brophigenia
xoxo, Ur Bro
AO3 @ brophigeniatwitter.com/brophigenia
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It wasn’t as if he’d never thought about it.
Okay, well, no. That was a lie.
He’d never thought about it, just known somewhere that he could’ve put Ronan on his knees at any time, in any place. The sort of powerful knowing that made him reckless in the teeth, the claws.
He’d grown up and out, somehow becoming exactly what he’d always thought he never would get to be—
happy.
He spent his days chasing butterflies and reading books and smiling at passerby and making piles of money in the stock market and eating new flavors of ice cream. And and and.
He was alive, and he was free, and somehow everyone was okay with that. Helen had grown into a prince among men, the Gansey heir that had been foretold in the American Dreams of his great-great-grandparents. Gansey was the spare, and unneeded now, able to live out from under the crushing weight of Virginian high society and their expectations.
All of this to say, he’d known that Ronan would break his own body upon jagged rocks in the sea if Gansey had motioned for him to do it, much less said the first word.
“I want to have sex with you,” he said instead of that, and Ronan’s whole body jerked, coffee mug falling to the floor, shattering into a million pieces, splashing both their shoes with the hot liquid.
The movement was interesting, if Gansey had the cold blood required to watch it with a dispassionate lens. Ronan’s body moved as if to obey, to prostrate itself with spread legs and open arms and gaping mouth there in front of everyone in this little cafe, and then to stop itself, Ronan’s mind catching up to all the reasons that would be a bad idea.
“What in the fucking fuck, you fucker?” Ronan said, too-loud, deep voice almost shrill. He was bigger than he’d been when they were sixteen, seventeen, eighteen together. Taller and broader, with a low rumbling burr and more tattoos decorating the exposed skin of his throat, his arms. A thick black beard covered that sharp jawline, made his eyes seem almost too blue to bear.
He was still Ronan, but he’d grown up, too; the scars on his wrists were hidden with flowers, all the riotous colors of the dawn, disrupting his monochromatic aesthetic. Mussaenda philippica. Lady Aurora.
The razor-sharpness of him had given way to a sturdiness, unmoving, steady.
He did not immediately throw himself down to be ravaged, like he would’ve when they were young and bleeding internally with every breath of air into their jagged-glass lungs.
People were staring.
Gansey smiled, because he couldn’t not.
“Do you want to have sex with me? Because I want to have sex with you.”
“Gansey,” Ronan said, raw with emotion, and when he rose it was to grab Gansey by the front of his shirt, dragging him close.
Yes, he said with the hard set of his bearded jaw, with the way he pressed their foreheads together, in front of God and all the assembled coffee drinking witnesses. They were a Renaissance painting standing there, a master’s illumination in oils. That is what it felt like to Gansey. Like the sun was shining on them, and them alone.
never met a man who gets it like you do
“So,” Blue said to him over their morning breakfast— yogurt for her, the fruity dregs for him, plus a mug the size of a small butter churn full of black coffee to prepare her for a long day at the public defenders’ office. “I think you should have sex with Ronan.”
“What.” Gansey replied, softly owlish in his wireframes with all his muscles out, shirtless at the table that in the mornings he called the breakfast nook but was actually just the table they ate all their meals on.
Life in their matchbook apartment revolves around that table. He was reading the paper (the finance section) idly. Later, he’d make himself a plateful of scrambled eggs. For now, he was still mostly asleep, sitting up like a prop to well-wish his partner out the door.
Blue’s cell phone was going off, chirruping insistently. She took one last big spoonful of strawberry-flavored dairy goodness and kissed her fingertips before she answered Blue Sargent, pressing them to his mouth as she passed on her way to defend the disenfranchised masses.
“What.” Gansey mumbled to himself again, and then got up to go water all his plants. Their apartment resembled some kind of strange urban jungle, with greenery lush and alive on every possible surface. On their tiny balcony, he had a potted lemon tree that lived in their bathroom on winter nights but thrived now in the summertime light, fruited and vital. He liked it— being surrounded by so much life.
