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sonnet141snz · 2 months

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contingency plan

part two of the n//ana/ge/go au from before!! can be read after the first part or on its own ^_^

warnings: 18+!!! explicit sexual content!!!! tags: character w sneeze kink, sexual frustration, voyeurism, relationship ambiguity, covert public masturbation, fetish reveal/confession, voice kink & phone stuff, common cold words: 3.9k

Kento expects the recording to begin with Gojo’s voice, or one of the variants in sneezing that he sometimes sends for Nanami’s pleasure while they’re apart. The guy’s good at it, too, whether he’s playing up a fit like some kind of burlesque act or giving into a more natural, mellow alternative reserved for a state more intimate and tired.

And it always works for Kento. Every time. And he’s a good enough lover to reciprocate with similar recordings of his own, tailored to Gojo’s interests and endowing the praise he deserves. It’s the exchange he expects when he downloads a surprise audio file in the cafe bathroom, but what he experiences is something else entirely.

Suguru Geto’s miserably cold-laden voice pours into Kento’s ears through the speakers, instantly making his dick hard and breathing uneven. Before shutting his eyes, he makes sure he’s locked the door.

“Coordinates forty-point-six-oh-five comma one-forty-point-four-six-two,” he says blankly after reciting the date followed by a fast, clammy sniffle. “Open date 1977 on preexisting grounds. High activity report to the north. Existing detection reading zero. Investigative appointment completed without sehhh…!”

Geto's breath hikes up in short, vocal stutters. Kento slams his thumb on the pause icon and breathes deeply to brace himself.

“heh-IGHZSHhheuh! —Separation. Moderate congregation relative to…”

Again?

“ …IGHKZSH’eu! To capacity.”

No way.

There’s absolutely no way this is happening.

Kento pauses again. From what he understands of live reports, Kento can assume that this isn’t Geto’s first shot at recording this one. The regulations are strict and don’t allow for any pausing, verbal fillers or personal opinions or anecdotes, and the time window in which high grades are required to submit them is inhumanely short.

It means that Geto had likely gotten back to the hotel, gotten stuck in a sneezing fit, and used up all of his ability to stifle any sneezes during his first few tries. With time running out, he’d need to relinquish his dignity and rush through this one after several failed attempts to hold back or silence any symptoms – or reflexively excuse himself for them afterward.

What’s trickier is that Kento would have had to listen to this anyway, as a witness in the mission verifying that Geto’s outline is correct. Listening on campus would have absolutely destroyed him, as would the temptation to find a way to privately download the thing for personal use. He can’t imagine what Geto’s disclaimer could have said before sending the file over.

“Change in air pressure and humidity noted between wings 3 and 4. Additional change in humidity noted within each transitional lobby and in…” Geto pauses, sniffles, clears his throat. Kento unzips and frees himself, already painfully firm and sensitive from listening to Geto’s cold all day. “In back room storage. No notes from… HDJSSH’U! …from staff. No academic affiliation. Exhibits ordered as follows…”

As Geto’s sniffling speeds up, his diction also begins to sound more crowded. Kento realizes that Geto will be unable to blow his nose until he’s through. Kento grips his cock, moving up and down fast enough to chafe.

“Historical.. hihh–! HD’JZSH’UH! GD’JZSHH’uh!”

Fuck.

“JYSSHhhUE!”

Fuck.

“Historical artifacts dated mid-century, local collection. Lack of observable CE from display and patrons. Modern gallery, mixed media dated from hhhHH-hh!”

Fuck.

“eh’HIH—”

Fuck. Fuck. That’s…

“–heh’EHD’ZZSHYUE!”

That’s it. Kento finishes into his own hand, spilling over the top of his palm as Geto’s nose continues acting up within the metal speaker in his ear. Once Kento’s refractory period ends, he records a round two for Gojo using only his memories as ammo.

– –

🎋🚪🍸🍯📍

– –

Geto takes the bed after all. He’s asleep in it with the door open by the time Kento returns, snoring suggestively with his dark hair unraveled onto the pillows. Kento, spent and insatiable, takes one look at him and heads straight for the shower.

