#seasick

Brant's teasing façade melted in an instant. Gently, he placed a warm hand against her back, rubbing slow circles between her shoulders. "Alright, alright," he murmured, his voice softer now. "No theatrics. Just me."

Y/N took a slow breath, her body still tense. The warmth of his touch was grounding, a stark contrast to the relentless rocking of the ship.

Brant sighed, his other hand coming up to brush a few strands of hair from her damp forehead. "You always take care of me, Stella Mia," he said, voice unusually quiet. "Let me return the favor for once."

Before she could protest, he was already moving. In a matter of moments, he had pressed a cool, damp cloth to her forehead, guiding her to sit down against the ship’s railing. He produced a flask from his coat, pressing it lightly to her lips. "Just a sip," he coaxed. "Ginger and honey. It'll help."

Y/N obeyed, the warm liquid sliding down her throat, soothing in its own way.

Brant sat beside her, legs stretched out, his shoulder brushing hers. "This ship had better be worth the suffering it’s putting you through," he mused, though the usual amusement in his voice was laced with something gentler.

She let out a weak chuckle. "If not, I’m making you carry me everywhere when we get off."

Brant grinned, dramatic once more. "Oh, my love, you need only ask. I'll sweep you into my arms, sing sonnets of your bravery, and—"

"Brant," she groaned, leaning her head against his shoulder, "shut up."

His laughter was soft, his arm curling around her shoulders in an embrace that was steady despite the rocking ship. "Anything for you, Stella Mia."

The moment the ship docked, Y/N exhaled in sheer relief. The journey had been a test of endurance, one she had barely passed, and she was desperate to set foot on solid ground again.

Brant, ever the gentleman when it suited him, was already at her side, offering his arm with a flourish. “Come, my suffering angel, allow me to be your guiding light back to the safety of the earth.”

Y/N groaned, reaching for his arm. The moment she attempted to step forward, her legs wobbled beneath her, the lingering sensation of the ship’s constant sway refusing to leave her body. She stumbled, but before she could fall, Brant caught her with ease, steadying her with both hands.

"Careful, Stella Mia," he murmured, his voice uncharacteristically gentle. "The sea may have released you, but it still lingers in your bones."

Y/N clung to him, annoyed at her own weakness but grateful for his support. “I feel like I’m still moving.”

Brant chuckled, adjusting his grip as he led her slowly down the gangplank. “A cruel trick of the ocean, my dear. It steals your strength and then mocks you for it.” His smirk softened as he looked down at her. “But worry not. You have me.”

Once her boots touched the cobbled port, Y/N sighed, the solid ground beneath her an instant comfort. “Thank the gods.”

Brant didn’t let go immediately, keeping her close as she regained her balance. "Shall I carry you, just in case?" His eyes sparkled with mischief, but there was something else beneath it—genuine concern.

Y/N gave him a tired glare but couldn't help the small smile tugging at her lips. “Don’t you dare.”

He laughed, finally releasing her but keeping a protective hand at her back as they walked forward. “Very well, but if you swoon dramatically into my arms, I reserve the right to boast about it for years.”