#eb is SO whipped for bess

[quill-pen]

In Your Corner

I did it again.🤗. Enjoy some sweet, devoted couple fluff!

Warnings: Attempted dietary control and implied comments about a woman's figure, implied depression, people just being jerks.

Summary: Bess has had a less than stellar morning, and Ebenezer comforts her.

Bess stormed up the steps of Scrooge Manor, threw the door open, and slammed it shut with such a bang the whole hall seemed to shake. Safe within the confines of her own home, the woman took a deep breath and released it in a feral scream, trying to channel all the rage she'd been suppressing all morning into it. It only worked minimally well.

Not feeling much better, Bess huffed and began to undo her cloak. She was hanging it on a hook beside the door when the door on the right side of the hall opened and through it came a rather alarmed looking steely-haired banker.

Ebenezer looked from her around the hall and back. "Bloody hell!" he exclaimed, moving toward her. "Was that you, Bess?"

In her already ticked off mood, that only made Bess even more irked. "Who the hell else could it possibly be?" she snapped, glowering at him. "Do you see anyone else in here?"

Her husband stopped, looking even more alarmed as well as a bit miffed. "Now, that's uncalled for!" he countered, brows furrowing even more severely than hers. "And unlike you." He looked the American over carefully, not withering under her dagger-throwing glare, which was actually quite impressive.

Bess let out a harsh, barking laugh. "Oh-ho! So you think you know me better than I know myself, too! Wonderful!" She turned away and stomped towards the stairs and up, not really having an idea of where to go as she simply followed her feet. "It's such a relief to know I never have to make a decision myself or even think of a single original thought ever again--that everyone else is perfectly capable of doing it for me!"

Eb watched after her, no less confused, but much more concerned than cross now. If Bess was lashing out like this, and especially at him, it was because she'd been pushed to her limits. "What is that supposed to mean?" he called up to her, crossing his long arms over his broad chest.

At the top of the veranda, Bess paused and then whipped around to glare at the man again. "I am so sick of otha people trying to run my life for me!" she shouted, voice slipping into the posh accent she usually gained when angry as it trembled with emotion. "Telling me what to do, how to live, what to wear, how to act, and even how to think! For 26 years of my life, that's all it was--otha people bossing me around! Now I'm a married woman with my own house, and I should be able to do and think and live and wear and act and say things how I want, when I want, without Mrs. Byrd or anyone else trying to step in and change every decision I make!" The dark-haired woman sucked in a shuddering breath, her freckled face red with veins popping from her forehead and neck. Angry, frustrated tears pricked at her eyes and she trembled with the same anger and frustration that spawned them.

Ebenezer's eyes softened, his heart filling with sympathy for his wife. Bess had had to fight and struggle so hard her entire life to get to where she was today; it was understandable that even a small step backward in her independence would cause her to be upset. And this didn't seem to be a small step.

The man moved towards the stairs and began to ascend them as well. "Brightness, what's wrong?" he crooned as he came up the steps, eyes never leaving hers. He noticed now, after her little tirade, Bess was looking more defeated than angry, but still just as frustrated. It broke his heart. That had never been a shadow he enjoyed seeing in his love's eyes, especially after seeing it so much during the first two years of their relationship. "What did Mrs. Byrd do now?" Their housekeeper was always giving Bess trouble and grief; it was as though the old bat lived specifically for just that. Usually, Bess could throw back whatever Mrs. Byrd dished out, but sometimes, the housekeeper managed to hit the exact right button to throw Bess off her game.

"You mean apart from taking it upon herself to try and change my dietary needs?" Bess grumbled. She looked away from her husband as she crossed her arms on the railing and rested her chin on them, glowering at the large fresco depicting Hades and Persephone directly opposite the landing.

"What?" Ebenezer snorted incredulously. Reaching the landing, he stepped towards her and placed a gentle hand on her back, rubbing in soothing circles. He smiled slightly as he felt Bess' tense muscles unwind just a bit.

