1 - 20 of 25 Works in Past Sophia Cracroft/Francis Crozier
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How many times has he imagined buggering James senseless? Countless. In none of his imaginings has Francis kissed James, and yet he knows that's what he's going to do now.
Francis Rawdon Moira Crozier is going to kiss James fecking Fitzjames, and he doesn't think he's ever been harder in his life.
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More Things In Heaven And Earth by electroniccollectiondonut
Fandoms: The Terror (TV 2018)
24 Jan 2024
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Francis signs on for a year long trip to the Arctic Circle because it is actually a good research opportunity despite the documentary crew tagging along. Temperature measurements. Ice cores. Magnetic readings. So on and so forth. Nowhere in any of the reams of paperwork he signed did it suggest ghosts, let alone raving spirits of the ice itself hellbent on revenge for things his team did not do.
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Comedies end in a wedding, tragedies begin with one by anactoriatalksback for Palpalou
Fandoms: The Terror (TV 2018)
03 Dec 2023
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Francis Crozier wakes up in Vegas with his office nemesis napping on his chest. Bad enough, until he spots the ring on his own finger.
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After a miraculous rescue the survivors of the Franklin Expedition find you can take a man out of the Terror but it is harder to take the terror out of a man.
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asphodel by flowermasters for Onward_and_upward
Fandoms: The Terror (TV 2018), The Terror - Dan Simmons
27 Nov 2023
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After taking his proverbial lashings from the Admiralty following the expedition, an ailing Francis joins James for a restorative spring in the English countryside. They are not alone there.
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bluer than velvet by flowermasters
Fandoms: The Terror (TV 2018), The Terror - Dan Simmons
04 Sep 2023
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Charity: A contribution to a young woman’s betterment, a young woman’s survival, never mind that Sophia was an expert in neither women’s work nor in finding an advantageous match.
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Like Melting Ice by pointyshades
Fandoms: The Terror (TV 2018), The Terror - Dan Simmons
01 May 2023
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Francis Crozier dies.
Turns out he can't even do that right.
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"Is that... a problem, Mr Crozier?" James asked, trying to decipher the slight downturn of Francis' mouth.
God, he hoped it wasn't a problem. Or if it was, he hoped it at least only made Francis want him in a hate kind of way. He'd take that, frankly. As long as Francis' dick game was as good as it seemed he was, as cool and self-assured as the vibes he was giving off. God, James hadn't been properly fucked in ages. He could already imagine Francis bent over him, rasping that deliciously accented Fitzjames into his ear.
Maybe Dundy was right. Maybe he was a little early this month. This felt a touch too horny for work right now.
or: James and Francis meet three times - once as coworkers (with benefits), once as email pen pals, and once as both.
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Dwelling on a past relationship that broke up over his months long field work, Francis calls his favourite sex phone line. Not to imagine all heated encounters this time, but just to play pretend at having a boyfriend that actually does not mind waiting for him while Francis is away in polar regions.
For the Terror Bingo Square “Phone Sex Line”
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“We… found you out by Lake Franklin, on the rocks,” Goodsir began, halting. “Sprawled there, all but dying. Your body was shutting down. None of us knew who put you there or why you might have arrived. Dr McDonald and I have been working to stabilise you.”
“McDonald,” James repeated. Once more, his judgement of the situation veered toward his own afterlife - - McDonald had died during the Carnivale fire. “I - I died, then? This is - Hell, or Heaven, or some such afterlife?”
Goodsir stared at him.
“I don’t quite think so, sir,” he said. “As I said, this town - it’s for… er, unworldly things, I should suppose you might say. Things that might make men uncomfortable, should they know they roomed with us. It’s safer for us here, out of the way.”
or: Life after death is not a foreign concept to James - but he'd not been expecting this. Struck with the knowledge he's been placed into a different time, James finds himself unable to escape the Expedition in a new way - each face he meets in town is one he greeted on the ships in 1845, and some of them seem awfully interested in seeing history repeat itself.
