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James Fitzjames and the Devil’s One-Man-Tango by dazydaisy for jk_rockin
Fandoms: The Terror (TV 2018)
27 Nov 2022
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After Sir John seeks to stop the sheer amount of, ahem, one handed bagpipe playing on his ships, James and Francis enter a misguided wager as to who will crack first. Who will win? Who will lose? How many euphemisms for masturbation did I make up? Read on to find out!
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There was a man having a breakdown in the middle of the canned goods aisle.
At any other time, Ed would’ve just backed slowly away with his trolley and completed the rest of his shopping, leaving the guy to his own devices, only returning once the coast was clear to pick up what he needed. Except that he had done that, three times in fact, and now was aware he was circling the soup, UHT milk, and coffee aisle like a forgetful shark.
Modern au where Ed, a famous chef, offers to help a stranger cook a meal. Look, in his defence, the guy was cute, ok?
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I want to hurt you just to hear you screaming my name by dazydaisy
Fandoms: The Terror (TV 2018)
05 Jun 2022
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Thomas Jopson was discreet. This is a short fic about one of the many things he is discreet about.
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It started like this:
Francis— belligerent, bullheaded, half-cut most of the time— was increasingly spending all night in his office. James found him there, glassy eyed, late one night as he was finalising some project for Sir John. The older man’s head tilted to one side, not in sleep, nor in contemplation, but merely misery and drunkenness. James felt a surge of anger and, below that, want: want that rose thick in the back of his throat until he thought he would be sick with it.
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In a lot of ways, it’s a relief to change out of Blackbeard’s heavy leathers and belted bits and bobs and slip back into something more comfortable; something more Stede. Ed’s worn cotton t-shirt was the only soft thing, just one thin layer of comfort, compared to Stede’s own cashmere and silk and linen and velvet— how uncomfortable he must be all the time, Stede reflects, as he folds the t-shirt with care, and adds it to the small pile of clothes he will be handing back to Ed, once Ed has finished his bath.
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Before catverse there was... This. Catverse is about a happily married James and Francis cohabiting with Sir John (a cat), Lady Jane (another cat), and Sophy (their kitten). Oh, and Neptune of course.
this? this is their third date and the awkward sex that follows. Happiness is around the corner, but it might take a missing cat to get them there.
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Francis slumps in his chair, waiting for sleep to take him, but it will not. Perhaps it is the drink, moving sluggishly through his veins, that keeps him hovering on the cusp of sleep and wakefulness. Maybe it is something else. His mind floats away from him, over the ice and the inkblack sea and sky. His body, restless, stirs even as he sits slumped in his uniform. One particular, stubborn, part of him surprises him with its wakefulness. Almost reluctantly, he presses one firm hand against himself. A hot rare waking. His mind drifts, thinking of a smaller hand pressing against him, how long ago that was now; how long and how little he was given, when he wanted so much.
sorry to say this is just a fic where Francis has a wank and has his own moment of unwellness imagining James as an enthusiastic lover.
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Francis certainly didn’t care, one way or another, whether or not - that was, whether it was true… He clicked on the “OUR TEAM” webpage and scrolled to James Fitzjames’ picture. Smiling, with a shining coating of confidence, below which there was a hint - just a smidge - of vulnerability. Uncertainty. Francis stared at the photo as if was able to give up James’ secrets. The photo was a few years old now; James’ hair (though still long) was a little longer in the photo and there were fewer laugh lines around his eyes. The lines on his cheeks were the same though, like two long dimples, or brackets - between which, cupped inside them, was, naturally enough, his mouth. Francis looked at James’ lips for a long moment.
In which Francis teaches James how to kiss
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On top of his New-Year-malaise, James feels uncomfortable, like he’s wearing the wrong skin, and he has no one to kiss at New Year which is a stupid tradition anyway, but it still smarts. Just once, James thinks, he would like to be the one who is loved more. Or even just loved a little bit.
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Sequel to “before the sun rises”, James and Francis are now on the road and feelings are getting more intense.
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- Part 3 of god damn these vampires
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It had been three days since the fuckening (Dundy’s name for it), or, The Greatest Idea I Have Ever Had (James’s name for it), when Francis had blown James’s mind as easily as a plastic toy kazoo and called him lovely.
James got more than he bargained for when he slept with Francis for "the good of the team" but will these fellas ever pull their feet out of their damn mouths?
aka an ode to tum
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- Part 2 of the fuckening
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out of the sea came he, still hid in mist by dazydaisy for shortcrust
Fandoms: The Terror (TV 2018)
29 Nov 2021
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You make bargains you cannot keep. You make promises you plan to break. You give things that are not yours to give.
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"Even so my left eye froze shut one day, and I thought I had lost the use of it: even when Estraven thawed it open with breath and tongue, I could not see with it for some while, so probably more had been frozen than the lashes." - The Left Hand of Darkness
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“Oh God,” says Dundy, as everything begins to fall into place. “This is about Crozier, isn’t it?”
My apologies to Father Christmas
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They fucked on the wooden slatted floor, heedless of the splinters and grime. Everything was grimy, everywhere dirt and blood and shards of bone. They were lucky to have a floor; lucky to have a roof over their heads and a piece of wood that could be feasibly called a door, that would keep the creatures out.
They had found this place at sundown, at long last, both of them grateful beyond measure that they would be able to rest a whole night. That they could both sleep.
Francis Crozier is on a fool's errand; one last promise to the woman he loved - James Fitzjames is along for the ride, for the adventure, for Francis, but as they ride through the wild west they both get a little more than they bargained for...
Series
- Part 2 of god damn these vampires
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Francis turned up at James’ door in the early hours, his shirt stiff with blood and his eyes unclear. He had been drinking; he drank until he was stupid with it, because Sophia had turned him down once again. Twice by that point and, looking at him, James knew he would ask a third time.
‘Let me in,’ he rasped and James - knowing he ought not - did.
an au of my au - vampire cowboys; yee haw francis
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- Part 1 of god damn these vampires
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What if they just fucked the once to get it out of their system? Nothing could go wrong. James was confident it was the perfect plan…
Series
- Part 1 of the fuckening
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Sir John climbs a tree. Francis climbs a tree. One of them gets down safely, one does not.
Series
- Part 4 of Catfic Verse
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Explorers, they say, are made of hope. What, then, are ghosts made of? (What is the ghost of an explorer made of?) Time, time, nothing but time.
A Fitzier Ghost and Mrs Muir au. My brain was like, can you make Fitzier sadder?, and my heart responded: yes.
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The long and the short of it was: Francis had grown a moustache. It looked terrible. It made James want to rip off his clothes. It made no sense. He could not allow this to continue.
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- Part 3 of Catfic Verse