"Oh, yes," Bess laughed bitterly. "Instead of the lovely breakfast of Mrs. Philpotts' scrumptious, loaded omelets and bacon, Mrs. Byrd took it into her own hands to tell Mrs. Philpotts that I'd decided to have half a godawful grapefruit and a sad piece of lightly buttered toast for breakfast. Not even a soft-boiled egg to dunk my toast in!"

Ebenezer was undeniably stumped. Mrs. Byrd had made... several attempts in the past to try and change Bess'--and consequently his--lifestyle. First trying to push Bess out of the master bedroom and back to the one she'd stayed in during the first six months of their marriage because "people of their station always slept apart" (that idea was quickly dismissed); then trying to undermine and seize power from Bess in running the household as she was "foreign and didn't grasp how an English household should be run" (a threat of instant termination without a reference shut that down). But trying to take control of the food in Bess' diet--that was new and rather unexpected. "Why on earth would she-"

"Because, apparently, I need to trim down," Bess cut him off, huffing peevishly.

"Trim down?!" Ebenezer could help neither the disbelief for the offense in his voice in reaction to the statement. Of things Bess might have needed, "trimming down" was not one of them. She was a big girl; not plump (though she did have a little "fluff" in her tummy area), but naturally stout, big-boned, and muscular. Her Nordic ancestors would have rejoiced at her appearance, and Ebenezer certainly did.

Bess curtly nodded. "'An ideal, well bred lady must be slight of figure and small of appetite, m'Lady'." She did her best impersonation of Mrs. Byrd's pious accent. "My fat ass isn't as nice as the little petite ones Lottie and her Brat Pack have, you see."

Ebenezer was about to make comment on how he much preferred Bess' ass to most he'd seen when she launched into another rant.

"I threw breakfast in her face and went to the kitchen to talk to Mrs. Philpotts so she knows to watch out for that situation in the future. By then I was already behind schedule and gonna be late to meet my new client, so all I could do was slap together a pitiful little cheese sandwich and grab the last of the buttermilk and run.

"I managed to be only ten minutes late to the Whippers', but clearly that was akin to erecting a golden calf in the middle of God's house, and I received a thirty-minute lecture on how promptness is the highest virtue and how even being a minute late would bring about my eternal damnation."

"Mrs. Whipper dressed you down like that?" Ebenezer asked in bemusement. He knew the woman--her husband was one of his many clients and he'd met her a number of times. (He was why they'd considered meeting with Bess for potential midwife services.) The woman was younger than Bess--hardly out of her teens--petite, and sweet as cherry pie; as angelic as her name implied, she was without a single ounce of ill will in her tiny frame for even the rats. The banker could hardly believe such an angelic personality could speak so harshly.

"No. At least not that Mrs. Whipper," Bess muttered, rising up on her elbows to look at him again. "Angelica never even got to speak to me. She was being crowded out by her mother, grandmothers, mother-in-law, and grandmothers-in-law."

Eb, slipped his arm around her shoulders and smirked a little at that. "Ah, so you walked right into a firing squad."

Bess rolled her eyes and looked away. "A firing squad has mercy, Wolf: I walked right into Daniel's lions' den, only God didn't close the mouths of these beasts. Scotland Yard has nothing on that group of women; they could make the Devil himself confess and repent of his treachery."

Ebenezer brushed back some of her fringe from her eyes. "Should I even ask if you have the job?"

"Of course, I didn't get it! Afta all, only women who have birthed and raised their own children can make decent midwives--don't you know anything, Ebeneza? Neva mind how I've been helping with births since I was ten years old or all the references I brought from all my past clients--clearly I have no idea what I'm doing!" The tone in Bess' voice was mocking and biting in the harshest of ways and she'd slipped back into her accent again. "One of the grandmothers--not sure which one, they were all as wrinkly and stooped and gray-haired as the other--quite literally told me to take down my advertisements and go get pregnant and have a baby before I offered further midwife services. Then they slammed the door in my face."