He was a gentleman of leisure; he spent his days trading stocks and caring for his plants and going to the gym and working idly on his thesis. He’d be a PhD sooner or later— Dr. Richard Campbell Gansey III. For now, he was content to be just this— just Gansey.
What, he texted Blue for good measure, before starting in on his morning dose of protein in the form of expertly-scrambled eggs. It was the only thing he knew how to cook without fail. He and Helen used to eat platefuls at night when they were too polite to wake up the housekeeper but too wracked by growth spurts to go hungry.
Blue didn’t respond except to send him a meme about capitalism. He forwarded it to Adam, who sent back funny, because he was too serious and too Adam to ever type out lol.
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“Do you think Adam would mind?” Gansey asked later that night from where he was enjoying the afterglow with his cheek pressed to Blue’s belly, his mouth wet from her slick, laying in the wet spot he’d created from grinding against her softly-furred shin. Blue’s fingers didn’t pause as they raked gently through the hair she’d just been clutching for dear life.
“He doesn’t mind.” She yawned, the kind of exhausted she only got when she was in the middle of a big case, riding on caffeine and righteous fury to victory.
There were many things Gansey could ask at this point, but instead he kissed his palm and stretched it up vaguely towards her face. He smiled when she caught him by the wrist to smear the kiss across her mouth.
“I love you.” He murmured, and felt settled in his skin. He went through stretches like this, where the constant thrum of run away run away run away was smothered down for months at a time. Otherwise it was an always-there flutter that needed soothing with the harsh rock of Blue’s hips and the feeling of her hand firm on the back of his neck.
“I love you.” Blue slurred, and then was asleep, snoring softly. Gansey rolled off of her but didn’t go far, curving his body around her more diminutive one and closing his eyes.
The post-orgasm syrup pumping through his veins made him looser, more languid. It was easier to fall asleep like this, and unlike Ambien, it didn’t make him want to die in the morning when he woke up with cottonmouth in a cold sweat.
never met a man who gets it like you do
“So,” Blue said to him over their morning breakfast— yogurt for her, the fruity dregs for him, plus a mug the size of a small butter churn full of black coffee to prepare her for a long day at the public defenders’ office. “I think you should have sex with Ronan.”
“What.” Gansey replied, softly owlish in his wireframes with all his muscles out, shirtless at the table that in the mornings he called the breakfast nook but was actually just the table they ate all their meals on.
Life in their matchbook apartment revolves around that table. He was reading the paper (the finance section) idly. Later, he’d make himself a plateful of scrambled eggs. For now, he was still mostly asleep, sitting up like a prop to well-wish his partner out the door.
Blue’s cell phone was going off, chirruping insistently. She took one last big spoonful of strawberry-flavored dairy goodness and kissed her fingertips before she answered Blue Sargent, pressing them to his mouth as she passed on her way to defend the disenfranchised masses.
“What.” Gansey mumbled to himself again, and then got up to go water all his plants. Their apartment resembled some kind of strange urban jungle, with greenery lush and alive on every possible surface. On their tiny balcony, he had a potted lemon tree that lived in their bathroom on winter nights but thrived now in the summertime light, fruited and vital. He liked it— being surrounded by so much life.
He was a gentleman of leisure; he spent his days trading stocks and caring for his plants and going to the gym and working idly on his thesis. He’d be a PhD sooner or later— Dr. Richard Campbell Gansey III. For now, he was content to be just this— just Gansey.
What, he texted Blue for good measure, before starting in on his morning dose of protein in the form of expertly-scrambled eggs. It was the only thing he knew how to cook without fail. He and Helen used to eat platefuls at night when they were too polite to wake up the housekeeper but too wracked by growth spurts to go hungry.
Blue didn’t respond except to send him a meme about capitalism. He forwarded it to Adam, who sent back funny, because he was too serious and too Adam to ever type out lol.