On the countertop is a bottle of cold medicine that Geto has purchased for himself, which sends Kento’s dick right back into the air as he reads the labels. He jerks off again under the running water as he imagines Geto swilling the stuff before sitting down to muddle through recording that beautifully vulgar report at the table just outside the door.

At some point during Kento’s shower, Geto wakes up – it’s a shame the fan is so loud, otherwise he may have gotten a live encore. Once Kento shuts off the faucet, he hears Geto snuffling and blowing his nose into something thick before moving some things around and continuing to sniffle. Kento kills the fan so he can hear everything better, and then gets dressed in a cloud of steam.

“Welcome back,” Geto says as Kento steps out into the living room. He manages to still look pleasant with his eyes puffy and nostrils pink. “Sorry I couldn’t wait up long enough to greet you. Did you enjoy yourself?”

Kento wills himself not to freeze. “What?”

There’s no way Geto knew about Gojo sending the audio file, is there? Did he know what Kento was doing with it? He should delete it from his phone just in case, but he’s worried that any movement could dislodge his erection from its secure position tucked vertically in his waistband.

“The…” Geto sniffles, swallows, then takes a sip of something from a mug. “Excuse me. The coffee shop our concierge recommended. Did you enjoy it?”

“Yes, I did,” Kento replies. He’s in Hell. Geto sounds amazing. His voice hasn’t lost its elegant lilt, but most of his words are cloaked with a heavy congestion that he doesn’t seem to be trying very hard to hide. “Thank you for passing it along.”

With a fist covering his mouth, Geto clears his throat and sets his cup down on the coffee table. He sniffles again before lowering his hand to speak, revealing a fond and easy smile.

“How much of their menu did you try?” he asks.

“Just a cappuccino,” Kento says. He doesn’t want to lie to Geto, but he cannot for the life of him remember how it tasted. “They have a solid blend there. I’d go back tomorrow, if you’re up for it.”

It’s absolutely breathtaking to watch Geto start to laugh, because his nose is too full to allow for a clean exhale. He quickly hovers his hand as a shield to spare Nanami from having to witness the lewdness on his face, then uses a tissue to mop up without acknowledging the indecency. Nanami moves his eyes over to the window so his pupils won’t dilate with greed.

“Mm. You just seem wound up, so I assumed you’d downed at least three cups,” Geto says. The next sniffle stutters upward into his obviously crowded sinuses, and Nanami bites the bullet for both their sakes.

“No, I’m fine,” he recites stiffly. “But you sound, uh. You know I won’t mind if you blow your nose, don’t you?”

“Yeah,” Geto says, and then chuckles entirely through his mouth. He squeezes his nose with the tissue and pulls downward to drain whatever is sitting in the front. “Thank you for being so candid. I’ll be right back.”

He stands up and takes a step toward the other room to do so in private, which is a ridiculous, unsustainable pattern and would also be a disservice to them both. Geto pauses, and Kento says, “Geto-san, sit down. I obviously didn’t mean—”

“NGXSSH’EU!” Oh, fuck. Never mind. Fuck. “hhHH’GDZSHH’YEU! –GH’DYZSHhh-uh!”

Were Geto not facing in the other direction, it may have been all over for Kento right on the spot. His own reaction is so intense, so instant, that it all feels rather ridiculous.

Was that why Geto had moved for privacy so abruptly? Because he had to… sneeze, and… knew he wouldn’t be able… to…

“My god. Sorry.” Geto’s voice interrupts Kento’s cognition but doesn’t stop his dick. He needs to find a way to escape and fucking masturbate again, or distract himself enough to cool down until he and Geto are separated and he can take care of it. “Just give me a second.”

“There’s no need to remove yourself from the room for something like that,” Kento says to Geto’s back, watching him disappear into the bedroom anyway. “The walls are thin. I can hear everything anyway.”

“Your presence is very reassuring, Nanami,” Geto says. Kento’s name sounds so fucking fantastic with his cold all over it.

As Geto blows his nose, Kento uses the unseen opportune privacy to indulge in palming himself, relieving the ache in his pelvis with a moment of enveloping pressure. He releases his fingers with a final squeeze, opens his eyes and says, “I don’t think you mean that.”

