#douglas brown

[alysmond]

FRONTIER | Season 2, Episode 5, "Cannonball"

[pixelnrd]

Now that they were in Henford, Mac needed to figure out where to search next. They could feel the trail going cold for the first time, unsure of where Margot and Alexandre had come from before their marriages - but they had noted Margot's maiden name, 'Brown'.

Perusing the war memorial situated in the center of town felt like the first clue. They couldn't find anyone by the surname of Dreyfus - but for Brown, there were a few: Bernard, Cecil and Douglas.

Burying themselves in miliary records online, Mac came across the service records for each of the young men listed on the statue. Bernard and Brown - both killed in battle in 1942. Could either of them have been Margot's father, killed when she was young, leaving her a fatherless child?

Then there was Douglas Brown - respected military officer, with marriage records to Joan Eastman. Could this have been Margot's father? Mac felt like they could never know which of the three brothers it was. It was frustrating to have come this far.

The best they could find, however, was a listed address for the deceased boys Bernard and Cecil. A farm, situated in the township of Henford. Mac decided to pursue the address. It was the only clue they had. Maybe they could find out more about where these young men came from.

Mac walked up the long driveway to the beautiful old farmhouse sitting atop the hill. It had clearly been lovingly taken care of for many years by someone. They knocked on the door nervously, hoping that the owner would be amicable.

The man who opened the door was an elderly but friendly farmer, who invited Mac inside almost immediately when they told him of their quest to discover their family history. The inside of the farmhouse was tastefully curated and had been clearly well-preserved.

'This is my kid,' said the farmer, as they walked into the house. Mac was greeted by a person of similar age to them. 'They're home for the holidays to help their old man.'

'Hi, I'm Hugo,' they smiled. Mac smiled back. 'So, are you both part of the Brown family?' they asked.

'Oh no...' said Hugo. 'Our family name is Stratford. I don't actually think we know anyone by Brown at all.'

'Actually...' interjected Hugo's father. 'Perhaps there could be some history worth considering.' He went to a drawer and pulled out a pile of old papers. 'This farm has been in my family for many generations now. But the last time it was sold was in 1946. Maybe these deeds for sale will have what you're finding?'

Mac looked at the dusty yellow papers, reading through the fine handwriting, and gleaned some hope for what they were looking for. There, in the transaction sale for the land, was the name of the previous owner: Theodore Brown.

It was something. A name to go on for next - this Theodore Brown, owner of the farm, father of three sons, only one of whom survived. Their next clue!

[gellavonhamster]

I can be a one woman fandom for an old unfinished Netflix show if I want to

[dummie-vaughn]

say what you want about frontier but the worst part of season 3 wasn’t the fact that chesterfield disappeared out of nowhere but was actually the fact that douglas lost that beautiful facial hair

[no-thoughts86]

My contribution to the Frontier fandom

[writingsthatarebestignored]

“Lie to me Then” with Douglas Brown

Pairing: Douglas Brown x Reader

Fandom: Frontier (Netflix)

Warning(s): Angst... heartbreak, maybe? Minor character death mention.

_-=-_

"I've got news that you're not going to like," Douglas said as he sat down across from you, hands clasped before him.

"Oh?" you replied, not looking up from your book and trying to keep your cool and control your angry tone. "Lie to me then. What's your excuses for leaving? And they better be damn good."

"I've gotten married."

You frowned and set down your book to look up at the man you've known almost your entire life. Smart, business savvy but honest, and incredibly handsome. A man you had wanted so desperately for years. Not a man of impulsive actions or much for the drink.

"That's not a very good lie," you said.

"Aye, I know. That's because it's not."

"You're pulling my leg, Douglas." You stood up from your seat to face him when his face didn't change from its morose, sorry expression. "I haven't seen you — or either of your brothers — in weeks and you come back with this?"

Douglas grabbed your hands. "Please, listen to me. It's the best for the Low River Company."

"Business? Business!" You yanked your hands back from him in incredulity. "Why the fuck is everything always about business with you?"

"You're not listening to me."

"For— how do you explain this then?"

Douglas adjusted the way his coat sat on his shoulders. "If you'd give me a second, perhaps I could get a word out!"

You huffed indignantly and crossed your arms.

"I'm married to the widow Elisabeth Carruthers."

"As in—?"

"Yes," he said quickly. "It wasn't my idea but that rat bastard Samuel Grant and his lackey dog stuck me in prison along with Malcolm. She got us out in exchange for..."

You sighed heavily through your nose as you fell back into your seat. "She gets a man to head her company as she runs it."

Douglas hesitated a moment, "Y-yes. That's it exactly."

You cursed under your breath and let the silence hang in the air for a bit. "I fancied you, you know."

Douglas looked at you from over his glasses and through his eyelashes. His gorgeous eyelashes, protecting his heart-melting eyes. He was giving you that puppy look. You steeled yourself and closed your eyes.

"Get out then," you said, looking away from him and at your knees. "I said get out, Mr. Brown."

He said your name gently, "I came only to see you. Don't let it end this way."

"It's already ended."

Douglas stood there awhile longer, fiddling with his hands in front of him indecisively. "Cedric's dead."

"Give my condolences to Malcolm." You cringed at how that sounded coming out of your own mouth and instantly regretted the words. You suddenly despised yourself, seeing yourself as though you were someone else for a moment. Nothing felt real in that moment and you swore nothing was.

"If that's how you feel. Fine then. Until I see you again."

You stared at the book you had been reading. A cliche romantic novel. You got up and threw it in the fire, watching it burn after Douglas left.

[protectlenaluthor]

“Right, let the marriage ceremony begin.”

[lokilickedme]

An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works

His eyes were kind.  Blue like the inside of the ice floes that had cracked open against the hull of the ship on the journey from home.  His smile was hidden mostly by his shaggy black beard but she could see enough of it to know it was as kind as his eyes, and that when he turned it toward her she felt warm. 

Warmer than she had felt since arriving in this cold, wild, unwelcoming place.

My apologies - I’ve been watching this show on Netflix called Frontier, and it’s been killing me hard.  Specifically a character named Douglas Brown, who is excessively Scottish and whose face reminds me so much of a certain gruff natured Scot of my own making that I couldn’t resist writing a little something fluffy for him (because Douglas deserves all the happiness and I don’t have high hopes for his character actually ending well in the series).

So here you go.  Not Marvel, not Loki, not an original character, and the first fic I’ve ever posted outside of my normal fandom - none of which is my sort of thing ordinarily, but there you have it.  I don’t know what possessed me except maybe that lilting Scottish brogue.

2604 words, oneshot, there won’t likely be any more.

Enjoy the sweet shy smut and let me know what you think.

*artwork by me *will reblog later with tags, I’m off to bed for now.

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