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“Blue said I should sleep with Ronan.” Gansey said, ignoring the looks he drew from the surrounding gym-goers. He bounced around from gym to gym, never quite finding one to call his own haven of fitness. Today it was Mega Muscle, and Gansey was on the rowing machine with his AirPods in. He’d paused the podcast he was listening to about obscure Aztec mythology to answer Henry’s call.
Never one to miss a beat, Henry responded cheerfully. “I think that’s a great idea. Can I have your car after Parrish murders you for stealing his boyfriend?”
Gansey grunted his way through another rep, an inelegant sound that only made him more desirable to passerby. It humanized him. “The car is Blue’s, and I don’t think Adam would mind terribly.”
Odd— he hadn’t thought about Adam being jealous. It seemed just so beyond the pale. Why would Adam be jealous of him and Ronan? It was. Well. Okay, it wasn’t inconceivable, but Gansey sometimes forgot he wasn’t operating with the same wiring as everyone else around him.
“I’m gone for five minutes, and you’ve dissolved into polyamorous debauchery.” Henry commented dryly, as if he weren’t thick as thieves with Blue and Gansey in life and in bed, both. “Speaking of, how’s my favorite girl?”
Gansey breathed in through his nose, out through his mouth. Another rep. “She’d kill you for calling her that. Jane’s good, she’s got a big case right now, but it’s going well. She thinks she’ll get the acquittal.”
From there it was the innocuous— Henry’s travels, RoboBee’s latest mishaps, Gansey’s stories about his nephew, the erstwhile Richard Campbell Gansey IV, Henry’s wistful sighing, Gansey’s bittersweet heartache when they hung up. Cathartic.
He’d learned, in the intervening years between Henrietta and the here, the now, how to allow the holders of his heart to have their space without hating them for it.
He finished his set, and went to the next exercise with rote muscle memory guiding him.
never met a man who gets it like you do
“So,” Blue said to him over their morning breakfast— yogurt for her, the fruity dregs for him, plus a mug the size of a small butter churn full of black coffee to prepare her for a long day at the public defenders’ office. “I think you should have sex with Ronan.”
“What.” Gansey replied, softly owlish in his wireframes with all his muscles out, shirtless at the table that in the mornings he called the breakfast nook but was actually just the table they ate all their meals on.
Life in their matchbook apartment revolves around that table. He was reading the paper (the finance section) idly. Later, he’d make himself a plateful of scrambled eggs. For now, he was still mostly asleep, sitting up like a prop to well-wish his partner out the door.
Blue’s cell phone was going off, chirruping insistently. She took one last big spoonful of strawberry-flavored dairy goodness and kissed her fingertips before she answered Blue Sargent, pressing them to his mouth as she passed on her way to defend the disenfranchised masses.
“What.” Gansey mumbled to himself again, and then got up to go water all his plants. Their apartment resembled some kind of strange urban jungle, with greenery lush and alive on every possible surface. On their tiny balcony, he had a potted lemon tree that lived in their bathroom on winter nights but thrived now in the summertime light, fruited and vital. He liked it— being surrounded by so much life.
He was a gentleman of leisure; he spent his days trading stocks and caring for his plants and going to the gym and working idly on his thesis. He’d be a PhD sooner or later— Dr. Richard Campbell Gansey III. For now, he was content to be just this— just Gansey.
What, he texted Blue for good measure, before starting in on his morning dose of protein in the form of expertly-scrambled eggs. It was the only thing he knew how to cook without fail. He and Helen used to eat platefuls at night when they were too polite to wake up the housekeeper but too wracked by growth spurts to go hungry.
Blue didn’t respond except to send him a meme about capitalism. He forwarded it to Adam, who sent back funny, because he was too serious and too Adam to ever type out lol.
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never met a man who gets it like you do
“So,” Blue said to him over their morning breakfast— yogurt for her, the fruity dregs for him, plus a mug the size of a small butter churn full of black coffee to prepare her for a long day at the public defenders’ office. “I think you should have sex with Ronan.”