Ebenezer couldn't help but smile sympathetically. "Oh, Moonflower," he cooed softly as he draped both arms around her shoulders and pulled her up. He wrapped her up in a warm hug, smiling when she layered her arms over his. "Darling, I'm so sorry. Had I known anything about the rest of the family, I wouldn't have sent you there." He tenderly kissed her temple. "I'm sorry."

Bess wasn't really listening. "After that, I went to the boutique to pick up my dress." Now that was an activity that should have lifted Bess' spirits, but considering her voice was even more glum than before, that didn't seem to be the case.

"Isn't that a good thing?" Ebenezer just dared to ask.

"It would be, if the dress were anything like what I ordered. Not the style I asked for, or the cuts, or even the color! I thought I'd gotten the wrong order! When I asked them to see the seamstress I'd originally met with, the owner said she'd moved on from the establishment but that she, herself, had taken it upon herself to make my dress and "improve it to better suit my figure"."

The figure comments again? What was the matter with people? "What does that mean exactly?"

"Essentially that when I put it on, I looked like I was wearing a deflated hot air balloon, and, actually, I think even that would look more flattering. How can a dress suit your figure when it doesn't even show your figure in the first place?" A tearful snort left the woman and she trembled within her lover's warm embrace. She hung her head as she reached up to hide her face in her hands.

"Bess?" Ebenezer purred with gentle concern into her ear. He hugged her more tightly, trying to hold her as close to his heart as possible. "Moonlight?"

Bess shook her head. "Sorry," she croaked out. "It's just..." she sighed deeply. "Everything today just kinda brought back everything from growing up. I was actually starting to fear turning around and finding Mama there waiting to rip into me or-"

"Shhhhh," her husband hushed her, tucking her tight into his chest. "Shhhhh, Brightness, it's all right. I understand." Automatically the Englishman began to gently, slowly sway back and forth on his feet, showering tender kisses over the back of his wife's neck, shoulders, and ears. "I understand."

Bess held onto him again, melting into his affection. "I just..." she sighed, "... I want people to shut up and stop trying to control my life. For once. I want people to have a little faith and realize maybe I can actually handle my own affairs. Or at least keep their noses out of my business!"

Ebenezer kissed the scar on her neck. "I know," he whispered, giving her a squeeze. He held her silence for a moment, face snuggled into her neck. "Bess, you do know," he whispered after an interlude, "that I have faith in you, yes? And that I support your independence every step of the way?

Bess couldn't help but smile and she craned her neck to look up at him. "Yes," she rasped out. "I know."

Ebenezer beamed. "I'll help you fight for it if need be, my Queen. We'll make them all see together."

Bess felt the slight sting of happy tears. "Thank you, my King," she practically squeaked. She pressed a lingering kiss to his sculpted cheek. "That means so much more than you know. I haven't had much support on that front for... well, my whole life, really."

The gentleman smiled at her. "Well, now you have a big, bad wolf who will fight for his she-wolf," he growled playfully into her ear, making her flinch and giggle at the ticklish sensations. "And wolves are certainly tough enough to take on Byrds, biddies, and butchers of dresses." He trailed some more kisses along her shoulders and nape, before he raised a finger to tip Bess' chin up and planted a devoted kiss on her coral colored lips.

Bess quietly moaned and leaned into Ebenezer's lips. The last of her frustration easily dissipated as loving warmth and calm flooded through her soul. When they parted, Bess nuzzled into the man's neck with a contented sigh. "Hmm, that sounds lovely, Wolfy," she replied. "But can this she-wolf get something decent to eat first? She hasn't had anything all day but a sad cheese sandwich and buttermilk."

Ebenezer chuckled as he smoothed a hand over her hair and headscarf. He smooched her cheek. "Mwah. I think that's a fantastic idea, my darling. Get some food in your belly and this morning will fade into nothing but a bad memory. No one can have a good day on an empty stomach."