Geto doesn’t seem suspicious as he reenters the room carrying a short box of Kleenex, and while the worst of Kento’s throbbing begins to recede, he diverts Geto with operative action just in case.

“Are you going to be staying in for the rest of the night?” he asks, then becomes bashful at the resulting eye contact. “I can pick up dinner, if you’re not up to going back out. You look like you could use the rest, if you’ll forgive my saying so.”

“No, you’re right,” Geto says. He watches Kento take the armchair, then lowers himself down onto the closest edge of the sofa and leans even closer. “We’ll get room service.”

“They do that here?” asks Kento. “I thought this was a flat.”

“Sorry, uh. Delivery. Whatever they call it. Satoru will cover the bill.”

“What? Why?”

“He’s acting strange.” Geto holds a tissue to his face, sniffles to keep himself from actually needing it, and folds it up for later. “I think it’s bothering him that I’m sick and he can’t do much about it from Tokyo. He’ll calm down if he has a way to take care of me a little.”

He looks at Kento as though he’s expecting a return of amusement, like there’s a cute, mischievous secret between the two of them now. Kento can’t help but smile back, wry as his expression must be.

“That’s smart of you,” he says.

Geto shrugs. “You know someone long enough. How does this place look?”

Notifications are flying nonstop at the top of Geto’s phone screen, and Nanami does his best to keep his eyes on the menu app that Geto is presenting to him with an outstretched arm. Gojo, Gojo, Gojo – he seems to be sending names of dishes, likely recommending them one by one as he reads through it, too.

At the perfectly wrong instant, Kento touches the screen to scroll down to the appetizers and a call from Gojo comes through. The ringer doesn’t even go off before he’s accidentally pressed the green circle.

“Shit,” he says without thinking.

“Huh? Wait, who did I call just now?”

“It’s me,” Geto says. “I’ve got Nanami holding my phone.”

“Ooh, for real?” asks Gojo, and Kento’s stomach dips. He hasn’t checked his own messages since exchanging hasty snapshots of his hard dick to Gojo from the bathroom. “I was wondering where you went! Heh. Now I understand.”

“You certainly do not.”

“So, anyway! Suguru! What’s the verdict? I was thinking the ichigoni. It’s unfortunately not what it sounds like but it’s supposed to be amazing up there, some sort of sea urchin thing, you heard of it?”

“Yeah.” Geto snuffles into a tissue and adds, “It’s also an aphrodisiac.”

“Perfect,” says Gojo neutrally, and Kento is too stunned to offer any input. “How about this other one, the kaiyaki?”

“They cook and serve it in a scallop shell. I’m not sure how that’d translate to carry-out.”

“Don’t worry about all of that. It’s good when you’re sick. Gets your strength up and whatever.”

“What? Who … NGTsst! –Uh, who says that?”

Speaking of aphrodisiacs.

Aside from something about old wives’ tales and the care in Gojo’s sheltered upbringing, Kento misses the next piece their conversation. Nothing gets past the thrill of blood charging through his ears, which are red hot from holding the acute memory of such a riveting sound. There’s something extra special about a sneeze so contradictory; simultaneously powerful and only partially-released. Geto had been so determined to move past it that he’d continued his sentence before even opening his eyes, head still bowed toward his fist before reaching for another tissue.

Through the haze, Kento notices how it had pushed the congestion in Geto’s face further to the front. As far as he can tell, Gojo hasn’t noticed enough to say anything.

He focuses on keeping his expression plaintive and not staring at the flare of Geto’s nostrils each time he attempts sniffling against the swell of his sinuses. It triggers the sympathetic urge of a good friend, imploring Kento to find some way to get him feeling less terrible.

“You’re quiet, Nanamin. Any ideas?”

Kento snaps up at his name, attention returning in wisps among a foggy cloud of arousal.

When he stalls for too long, Geto says softly, “For drinks.” Then, louder: “You like scotch, don’t you? How does that pair with seafood?”

“White wine is best,” Kento says. He could down the whole bottle if not for tomorrow’s early start. “Something light-bodied, like a chardonnay or…”

“Champagne?” interrupts Gojo.