“What.” Gansey replied, softly owlish in his wireframes with all his muscles out, shirtless at the table that in the mornings he called the breakfast nook but was actually just the table they ate all their meals on.
Life in their matchbook apartment revolves around that table. He was reading the paper (the finance section) idly. Later, he’d make himself a plateful of scrambled eggs. For now, he was still mostly asleep, sitting up like a prop to well-wish his partner out the door.
Blue’s cell phone was going off, chirruping insistently. She took one last big spoonful of strawberry-flavored dairy goodness and kissed her fingertips before she answered Blue Sargent, pressing them to his mouth as she passed on her way to defend the disenfranchised masses.
“What.” Gansey mumbled to himself again, and then got up to go water all his plants. Their apartment resembled some kind of strange urban jungle, with greenery lush and alive on every possible surface. On their tiny balcony, he had a potted lemon tree that lived in their bathroom on winter nights but thrived now in the summertime light, fruited and vital. He liked it— being surrounded by so much life.
He was a gentleman of leisure; he spent his days trading stocks and caring for his plants and going to the gym and working idly on his thesis. He’d be a PhD sooner or later— Dr. Richard Campbell Gansey III. For now, he was content to be just this— just Gansey.
What, he texted Blue for good measure, before starting in on his morning dose of protein in the form of expertly-scrambled eggs. It was the only thing he knew how to cook without fail. He and Helen used to eat platefuls at night when they were too polite to wake up the housekeeper but too wracked by growth spurts to go hungry.
Blue didn’t respond except to send him a meme about capitalism. He forwarded it to Adam, who sent back funny, because he was too serious and too Adam to ever type out lol.
#gangsey#trc fic#ronan lynch#ronan lynch/gansey#ronan lynch/adam parrish#ronsey#bluesey#blue sargent/richard gansey iii#blue/gansey/henry
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They're never going to be here again.
[AKA, Sirius returns to 12 Grimmauld Place for one more fight with his mother; James catches Regulus spying. This has been building for a long time. It's time for one last confrontation, all around.]
#jegulus#regulus#james potter#regulus black#marauders#harry potter#hp fanfic#marauders fanfic#whoops i'm back and enraged
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bro why’d you reblog that 500 times
It wasn’t working when I hit post but actually it was and so I didn’t know until just now I did that 😂 I fixed it tho.
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in the morning
waking up to terrible sunlight
***
“There is nothing but you and I.” Merlin whispered, magic-drunk and full up of love.
It was untrue. There was everything between them— duty and honor, Camelot and Guinevere, what they wanted to do and what they must do.
Arthur didn’t point this out. They both knew it well enough.
Instead he cupped his hands over Merlin’s overlarge ears, stared steadily into Merlin’s eyes, and let his heart beat for them both.
***
when you talk you
hardly even look in my eyes
𝑨𝒑𝒑𝒍𝒆𝒔 𝒊𝒏 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝑺𝒖𝒎𝒎𝒆𝒓
a Merlin/Arthur au
by @brophigenia
𝑴𝒆𝒓𝒍𝒊𝒏 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝑨𝒓𝒕𝒉𝒖𝒓 𝒃𝒆𝒇𝒐𝒓𝒆 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒆𝒏𝒅 𝒐𝒇 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒘𝒐𝒓𝒍𝒅.
#merthur#merlin#arthur pendragon#king arthur#camelot#bbc merlin#back from my latest mental health break
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visions are seldom what they seem
but if i know you, i know what you’ll do,
you’ll love me at once, the way you did
once upon a dream
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a melody softly soaring through my atmosphere
playlist for nutcracker suite 💙
a gift to @brophigenia for kcfrostedexchange ❄️
quotes from the fic paired with lyrics under the cut
1. A Long Way Past the Past - Fleet Foxes
And I can't let go of a lot I've left
I'm holding nothing but what I kept
And it all got dimmer each passing step
Now she watched the peerage laugh and dance all around her and felt utterly, completely, alone.