"Especially not when you're dealing with manipulative, holier-than-thou bitches."

Ebenezer chuckled as he began to lead his wife back down the stairs and make for the kitchens. "No," he agreed. "I wouldn't think so."

Silence fell over the pair for a moment as they walked. And then Bess was speaking again, gazing adoringly and gratefully up at the man as she did so: "Thank you, my moon song. Thank you for always being in my corner. It's a relief to not fight alone."

Ebenezer smiled down at her. "Always, my beloved one," he murmured. He stopped and turned to face her fully, taking her face between his large hands. "Always," he repeated, gazing deep into her midnight blue eyes. He touched soft lips to her brow.

Taglist: @luvreadingfics @amazingassash @beascrooge @themostanonymousscribbler @b4bynikii @sparklesphobia @christmasgaybusinessmen @tenodai @girlbosseveyhammond @witchypandamonium @purgratoriat @neonshoe @orangewierdo @mirthadra @the-enchanted-rose @simp2537 @pandora-native-ayatei @youngsongnerd @skyvstheworldsince1996 @crimson-phantom-designs @cila-17 @ry-ichi1 @artist-anon08 @alittlebitbethany @crowwritesthings @hyerizz @crowbones13 @rom-e-o @softmullet @cheesethegodfather @the-house-of-auditore-frye @thephantomofzaun @littlethief78 @oldmanlusting

Imagine your F/O noticing that you’re upset.

They drape their arms around you from behind, and kiss all over your ears and the back of your neck.

They hold you tight and promise you whatever is wrong they want to be there for you, and make it alright.

[quill-pen]

Modern AU Scroogeverse: Starbucks orders

@rom-e-o and I joked around about it a little this morning, so I thought it might be fun to do.

Disclaimer: I, personally, am not a coffee drinker at all. I hate everything about coffee--the smell, the taste, the noise the coffee maker makes as it brews. And I never have dealings with Starbucks because I think they're a little overhyped and expensive.

Note: Americanized Bess has absolutely influenced these people's taste on things like iced and cold beverages. As she should. Cold drinks are lifeblood.

Ebenezer: First off, nobody makes coffee like his beloved Bess (she does it the old-fashioned way on the stove and adds just the right amount of heavy cream and cinnamon) so that's usually where Eb gets his coffee (she'll pour it in a thermos and send it out the door with him). But on the occasions Bess' coffee is unavailable for various reasons, Starbucks is an easy stop on the way to work. His drink of choice: the dark roast, tall, cinnamon powder, heavy cream, and two pumps of cinnamon syrup (if it's the holidays, he'll add a pump of the peppermint) to make up for the lack of Bess' TLC. It's good, but still not as good as Bess'; every sip of her coffee is like her love in liquid form and you bloody hell can't beat that. If he's had several late nights at the office, Ebenezer will also add a few shots of the signature espresso. If he has to attend a morning business meeting he's been dreading, the man has also been known to fill a flask with a little "feel-good" juice and spike his drink just enough to get through the meeting. He doesn't get anything else from Starbucks. He might try something Bess gets, but, as stated before, Starbucks is merely a handy substitute: He's not about to take time to explore their menu. Note: They never get his name right. Ebenezer is now simply known as 'Ed' at the local Starbucks.

Bess: For warm weather: a grande iced dark chocolate mocha with heavy cream and light ice. The number of espresso shots depends on how busy work has been. For cold weather: a tall caffè mocha, with warm heavy cream, light foam, and six mocha pumps. Again the number of espresso shots depends on work. If she's in the mood for something particularly sweet, Bess will usually go for one of their chocolate chocolatey frappucinos. She doesn't have a particular favorite--she likes them all--but always gets them in grande. Note: You think they'd be able to get Bess, easy enough, but no; she's been called "Bed", "Bless", "Beth", "Bet", "Bast", and "Bath". These people aren't even trying, are they?