Geto hums. “On a Tuesday night?”

“Champagne is fine,” Kento says quickly, so that Gojo will move on instead of turning the topic back to aphrodisiacs. “Sake or gin with citrus would work well. Or a pale lager to offset—”

“hh-GkXSST’uh!”

“...uh, to offset the richness.”

“Hang on, can you repeat that?” Gojo says. “Unless Suguru has to sneeze again.”

“I probably will,” Geto says joylessly. He rolls his eyes, sniffs, and clears his throat. “Satoru, talk to Nanami for a second. I think I left medicine on the dresser.”

Kento shakes his head. “Bathroom counter.”

“Oh.” A hazy smile connects them before Geto blinks hard and winces. He brings a knuckle close to his nose but manages to hold back the next sneeze. “Thank you.”

“Na-na-mi, where would we be without your attention to detail?” Gojo says. Kento frowns at the phone as Geto disappears into the other room, and he’s either back to stifling everything silently or he’s continuing to keep himself from sneezing at all. “You notice anything else since our last chat?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Kento says.

“Uh-huh,” Gojo says. Kento would love to know whether he’s been talking about all of this with Geto or if it’s just in his head, and at the same time he’s terrified of the answer. With Geto still in earshot, he doesn’t dare ask. “Well, I’m gonna go. I’ll get someone to bring everything over in maybe forty minutes, so watch for the door, okay? I’m putting you in charge!”

“That’s fine,” Kento says. “I’ll let you know when it…”

In the next room over, Geto steals the show with two impressively harrowing sneezes and nothing to subdue the noise. On the call screen, he sees his microphone icon light up accordingly.

“My goodness,” says Gojo much too loudly, “what'd you think of those? Nice, right?”

Panicked, Kento hisses, “Control yourself, Gojo-san.”

“You know, Nanami, you should tell him about that. He’d be great at doing the stuff you like,” Gojo continues, speaking right over the clap of another sneeze that stretches Kento’s focus. “I mean, on purpose. That way you won’t have to hide in the bathroom or miss any more live shows.”

“What do you mean?” Kento says lowly. “Are you saying he has no idea about…?”

“Oh, about the sneezing thingy? Nope! Not a clue.”

Kento presses on the side of the phone to lower the volume.

“Besides, timing’s perfect right now. You’ve got the night off and a place to yourselves. Nothin’ to be afraid of.”

“I’m not so sure about that,” Kento says. He doesn’t want to ask Gojo for advice on seduction, but he’s been stuck and truth be told, he can’t take much more sexual frustration. “We haven’t even talked about it.”

“Hmm. You need a push? I’d be happy to instigate, so long as you let me watch.”

Kento groans. He’s not sure whether that would make things easier for anybody.

“No, it’s fine. You’ve done enough,” he decides. “I should figure it out on my own.”

“Offer stands,” Gojo replies. “But, uh… oh. I really gotta hang up. There are a ton of board members waiting on me in the other room, and I just heard someone’s chair move! So check in with me later, okay?”

“Uh—”

“Bye-bye!”

“What? Hello? Gojo-san?”

But the call ends and Geto’s screen transitions to the message thread that had preceded their conversation. Before Gojo had begun firing off entree ideas, it looks like he’d been checking on Geto to see whether he was awake, how he was feeling, if he was taking care of Kento during the mission. Kento frowns, startled by the sweetness of it.

“He hung up, didn’t he?” says Geto from behind, mirroring his partner in startling Kento twice over.

Kento shuts the screen off and says, “Yes. Apparently he was in the middle of a meeting when he called.”

With a smile, Geto says, “That sounds right. They keep him busy.”

“I’ve noticed,” Kento replies. He sets the phone on the coffee table next to Geto’s tea.

Precariously, Geto crosses the threshold into the living room. He takes one step toward Kento, then freezes and abruptly spins around with his arm half-raised.

“haahNGKCHZSH! Ah, my god.” He unbends his head from where it’s angled down toward his inner elbow, too far from the fabric to really contain much. He waves the same hand in the air and holds his index finger loosely as he disappears back to the other room. Into something softer, he sneezes again. “MMFZSCH!”