2. Walking on a String - Matt Berninger and Phoebe Bridgers
I knew that I was dead before you touched my lonesome skin
You're never running out of ways to warm your way back in […]
To my lonesome soul and take it
His hand is still as hot as a brand when it envelops hers, and she can barely stand to look at him as he leads her out to the center of the dancers.
3. The Dress Looks Nice On You - Sufjan Stevens
I can see a lot of life in you
I can see a lot of bright in you
And I think the dress looks nice on you
In my dreams you are clothed in starlight, she remembered him saying, and bit her lip as she raked her eyes over this newest dress which made her look as if she were clothed in the stars themselves.
Interlude I: Patience - The Lumineers
4. The Paper Kites - Bloom
Oh, you fill my lungs with sweetness,
And you fill my head with you
Shall I write it in a letter?
Caroline, […] I sent you the gown because I admire you greatly, and wanted, selfishly, not just to please you but to see you in something that I felt would do your beauty justice.
5. From Eden - Hozier
Innocence died screaming, honey ask me I should know […]
there's something wretched about this
Something so precious about this
Klaus— […] You say all of these things and your eyes are so kind and your hands scorch me, your touch scorches me— I hate you half of the time and then you go and do something ridiculous like send the North’s armies for me, all for me, like that’s something a new king can do, you’re so ridiculous and I can’t stop thinking about you.
Interlude II: The Golden Hour – Louie Zong
6. No One’s Gonna Love You – Band of Horses
If things start splitting at the seams and now
It's tumbling down hard
You are the ever-living ghost of what once was
And now here she found herself, on the eve of her twenty-third birthday, traitorously hoping that there would be a large box anonymously delivered to her rooms before it was time to go down to the ball being thrown for her birthday.
7. For You to Be Here - Tom Rosenthal
Mama says it's gonna get cold in the night
But if I picture you then I'll be alright
I am ready, I am ready for you to be here
Finally, as the night winds down and she thinks that Klaus will stay away from her for the whole ball, he appears like some stately vision before her.
8. Ends of the Earth - Lord Huron
Please don't say I'm goin' alone
To the ends of the earth, would you follow me?
There's a world that was meant for our eyes to see
“Why not?” She demanded, in a tone harsher than she meant, because he had never denied her anything before— she had never asked for anything before, he had always given freely to her what was his to give.
9. Transatlantique - Beirut
Midnight surrounds you with moonlight makes you proud
Last night oh, we were running around, oh-oh
All along, I was your home
Klaus went utterly still, eyes searching her face, and then he laughed, the sound a little strangled, a little unpracticed, and as she dragged him down to kiss him she thought that it was okay he was a little unused to joy.
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northern star
when i’ve gone too far
pull me back to love
you will be the bridge between
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KC Frosted Festival Gift Exchange 2021 - Gifter Reveals
We have reached the end of our guessing period, all of our fantastic creators are revealed. Now is the time to show all of the submissions some love at 2021 KC Frosted Gift Exchange
A special spotlight to our amazing pinch hitters @highgaarden and @queencarolinemikaelson for answering the call for help and providing some excellent gifts. May we reach the hall of exchange fame for having a pinch gifter.
And a round of applause goes to @misssophiachase, @definedareasofuncertainty, @klarolinesbuttons, @sekretny13, @diaz-eddie for their guidance and additional help. This truly was a team effort and they went above and beyond as volunteers. We appreciate you!
It goes without saying that we are so proud of everyone who participated but a huge thank you to all members of this year’s frosted exchange. They churned out 28 gifts, each incredible and unique. The talent and love poured into our event is plain to see and heartening for kc shippers near and far. We look forward to seeing fandom enjoy these gifts with for a long time.
We encourage everyone to support all the marvelous gifts with kudos and join us in the comments. Everyone has worked so hard and their effort deserves our reciprocation.
Click Below for a Masterlist of Gifts!
Keep reading
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The cat was named Socks, and she absolutely hated K.
(AKA, proko is on a trip; k is left behind with a cat named socks and an empty house. with sexy reunion sex results.)
A birthday gift for my @glitterghost , long may she reign.
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