well, as much as it ever could in a den of exiled performers and troublemakers. The Fools turned their attention to him, some with curiosity, others with amusement.

“What now, Brant?” One of them called. “Another duel against a noble you’ve insulted?”

“Are we fleeing the city? Blink twice if we should start packing.”

Brant gasped, pressing a hand to his chest. “You wound me! Can I not call upon you all without accusations of scandal?”

A chorus of doubtful murmurs and laughter rang out, but Brant only grinned, raising his arms dramatically.

“Tonight is not a night of mischief! It is a night of celebration! For I, the incomparable, magnificent Brant, have achieved my greatest performance yet—may, my greatest creation!” He gestured grandly toward Y/N, who stood at the edge of the gathering, watching him with an amused yet knowing smile.

“I—” He paused for effect, savoring the anticipation in the air. “—am going to be a father!”

For a beat, the room was silent.

Then—

Cheers erupted, wild and thunderous. The Troupe of Fools was nothing if not expressive, and this news sent them into a frenzy of whooping and applause. Someone threw their hat into the air. A few musicians immediately broke into a celebratory tune.

Y/N found herself suddenly swept up as various members of the Troupe rushed to congratulate her. Arms wrapped around her in joyous hugs, voices overlapping with excited chatter.

“When were you going to tell us, Y/N?”

“You’re carrying Brant’s child? Saints help you.”

“This calls for a feast! No, a festival! A whole week of celebration!”

Brant basked in the revelry like a king in his court, drinking in the joy around him. Then, as if the sheer energy wasn’t enough, he pulled a lute from one of the musicians and strummed a few dramatic chords.

“A song! A song for the miracle that is my beloved and our future little fool!”

Groans and laughter followed as he launched into a completely improvised ballad about love, destiny, and the trials of raising a child with his unparalleled charm.

Y/N shook her head, laughter spilling from her lips as she watched him. He was over-the-top, ridiculous, and hopelessly dramatic.

And she wouldn’t have him any other way.

[metaforikal]

Hi!! Would you be willing to write a scene with Brant with a shy, cat hybrid reader where brant pulls them to his lap and gently teases them?

I loved all your writings so far <33

𐙚 brant 𐙚

𐙚 brant loves his kitty kitty,, 𐙚

fluff, fluff, fluff, cat demi-human reader, gn reader.

thanks for the req nonnie <3 ! is it just me or are we lacking in brant fics? maybe i am not looking for it well enough but still, huhu! sorry it took soooo long, i was kinda busy (╥﹏╥)

fool's elysium was lively, filled with a cacophony of laughter and song. the troupe had just finished yet another successful performance at the town square of ragunna. the hustle and bustle of life offered a sweet distraction to the fools from their initial vexation of being casted away by the order, by the higher society. a place where fools, heretics, were not just toleratedーbut also celebrated.

brant exhaled, a contented smile played on his lips. his usual theatrical mask slipped away as he settled down beside his favourite person, [name]. they had been together since their first exile, small fingers intertwined tightly braving through the unforgiving tides and storms abroad the pilgrim sail. 

"you've been staring at me for awhile." your cat ears twitched. you had never been fond of lingering eyes on you, much rather staying by the side lines than being under the spotlight. unlike brant, who'd willingly jump into the middle of a spectacle to feel the whole world's gaze weight down upon him. 

"hmm, nothing much. just appreciating ya" he drawled, a look of adoration was in his eyes. no words could describe how much he loved and cherished the one that had stood by his side through thick and thin. you pouted, your fluffy cat tail swayed left and right lazily against the wooden plank of the dock. you're still not used to his flirtation, even after years together.

another sigh spilled from his lipsーsoft and dreamy. he had always loved seeing you all flustered due to his makings. "now, you're being way to cute for your own good y'know?" he nudged your side, making you huff out as a form of protest. he was no longer able to restrain himself so gently, he pulled you into his lap with effortless ease. all those years of fending his troupe from tacet discords lingering around penitent's end had turned him into quite the strong one. 

you could feel how fast your cheeks heated up, dusted in pink-colored freckles. words died on your lips, thoughts tangled and frozen lost in the overwhelming warmth of his embrace. 

your back was pressed firmly against his chest, the soft clinking of his accessories filled the otherwise quiet and intimate air. his strong, calloused hand kneaded the soft flesh of your waist, his chin rested on your clavicle. each slow, deliberate blow of his breath caressed the juncture between your neck and shoulderーa sensitive part of yours that is only known to him, only for him to exploit. 

"b-brant don't do that-!" a shaky mewl rolled off your tongue, breath hitched when he nipped onto the soft skin. oh how he loved gouging out your reactions to his affections, savouring each twitch and gasp from you. 

"who's a good kitty kitty~?" his voice was a low, teasing purr. if it were anyone else calling you like so you'd have their eyes skewered on your nails. but brant? brant knew you'd let it slide if it came from him, and he'd be damned he if didn't take full advantage of it. you didn't answer, of course, your ego wouldn't let you but it's not like he mind either way. 

your ears didn't go untouched, how could they? he couldn't just simply ignore how your ears flapped by each bated breath you took. he watched as they flicked at even the slightest movement he'd make. how could a man like him possibly resist?  “you're so unbelievably cute like this.” he hummed to himself. one hand lifted, ghosting his fingers over the soft fur before cupping one ear fully. the warmth that his palm offered sent a shiver down your spine, making you jolt ever so slightly in your seat.

“always so sensitive, you never make it easy for me, [name].” he hummed in pure amusement, laced with the satisfaction of discovering yet another weak spot.

and so, they spent their evening in each other's embrace. he had the look of a lovesick foolーbecause that was all he was. one hopelessly enamoured. in a distance, the faint echoes of the fool's troupe's merrymaking drifted through the air. but none of it mattered to him at the moment, not when he had you like this. 

"y'know, if i weren't already a fool, i'd still be one for you, willingly."

jumps around.. i finally got one done after being gone for awhile. so sorry ahhh!!!!!!!! i will get the other to work, ASAP!! i hope i did brant justice, he deserves all the love this world's got to offer (੭ ;´ - `;)੭ ♡

[gifimay]

16+ only

NSWF brant idea's/headcannon's

feel free to use these(and I actively encourage u to do so fanfic writers)

fem reader but can be imagined as male reader

tying up brant and pleasuring yourself in front of him or sucking his dick until he finally snaps, breaks through the ropes and either eats you out mercilessly or goes to pound town until you can't walk. (I slightly stole this idea from marzia98 on Ao3 from there fic Tides of Desire)

Being insecure so brant decides to tie you up with gold ropes he found on his adventures, through you on his piles of treasure as if your one of them, and then fuck you in front of a mirror. either not letting you cum(or not letting you stop cumming) until you admit just how perfect and beautiful you are.

my man brant would be so into roleplay, whats that? you've always wanted to be a princess? well guess what he's the pirate who kidnapped you, with the obvious goal of 'deflowering' you. Mermaid roleplay, siren roleplay, officer-criminal roleplay. all of it.

slight Exhibitionism kink(like only if he truly knows no one will find you guys, especially children) just the thought of it, not actually wanting it to happen.

shibari? likes it on you but will let you harness up his chest.

speaking of chest, can and will get revenge on you for always ogling and touching his. you'll definitely get your chest massaged and tortured as revenge.

despite all of this, I know damn well brant will always ask for consent, has a safe word, and will stop when you need him too. My man is a woman respecter.

and thats all i have.

authors note:sorry if this is badly written, I never really ever write smut even slightly so I don't have experience making that kind of content but these ideas sneak up on you so i had to make this.