A literal throb of energy hits Kento’s spine and travels below as he listens to Geto blowing his nose. It’s not going to help, but there’s something vehemently sexy about the modesty of it all. Would Geto still be this reserved if Kento were to disclose its effects on him?

He gets an opener when Geto comes back into view.

“All right,” Geto says with his voice marginally clearer, if not resigned and a touch despondent. “It should hold me off for a few minutes, at least.”

How does he know that? How much practice has he gotten, and has it ever failed him? Does it work like that when he’s not under the weather, too?

Kento begs his demons to control themselves, but it’s difficult not to get hard doing as little as watching Geto step toward him with the intent to settle himself nearby.

“Nanami,” he says, “may I ask you a question?”

“Yes,” Kento replies, stiff and quick. He amends his response. “Uh, sure.”

The sunset shows on the reflection of the water in his cup, bouncing off the surface as the room begins to dim. It’s just the two of them about to settle down in the dark, and it feels as though something has shifted. Kento’s heart speeds up.

Geto takes up an easy posture on the sofa and crosses his legs. Easily, he says, “Do you often believe what Satoru tells you?”

Fuck.

Kento swallows without thinking. “What do you mean?”

“For example,” Geto continues, “he’s obviously been trying to orchestrate something between the two of us with this trip. You knew that much, right?”

His friendly, inquisitive gaze makes Kento’s mind go blank. All he can think to say is, “I’ve never known you to be so direct.”

Geto exhales through a smile, then sniffles with a thin crackle. “I figured it would be best to clear the air before we share a meal at sunset, but you’ll have to forgive me in advance. I’m not at my most graceful.”

The admission makes it all even hotter, Kento thinks, but all he can say is, “It isn’t a bad thing, necessarily.”

“I’ll take your word for it,” Geto says. “Anyway— I wasn’t planning on being distant, but I meant what I said about getting you sick. Satoru has been insisting that it isn’t a problem for you, but I’d rather hear it from the source before I make any proposals.”

Even his manner of invitation is sexy. Why is it so hard to be honest in return?

“I’m not worried about germs,” Kento says, and he means it. The risk of getting sick doesn’t bother him as much as the inconsiderate behavior of spreading illness would. In fact, Geto has always made an effort to keep his colds to himself. A combination of hell-raising symptoms and overbearing friends will often cancel that out, though.

The futility is enough to prompt a shiver of sinister delight, which gives Kento the courage he’s been missing.

“I’d still like to proceed, so long as you would,” he adds. “I guarantee none of that bothers me.”

He doesn’t expect Geto to look at him like he’s doing now. Kento can’t even parse his expression, not even the basics of whether he’s pleased or not.

“Why?” is all Geto says. He doesn’t sound upset, but there are too many answers to give, and Kento’s rigid form warms up as he flusters.

“Why what, Geto-san?”

Geto smiles and says, “I’m not like Satoru,” even though the way he seems to enjoy riling Kento up is very much like Gojo despite their differences in approach. “I won’t pry out anything you don’t actually want me to know. Would it be easier for you if I tried to guess?”

When Gojo had asked the same question, Kento had groaned. When Geto asks him, Kento nearly stammers. “No, you don’t have to do that.”

Geto’s amusement is softer and gentler than Gojo’s, or maybe it just looks that way because it can get him what he wants. Regardless, Kento feels marginally safer as Geto chuckles and says, “Is it that bad?”

“No,” asserts Kento. “No, it isn’t.”

“It’s some kind of sexual preference, right?” Geto says next. “Satoru made it seem that way.”

Instead of confirming, Kento says, “How could you tell?” and confirms anyway.

“He was much too excited in telling me to go on and sneeze all over you while we fuck, basically,” Geto literally says. “Not in so many words, of course.”

What the fuck?

“Oh god. You’re kidding,” Kento replies. He placates his embarrassment by covering his face with one hand and pressing on his eyes, conscious of the existing urge to bend in half with his skull in his palms.

“Wait,” Geto says. “That isn’t it, is it?”