Bob: Doesn't go to Starbucks--it's not on his way to work and it's too expensive (he's got lots of kids to take care of, even if now being partners with Mr. Scrooge makes life so much easier and comfy). He stops in at a local mom-and-pop place called 'The Grinds' and gets a large, cowboy coffee with a little milk and sugar. (He's also sweet-talked the barista into adding some espresso shots. The man has like a dozen kids, okay?! He needs it to get through the day!)

Ethel: Unlike Bob, will occasionally patronize Starbucks--mostly when she is out with the other girls. Because this is only an occasional thing, Ethel likes to treat herself (she deserves it!): a venti strawberry crème frappuccino with vanilla sweet cream, extra whipped cream, five syrup pumps, two espresso shots, toasted vanilla syrup, cookie crumble topping, mocha sauce, and extra strawberry puree. Leave her alone--she's affording herself a rare treat--it's fine. Note: Don't always get her name right either, but they get it right more often than with Bess.

Harry: Does not have a favorite. Man gets something different every time he goes and has liked everything equally. He does have a particular fondness for their frozen fruit beverages though, but only in summer. When the weather gets cold, he'll go for their hot apple drinks. The only customization he insists upon is extra cinnamon or peppermint during the holiday season. After all, he loves Christmas--it's his favorite time of year! He always gets the largest option. Note: Yes, his name always gets spelled right, usually accompanied by little Harry Potter flourishes. He finds them so charming and tries to keep them all. Hela eventually throws them out when he's clearly forgotten about them--usually after a week.

Hela: Usually goes for their teas. It's a toss-up between a short honey citrus mint with light lemonade and an extra pump of honey or a short, regular matcha tea latte. Note: Only gets her name spelled right if she's served by a fan of Marvel.

Tom: He is a very simple man. In the cold, he beelines for their hot chocolate: grande, steamed whole milk, doubled mocha pumps with extra whipped cream, and extra caramel drizzle with caramel sauce lining the cup. In the heat, it's a regular mango dragonfruit lemonade with extra ice. Note: Once got named "Dom" at Starbucks. The barista winked at him as she passed him his drink. Addie was with him and did not appreciate it; she absolutely took a cue from her cousin and groped his ass on the way out. The ride home was very long after that, but the events that played out at home were a blast.

Addie: In the cold, she loves the white hot chocolate. She'll usually get a tall with oat milk, extra foam brown sugar syrup with a mocha cause lining, and chocolate mint cookie sprinkles with light whipped cream. In the heat, her go-to is a grande iced brown sugar oat milk shaken espresso with salted caramel foam, mocha drizzle, whipped cream, and caramel crunch topping. Note: Often gets called "Abbie", but one time, somehow, she got called "Baddie". She rode that high for a week.

Ernie: Isn't really a coffee man, so he mostly sticks to the teas. He goes for the classic Earl Grey with a little lemonade, honey, and a pinch of cinnamon. If he's looking for something cooler, he just goes for the lemonade. Nothing very complicated. Note: Absolutely gets "Bert" added in with his name like 80% of the time. The joke is getting old now, folks.

Ella: Honestly, she doesn't do Starbucks. She had one drink once--a huge chocolate java mint frap, loaded up with all the best goodies. It was so good. But the stomach flu was going through the Cratchit household at the time and she got hit with it right after she had that heavenly delight and... yeah. Ruined the entire chain for her. Just the mention of Starbucks makes her stomach roll. Ernie doesn't drink Starbucks around her and does his best to shield the very logo from her view.

Granny: Simple and surprising--a doppio of espresso macchiato. regular except for eight shots of espresso instead of the standard two. She's in her 80s and surrounded by young folks, okay? How else do you expect her to keep up with them all?

Josie: Doesn't do Starbucks either. She thinks it's overrated and too trendy, and will go out of her way to find small, independent establishments to patronize. She enjoys hazelnut lattes with a little touch of cinnamon and mocha sauce. Will always ask the barista to make the most unique design they can with the cream and asks if she can watch.