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His tag hung around his neck, not that she needed to check it. Pte. T. Hartnell. 41st Division, Royal West Kent Regiment. Underneath it the bandages were pristinely wrapped—Haverfield’s work—smelling strongly of carbolic. She couldn’t tell how bad it had been, but she could guess: shrapnel all through his shoulder and upper right chest. A few inches lower and it would’ve reached his heart and stopped it, then and there. He would have dropped like a stone in the middle of it all; he would have been alone; with nobody beside him to help him go, to tell him how well he had done.
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‘Nothing else will do,’ he tells her later in the Franklins’ rear withdrawing-room, his hands behind his back.
‘Well then,’ she says, ‘this will be the great tragedy of your life, Francis.’
Sophia shoos him away and joins her at the head of the stairs: a ship in sail in voluminous dark green bombazine, her eyes pale and glittering in the dim light.
That afternoon, he leaves a bite high on the inside of her thigh, spiteful and luxurious. He hears a gasp, quickly stifled, and grins against her cunt.
‘Take your satisfactions where you may, Captain Crozier,’ she says, and grinds her cheroot out on his window-sill. -
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Francis is aware that his spelling isn’t the best and on balance his phone’s auto-correction is probably more useful than not. He really could’ve done without texting James Fitzjames “You know I’m vixen,” though.
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Convinced to join a week away to the sandy tip of New England, Francis finds himself knee deep in Jim Ross' jubilant offspring, a cozy town full of barely clothed celebrants, and a convocation of old friends who don't seem nearly as willing as he is to accept he's good for little more than vanishing to the ends of the earth.
All of it might be bearable, even enjoyable, if it weren't for an old sailing friend of Ross' with insufferable affectations, impossibly obnoxious hair, and (Christ preserve us) a social media following, not to mention the most unique penchant for getting entirely under Francis' skin.
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London, 1939. Francis Crozier is called in to investigate the death of his old commanding officer, Sir John Franklin, whose elegant Mayfair house has the woman who said no to him, and a chauffeur who's a little too eager to help. And then a shell-shocked veteran puts Francis on the track of James Fitzjames, who's got a secret or two of his own.
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Everything Ahead by happypeglar (lucylupin) for brainyraccoons
Fandoms: The Terror (TV 2018)
09 Sep 2021
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Francis finds himself on the same route on his trip back to England for the summer holidays as his most irritating coworker. It should be easy enough to ignore him until he gets to London, right?
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Long afloat on shipless oceans / I did all my best to smile / 'Til your singing eyes and fingers / Drew me loving to your isle / And you sang / Sail to me, sail to me / Let me enfold you / Here I am, here I am / Waiting to hold you
a brighton recovery fic, with dæmonsSeries
- Part 2 of The Terror - Dæmons AU
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Francis Crozier is the Chief Whip of a beleaguered Labour Party. His best friend's abandoned him and his party leader's an idiot. And then there's the posh bastards on the other side, especially that shiny-haired eejit Fitzjames...
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Jailbait Tina Jopson fails at getting into a leather bar, but pivots to picking up birthday butch Frances Crozier.
(An AU of an AU: in the previous story's timeline, hand me my leather, Frances took her to a late-night café that night instead of home.)
Series
- Part 2 of warm kinky lesbians
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When Francis Crozier moves to his new research posting in the north of Scotland, he has to move in with his research assistant Jopson because the housing situation is dire. And because he had assumed he would move in with his girlfriend Sophia, who broke up with him shortly before the move.
Trying to move on, Francis tries to integrate into his new environment, helped by Jopson and his old friend Thomas Blanky. Not easy when your boss is the uncle of your ex-girlfriend.
In his first year up north Francis has not only to deal with the pitfalls of academia but also has a front seat to his neighbour's volatile on/off romance, trying to set up his faithful research assistant, too many social work events and and repeated tellings of the time Fitzjames was bitten by a Chinese bat.
But will he be finally able to see what was right in front of him all this time? (Spoiler alert: of course he will, this is a romance, not a tragedy).