Kento drags his hand back down. “You honestly didn’t know?”

“No, I swear. That was hyperbole,” Geto says, pleasant and underwhelmed.

“Damn it. Then it was a lucky guess.” Tasteless streaks of giddiness weave through Kento’s tentative relief, the same kind of energy that pulls out a nervous laugh when one is frightened.

“Sorry, I didn’t expect to get it right so quickly,” Geto says. “Take a moment to catch your breath, Nanami. You’re awfully flushed. It’s making me want to check your pulse.”

While it’s known everywhere that Geto is no saint, his soft-spoken sincerity is doing wonders for the most primal corners of Kento’s nervous system. It’s easy to imagine how he nearly started a cult while incurring a mental breakdown at seventeen. He feels safe, regardless of whether that’s actually true or not, especially with Kento’s cognizance in the backseat right now due to Geto’s delicate, handsome face and the novelty of prominent congestion in his voice. He needs to hear more.

“It’s fine,” Kento says on a sigh. “I’ve never told anyone but Gojo-san, and that conversation happened under much different circumstances.”

“I’m sure,” Geto says. “But it was successful, wasn’t it?”

“Obviously,” Kento says.

“I’ll let him know you’re two for two. This is an easy one; I was starting to think you were into something heinous or impossible,” Geto confesses. “We could even do it right now, if you wanted to offer a few details.”

“Let’s have a drink first,” Kento decides, speaking with a deceptive firmness only so his jaw doesn’t drop. For the sake of his blood flow, he adds, “We can talk about something else in the meantime.”

#literally kicking my feet and giggling at this #I love your characterization of Nanami it’s so on character!

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sonnet141snz · 2 months

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I was working as an extra in a movie that is being filmed in my city this weekend, and the most incredible thing happened.

The main actor (he’s been in a bunch of movies and is what you would consider an “a-list celebrity”, but has no recorded sneezing to my knowledge) sneezed during one of the scenes.

He was doing this scene with another actor (who was talking to him), when he suddenly turned to the side and sneezed TWICE into his fist. He kinda tried to stifle the first one and it was SO CUTE. He laughed afterwards (the whole crew did) and apologized when the director yelled “cut”. The other actor blessed him too. The whole thing was just amazing, I really hope they release a gag reel or something so I can relive the experience lol.

I’ve been secretly hoping this would happen for like three months bro. I’ve been to dinners and parties he was attending before (my dad is friends with the director) and it didn’t happen. It happened at the BEST possible moment (I LOVE it when people sneeze when they’re not supposed to).

(Won’t reveal who it is because that’ll reveal my location and connections I guess)

#snz #snzblr #snztumblr #snzfucker #my obs

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sonnet141snz · 4 months

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something I love is when people bless someone mimicking the same cadence with which they sneezed (if that makes sense???)

like if A goes “ah’hah-!’tTSH’yieew!”

And B responds with “buh-less youuu~!”

I am simple minded and honestly happier for it

#wait I actually do this all the time

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sonnet141snz · 7 months

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Council meeting (part 1/?) OCs

Ok sooo I finally done it! This is the first time I’m posting original content here and I’m quite nervous about it, but these characters just wouldn’t stop banging inside my head so I just had to do it. But anyway, don’t mind me lol

This story is set in a world where each high born fae family has some sort of supernatural ability. The two main characters are Aiden and Callum. (They kinda hate each other at this point by the way) Aiden is the crown prince and has ice powers. Callum is a metal manipulator and is the fourth son of the Daewynn family.

Anyway I’ll stop rambling now. If by any chance anyone is interested I can do a more detailed description of the two of them, but for now that’s it I guess :)

Needless to say, minors DNI. And please don’t reblog this on non kink blogs.

———————————————————————

“Well, we’ll close the damn gates to the humans then. They belong in the battlefield anyway, not the capital.”

In the opulent council chamber, tensions simmered as Aiden seethed at Lord Brandel’s callous disregard for human life. Each word uttered by the arrogant noble grated on Aiden’s nerves, reinforcing his disdain for these Council Meetings. Discussing warfare strategies was grim enough, but enduring the self-righteousness of Brandel was a trial in itself.