Mickey: Just like his love, he doesn't do Starbucks. For one he could never afford it; for two, he tried some once and he didn't find it all that great. Certainly wasn't worth the hype everyone seemed to have about it. He chooses to support the independent coffee houses as well, often taking Josie out on dates to them. He likes the cowboy coffee with only a little milk; he enjoys the rusticness and simplicity of it. Josie isn't a fan of the flavor but she loves the smell of it on Mickey's breath afterward and she doesn't mind the taste coming off his tongue and lips when he kisses her either.

Jules: He can't drink coffee as it makes him sick, but he enjoys the iced teas. His favorite is a blended grande black tea lemonade with some apple juice and strawberries. And definitely extra ice. Always extra ice. In the winter, he gets a regular caramel apple spice. Note: Often gets his name spelled as "Jewels". Once he had an older barista that was a big fan of Jules Verne though, and he got that written on his cup--that was fun.

Martha: The chocolate java mint frap, tall, with coconut milk, double-blended with frap chips, hazelnut syrup, two extra pumps of the mint sauce, mocha sauce lining, toasted cookie crumble, light cinnamon powder, and whipped cream--that's this girl's game. She only needs to have one once in a while, as it's so very rich. Note: Once got called "Martyr". So... that was different.

Kathy: Girl is a fiend for the espresso shots! That's what happens when you're studying to be an L&D nurse, I suppose. She gets a quad of the blonde roast loads it up on six shots and hammers it. But after she's had a couple of those, she'll get a short, dark chocolate mocha with heavy cream and honey to sip on. Note: Has been called "Catty" more than once. She does not appreciate it.

Millie: VENTI. PUMPKIN. SPICE. LATTES. With extra cream and cinnamon and caramel sauce lining. She lives for this stuff and literally has an emotional breakdown whenever it goes out of season. After that, she falls back on the vanilla bean crème frap, venti size, with almond milk, extra whipped cream, frap chips, macadamia syrup, caramel lining, white chocolate mint sauce, honey blend, cinnamon, mocha drizzle, and caramel crunch topping. And, ya know what? It's still nowhere near as good as the pumpkin spice. Why don't they just sell it all year?! It would be their number-one seller! They could just start a whole other Starbucks offshoot just for the pumpkin spice and rake in the money! Note: Absolutely tells the barista how to spell her name and double-checks to make sure they got it right.

Gil: Decaf roast, tall, black--plain, simple, easy. He likes the bitterness; reminds him of the earth and nature. If he's craving a little sweetness, he might add some honey. Note: Usually gets called "Dill". Does not complain--he gets his coffee either way. And he kinda like the name "Dill" actually.

Tim: He's not allowed to drink coffee, as he gets way too hyper. But he does like their frozen fruit drinks. The pineapple passion fruit is his favorite; he always gets extra pineapple in it. He gets the largest size and sticks it in the freezer whenever he's had enough to snack on for a few days. The stuff tastes even better when it's frozen enough to eat like ice cream! Note: Tim is so cute, most of the time the baristas don't even hear him say his name because they're so focused on his cherubic smile or sparkling blue eyes, so they just write "Angel boy" on the cup. Tim just blushes and beams.

Beryl: She doesn't like coffee, but she is also a serious businesswoman, and serious businesswomen drink coffee. Beryl gets the espresso con panna in the smallest size with extra whipped cream and three espresso shots. The whipped cream is the only way she can stand the taste of the stuff. Sometimes she needs a little mocha drizzle to get it down too, even while she's holding her nose and trying to swallow it down without letting it touch her tongue. Ebenezer has pointed out to her time and again that it's okay if she doesn't like coffee--she can drink something else if she wants to--but Beryl refuses. "Businesswomen drink coffee! It's a staple!" And no one is going to convince her otherwise. Note: Never gets her name spelled right, so she has taken to telling them at her name is "Bear". That always gets spelled right and she gets comments on how "cool her name is". Beryl might be considering changing her name to "Bear".