“Didn’t your own men die in that same battlefield, Lord Brandel? Do the lives lost on that battlefield mean nothing to you? Or has your heart turned to stone along with your ambition?”

The atmosphere in the chamber grew stiflingly hot, mirroring the fiery exchange between Aiden and Lord Emyr Brandel. With a regal bearing, Brandel rose from his seat, fixing Aiden with a steely glare that bore into him like searing flames. The intensity of his gaze conveyed a sense of disdain, as if Aiden were nothing more than an errant pup caught in the act. Such animosity was no surprise; as members of the pyrotechnic lineage, the Brendels, harbored a longstanding rivalry with Aiden's family, their ambitions for the throne smoldering beneath the surface like dormant embers awaiting ignition.

“I am not having my honor questioned by a boy, ” he practically roared.

A boy? A boy? He had only celebrated his 125th birthday a fortnight ago. It wasn’t his fault that he hadn’t aged as… “gracefully” as Brandel.

A wave of fury swept across Lord Brandel’s features, his expression twisted into a mask of seething rage. Aiden couldn’t help but relish the prospect of a confrontation, a flicker of amusement dancing in his eyes despite the solemn setting of the Council Chamber. With a subtle smirk playing at his lips, he welcomed the challenge, his demeanor betraying an air of nonchalance even as he wielded his power to cool the room, casting a literal chill over the heated exchange.

“I am not questioning your honor, Lord Brandel. I’m denying its existence.”

At the far end of the table, Aiden’s gaze fell upon Callum, who raised his eyebrows, a sly smirk playing at his lips. Engrossed in his own amusement, Callum manipulated a sphere of gleaming gold he always seemed to carry around everywhere.

With a deft flick of his wrist, the sphere morphed itself into the likeness of a dragon, sigil of the Brandels, a crown atop its head.

Aiden couldn’t help but glare at him but decided to say nothing about it.

“You little— we shall hear what the King has to say about this.”

“No, we shan’t. This meeting is over.” Aiden said.

The members of the Small Council stood, Lord Brandel being the first to storm out of the room, Callum being the last. Or at least he would have been.

“You’re not that funny you know?”

Callum looked over his shoulder, the little golden ball morphing itself into a necklace, a pendant that looked like a shield hanging on it.

“Oh, I know I’m not. I found your reaction far more entertaining, Your Highness.”

Aiden closed the distance between them and could have sworn he saw Callum shiver a bit. Most people did though. Not exactly out of fear — although he supposed some did — it was a reaction that most individuals exhibited in his presence due to his cold nature. But not him. Not ever. Callum (and all members of his House for that matter) seemed immune to the chill that often accompanied Aiden’s proximity, a trait attributed to metal manipulators’ ability to withstand extreme temperatures. It struck Aiden as peculiar that this was the first time he truly noticed Callum’s appearance that day. Flushed cheeks and a reddened nose hinted at exhaustion, while the dark circles beneath his eyes betrayed a weariness that was uncharacteristic of the typically too composed nobleman. As Aiden prepared to respond to Callum’s taunt, he detected a distant look in his eyes, scrunching the scar that marred his features. Stretching from his left eyebrow to his lower right cheek, the scar served as a stark reminder many unanswered questions. Aiden couldn’t help but wonder why Callum chose to retain the scar, especially when Healers of house Mosseye could easily erase its presence. It puzzled him further, considering Every metal manipulator he’s ever known has lost at least a finger or two, and he was sure Callum did too. So why wouldn’t he have this one specifically healed? All his fingers were there, and he didn’t seem to carry any other scars, not visible ones anyway. So why —

“— nkggt! Nggxt!” Callum’s shoulders shuttered with the effort. He stayed in place for a few seconds as if in anticipation, but finally decided to turn back around as he lowered his arm.

“Sorry.” He murmured, probably out of mere habit.

Well, this was decidedly out of character. Men like Callum never showed their “weaknesses”, maintaining an ironclad facade even in the face of death, especially not in front of Aiden. Though he sensed that something was amiss, he opted to ignore it, seamlessly steering their interaction back to their usual banter.

“I don’t believe I reacted in anyway, Lord Daewynn.” He knew Callum would hate the use of his title.

“You certainly surprised me,” Callum remarked, a smirk playing at the corners of his lips. “Watching you stand up to Brandel was rather entertaining. I must admit, I didn’t expect such boldness from you.” He gave a wet sniffle as quietly as he possibly could and rubbed his knuckles at his nose.

“Well maybe you don’t know me as well as you think you do.”

“Huh- nkggtchu!

Another sneeze. This time it was only half successful and the goblets still on the table rattled, their stems trembling with the force of the disturbance. Even the chandeliers above swayed, casting flickering shadows across the room. Looking around with raised eyebrows, Aiden decided it was clear that he could no longer ignore the peculiar occurrences unfolding before him, not after the unsettling display of Callum’s wavering control over his powers.

“Alright, what’s the matter with you?”Aiden inquired, his tone softening.

Callum, who was rubbing at his nose, stopped almost immediacy and snapped back to reality “What do you mean ‘what’s the matter’ with me?”

Unfortunately for him and without his consent, his chest jumped and he uttered a barely audible stifled sneeze once more, even more forceful than the last three. Aiden only stared at him for a brief moment said “You know, you really shouldn’t do that.”

For how long has he been doing that anyway? If his powers were starting to go haywire like that, probably for quite some time. Aiden couldn’t help but feel pity for him. Being the lord of one’s own house couldn’t possibly be easy, especially when it wasn’t a role one had anticipated. Aiden always know he’d be king one day. It was different for Callum.

Growing up, Callum was very much the youngest son. He pursued his own desires and hobbies without restraint, unburdened by the weight of responsibility or duty. Truth be told, this independence fueled Aiden’s apparent disdain for him. Not the fact that he was arrogant and “oh so powerful”. Not the fact that he almost always won when they sparred at the Training Pit. Deep down, he knew he was just jealous of the noble who had always marched to the beat of his own drum.

Only a few years ago, when his older brother and father died in battle, he became lord of house Daewyn, given that his three older brothers had all taken oaths to serve in the King’s Guard, they were barred from inheriting any titles or assets and father any offspring. It was a stark reminder of the unpredictable nature of life, and it left Aiden grappling with a mixture of emotions, including a begrudging respect for the burden Callum now carried.

“Do what, sneeze in front of my prince? I’m so sorry Your Highness, but I can’t exactly help it, can I?”

Aiden rolled his eyes “What I meant was attempting to be overly polite about it. It's not as if you've ever done that before anyway.”

He might not exactly like the guy but he wasn’t that cruel. It weirdly bothered him to see Callum look so miserable. Besides, it was not that fun to taunt him when he was in such a state. He was not one to kick a man when he was down.

“I assume you don’t want to get stabbed by every piece of metal in this room, so I’m afraid I have to.”

“You, showing concern for my well-being? How flattering,” Aiden remarked, raising a hand to his chest to emphasize his statement.

“Not really, no. It just would be such a nuisance to kill the Crown Prince, so I’d rather avoid it. I do enjoy my freedom.”

“What makes you think you could ever kill me, Daewynn?”

Callum raised an eyebrow “I don’t know, the last time we sparred perhaps?”

Aiden chuckled at that.

“Fair enough.”

For a moment they just stared at each other until Aiden realized that his cold nature might not be exactly helping Callum. Suddenly, he felt surprisingly guilty for lowering the temperature so much when Brandel tried to defy him.

“Go rest, Daewynn. You look like you need it.”

The only response he received was a brisk nod before Callum exited the room. Aiden remained behind for a moment, his gaze lingering on the now crumpled goblets adorning the council table, before eventually making his way back to his chambers.

#afternoon reblog #snzblr

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sonnet141snz · 7 months

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Council meeting (part 1/?) OCs

This story is set in a world where each high born fey family has some sort of supernatural ability. The two main characters are Aiden and Callum. (They kinda hate each other at this point by the way) Aiden is the crown prince and has ice powers. Callum is a metal manipulator and is the fourth son of the Daewynn family.